YALE
DIVINITY SCHOOL
LIBRARY

Gift of
JOHN R. MOTT

PRINCES OF THE CHURCH

WORKS BY THE REV.
SIR W. ROBERTSON NICOLL,
C.H., D.D., LL.D.
LETTERS OF PRINCIPAL JAMES DENNEY TO
W. ROBERTSON NICOLL, 1893-1917. Second Edition.
REUNION IN ETERNITY. Second Edition.
PRAYER IN WAR TIME.
THE ROUND OF THE CLOCK. With Illustrations by
George Morrow.
SUNDAY EVENING. Fifty-two Sermons for Home Reading.
IAN MACLAREN. The Life of the Rev. John Watson, D.D.
With Portrait. Fifth Edition.
THE CHURCH'S ONE FOUNDATION. Christ and Recent
Criticism. Tenth Thousand.
THE GARDEN OF NUTS. Mystical Expositions. With an
Essay on Christian Mysticism. Second Edition.
THE LAMP OF SACRIFICE. Sermons preached on Special
Occasions.
THE SEVEN WORDS FROM THE CROSS. Fifth Edition.
A BOOKMAN'S LETTERS. Fifth Edition.
A LIBRARY FOR £5. Fourth Edition.
THE DIFFERENCE CHRIST IS MAKING.
MY FATHER. An Aberdeenshire Minister, 1812-1891. With
Portraits. Second Edition.
THE LAMB OF GOD. Expositions in the Writings of St.
John. Fourth Edition.
THE RETURN TO THE CROSS. New Edition.
TEN-MINUTE SERMONS. New Edition.
THE PROBLEM OF EDWIN DROOD. A Study in the
Method of Dickens. Second Edition.
THE KEY OF THE GRAVE. Eighth Edition.
JAMES MACDONNELL. Second Edition.
By Claudius Clear
LETTERS ON LIFE. Eighth Edition.
THE DAY BOOK OF CLAUDIUS CLEAR. Third Edition.

HODDER & STOUGHTON LIMITED

PRINCES OF THE CHURCH

BY
W. ROBERTSON NICOLL

HODDER AND STOUGHTON
LIMITED LONDON

PREFATORY NOTE
Since the British Weekly was founded in 1886
I have been in the habit of writing tributes to
notable figures in the Christian world. Out of
a large number the present book has been made
up. The selection is due to my friend and col
league, Miss Jane T. Stoddart, who has also helped
me generously in the revision of the proofs.
Practically no change has been made in the
papers, but the date of publication in each in
stance has been put at the end of the article,
and this will explain contemporary allusions.
Bay Tree Lodge,
Hampstead,
September 1921.

CONTENTS

PAGE
PROFESSOR ELMSLIE ....... 1
THE SCOTSMAN : DR. JAMES BEGG . . . .12
DR. HORATIUS BONAR ...... 16
BISHOP LIGHTFOOT ....... 22
JOHN HENRY NEWMAN ...... 28
A DEBTOR TO THE WISE : DR. LIDDON . . . .34
A CHRISTIAN JOURNALIST : DEAN CHURCH ... 40
CHARLES HADDON SPURGEON ..... 47
DR. ANDREW BONAR ....... 55
DR. ROBERTSON SMITH ...... 62
DR. R. W. DALE ........ 74
A SPIRITUAL TRIUMPH : THE LIFE OF DR. JOHN CAIRNS . 85
PROFESSOR HENRY DRUMMOND ..... 93
REVIVAL CHRISTIANITY : PRINCIPAL BROWN . . . 103
WAS BISHOP WAXSHAM HOW A PERFECT CHRISTIAN ? . Ill
PRINCIPAL CHARLES EDWARDS ..... 121
BISHOP WESTCOTT ....... 138
JAMES MARTINEAU . . . . . . .147
HUGH PRICE HUGHES . . . . . . .157
DR. PARKER ........ 169

viii PRINCES OF THE CHURCH

PAGE 188

DR. GEORGE MATHESON .....
PRINCIPAL RAINY . . *. . • ¦ 192
IAN MACLAREN ......-• 204
DR. BARNARDO ........ 217
PRINCIPAL HUTTON  226
PRINCIPAL MARCUS DODS ...... 234
DR. ALEXANDER MACLAREN ...... 242
CARDINAL VAUGHAN  256
PRIMATE ALEXANDER  266
CHARLES SILVESTER HORNE ..... 276
THE POWER OF KNOWLEDGE : PROFESSOR FLINT . . 285
FATHER STANTON : THE CENTRE OF COMMUNION . . 295
THE CENTENARY OF FREDERICK ROBERTSON . . . 304
DR. ALEXANDER WHYTE  313

PROFESSOR ELMSLIE
Previous announcements will have in some degree
prepared our readers for the heavy tidings of
Professor Elmslie's death. For some months he
had not been well. He found it necessary to take
longer holidays than usual during the summer,
and, in accordance with medical advice, spent
most of September in the Engadine. Soon after
his return he complained of illness : one day he
fainted in a railway station, and he consented
to reduce his public work, and to undertake not
more than one sermon on a Sunday. He had en
gaged to preach anniversary sermons pn Sunday,
November 3, for his friend the Rev. John Watson,
of Sefton Park, Liverpool, who had himself been
seriously ill. But he complained of neuralgia, and
when the time came his wife thought it desirable
to accompany him. In the forenoon he preached
with great vigour, but by medical advice remained
at home in the evening. He came back to London
still far from well. On Thursday he was compelled
to lie down. His temperature was very high, and
he suffered from distressing pains in the head. All
attempts to reduce the temperature failed, and on
Tuesday the doctors declared the disease to be
typhoid with complications. Delirium followed,

2 PRINCES OF THE CHURCH
with intervals of collapse. There was very little
hope from the first, and the fever raged on till
the early morning of Saturday, when he quietly
breathed his last.
Scarcely any death could have made a greater
rent, not only in his own circle, but in very many
outside of it. He was more than an object of ad
miration and hope to multitudes : by all who
knew him and thousands who did not, he was re
garded with deep affection. His chief ambition
was to be a comforter in this sorrowful world, and
he succeeded. It is fit, therefore, that something
of his noble and loving life should be set down by
one who had the privilege of close intercourse,
though in the presence of such a loss we hardly
know how to write either of it or him.
The external events of his life are soon told. He
was a son of the manse, his father, the Rev. William
Elmslie, who survives him, being minister of the
Free Church, Insch, Aberdeenshire, where he was
born in 1848. Some well-known men are natives
of the same somewhat remote region. Not many
miles off is the Free Church manse which was the
birthplace of Professor Robertson Smith. George
Macdonald, the poet, is a native of Huntly, a small
town in the same neighbourhood. From the first
Elmslie was noted for his winning manner, his
lovable character, his high conscientiousness, and
his unsparing industry. He went to the University
of Aberdeen, where he proved himself a most
brilliant student, taking his degree of M.A. at a

PROFESSOR ELMSLD3 3
very early age, with the gold medal awarded to the
best scholar of the year. In a short time he acted
as Assistant Professor of Natural Philosophy. In
after life his face changed little : he retained his
youthful appearance, especially at a distance,
though nearer at hand in the last year one noted
too often traces of weariness and suffering. His
gift of silver speech was very early shown : we re
member him addressing an assembly of students
when he cannot have been more than eighteen,
with the same ease and charm which so many came
afterwards to admire. Among the students he was
a peculiar favourite : success never spoiled him.
Although tempted to go to Cambridge, he had made
up his mind to be a Presbyterian minister, and went
to the New College, Edinburgh, for his theological
training. There he studied Hebrew under Pro
fessor A. B. Davidson, of whom he has written so
eloquently in the Expositor. Here, too, he was in
every way a distinguished student, and the highest
hopes were cherished of his career as a preacher.
Many important positions in the Free Church were
open to him, but he did not wish to settle down too
soon, and accepted an offer to go to Regent Square
Church, London, to act as assistant to Dr. Oswald
Dykes. In this way it turned out that his minis
terial life was spent not in Scotland, but in the
Presbyterian Church of England.
His stay at Regent Square was a very happy
period in his life. For Dr. Dykes, both as a
preacher and as a friend, he had a warm regard —

4 PRINCES OF THE CHURCH
a regard which never abated. He carried on his
studies with unceasing perseverance. For one
thing, he was, we should suppose, one of the best
French scholars in England. He has preached in
French to a Parisian audience. His first pastorate
was in Willesden, where he established what is now
a strong Presbyterian church. There he found a
remarkable circle of intelligent and appreciative
hearers. The congregation steadily grew, till after
a few years he was appointed Professor of Hebrew
in the Presbyterian College. While his academic
tastes were decided, and his fitness for the position
universally admitted, many regretted that such a
man should be withdrawn from the pulpit. As a
rule, the professor's birth is the preacher's death.
For whatever reason, it seldom happens that the
two functions are exercised together with real
success in both. With him it was strikingly the
reverse. His appointment as a professor was the
signal for his emerging as a pulpit force of the first
rank. He loved preaching, and freely accepted
invitations to appear not only in the churches of
his own denomination, but in other places, notably
among the Congregationalists. His vogue steadily
grew, till he became one of the most popular
preachers in the country. The announcement of
his name always brought together a great audience
—generally as remarkable for quality as for quan
tity. At the same time he carried on with con
scientious fidelity and unbroken success his work
as a professor. To this he added literary engage-

PROFESSOR ELMSLIE 5
ments, and so his labours increased, while, alas !
his strength did not. He was, in fact, one of the
most prominent figures in the religious world of
London, and the penalties attaching to such a
position are terrible for a man in delicate health.
The strain began to tell, but it was not easy to
convince him of this. Latterly he became aware
— very imperfectly aware — of his danger, and con
sented to limit his work to one sermon a week. But
it was too late, and now he is at rest.
Our first thought and our last about him is that
he was a Christian. He was a true believer.
Whatever his doubts may have been, they were
long gone. He knew, as few men know them, the
difficulties of faith. In Biblical criticism he was
a master, and he was very well abreast of scientific
thought. But the problems thus suggested never
threw one shadow on the clearness of his assurance.
He held his faith with a certain large simplicity,
but with absolute conviction. He dwelt in the
posjtive. The truths on which his own life was
fed, and which he ministered to others, were un
touched by scepticism. Though he was a very
brilliant and cultured man, with a wide range of
interests, it is not of his gifts or his knowledge one
thinks : it is of the deep Christianity which suffused
all. It is impossible to imagine any one more free
from cant ; he gave himself a large liberty ; he
loved the ' innocent glories ' of life, and was, when
free from illness, very mirthful ; yet, somehow, it
was clear that for him to live was Christ, that he

6 PRINCES OF THE CHURCH
lived by the faith of the Son of God, that the
Saviour was the Light of all his world.
His spirit as well as his faith was Christian. He
owed much to nature. His winsome face, his
gracious manner, his careful respect for the
humblest, were born with him. He greatly re
sembled his beautiful and gifted mother, and as he
lay in his last sleep the likeness was startling. But
the unfeigned sympathy that dwelt in him could
only come from Christ. The intellectual qualities of
his preaching were less wonderful than its healing
power. He would often earnestly say that his ex
perience of life showed him that people needed
comfort, and that it was in this way they were best
reached. Scolding in the pulpit he abhorred,
although he was accustomed to set forth duty in
cisively and plainly, especially the duty of making
home bright. He not only met but anticipated
calls for sympathy. He had a quick intuition of
pain, and set himself to allay it. With doubters
he was specially at home, and they with him. His
correspondence with this class was very large and
interesting. With the growing feeling that the
Christian Church should care for the whole life of
man he was in thorough accord, as his speech on
Socialism at the Pan-Presbyterian Council showed,
and he used to speak with great warmth of the
noble work carried on by his neighbour, Dr. Clifford.
Very little of his sermons was written. His mind
was very fertile ; he had always many subjects on
hand. He was a very original preacher, and rarely

PROFESSOR ELMSLIE 7
read the sermons of others. His judgments were
always charitable ; he loved to look at all things
from the point of concord ; indeed, he was one
who preached peace by Jesus Christ.
His more prominent work as a preacher must
not be allowed to obscure his career as a professor.
When his fever was approaching its worst, we re
ceived a letter from one of the most distinguished
Hebraists in this country, in which he said
Dr. Elmslie could combine brilliancy with exact
knowledge in writing on Old Testament subjects
better than any other living man. This is enough
to show how faithfully he gave himself to his work.
He had the two necessary qualifications for a
successful professor ; he was an exact scholar, and
he respected his students. It is touching to see
the dictionaries round his desk, and the traces of
the study by which he was constantly widening his
knowledge of Oriental languages. The work was
very pleasant to him, for he loved to make things
plain, and his pupils were loyal and diligent. His
views on the structure of the Old Testament were
largely those of the newer school of critics ; but
on important points (as, for example, the author
ship of certain psalms) he dissented from them.
Construction was more to his taste than criticism ;
and he drew a sharp line between critical theories
and the inferences drawn from them. It is inex- \
pressibly sad to say that his large plans of literary J
work are almost entirely unfulfilled. His great
purpose was to write a book which should carry

8 PRINCES OF THE CHURCH
the message and meaning of the Old Testament to
the people, and for this much needed service no one
perhaps was equally qualified. He had completed
notes on the Minor Prophets, which will be pub
lished ; and we hope selections from his manu
scripts will be available. He occasionally wrote in
magazines and reviews, and one of his earliest
papers was noticed by Professor Kuenen. To our
own pages he was a frequent and much valued
contributor. It is pathetic that his paper on
' Socialism ' for the Young Men's Page was an
nounced for this number. With his wonted con
sideration, he thought of this at the beginning of
his illness, and said that all the materials were got
together, if only he had the strength to write. The
little notice of Tolstoi that appeared in our last
issue, and the review of Lichtenberger printed this
week, are his final contributions ; and almost his
last work was to correct the proof. He suggested
for our Young Men's Page a discussion on ' War,'
and wished to write something to prove its nobler
uses. Of other plans and projects frequently dis
cussed it would only be painful to speak.
If we venture to set down some recollections of
many prolonged talks it is to break no confidence.
The opinions are those he never concealed.
In theology he was always open to new light,
always ready to add to his working stock old truths
previously neglected. It is our impression that
his preaching was growingly positive. He was

PROFESSOR ELMSLIE 9
much interested in discussing such books as Martin
Luther on the Galatians, which show how the
awakened soul is touched by Apostolic truth un
mixed and unfrozen. What he specially disliked
was bigotry. He would have sympathised with
Robinson in his saying, ' When I see a spirit of
intolerance I think I see the great Devil.' It was
painful to him to be denounced as a heretic, and he
showed himself hurt on learning that he was ex
cluded from a certain place on account of his ' loose
views.' Yet he endeavoured to find an excuse even
for the most uncharitable, and he was grieved not
so much by the suspicions of himself as by the
mischief which he knew such persons did among
the young and inquiring. There never was any
one who less deserved to be suspected; he was
no revolutionist, and was anxiously respectful of
reasonable and even unreasonable susceptibilities.
While loyal to his own Church, and setting great
store by the good- will of its ministers and members,
he did not attach much importance to the barriers
which divide it from the other Free Churches
of England. Among the Congregationalists his
preaching was very popular, and he was pressed to
become Mr. Baldwin Brown's successor at Brixton,
and later on to accept the pastorate of Westminster
Chapel. The latter proposal we know was very
seriously considered, and was not declined from any
reluctance to enter the Congregational ministry.
He used to speak very strongly of the old-fashioned
genuine piety to be found among Congregationalists.

10 PRINCES OF THE CHURCH
He thought the spiritual life of Nonconformity very
deep and true, and was shocked by the recent at
tempts to make out the general apostasy of the
Free Churches. He considered that the Congrega
tionalists and the Presbyterians were destined to
become one body. He often discussed the con
ception of the duty of English Presbyterianism
advocated by some— to stand neutral in the great
struggle and provide a place of refuge for the dis
contented in both camps. Politically, he was an
ardent Liberal, and a thorough-going Home Ruler.
On no subject did he talk more freely and joyfully
than on personal religion. He delighted to speak
of the beauty of God in Christ, of His wealth of
love, and especially of His readiness to forgive.
The last long conversation we had with him was
on the gospel of salvation to the uttermost ; the
magnificence of Divine grace ; the hope set before
the worst sinner of welcome and pardon. No man
was less of a pessimist. He took the most hopeful
view of the future. He believed that God was
leading the generations on, and had a buoyant
assurance of the triumph of the Spirit of Christ.
In this was involved the success of every righteous
cause. These faiths and hopes sustained his clear
spirit through his manifold labours, and his bodily
sufferings. His health was never robust ; it was at
best never equal to the strain put upon it by his
ardent mind. Latterly, we believe preaching was
sheer poison to him. He strove to do his best, and
now that he has finished his work and gone home

PROFESSOR ELMSLIE 11
to God, it is useless to question or repine. Neither
shall there be any more pain, is a word much with
those who knew at what cost his labour was wrought.
He was married about seven years ago, and
leaves one child— a son. Of the faithful love that
made him so happy, that watched over him with
such jealous care, and which he recognised with the
last sign of consciousness— of the grace and joy of
his household, and of the desolation whichfyias
fallen on it now, we cannot speak. In him English
Presbyterianism has lost its most brilliant and
beloved member. The whole Christian Church asks
the question put so continually and resultlessly —
" Why was all this carefully, drop-by-drop collected
store, precious beyond calculation, emptied on the
ground ? ' We cannot answer one of a thousand,
but our departed friend's abounding faith warns
us not to charge God foolishly. It seems miserably
selfish to speak of personal feeling, and yet there
are many who would have rejoiced in his life and
success more than in their own ; who in many a
heavy hour will remember the face which merely
by its brightness used to lift the cloud ; whose
hearts will for long, at every thought of him, ' ache
with all the past.' Only, ' they who love God never
meet for the last time.'
November 22, 1889.

THE SCOTSMAN : DR. JAMES BEGG
When Lord Beaconsfield was introduced in Edin
burgh to Dr. James Begg, he remarked to a friend,
' That is the Scotsman.' It might have been said
with equal truth that the great ecclesiastic was a
Tory democrat before the time. But little remains
to justify the opinion of Dr. Begg's powers formed
by many who knew him, and the biography just
completed will do nothing to help in this. A
fatality has attended the biographies of the heroes
of the Disruption. With two or three exceptions
they are deplorable, presenting the images of fussy,
bigoted ecclesiastics, always making speeches or
taking bitter part in petty quarrels, and com
pletely dissociated from the larger world of culture.
In comparison with Dr. Begg's life, however, the
worst of them is a classic. Its one merit we are
wicked enough not to appreciate. Everything is
left out that could give pain to individuals. There
was no doubt a good deal that might have been
printed, for it was well known that Dr. Begg could
on occasion, like Dandie Dinmont's terrier, ' behave
himself distinctly.' The book is, in short, a heap
of hay and stubble, with one or two needles hope
lessly lost therein.
Nevertheless Dr. Begg was no small man. As a
preacher he was not specially distinguished, though
12

THE SCOTSMAN : DR. JAMES BEGG 13
he was all his life a faithful minister of the New
Testament, and lived in the hearts of his people.
The peculiarity of his pulpit oratory was its
abundance of Scriptural quotation, which he often
used in an impressive and beautiful manner. He
was no scholar— not even a man of wide reading —
and he was wistfully aware of a defect which often
laid him open to weaker men after the time was
past for repairing it. He was almost invariably
in a minority — a champion of lost causes — and
though the ability of his coadjutors has probably
been underrated, the leader was more than the
army. He was generally in conflict with the
tendencies of the times, and sometimes, we think,
with the tendencies of the eternities. Yet he
remains to us, after some observation of athletes
in larger arenas, one of the most striking and
memorable figures we have ever gazed on.
The life of the ecclesiastic is straining where
strain is most dangerous — we mean morally. Some
are called to it, however, and he was. To form a
true idea of his great, eminent, and commanding
gifts one had to see him in the Free Church As
sembly. Mrs. Oliphant makes so much of '.a large
presence,' ' a noble presence,' ' an imposing
presence,' that one begins to think that the fit rulers
of a distracted country are to be looked for in
caravans. Still there is something in a stately
presence, and Dr. Begg's noble and leonine face, '
his ample figure, his large and easy power, his soft
yet strong accents, his genial humour, and his

14 PRINCES OF THE CHURCH
worldly wisdom made him one of the most pleasant
and convincing of speakers. What made him great
was that he had something of the old heroic strain,
a kinship with those who loved not their lives to the
death. His hearers would be still smiling at a racy
story when or ever they were aware their souls were
like chariots, and they were out on the moor ' wi'
Richie,' signing Testimonies and Covenants in blood.
His contentions, so far as the outer husk of them
is concerned, would now be anachronisms. His
arguments on the sinfulness of ' human hymns '
were many of them sufficiently preposterous. But
can there be a greater loss than to disuse the record
of that life that follows hard after God — its meet
ings and partings, its desires and hopes, its noons
and midnights — which is written in the Book of
Psalms ? His ideas about the Bible, the Sabbath,
and Popery may be open to much criticism. But
are not the Bible and the Sabbath what he called
them— the two great pillars of visible religion ?
Has ever religion flourished where the Book and
the Day have been despised ? And when all is
said and done, is not Roman Catholicism a stand
ing menace to our country ? Dr. Begg interested
himself much on social reform ; he had a deep
sympathy with the people, and especially for the
oppressed and poor. When very near the end the
imprisonment of the crofters began. Old and
feeble though he was, he did not hang back :
' I was ever a fighter : so — one fight more,
The best and the last.'

THE SCOTSMAN : DR. JAMES BEGG 15
Even of his resistance to Disestablishment we may
say that the vision before him, however impossible,
was not ignoble — the vision of a holy church in a
holy land.
Of his faults we have no mind to speak. We are
all sinful and, generally speaking, fallible. Of
accusers — candid friends and candid enemies —
Dr. Begg had no lack. He felt what they said, and
was touchingly responsive to any expression of
kindness. But he could endure abuse and work
without praise. That he was almost always on
the unpopular side is proof, if proof were wanted,
of his disinterestedness. It is a poor and shallow
explanation of any forceful life that refers its main
direction to small and personal impulses. He
spoke not much of his religious experience, but it
made him courteous in debate, patient in defeat,
sustained him for years in heavy labours, under
sharp trials, in long endurance of pain. Doubtless
his life was hid with Christ in God. When he died
the old words came to our mind — He hath delivered
my soul in peace from the battle that was against
me. He was taken away in time, for he had not
the knowledge nor the training to cope with the
new situation. When the conditions were changed,
when the old axioms were disputed, when all was
thrown into the crucible, it was fit that he should
depart — ' fit that in the fall of laws a loyal man
should die.'
April 27, 1888.

DR. HORATIUS BONAR
Before the publication of our last issue, announc
ing the alarming illness of Dr. Horatius Bonar, the
venerable poet-preacher had gone hence. His
strength had been declining for years, and from
Tuesday it was evident that the hand of death was
upon him. So has ended a long life, eminently
laborious, consistent, and influential.
Dr. Bonar, who had passed the age of eighty, was
brought up in a cultured Christian home in Edin
burgh, and came of a line of ministers. He was a
diligent student, and a favourite pupil of Dr.
Chalmers. Among his early associates were Robert
McCheyne, A. N. Somerville, William Wilson, Sir
Henry Moncreiff, and others — all of them remark
able, not only for evangelistic fervour, but for their
devotion to theological scholarship. His first
pastorate — which he occupied for close on thirty
years—was in the beautiful Border town of Kelso,
where his memory will long be cherished. There
his activity knew no pause. What impressed every
one was his unslackening toil. The light burned
late in his study window ; he was at his desk early ;
and as he was physically vigorous, and possessed
of a resolute will, the work he accomplished was
marvellous. He was continually preaching, and
16

DR. HORATIUS BONAR 17
was as much at home in speaking to a little gather
ing at a cottage fireside as in any church. He was
always writing. He edited many periodicals, and
was chief contributor as well as editor : almost
every year he published a new book, and he con
ducted a vast correspondence, for inquirers all over
the world wrote to him. When he removed to
Edinburgh he built up a large and influential con
gregation, and took his place as one of the foremost
ministers of the city — continuing at the same time
with almost unabated diligence his literary labours.
We doubt whether many have put more of sheer
toil into their days, and happily his days were not
few. And all his labour was devoted to one
purpose, for from end to end of his career he was
true to his early principles and convictions, never
leaving the standard he had raised and gloried in
from the first.
His was an eminently influential life. Even if
he had not been a sacred poet Dr. Bonar would
have been distinguished. He was a scholar, a
thinker, a devoted lover of books, which he amassed
in vast numbers, paying, we are bound to say,
more reverence to the inside than the outside.
Indeed he was imbued with that noble passion, the
amour antique des lettres humaines, and we are per
suaded he would have sympathised with the
illustrious French orator who, near the end of a
toilsome public career, confessed that the dream
of his whole life had been that of writing for God
and for souls. The influence which his books had

18 PRINCES OF THE CHURCH
among English Nonconformists is witnessed to by
Dr. Dale ; for whom, by the way, he had much
regard. But in the Church of England— the
evangelical section — it was far stronger : few names
stood higher than his. We have said nothing of
Scotland and America. But, as it happened, the
literary productions he least thought of were by far
the most popular. These hymns were ushered
into the world in the most unpretending manner.
Some of them were printed as leaflets, to be sung
by the Sunday School scholars in Kelso ; others
were used to fill up vacant spaces in the Quarterly
Journal of Prophecy. He wrote some of the best
known in railway carriages, and some when sitting
for a brief rest by the fireside after a day's work.
They have gone round the world, have been sung
in churches of all communions, have been learned
by little children, and hung as lights over the thickly
closing waters of death. It is significant of Dr.
Bonar's strong conservatism that he had never
had these or any other hymns sung in the churches
where he ministered till a very few years ago.
It is from these hymns and his other poetical
works— notably, ' My Old Letters '—that he may be
best understood. They show, to begin with, un
mistakable poetic genius : perhaps he has hardly
had full justice done him in this respect. A quiet
refinement of taste reigns everywhere ; the colour
ing is chaste and beautiful. The lines of thought
are very simple, and the expression not less so, for
he hated obscurity. One class of hymns states

DR. HORATIUS BONAR 19
with perfect lucidity the main facts of the Gospel ;
the rest may be termed hymns of homesickness.
Through these latter there sounds the refrain of
' the solemn canticle of death.' The very first of
them runs thus : —
' Not first the glad and then the sorrowful,
But first the sorrowful and then the glad ;
Tears for a day, for earth of tears is full,
Then we forget that we were ever sad.'
The pleasures of the world are delusive : —
' Now a stranger
I pass along the smiling earth ;
I know the snare, I dread the danger,
I hate the haunts, I shun the mirth.'
The world lies in wickedness ; its princes have
set themselves against our Lord and His Christ ;
the Church, a little flock, waits and weeps under
' the still unrended skies.' There is a great deal
in the ' Hymns of Faith and Hope ' which recalls
the temper of ' Lyra Apostolica.' Thus in the
hymn, ' A Little Flock,' where we read —
' A little flock ; so calls He thee :
Church of the firstborn, hear !
Be not ashamed to own the name ;
It is no name of fear.
Thy words among the words of earth,
How noiseless and how low !
Amid the hurrying crowds of time
Thy steps how calm and slow ! '
we cannot but think of—
' Bide thou thy time,
Watch with meek eyes the race of pride and crime,

20 PRINCES OF THE CHURCH
Sit in the gate and be the heathen's jest,
Smiling and self-possest.
O thou who promised art the victor's sway,
Bide thou the victor's day ! '
Life is so full of temptation that it should be
solemn ' as march of mountain streams.' It is
so full of loss and pain that the clods of the valley
are sweet as the place of escape and hopeful rest.
He rejoices that time is passing : —
' Well pleased I find years rolling o'er me,
And hear each day time's measured tread ;
Far fewer clouds now stretch before me,
Behind me is the darkness spread.'
It is nearly thirty years since he wrote on the
birth of his son : —
' My flowers have faded, and my fruit
Is dropping from the tree,
The blossoms of the golden year
Are opening all on thee.
My harvest, with its gathered sheaves,
Is almost over now ;
But thine is coming up, my child,
When I am lying low.'
And it is nearly fifty years since he wrote a precept
some will remember at this time : —
' Let our farewell, then, be tearless,
Since I bid farewell to tears ;
Write this day of my departure
Festive in your coming years.'
Even the brightness of his verses has something
sombre in it, like the red flashing of a November
sky. In a world where death and change will not
suffer us to love in peace, and where the most

DR. HORATIUS BONAR 21
faithful workers often sow in tears, such strains
will always be caught up hungrily.
We have left ourselves no space to speak of
Dr. Bonar as a preacher and as a man. His sermons
were terse, authoritative, clear ; as a rule not
ornate, though the poetry at times would not be
kept back. He once remarked to the writer that
his favourite preacher was Harrington Evans, and
there is a considerable similarity in their styles.
He was a most winsome preacher to children. As
a man, he was full of faith and prayer — of warm
affections, strong friendships, generous in his gifts,
and faithful to his convictions. No one who lcnew
him could doubt that he was one of that high
company who seek to measure all things here by the
measure of Jesus Christ.
August 9, 1889.

BISHOP LIGHTFOOT
The death of the Bishop of Durham was hardly
unexpected. He had been prostrated by a long
and distressing illness, from which at one time he
did not expect to recover, and although strength
partially returned, the serene loftiness with which
in his latest speech he referred to death was almost
prophetic. During these last months his hand was
constantly at his work. He revised with amazing
thoroughness his great edition of Ignatius, and pre
pared for publication his essays on Supernatural
Religion and the Gospel of St. John. In these he
delivered final and weighty testimony to central
truth. Thus having done much service to God and
man, having received such acknowledgments and
rewards as man could give him, he has passed away
in the fulness of his years, with his house set in order.
Bishop Lightfoot was pre-eminently the scholar
of the Church of England, and as such found his
first sphere of influence among the students of
Cambridge. There is a characteristic theology of
Cambridge, as there is of Oxford : Julius Hare is,
in measure, to the one what J. H. Newman is to the
other, whether acknowledged or not. But while
no successor has arrived to divide the field with
Newman, Hare has been almost forgotten in the

BISHOP LIGHTFOOT 23
living and masterful energy of such teachers as
Lightfoot, Westcott, and Hort. Of these Lightfoot
was unquestionably chief. His university career
was one of nearly unique distinction. This fact of
itself made him influential with young men, to
whose favour intellectual power is essential, and
who appreciate the certificate of university dis
tinction beyond any other. With them, earnest
ness and piety standing alone go for nothing. But
when goodness is joined to knowledge it counts for
much ; and when these are crowned by spiritual
power paramount influence is the result. Lightfoot
had all three. A scholar of the first rank, a man
of transparent and genuine goodness, he was some
thing more : a common-sense Englishman, reticent
as to spiritual experiences, his face was pale at
times with a light not of this world.
Bishop Lightfoot, indirectly rather than directly,
did a work of far-reaching import in his own Church
of England. The ingenious person who divided
that communion into Low, Broad, and High, has
been the author of much confusion. It never was
a satisfactory classification ; now it is hopelessly
inadequate to cover the facts. Dr. Lightfoot could
not be limited by any of these names. In the sense
that he believed in the place, the greatness, and the
mission of the Church of England, he was a loyal
and devoted Churchman. He had no shrinking
from comprehension, and in that sense might be
termed Broad. Some of his chief friends (like Dr.
Liddon, to whom his work on Ignatius is dedicated)

24 PRINCES OF THE CHURCH
were High Churchmen, and he, like his predecessor,
the author of the Analogy, seems to have favoured
elaborate services. He never entered into direct
conflict with any party in his Church, and was as
free from coveting any party name as Dean
Vaughan himself. But his work was of incalcul
able significance for the future of Christendom. It
was he who dealt its death-blow to the doctrine of
Apostolical Succession as held by the mass of the
High Church clergy. There is an increasing con
sciousness of this among them. Although they
are not superior in theological learning to other
divisions of the Church of Christ in England, they
know in their heart of hearts that they must abide
by the verdict of scholarship. And since we have
witnessed Pusey's characteristic doctrine rejected
openly by the head of the Pusey House, we need
not despair of seeing the chief bar to Christian union
taken out of the way.
Bishop Lightfoot, perhaps, did more for those
outside as a defender, than as an expositor of the
faith. Few will recollect Dr. Samuel Brown's first
booklet, in which he took the nom de plume
' Victorious Analysis.' That has often struck us as
very prophetic of scientific hopes. Science hoped
to be ' victorious ' by ' analysis.' Analysis was
carried far, but the wiser leaders have always been
aware that the Gospels must be analysed before
any real triumph can be claimed. In this they had
chiefly to reckon with Lightfoot, and a very serious
business they found it. To many it was assurance

BISHOP LIGHTFOOT 25
and comfort that such a man championed the faith.
It may be a very poor argument to say ' The
President of the Royal Society is a Christian :
therefore I may safely be a Christian,' but such as
it is it goes far. But those who wanted more were
not disappointed. The unfortunate man who was
too easily persuaded that he had made an end of
supernatural religion was taken in hand by the
Bishop and hewn in pieces. The lowered and
abated tone of scepticism in our day, and the con
fidence of Christian apologists, is largely due to
this victory. Among scholars it was acknow
ledged that Lightfoot knew more of the early
Christian literature than any other man. There
are more brilliant men left even in his chosen field
than he was : Harnack is a conspicuous instance.
But it was hardly possible that he should be sur
passed in actual knowledge. He began early, he
lost no time, he took the right way, his mind was
at once retentive and eager, he never printed any
thing to which he had not given the last finish,
and never discussed subjects he did not perfectly
understand. So even the Germans came to recog
nise that they had no man quite his peer. The
sobriety of his judgment, if it had stood alone,
they might not have appreciated. If you call a
young Dutch New Testament critic wrong-headed,
he may reply that you are dull. But when you
can point out that your opponent, though he has
the advantage of not writing in English, is only an
amateur, something is accomplished. It is true

26 PRINCES OF THE CHURCH
that Lightfoot was not a great genius. He was
not one of those interpreters in whose presence
darkness readily breaks away. He does not yoke
himself with the mind of St. Paul. But for certain
permanent qualities of wisdom, knowledge, and
thoroughness, he is unsurpassed among New Testa
ment expositors, and we deeply regret that he
has not been spared to accomplish the next labour
he had proposed to himself— a commentary on
Ephesians. Of his work as a bishop not much need be said.
Many not of his own communion grudged him to
work so largely mechanical, but since he had to be
a bishop, we regret that he did not die Archbishop
of Canterbury. There is a generous instinct in
human nature whereby we fancy that our great
and wise are capable of anything ; that they can
overstep the inexorable moenia mundi; that the
scholar can go forth into the world and guide it
with his counsel. It is not so. Lightfoot did his
best : his impulses were noble and generous ; he
longed to see the great salvation ; he was full of
the hopes that lift our fallen life ; he never feared
new ideas and new movements. He saw that
something must be done— done at the risk of mis-
' take— and he did it. But we are most attracted
by the signs of a lofty and austere piety which mark
his episcopate as they did that of Joseph Butler.
Many viewed with misgiving the ascetic life of the
author of the Analogy, his melancholy forebod
ings, his solitary habits, the ornate chapel where he

BISHOP LIGHTFOOT 27
bowed before a silver cross. Lightfoot's piety
found, perhaps, more legitimate channels of expres
sion, but it was of the same type — lonely, intense,
and pale. In this lies his chief, his true greatness :
that Ad Te quacunque vocas was his guiding rule of
life. January 3, 1890.

JOHN HENRY NEWMAN
' Be it mine
One law to cherish and to track one line,
Straight on to heaven to press with single bent,
To know and love my God, and then to die content.'
These lines, from one of his least known but most
characteristic poems, were written by Dr. Newman
at Oxford in 1834, and on Monday evening their
last aspiration was fulfilled. He died at the Oratory,
Birmingham, after a short, sharp illness, a quarter
before nine. Since the news came to them some of
his readers have been haunted by these and many
more of his own verses. Here is another, written
in 1849 :— ' One moment, she said,
And the dead will revive ;
The Giants are falling,
The Saints are alive.'
And The Dream of Gerontius comes up in pages for
which we have no room. How is it with him now
that he has met the burning and transforming
flame of the Everlasting Love ? He has passed in
silence, as Faber prayed he himself might, with no
brave words on his lips. It has not been granted
him to die like his hero, of whom we are told that
on the day of his death he sang the whole of the
Gloria in Excelsis with unusual joy and devotion.

JOHN HENRY NEWMAN 29
But he died, as he had lived, with the humility
and trust and sweetness of a child.
The external events of Dr. Newman's life are
soon dismissed. He was born in 1801, in the City
of London, and was brought up under evangelical
influences, and with many opportunities of various
kinds. His religious bent and intellectual power
were soon evident. Though he failed to take a
high degree at Oxford, and was never an exact
scholar, his superiority easily made room for him.
In 1822 he became a fellow of Oriel and an associate
of Whately, now little more than a name. From
1826 to 1831 Whately's hold over him was gradually
relaxed, and he came out as a leader of the new High
Church party, and the most influential preacher
Oxford has ever known. As author and editor he
was incessantly active, and in February, 1841, he
published the memorable Tract Ninety. In 1843
he retracted all his hard sayings against Rome, and
on October 18, 1845, Father Dominic, the Passionist,
came to him through the stormy rain in his retreat
at Littlemore, and received him into the Church of
Rome. Almost on the same day in the same year
Ernest Renan quitted the seminary of St. Sulpice,
and definitely withdrew from the clerical career.
Since then with little interruption Newman has been
at the Oratory, Edgbaston. For five years (1852-
1857) he was Rector of the Catholic University in
Dublin. The main events in his career were the
Achilli trial, when he was prosecuted for calling a
converted Romish priest a sensual apostate ; his

30 PRINCES OF THE CHURCH
controversy with Kingsley, which ended in the
publication of the Apologia ; and his elevation, in
1879, to the dignity of a Cardinal.
It is as a preacher that Dr. Newman will live,
and his power as a writer and speaker of sermons
cannot be considered apart from his convictions,
his character, and his literary power. He almost
owed his soul to that great saint and doctor of the
evangelical party, Thomas Scott, the commentator,
for whom he had a lifelong reverence, shared by
Mozley. The real peril of the soul, its preciousness,
the terror of the sinner's future, were at the base
of all his thought and action. He had also, in
unequalled degree, that conviction of the real
weakness of wrong and untruth for which men in
all ages have fled to the sanctuary of God : ' The
Giants are falling, the Saints are alive.' It is
impossible to say how often, how sweetly, how
victoriously, that note is struck through all his
works. Then he had amazing acquaintance with
the English Bible, from which he quoted lavishly,
and often with striking effect. He must be a very
dull preacher to whom Newman's collocations of
verses have not furnished many discourses. Above
all, as Dean Church says in his memorable estimate
of Newman's preaching, an estimate never likely
to be excelled, he made the sermon an ' earnest
letter '—a call which came home to each hearer  a
summons to ascend. And with him the heights of
religion were very high. »
The praise of Newman's style has become

JOHN HENRY NEWMAN 31
sickening in its iteration, and the clumsiest pro
vincials have been noisiest in laud. We need only
say that in its music, sweetness, and combined
passion and reserve it remains alone. What needs
emphasising is that Newman was first of all a writer
of sermons. His oratory had its own peculiar and
holding charm, but he was not an orator. He read
his sermons to an audience he respected. The
many sermons which he preached extempore as a
Roman Catholic were utter rubbish in the judgment
alike of himself and his hearers. With a pen in
hand he could do anything. And one touch of his
poetry was more potent than all the unreserve (to
use no harsher word) of Manning and Faber.
These were great men (Newman himself used to
put Manning at the head of English preachers), but
they are not to be named with him.
His romantic character went far in explaining
his influence. His delicate literary criticisms, as
well as subtler indications, show how his spirit was
cradled in romance, and there was always about
him something high, chivalrous, daring, uncalculat-
ing. From the first he showed himself willing to
surrender all things for a certain inner harmony,
and in this high strain his long life was spent. He
was never rewarded vulgarly ; he never waxed gross,
he never underwent the disenchanting processes of
domesticity ; he was always poor— even his great
popularity as an author did little, we believe, to
enrich him. And he had what Matthew Browne,
after asking pardon of 'your sacred office, your

32 PRINCES OF THE CHURCH
spotless life, your grey hairs, and your transcendent
genius,' calls the honour of an English lady. He
defended his character with extraordinary passion.
Had Kingsley kept away from that, Newman would
never have paused in the midst of his solitary
labours to turn aside and smite him. His wrath
was kindled in the same way at Dr. Fairbairn. In
deed, this made him unconsciously very unfair.
He always tried to make every controversy turn on
his own sincerity. Of course he had an easy victory
when it came to that, but we believe that the calm
judgment of history will condemn him for having
in more than one instance made a personal question
of a far older and wider struggle.
His career as an ecclesiastic it would take a
volume to describe. Much has been written about
the Oxford movement, but its true history is un
told. It has been obscured and perverted in cloudy
reminiscences. The student will do well to study
the Letters of Canon Mozley for sound ideas, and
to follow them by a careful perusal of the pamphlets
and periodicals of the time. He will then be in a
position to sift the voluminous literature. Of the
Church of Rome Newman was a sincere adherent.
It is natural that his position should have been
somewhat misunderstood. He could not swallow
everything with the voracity and noisy relish which
came natural to others. And when questions were
stirred he did not raise the objections which would
have occurred to a born Catholic : the leaven of
Protestantism unwillingly asserted itself. We need

JOHN HENRY NEWMAN 33
not wonder, therefore, that he finally found silence
best. And he was more accessible to Anglican and
Dissenting ministers than to those of his own
Church : they understood his past. Much might
be written on this : we content ourselves with one
instance. He used to speak with gratitude and
affection of George Dawson, the reason being, we
believe, that Mr. Dawson spoke up for him and
defended him against prejudices, when he first
came to Birmingham. Such things he never forgot.
He was a most gracious and assiduous correspondent,
and a proper selection from the immense mass of
his letters should be an English classic. When
strangers of other churches sent him their books,
he did not put them off with formal acknowledg
ments, but found time to read the volumes, and
commend them if he could. But of his countless
deeds of charity volumes might be written. Of
the spirit of his life and thought— sensitive, yearning,
lifted up to God— a picture hung in his room at the
Oratory impressively spoke. It was a view of
Oxford, on which he had written, Fili hominis,
putasne vivent ossa ista? Domine Deus, tu nosti?
Son of man, can these bones live ? O Lord God,
Thou knowest.
August 13, 1890.

A DEBTOR TO THE WISE : DR. LIDDON
The death of Canon Liddon is an unspeakable
loss, for he was beyond dispute master of what
Gratry calls the greatest of all arts, that of preach
ing. No man in England drew vaster audiences,
and he attracted the educated classes as popular
preachers very seldom do. When St. Paul pro
claimed himself a debtor to the wise and to the
unwise, he drew an enduring distinction. The
greatest separation is the separation between
minds. While Dr. Liddon neglected no part of his
mission, he was specially called to the ' wise.'
Among his congregations were always to be seen
many of the guiding intellects of our time ; and he
had unique success with the most difficult of all
audiences — educated young men. He realised his
gift ; he coveted the great office of prophecy from
the beginning of his life, and worthily fulfilled it.
In exploring the sources of his vast influence we
say nothing of his physical and intellectual gifts,
or of those qualities of temperament which in him
were equally marked. The dullest could not miss
them, and the most richly endowed might covet
them. You could not hear him five minutes
without perceiving that he was not a philosopher,
not a speculator, but a messenger and proclaimer.

DR. LIDDON 35
' The Word of the Lord came unto me, saying,'
might have prefaced all his utterances. He de
livered what he had first received. One of his
favourite expressions was that the truth of the
Gospel was a truth that knew its frontiers. Hazi
ness in religious teaching he earnestly deprecated.
Why should it be esteemed a merit in that field,
when in every other department men sought to get
rid of it ? According to his belief, God has made
His will plain. He has not given a revelation of
mists. If He had not answered the petition of His
children for the solid bread of truth with a stone,
He had certainly not met it by giving them a
transcendental vapour. Dr. Liddon considered
undogmatic religion insufficient for earnest moral
struggle. For mere criticism he had no enthusiasm'.
It might do service by burning up the brushwood
on the soil of truth ; but the soul could live only
on the positive. We cannot but think that this
clear and ringing assurance went far to account for
his success. It lulled the critical faculty of his
hearers. So long as men listen to speculative
guesses and arguments which have only the speaker
behind them, they are vigilant and doubtful. But
the man who disclaims all personal authority re
moves the great ground of quarrel. We may think
that Liddon carried his dogmatism too far. From
his sacerdotal and sacramental teaching we vehe
mently dissent, and he was too ready to make
Christianity answer with its life for every one of
his opinions. Sometimes he even seemed to fall

36 PRINCES OF THE CHURCH
into the dreadful error of those who talk as if it
were possible that the discovery of an inscription,
the digging up of a stone in Egypt, could separate
them from the love of Christ. But his great
strength was his undoubting faith in revelation.
The critical intellect of the time will tear in pieces
any of its own products — a religion as soon as any
thing. It is God who finds and chooses man. A
god whom men find and choose is as much an idol
as any work of wood and stone. Show me the way
in which I should walk, is the prayer for a religion,
and the answer is given when the heavens drop
from above, and the skies pour forth righteousness.
Another chief source of Liddon's popularity
with the educated was the large and grand common
place in which he habitually indulged. Those
familiar with the life and work of Lacordaire will
be constantly reminded of him in reading Liddon.
Lacordaire was, indeed, distinctly the deeper and
the more powerful of the two. But his sermons,
like Liddon's, contain much that is commonplace,
and not a little that is rhetorical and fatiguing.
The preacher who, generally speaking, admires
freshness above all things is often disappointed
with both. But with the hearer, however cultured,
it is apt to be different. As Mr. Morley admirably
remarks in his essay on Macaulay, ' The great
secret of the best kind of popularity is always the
noble and imaginative handling of the common
place.' These words might have been written with
an eye on Liddon's preaching. He too concerned

DR. LIDDON 37
himself 'with the perennial truisms of the grave and
the bedchamber, of shifting fortune, of the sur
prises of destiny, and the emptiness of the answered
vow.' He spoke of the great commonplaces — of
God and sin, of salvation and redemption, of death
and judgment ; and, whatever his speech might
lack, it was always informed by sincere and hearty
faith. His preaching was also essentially ad
dressed to his own time. He was keenly interested
in all the movements of the day — an eager reader of
newspapers ; and his ambition was that of Her
mann de Jouffroi — to pour a double portion of the
gospel mind into all the laws and regulations of
society. In doing so he never stood on the edge
of the crowd as one in advance of the rest. His
pulpit was lifted up in the very midst— the centre
and the summit of the throng. But he was not
always commonplace : he would not otherwise
have reached his throne. Constraining is the
charm exercised by those who can lead us, every
time they preach, by untravelled lanes into un-
visited nooks, who can show us some hidden spot
in the mountains of truth that front us. But to
many it 'is a greater thing when they see a new
beam of light gild the solemn array. This his
words did at times. In a sermon of which all the
rest might seem ordinary there would be a sentence
which woke the responses of the diviner mind,
which revealed all the kingdoms of the spirit and
the glory of them, which opened the eyes for ever.
Assuredly not the least potent of his spells was

38 PRINCES OF THE CHURCH
his melancholy. In this too he resembled Lacor
daire, from whose thoughts, even at their brightest,
a tinge of gloom is never absent. The new leaders
of High Churchism derive rather from Pere Gratry
in their hopeful outlook and their eagerness to face
and overcome all the problems of their day. But
to Liddon, as to Newman, the future of the Church
often seemed dark. And the Bible does not tell
us that Christianity is to go forward evenly, like a
prosperous business growing every year. But
Newman viewed the antagonism of the world as a
war with the Stone which broke whatever fell on it,
and ground to powder those on whom it fell. His
well-known lines, ' Bide thou thy time,' are in
tensely characteristic. Liddon always grieved over
the misery of the defeated, and the delay of Christ's
victory. He discerned with equal keenness the
sorrows of the individual life. His very clever
colleague, Canon Scott Holland, published lately a
volume with the title, Christ or Ecclesiastes ? — a
title which fairly indicates the present temper of
preachers. Liddon would have said, and said truly,
that the alternative was false : that Ecclesiastes is
in Christ. It is not wonderful that the poor are
carried away by the new gospel of sanitation,
leisure, and comfort. But those who have all these
are not deceived. They know that such things
neither procure happiness nor detain it. For they
do not abolish death. As the affections become
more keen, as the vastness of knowledge grows, as
wealth and luxury spread, the vanity of this life

DR. LIDDON 39
becomes clearer, and we look, according to His
promise, for the new heaven and the new earth
wherein dwelleth righteousness.
' And if that life is life,
This is but a breath,
The passage of a dream ;
And the shadow of death,
But a vain shadow,
If one considereth ;
Vanity of vanities,
As the Preacher saith.'
Men who see through the shallow gospels of the
hour give heed to the preacher from whom they
learn to ' call their walls, Salvation ' ; who is to
them the minister of an unseen hope. Such was
Dr. Liddon to countless thousands of his genera
tion. However divided from many of us by
ecclesiastical distinctions, he was of those who in
life and death acknowledge and adore Redemption :
whose one hope is to be found with them of whom
it is written, Beati qui lavant stolas suas in San
guine Agni : Blessed are they who wash their robes
and make them white in the Blood of the Lamb.
September 19, 1890.

A CHRISTIAN JOURNALIST :
DEAN CHURCH
To many Londoners there is no sight in their city
that compares with the dome of St. Paul's, rising
mountain-like in size and perfect in symmetry over
the agglomeration of buildings to which it gives
character. But it is not even now what Sir
Christopher Wren designed it to be. His idea of
St. Paul's was that the stranger should enter it
through bronze doors richly charged with Christian
devices, and find himself within the walls of a
glorious temple, pouring down upon him from
every quarter a flood of soft, harmonious brilliance.
What Dean Church tried to do for his cathedral, he
and his early friends tried in measure to do for the
Church of England — to give life and Christian
solemnity to the cold and cheerless frame that
waited for the inspiring breath. He has succeeded
more largely than any other of the eminent men
who have gone from us in recent months. Church
left a school behind him. Newman, whatever he
did for the Church of England, has done nothing
for the Church of Rome. It pursues its dark track
neither brightened nor altered by anything in his
life and work. Liddon, in his last days, was a
voice crying in the wilderness — almost terrified by

DEAN CHURCH 41
the harsh echoes which came from the venerable
Archdeacon of Taunton and other portents of
theology. He died in solemn protest against the
younger men of his school, to whom, nevertheless,
he left the charge of his writings, and even in Keble
College it seems impossible to secure the continued
teaching of some of his most cherished convictions.
Even in the case of Lightfoot, we doubt very much
whether he will have successors after his own heart.
The younger New Testament scholars are not quite
on the same track. But Church was undoubtedly
the father of the ' Lux Mundi ' school, the strongest
and most hopeful in the Church of England. They
live to own their discipleship and to carry on his
work. How did he gain this great, this enduring
influence ? Not by public utterances, for he never
spoke from platforms, and his sermons — magnificent
and indeed unapproached, as some of them are —
were few, and delivered without oratorical aim or
power. Not by personal intercourse on a large
scale, for his life was secluded. Not by his books,
for until quite recently these were little known, and
they represent but a fractional part of his work. It
was as a Christian journalist that he won and used
to the end his immense influence. He had various
journalistic engagements — some very important.
But the chief was his connection with the Guardian,
which he helped to found, to which he was a con
stant contributor, and by which in many anxious ;
crises he virtually shaped the policy of the Church
of England.

42 PRINCES OF THE CHURCH
i
That such a man should have deliberately
elected this use of his powers is an instructive fact.
Whatley, of which he was rector during the best
years of his life, is a very small parish near Frome.
A hundred people might fill the little church, and
almost all would be rustics. That the greatest
Christian teacher of his generation found there an
adequate sphere it would be absurd to say. He him
self knew well how the English Church has failed to
utilise the powers she possesses — he could point to
men like Charles Cornish, one of the leaders of the
Oxford movement — utterly thrown away in little
dreary parishes. But he was satisfied at Whatley,
and resolutely refused the most tempting offers of
preferment. The Deanery of St. Paul's was liter
ally forced upon him. For one thing, he loved the
quiet, simple, homely life. Like his dear friend
Mozley, he was very much at home with rustics.
Both of them greatly admired the Rev. Samuel
Rickards, of Stowlangtoft, a perfect type of a
country pastor, shedding the light of an equable
and happy mind on his neighbourhood, entering
with whole-hearted sympathy into the life of his
people, writing epitaphs for them in the village
churchyard, and lying down by their side at last.
Mozley, in one of his last articles, reviewed. Mr.
Rickards' Poems, which contain some of these
epitaphs, and quoted, with special praise for ' its
picturesque, plain-spoken simplicity,' this on
' William Street, a faithful and old servant of the
Wilson family, in Stowlangtoft Churchyard ' :

DEAN CHURCH 43
' A heavy form he wore, combined,
However, with a gladsome mind.
Good friend was he, and free of speech
To all, with some glad word to each ;
But oftener still in time of need,
He was the man for some kind deed.
His master he loved well, and knew
Full well his master loved him too ;
And sooth to say, he looked like what
Belonged so wholly to the spot,
That now he 's gone all long to meet
Another man like William Street.'
It is significant that Church has chosen a grave
in Whatley churchyard with his old flock. But
undoubtedly his main reason for clinging to the
little parish was that there he found the quiet,
the leisure, and the detachment necessary for his
labours as a journalist. Even when he came to ,
London and the very highest place in the Church
was offered to him, he abode as much as he could,
and to the very last, by his old work. The only
other religious journalist of the century who can
be named with him — John Foster— whose work,
curiously enough, was done in the same region —
wrote sardonically in the Eclectic about reviewers
doing their despised task in rooms whose ' windows
were stuffed with old hats.' If the work is still
lightly esteemed by some, it is well to remember
that Dr. Church deliberately gave his life to it.
His power in all things came from his intense
conviction and prophetic insight. On essentials
his mind was made up. He quoted approvingly
Bacon's saying that the Christian religion is the

44 PRINCES OF THE CHURCH
golden mean between the religion of the heathen,
which left all to argument, and the religion of
Mahomet, which interdicted argument. Dogma
was a necessity of true religion. The Gospel was
not a narrative with a supernatural fact in it here
and there ; it was a series of supernatural facts —
the supernatural itself. For him wonders did not
cease in the shadowy land of early history. He
saw the angels of the sepulchre and the ascension
flashing in upon a literary age and a period of effete
civilisation. Nor did he make selections from the
teaching of Christ. He accepted all ; and recog
nised that Christ gave a new and more fearful
sanction to law, and that chief points of His doctrine
are the Last Judgment and Eternal Punishment.
All theological progress was to him a more earnest
study of the mystery of Redemption and the depths
of the Divine Word. But this being fixed, he
watched with eager sympathy the movements of
criticism and science. He was ready, with a
cheerful, bright-hearted acceptance, for all that
was established. No one ever mistook him for a
careless Broad Churchman. There are really re
ligious men whose tone is not religious ; but his
theology had unmistakably the ideal element.
And he had withal the rare and commanding
prophetic quality. He watched the far-off horizon
of thought, and was conscious of the coming clouds
and the still more distant sunshine.
We have no space left in which to write of his
very high, wide, and careful culture ; of his style,

DEAN CHURCH 45
which often had that last finish which accompanies
exact and profound thought ; of his love of beauty ;
of his intense moral glow. He could, and some
times did, strike very hard — even savagely. It is
curious to read the first form of his ' Anselm ' in
the British Critic, and compare it with that now in
circulation. Matthew Arnold's books on religion
moved him very deeply. Their insolence provoked
him even more than their shallowness. ' So far,'
said Dr. Church, ' as our observation reaches, Mr.
Arnold has never displayed towards those from
whom he differs seriously one grain of courtesy or
respect.' In the last sermon he preached in St.
Paul's (on Ascension Day, 1887 1), he unconsciously
summed up his own experience. He spoke of the
literature of Italy, in which he was so deeply read,
as having for its master passion the love of beauty.
' Out of it arose, austere and magnificent indeed,
yet alive with all instincts of beauty, the Divina
Commedia, the mighty thought of Lionardo and
Michelangelo, the pathetic devotion and deep
peace of the Lombard, Tuscan, Umbrian schools ;
but to whole generations of that wonderful people—
from the fresh sonnet writers and storytellers of
the closing middle age, Guido Cavalcanti and
Boccaccio, to the completest refinement of the days
of the great Venetian masters and Ariosto— the
worship of the beautiful, as the noblest, worthiest
devotion, stood in the place of truth, of morality,
of goodness, of Christian life.' He spoke of ' the
1 Published, with notes, in the Expositor. Vol. vi. Third series.

46 PRINCES OF THE CHURCH
spell and wonder of art and literature, the glory
and sweet tenderness of nature,' as ' the brightness
and joy of days that are now fast ending,' and of
something deeper, more lovely, more Divine, for
which the soul yearned — even ' the likeness in
thought and will and character to the goodness of
Jesus Christ.' For this he was always striving—
now he has reached it in ' sinlessness, strength,
peace, the vision of God.' It is this life-long quest
which gives a peculiar force to the quietest parts of
his writings. He glories when he speaks of what
may be — of what has been. But when he speaks
of what should be, it is a manner all the more
impressive because low, gentle, and unshowy.
He means more than he says ; he unconsciously
reveals how strong, strict, and severe was the
discipline that governed his own life.
December 18, 1890.

CHARLES HADDON SPURGEON
While the great congregations at the Metropolitan
Tabernacle assembled on Sunday, their minister
was lying unconscious at the doors of dawn. Ere
the Sabbath ended he had passed through. The
day for so long of his honourable toil was the day
of his sacred rest — the day when he was gathered
to the great host of his spiritual children who had
gone before.
He has fallen like a tower, and his removal means
for many a change in the whole landscape of life.
A London Tory newspaper spoke of his death as
attracting much less attention than that of Cardinal
Manning. What did the children at the schools,
the servants in the kitchen, the cottars in the High
lands, the old women in wretched garrets, know of
Manning ? But all these — all the nation, for the
nation is Christian still — knew Spurgeon. In Scot
land he was even more regarded than in England,
and in America perhaps his fame stood higher than
anywhere else. It is nearly thirty years since he
said, not boastfully, but with perfect truth, ' Our
word girds the world, and our testimony belts the
globe.' His years were not many when he died,
but he had lived long, and had maintained to the

48 PRINCES OF THE CHURCH
very last the splendour of his fame. Had Mr. Glad
stone died at Mr. Spurgeon's age, he would by this
time have been completely forgotten. Even as it
was, Mr. Spurgeon was to many of his countrymen
a still more conspicuous figure than Mr. Gladstone ;
it is not too much to say he was venerated beyond
all other men.
The popular judgment is often mistaken ; but it
may be trusted to detect a charlatan in time. For
the public ear, though easy to gain, is exceedingly
hard to keep. It says much both for the power
and the essential integrity of Mr. Spurgeon that he
caught it when a mere boy, and never lost it for a
moment. This was due first of all to his oratorical
power. Two orators of the first rank have ap
peared in our time : Mr. Bright and Mr. Spurgeon.
Spurgeon's marvellous voice, clear as a silver bell's
and winning as a woman's, rose up against the
surging multitude, and without effort entered every
ear. The homely, sturdy Englishman, with his air
of composed mastery, his unfailing command of lucid
Saxon, his power to rise on occasion to the heights
of eloquence, his compassionate understanding of
the life of his people, and above all, his yearning for
their salvation, will not easily pass from the nation's
memory and heart. Mr. Spurgeon's almost super
natural keenness of observation was a great element
of his influence. A well-known neighbour of his
has never been able to recognise his members,
because he cannot recall faces. It is not a fault ;
but it is a misfortune. Mr. Spurgeon at one time,

s

CHARLES HADDON SPURGEON 49
as he sat on his platform, could name every one of
his five thousand members. He also remembered
even visitors with whom he had a very slight ac
quaintance ; and when they came to the Tabernacle
instantly detected them. He was pretty sure to
contrive some way of making signs to them before
the service ended — in manners sometimes quaint
enough. He was, however, much more than a great
orator. The present writer, thrown on one occasion
for six months where books were scarce, commenced
to read a complete set of the Metropolitan Taber
nacle Pulpit, and went through all the volumes. We
can hardly imagine any one doing this without re
ceiving a profound and permanent impression.
More, the astonishing ability of the preacher is as
marked as his eloquence and his sincerity. In this
respect he has hardly received justice. Many talk
still of his ' crab-apple fertility,' and compare him
compassionately with such men as Liddon. In
truth, there was no comparison ; each excelled in
his proper sphere. As an unprejudiced and com
petent critic, the Rev. H. R. Haweis, said many
years ago, ' It is perfectly extraordinary how able
and powerful the great Baptist can be within his
very narrow doctrinal limits.' We do not think
that he succeeded to any great extent outside of
the sermons, although his John Ploughman publi
cations contain much racy matter. In the sermons
there are many passages which a really catholic
anthology of English prose would not omit, and an

50 PRINCES OF THE CHURCH
informing spirit which hardly breathes among us
now. It may seem a hard saying, but it cannot be
doubted that his theology was a main element in his
lasting attraction. Why has Calvinism flourished so
exceedingly in the damp, low-lying, thickly peopled,
struggling regions of South London — where James
Wells, an utterly uneducated man, and a Calvinist
so high that he thought Mr. Spurgeon a dangerous
heretic, divided the honours with his young neigh
bour, and had such a funeral as South London had
never seen before ? To begin with, all religions for
the masses are essentially the same. A Roman
Catholic theologian, Father Dalgairns, says : ' Go
and preach your uncertain Hell and your obscure
Atonement in the streets of our large towns, how
many proselytes will you gain among the masses,
the stench of whose corruptions goes up to heaven
more foully every day ? You tempt them by the
dubious boon of a universal salvation, but in so
doing you deprive them of the consolation of a
Saviour.' Mr. Spurgeon always made salvation
a wonderful, a supernatural thing — won through
battle and agony and garments rolled in blood.
That the blood of God should be one of the ordinary
forces of the universe was to him a thing incredible.
This great and hard-won salvation was sure ;
that is, ' it did not stand in the creature ' ; it rested
absolutely with God. It was not of man, nor of the
will of the flesh. Mr. Spurgeon's hearers had many
of them missed all the prizes of life ; but God did

CHARLES HADDON SPURGEON 51
not choose them for the reasons that move man's
preference, else their case were hopeless. Their
election was of grace. And as He chose them, He
would keep them. The perseverance of the saints
is a doctrine without meaning to the majority of
Christians. But many a poor girl with the love of
Christ and goodness in her heart, working her
fingers to the bone for a pittance that just keeps
her alive, with the temptations of the streets around
her, and the river beside her, listened with all her
soul when she heard that Christ's sheep could never
perish. Many a struggling tradesman tempted to
dishonesty ; many a widow with penury and lone
liness before her, were lifted above all, taught to
look through and over the years coming thick with
sorrow and conflict, and anticipate a place in the
Church Triumphant.
There is a very prevalent notion that the doctrine
of a universal Fatherhood as often preached, springs
from a truer charity and is more comforting than
the old way of teaching that God is the Father of
His children through faith. A man says, ' God is
the Father of the East-end of London,' and thinks
he has uttered a consoling truth. What Mr. Spur
geon felt was that the Fatherhood of God must
mean a great deal more than that. In a sense God
is the Father of the most degraded, but what does
that come to ? Before we know the Fatherly
nature the Son must reveal it, and if we dare to
say it, there is something beyond that. The going
out of the Divine Heart to poor, lost, guilty

52 PRINCES OF THE CHURCH
creatures is an expression of the lower deep of love
in God's own being, and means something— means
everything for as many as receive it. It is not the
cold comfort, the unsheltering shadow of an empty
phrase. The very poor— it must be remembered that
South London is the poorest part of the metropolis
—are beginning to hope that councils and parlia
ments will do much for them. They may find it so,
but Mr. Spurgeon made little of such things. He
taught them — the staple of his sermons is — that
now, in the living communion of the soul with
Christ, they might have all the joy they needed.
A man too wise, too experienced, not to know how
slowly the battles of the poor are won, and how
little their victories often yield — he insisted on the
joy and peace in believing, which the world could
neither give nor take away. Life might pursue its
hard, monotonous way of obscure toil, scanty
wages, and a great weight of care, but over it all
there might rest a soft and sacred light. The
common people heard this gladly, and well they
might, for it is so. Perhaps when they have had a
little more experience of the politician they will
hear it more gladly than ever.
Personally Mr. Spurgeon was keenly alive to the
humorous jside of things — witty, brilliant, and some
times exuberant. But as is so often the case with
such natures, his thought turned habitually to the
wistful, pathetic, melancholy side of life. George
Herbert's lines fitted him well : —

CHARLES HADDON SPURGEON 53
' Not that he may not here
Taste of the cheer,
But as birds drink and straight lift up their head,
So must he sip and think
Of better drink
He may attain to after he is dead.
' But as his joys are double,
So is his trouble ;
He hath two winters, other things but one ;
Both frosts and thoughts do nip
And bite his lip ;
And he of all things fears two deaths alone.'
In manner he was scrupulously and even
anxiously courteous. For long he mixed little in
society ; he was busy with his tremendous labour,
and incessantly occupied in reading. He had a
great collection of commentaries arranged in order
round the walls of his sanctum, and never preached
without consulting each on his text. Though his
habits of preparation were peculiar, they were
thorough and exact. Never did he trifle with the
chief duty of his sacred office.
But we must leave many things unsaid. Never
has a man with such an experience appeared in the
Christian Church— never one who has addressed so
many of his fellow creatures on the things of God
— never one the obvious results of whose ministry
have been so great. ' I shall never hear you call
ing,' we say as we think of that unforgotten voice.
But its echoes will linger when the strife of tongues
is passing. Multitudes will think with affectionate
and respectful sympathy of the bereaved wife and

54 PRINCES OF THE CHURCH
sons, and of the great church over which he pre
sided. We have all lost much, but he has gained
more. His was a nature little fitted for many
things that befell him in the last lacerating years
— less fitted still for the long inaction which was
the best his physicians dared to hope for. Better
for him, better, perhaps, for us, that he has gone
up the shining road.
February 4, 1892.

DR. ANDREW BONAR *
It is but a year since Dr. Andrew Bonar passed
silently and gently within the veil. Almost to the
end of his long life his ministry continued. He
was not withdrawn by bodily infirmity as one shut
up in Israel, and although the marks of old age
were upon him, his spirit was entire and unwearied
to the very last. His ministry has been speedily
renewed by the publication of his diary and letters
— a book of which it is the best commendation to
say that it recalls the writer, so that in every page
one seems to see and to hear him again. Miss
Bonar has done her work with rare wisdom and
grace. There is not a line in the volume that we
should like to see left out. The editor contributes
little, but that little is of the best sort. This is
perhaps the most impressive Scottish religious
biography that has appeared since Dr. Bonar's
own Life of McCheyne was published, and we cannot
but think that it will deeply move many readers.
For while it is true that the testimonies of those
who have lived and died in the faith and fear of
God are always precious to the Church, there is
something peculiarly helpful in the witness of
1 Andrew A. Bonar, D.D. Diary and Letters. Transcribed and
edited by his daughter, Marjory Bonar. (Hodder and Stoughton.) 66

56 PRINCES OF THE CHURCH
Andrew Bonar. When the world closes on us,
when we are strained by the bustling, overwrought
tension of the time, when the unlovely toils of
working life are too much, it is good to pass into
the peaceful atmosphere of this book. It should
make its readers gentler, humbler, more faithful,
and more patient. It breathes the living spirit of
the Apostolic Church. It is a great testimony to the
reality and richness of that spiritual life which is
still bestowed by Christ. We can hardly imagine
any Christian reading it without being shamed, or
rather won, to greater earnestness, without feeling ,
the power of the love which burned in the heart of
the writer. Let those who think we have praised
this book too highly read it ; they will not think
so then.
Andrew Bonar was born in Edinburgh in 1810.
His father was a man of position and culture, and
the boy became a distinguished student. Without
doubt Andrew Bonar was the best Latin scholar
who ever passed through the hands of Dr. Carson,
the Rector of the High School. At the University
he took one of the highest places, but from the
beginning religion was his chief concern. Along
with his brothers John and Horatius he attended
the prophetical lectures Edward Irving was then
delivering at half-past six in the morning. The
three young men accepted the premillenarian. view,
and maintained it through their long lives.
Horatius Bonar became known to all the world
as a hymn-writer ; John Bonar was a magnificent

DR. ANDREW BONAR 57
preacher ; Andrew's career is told in this book.
They all reached their ministerial jubilees ; and
two of them, Horatius and Andrew, became
Moderators of their Church. There was a singular
harmony between the three ; though their tempera
ments were dissimilar. Andrew Bonar was cer
tainly not the least gifted. Though he never
wrote verse, his sermons often shimmered with
poetry. He was of scholarly habits, familiar with
the original text of Scripture. But his winning,
quaint, and beautiful personality was his chief dis
tinction ; and this diary helps us to understand it.
After a probationary period, Mr. Bonar was
settled at Collace, a country parish in Perthshire.
There he remained for eighteen years. There are
signs that he himself wondered somewhat at this
long seclusion. At an / earlier period he writes,
' Greatly cast down by the circumstance of my
being kept out of several appointments, on account
of my millenarianism chiefly. I had prayed about
the matter in the full conviction that bearing
testimony to this and other truths was the path of
duty.' But he humbly accepted his place. Even
during the early part of his ministry his spiritual
power and genius were recognised by some dis
cerning hearers through the country, and he had a
scattered but enthusiastic band of admirers. He
was the closest friend of McCheyne, and wrote a
biography of him which has taken its place among
religious classics. But we believe it is true that
he was not valued at anything like his worth. For

58 PRINCES OF THE CHURCH
one thing, his millenarianism was curiously dis
liked; for another, his intellectual power was under
rated. Even when at last he went to Glasgow,
it was to one of the smallest of mission churches.
We remember his saying that for a year his average
congregation did not amount to two hundred
persons. But he went on with his work, till at
last he had a church membership of nearly eleven
hundred, and was known for one of the most
powerful religious forces in the city. When he
had been there seven years, he sustained his great
sorrow in the death of his excellent wife. Still
uncomplaining, and blessing the Hand that smote
him, he went on, amid signs of blessing constantly
more clear. His existence came to be at last in
the great, busy city of the West like the witness of
a church spire pointing to God in silence, and his
death was a bereavement not to a party nor even
to a church, but to the devout and earnest among
all classes of Christians.
Dr. Bonar's power, as this volume abundantly
testifies, was the power of prayer. Again and
again, from first to last, he tells us how for him
the claim of prayer was supreme. ' Unless I get
up to the measure of at least two hours in pure
prayer every day, I shall not be satisfied.' ' I was,'
he says in another place, ' living very grossly,
labouring night and day in visiting, very little
prayerfulness. I did not see that prayer should
be the main business of every day.' In fact, this
book is chiefly a testimony to the efficacy of prayer.

DR. ANDREW BONAR 59
When we think of it, was not the apostolic life
after the same pattern ? Trace St. Paul through
his life and writings, and do we not find everywhere
prayer holding the first place ? Indeed, the whole
Bible is ringing with calls to prayer. His prayer-
fulness did not diminish — it greatly increased
Dr. Bonar's activity, which was of the most
amazing kind. His daughter does not say much of
this, and she has done well. But his countless acts
of ministration are known to Him who will one
day declare them, for he never declared them
himself. He descended upon his work, and so,
while unresting, he was unhasting. There was a
kind of still brightness about him when he visited.
The work did not seem irksome ; he did not need
to watch for opportunities of spiritual converse ;
^everything came naturally ; his labours did not
exhaust him, and the edge remained on his spirit.
His preaching was full of urgency. Earnestness
about the truth is not the same thing as earnestness
about souls. Perhaps there is as much desire to
know and speak the truth as there ever was ; but
that which chiefly concerned Dr. Bonar was its
effect on the people. He knew that the work of
the Christian Church makes for the great ends of
conversion and sanctification, and all his preaching
was ruled by a desire for results. He mourned
when he could see none. What really gladdened
him was the news of souls awakened and con
firmed, and when such tidings grew rare his heart
was heavy.

60 PRINCES OF THE CHURCH
One thing was always clear even to his humility.
He never doubted his own free justification before
God. ' I have many a time been unhappy for a
season, but never led to doubt my interest in the
Lord Jesus.' ' Went to sleep repeating " the Lord
my Righteousness," and feeling as if with this upon
my forehead I could go into the New Jerusalem
and to the just.' The New Testament gave him
the norm of the Christian life ; and living in its
atmosphere, he perceived that the experience even
of great saints is often abnormal and morbid. His
criticism of Brainerd in this connection is peculiarly
instructive. Dr. Bonar held fast the great cardinal
principles of the reality and necessity of the new
birth, and the present acceptance and peace of all
the justified. Profoundly conscious of sin and
shortcoming, he would yet have said, ' Therefore,
being justified by faith, let us have peace with
God through our Lord Jesus Christ.' It is possible
so to preach introspection and self-abasement as
to belie the Gospel, and leave no place for the
higher spiritual joys, and no ground for the offer
of an immediate and transcendent blessedness.
Whenever the spiritual atmosphere becomes
clouded and gloomy, it ceases to be the atmosphere
of the Epistles. There the triumph in Christ rises
over even the great heaviness and continual sorrow
of heart, the sense of sin and weakness, and the
fear of being cast out at last.
Dr. Bonar's judgment of himself and his work
was lowly, and he would have been the last to say

DR. ANDREW BONAR 61
that all men should be like himself. We remember
well how generously he spoke of some whose con
ceptions and lines of service were very different
from his own. There is all the more reason why
his example should be closely and humbly studied.
Those busy in the field are confronted by problems
and situations in which they need resources he and
his like did not possess. But reading this record,
they will acknowledge that the ground-secrets of
spiritual force were well understood by the father
who is now at rest in the Lord.
December 7, 1893.

DR. ROBERTSON SMITH
Professor Robertson Smith succumbed on Satur
day morning to his exhausting illness. The wonder
is that he lived so long. He was afflicted with
tuberculosis in various parts of the body, and had
no illusion as to the course of the disease. For
many months, indeed, he had been measuring its
progress, exactly and calmly. He knew at least
as much about it as his physicians could tell him.
Yet with characteristic fortitude he continued the
work and even the play of life — lecturing, writing,
seeing his friends, and even occasionally travelling
as far as London. Of late, however, the signs of
the end were manifest, and he greatly contracted
his plans of labour. His eager, restless, indomit
able spirit is at last released, and has, we doubt not,
found the Beatific Vision in the ineffable splendour
of perfect knowledge, as well as in the opening of
heaven and the Communion of Saints. When the
tidings of his death came, some must have thought
of Pattison's words about Scaliger : ' On the 21st
of January, 1609, at four in the morning, he fell
asleep in Heinsius's arms. The aspiring spirit
ascended before the Infinite. The most richly
stored intellect which ever spent itself in acquiring
knowledge was in the presence of the Omniscient.'
84

DR. ROBERTSON SMITH 63
We hazard very little in saying that Professor
Smith, in the depth and range of his knowledge,
had no equal among living men. Indeed, with the
single exception of Lord Acton, none could be
compared to him. As a Biblical scholar he stood
among the foremost. He played the chief part in
a great revolution of theological thought. His ac
quirements and achievements, however, will stand
second, in the memory of all who ever knew him,
to his strong and vivid personality. His was, in
truth, a very precious and uncommon mind.
Dr. Smith's early years were spent in a country
parish in Aberdeenshire, of which his father, a man
of high scholarship and great mental force, was
Free Church minister. It was a home where the
severest intellectual discipline went along with
warm family affections and earnest religious feeling.
The minister had other pupils, but none within
sight of his own sons. When the boys went to
Aberdeen University, they speedily took the fore
most place. One of them died early, after un
exampled victories ; the other, through ill-health,
hardly reaped the full fruit of his toils. William
Minto and William Robertson Smith divided the
honours of these years. They were so greatly
admired by their fellow-students that they were
cheered whenever they stood up to answer a ques
tion in class. But one of their professors, still
living, predicted that neither of them would reach
the age of fifty, and the augury has come true.
Robertson Smith went then to Edinburgh, where

64 . PRINCES^OF THE CHURCH
he acted for a time as assistant to Professor Tait in
the class of Natural Philosophy, and studied theo
logy at the Free Church College. His first paper
was, if we mistake not, published in the Proceedings
of the Royal Society of Edinburgh. It was an in
cisive criticism of some mathematical points in
Mill's Logic, and was translated into French. Mill,
in a letter we have seen, owned the justice of the
strictures. Smith entered eagerly into the re
searches of Thomson and Tait, and his wonderful
acquirements in mathematics are shown in the
article on ' Numerals ' which he contributed far on
in his career to the Encyclopaedia Britannica. But
he was busy with other studies. He competed for
the Shaw Philosophical Fellowship, and though
surpassed by T. M. Lindsay (the winner) and W. A.
Hunter — now well-known men — in acquired know
ledge, his answers were considered by Professor
Campbell Fraser equal in freshness and originality
to any given in. He had found a more engrossing
attraction in theology, particularly in Hebrew,
which he studied under Dr. A. B. Davidson — a
master whom he reverenced. In Germany he
studied at various places — Bonn and Gottingen
included — having among his teachers Kamphausen
and Ewald. His amazing force and prodigious
learning were fully recognised by the students, and
he took a prominent part in the Theological Society,
where he was known as the most formidable of
critics and opponents. Among the recreations of
that period was an article on Hegel's criticisms of

DR. ROBERTSON SMITH 65
Newton, which led to a long and lively correspond
ence in an Edinburgh newspaper between himself
and Dr. Hutchison Stirling. All this when he had
hardly completed his twenty-second year !
Smith was twenty-three, and ready to be
' licensed ' as a ' probationer,' when the chair of
Hebrew in the Aberdeen Free Church College fell
vacant. More than one qualified candidate
entered the lists, but the extraordinary testi
monials to learning and ability brought forward
by Smith's friends conquered all opposition. ' Mr.
William Robertson Smith, preacher of the Gospel,'
was appointed to a theological chair over the heads
of ordained ministers — a thing previously unheard
of. He had given a specimen of his power in an
article, ' Prophecy in the Critical Schools of the
Continent,' which Dr. Allon inserted in the British
Quarterly Review. The paper was rightly described
at the time by Dr. Cheyne in the Academy as ' able ;
chiefly a vindication of Ewald's orthodoxy, and an
attack on Kuenen.' It was read with admiration
both by Dean Stanley and the late Dr. Candlish.
The latter, however, saw that Smith did not believe
in a single authorship of Isaiah, but was not greatly
perturbed. At that time the Free Church was
remarkably free from doctrinal controversy or
alarm. The strong influence of the Disruption
leaders — Cunningham especially — biased the most
powerful minds of the Church in favour of ortho
doxy, and they slept on as if drugged, while others
around were wakening.

66 PRINCES OF THE CHURCH
Dr. Smith commenced his work as a professor
amid general hopefulness and goodwill. We re
member, as if it were yesterday, his first lecture,
delivered in 1870, when he was barely twenty -four.
The subject was, ' What History Teaches us to Seek
in the Bible.' His youthfulness, his extreme pallor,
the abstruseness of nearly all he said, the ringing
force with which he panegyrised Calvin and quoted
from Luther, the pleased and puzzled aspect of the
audience, and his own exuberance when all was
over — these things are not easily forgotten. The
lecture was afterwards published, and in the light
of his teaching was not difficult to understand. It
contained, indeed, the germ of what he held, if we
mistake not, up to his death. There are in it the
germs of a reconciliation between faith and criticism
such as we feel, with sorrowful confidence, he alone
could have worked out completely.
The young professor gave himself unsparingly
to his work. His little band of students had the
best he could give them. Even then his health
was indifferent, and doubtless he overworked him
self. He would come to his class often the very
personification of weariness and exhaustion. But
generally he revived as he poured forth the treasures
of his thought and knowledge. His mental alert
ness and vivacity were, if possible, even more
astonishing than his attainments. Books, instead
of extinguishing, had kindled the flame of his
thought. In private intercourse he was exceed
ingly communicative. The one subject on which

DR. ROBERTSON SMITH 67
he then had little to say was general literature.
His work had left him no leisure for miscellaneous
reading. Even in this department, however,
Professor Smith was ahead of other men. He
greatly astonished his students by a course of
lectures on Hebrew Poetry. In these, though
avowedly deriving in part from Ewald, he gave
expression to most luminous and original specu
lations on the nature of poetry, and showed an
intense appreciation of the literary beauty of the
Bible. We remember the rapt expression with
which he would quote such phrases as, ' The beasts
of the field look up sighing unto Thee,' ' The fig
tree standing white in the sun,' ' They were lovely
and winsome in their lives, and in their deaths
they were not divided.' He had some thought of
publishing a book on Hebrew poetry, but contented
himself with an article in the British Quarterly,
which, though very good, omits what was most.
daring and distinctive in the original lectures.
Personally he was very popular. Merciless in his
criticisms, he often gave pain. He had little
sympathy with slow wits, and none at all with
anything else that might be pleaded in excuse for
unprepared lessons or perfunctory essays. But
though hasty, he was a man of warm, affectionate,
and generous nature, and never provoked personal
animosity. His critical position was at first some
what conservative ; thus he lectured on Egypt
and the Books of Moses, following Ebers, and
maintaining the antiquity of the Joseph narrative.

68 PRINCES OF THE CHURCH
But he was of course far in advance of current
Free Church opinion, and did not at first take all
his students with him. Strictly conservative views
were then powerfully represented in the Aberdeen
College. We pass with reluctance to the great contro
versy which divided his life — a controversy never
to be thought of without misery, the most truly
tragical episode in the church life of our times.
Certainly the Free Church never had a more loyal
and devoted son. Certainly no Church ever treated
a young minister with greater confidence and
affection. Yet the two were parted — to the great
loss of both. It is the last thought in our mind to
renew the battle over his grave, but we think
English readers should know Smith's position, and
that taken by the majority which removed him
from his chair.
Professor Smith's critical views, which he first
publicly expounded in the Encyclopaedia Britannica,
require no elucidation. They are those now taught
by the Old Testament professors of almost every
church. Theologically he taught the Reformation
theology in its purity. Perhaps we may best
summarise his views by saying that he insisted
strongly on the personal character of revelation and
faith. Revelation was not a supernatural com
munication of doctrine, but ' the direct personal
message of God's love to me.' So the Bible was the
actual realisation among men of a personal fellow
ship with God through word and faith. This it was

DR. ROBERTSON SMITH 69
in every part. Dr. Smith rejected the view that
parts of Scripture are the Word of God and others
not. ' People now say that Scripture contains God's
Word, when they mean that part of the Bible is the
Word of God and another part the word of man.
That is not the doctrine of our churches, which
hold that the substance of all Scripture is God's
Word.' The silver was not in the leaden ore, useless
to the man who could not smelt it. It was in a
mould whose shape it took. ' The pure silver
takes the shape of the mould, it may be an im
perfect shape, but it is pure silver, and the man is
enriched thereby without any further act.' It
will be seen how on this view criticism was neces
sary and innocuous. It will appear also that the
more rigid dogmatism of those who followed
Calvin — Turretin, for example, down to Hodge —
found little favour with Dr. Smith. He used to
quote admiringly from Ames and others who recog
nised the personal character of revelation and the
consequent need of a historical treatment of Scrip
ture. But the Free Church as a whole accepted
implicitly the theology of Dr. Hodge.
To understand his view of faith it was advisable
to hear him preach. When his name as a, teacher
became famous through the land, great crowds used
to attend his sermons. They heard nothing sen
sational ; nothing personal ; nothing extravagant ;
nothing that departed from the plain old lines of
evangelical truth. Professor Smith preached the
Gospel with such childlike faith and simplicity

70 PRINCES OF THE CHURCH
that only on reflection did men discover that his
words, though clear as spring water, were as deep.
He had the firmest grasp of the Reformation
doctrine of justification by faith. Faith to him
was not a function of the intellect assenting to
higher truth than that of reason. It was a personal
trust on God in Christ. ' The ground of assurance
is nothing that is in us, but only the covenant
grace of God and the saving love of Christ.' ' The
covenant grace of God not resting on our merit,
the saving love of Christ seeking the lost only
because they are lost — these are what the Gospel
holds forth as your warrant to come to Christ if
you have not known Him before, to cleave to Him
still if you have begun to doubt His grace.' He
repudiated as vehemently as Maurice the title of a
Broad Churchman. Of the Scottish Broad Church
school he spoke with habitual contempt. His re
ligion was ' churchly Christianity.' His views on
the whole subject are set forth in one of the most
valuable and characteristic of his writings, ' The
Place of Theology in the Work and Growth of the
Church,' published in the British and Foreign
Evangelical Review. One of his own favourite
expressions would have been eagerly repeated by
Maurice — his assertion that it is not man who finds
and chooses God, but God who finds and chooses
man. It should be said that, in spite of the studied
plainness of their style, his sermons contained
passages of most marked spiritual beauty.
For the new views of the Old Testament the

DR. ROBERTSON SMITH 71
Free Church was wholly unprepared. She had,
indeed, been taught by her strongest and most
revered men to look upon them as the result and
sign of unbelief. If there was anything on which
the Church prided herself, in which she was one,
it was in the integrity and purity of her dogmatic
faith. It must be owned that Dr. Smith, whose
whole life and habits had been those of a student,
very little appreciated the general ways of thinking
on such subjects. It was not easy for him to place
himself even where most of his brethren stood. At
the time he first wrote he was a pioneer — much in
advance of any recognised guide of the orthodox
churches. Some of his most prominent defenders,
indeed, pronounced his main conclusions false.
The result was a grievous and prolonged contro
versy, in which the assailed professor showed the
most brilliant ability. It was inevitable that little
should be done to elucidate truth ; much of the
fighting was merely gladiatorial. The conviction
gradually grew that Dr. Smith was a true son of the
Church, one who threw passion into faith as well as
into duty ; there was an earnest desire on the part
of many conscientiously opposed that he should be
allowed to remain in his post, and the impression of
his commanding intellectual power became uni
versal. Indeed, he was actually reinstated, and
had it not been for a new article appearing at a most
unfortunate time, the controversy would have
taken end. As it was, the majority of his oppon
ents declined to pronounce his doctrines heretical ;

72 PRINCES OF THE CHURCH
they removed him from his chair on the ground that
he needlessly disturbed the peace of the Church,
but he retained his position as a minister. It was
a great error, and he lived to see this owned on all
hands. He saw the complete triumph of his long
contending, though he had no share in the spoils.
Views which seemed to many likely to pass like a
summer storm, are now to all appearance per
manently lodged in the Church. Some good may
have come of the battle and its issue, for God
knows how to use men's right-minded mistakes as
effectually as He uses their right-minded service.
But Smith's life was broken in twain : a great
spiritual ministry was arrested in mid-course, and
none of us may measure the loss.
We have neither the space nor the ability to
write of Dr. Smith's subsequent career at Cam
bridge. His editing of the Encyclopaedia Britannica
was in itself a life-time's achievement. There was
hardly any contributor, however abstruse his sub
ject, who did not find that his editor could meet
him on equal terms, and the marks of his hand are
everywhere in that great enterprise. He became
one of the most conspicuous and potent personalities
in the University of Cambridge— influential in
every sphere. It is deeply to be regretted that he
was not spared to publish the concluding courses
of his Burnett Lectures. The first, on the ' Religion
of the Semites,' is an epoch-making book, and
almost to the end he hoped that he might be able

DR. ROBERTSON SMITH 73
to prepare it for a second edition. In the other
courses, as well as in the republication of his Old
Testament in the Jewish Church, he showed that he
had kept his early faith and bequeathed an in
valuable legacy to the Church. It was to the
Church and to Scotland that he belonged — so we
shall always think. Whatever he accomplished
as investigator or teacher in other fields, it was
not by his own choice. He would fain have been
in the Church — sharing its work of lifting the
world to higher levels than those of time and nature.
Like the Scottish metaphysician, Dr. Thomas
Brown, in the words so beautifully commented on by
Mackintosh, he chose to be buried with his kindred.
The mind that soared and roamed over every
region of knowledge, that measured itself un-
vanquished with the strongest of its time, turned
back to the scenes and the friends of youth. He
has been laid to rest in the Keig churchyard by the
graves of his father, his brother, and his brilliant
and beautiful sister.
April 5, 1894.

DR. R. W. DALE
On Wednesday of last week Dr. Dale succumbed
to his long illness. He had suffered for some five
years from a serious weakness of the heart, com
plicated by other troubles. His rallying power,
however, was so surprising that there were strong
hopes that his life might be prolonged. The end
came somewhat suddenly about six o'clock in the
evening. The news brought a great shock to
those who were in any way associated with Dr.
Dale, for the measure in which Dr. Dale was
known was the measure of the love and honour
with which he was regarded. He was so affec
tionate, so generous, so magnanimous, so true-
hearted, so entirely forgetful of self, that he won
the hearts of all associated with him. Into the
sorrow of the family circle we may not enter. It
is an agony which they and Christ must bear alone.
But in time consolation will come to them from the
thought that Dr. Dale died as he would have
wished to die, among his own people, and that he
passed away in the full height of an influence which
was never so intense and pervasive as in the closing
period of his life. The years that so often dull the
will and contract the heart had no such power over
him. Great as the grief of his church is — the
74

DR. R. W. DALE 75
church and people whom he watched over with
unbroken solicitude and affection for more than
forty years — that sorrow also has its alleviation.
We are all of us grateful to God and to them that
the bond between them remained unweakened to
the last. The life now closed was not very long
if counted by years, but measured by labour and
conflict, it was far beyond the allotted age of man,
and Dr. Dale so lived it that no Nonconformist of
the century has left behind him a more splendid
and stainless name.
Roughly speaking, Dr. Dale's life may be divided
into three periods. The first was, a time of pre
paration. Born in London in 1829, Mr. Dale at a
very early period came under strong religious
impressions. He tells us how, when a mere boy
of fourteen, he read through Mr. Angell James's
Anxious Enquirer on his knees, and in keen distress
about his personal salvation. ' Night after night
I waited with eager impatience for the house to
become still, that in undisturbed solitude I might
agonise over the book which had taught so many
to trust in God.' The frank and instructive
criticism of the Anxious Enquirer which appears in
Mr. Dale's biography of his successor throws a
strong light both on his theological convictions
and religious experience. He looks upon the virtual
identification of pardon and justification in that
work as its great blemish. He argues that if the
two are identified, the soul, when conscious of
needing a renewal of pardon, will practically suppose

76 PRINCES OF THE CHURCH
that its justification needs renewal also ; that it is
standing in the same unsheltered and perilous
position which preceded its original reconciliation
to God. Any true theory of justification must
leave that great and permanent blessing unaffected
by the infirmities and sins which need daily con
fession and daily forgiveness. Mr. Dale held this
view very strongly to the end. Two or three years
ago he wrote us from Wales, speaking of his sleep
less nights and the happiness which this glorious
truth brought him in the silent hours. He had
great delight latterly in the confirmation of his
views which he found in Dorner's History of
Protestant Theology. The point is one of cardinal
importance. On it depends the whole temper of
the religious life. If that is to be strong, buoyant,
joyful, courageous, then the soul must not be
thrown back day after day into the wretchedness
and horror of being under the divine condemnation.
With Dr. Dale to the very last the great character
istics of the Christian life were joy and courage,
and notwithstanding his experiences of sorrow and
weakness, he remained to the close not ' a miserable
sinner,' but a hoping saint. It has been said that
the whole basis of the Puritan character was a
passionate, deep, religious organisation. This Mr.
Dale possessed, but he would have laid even greater
stress on the necessity of a definite and critical
religious experience — an experience no less than
the passing from death to life.
With this went the eager labour of a searching

DR. R. W. DALE 77
and masculine intellect. There are souls, it has
been said, and those among the noblest, to whom
the primary avenue of access is the intellect, and
who can only be led homeward by the illuminative
way. The youth devoted himself to study at
Spring Hill College, which he entered in 1847.
Henry Rogers was then a professor, and Dale
became one of his favourite pupils. His studies
were crowned by two marked successes at London
University. He won the prize for knowledge of
the Hebrew text of the Old Testament and of the
Greek of the New Testament. In 1853 he took
the degree of M.A., with the gold medal in mental
and moral science. About that time he was in
vited by Mr. Angell James to become his assistant
in Carr's Lane. In November 1854, he became
co-pastor, and for the succeeding four years, till
Mr. James's death, worked with him most har
moniously and happily. On the death of Mr.
James Mr. Dale became pastor, and his earliest
literary work of importance was a biography of
his late colleague. From the first, Mr. Dale held
that the fervent spirit was not enough, that the
prophet of power must be a thinker, and in easy
command of the problems that agitate men's
minds. But he did not immediately find himself,
and we know that he afterwards discovered much
to criticise in his earlier writing. The reward of
his toil came in a very early maturity, and in a
reputation and influence which soon spread them
selves far beyond the limits of Birmingham.

78 PRINCES OF THE CHURCH
The second part of Dr. Dale's life, which in
cluded the time when he devoted the whole stress
and vigour of his amazing energy to innumerable
labours as minister, as author, and as political
and ecclesiastical leader, may be said to date from
about the year 1865, ora little later. By that time
his influence was commanding. His Discourses
Delivered on Special Occasions had been reviewed
in the Contemporary by Dean Alford, and had
made him well known in the Church of England,
as well as among Nonconformists. Through the
twenty years of his magnificent prime his work
was first of all ministerial. He was a true son of
the Evangelical revival, a faithful preacher of the
Christian redemption. His whole teaching rested
on the truth that some have received the forgiveness
of sins and others have not received it, and that
every other distinction is insignificant compared
with this. It was his practice to appeal to every
hearer who had not repented of sin to repent
straightway. He taught with uncompromising
firmness that all needed conversion. He was wont
to protest against the view that the poor and the
vicious specially need to be preached to. That
view, he thought, was held by men who regarded
the Gospel as nothing more than a powerful
agency for diminishing the perils of the State by
reforming the dangerous classes of society. It
did not trouble him that the respectable classes
attended his church. He believed that the respect
able classes needed salvation as much as any other.

DR. R. W. DALE 79
He saw no clearer signs of the near approach of
the millennium in the West End of London than
in the East. He was aware of the dangerous force
of unbelief among the cultured classes, and believed
that it would be overcome by manifestations of
the power and grace of God. To this is due his
sympathy with the work of Mr. Moody and other
revivalists. But Dr. Dale was not a mere evange
list. He was a great theologian, and his theology
was delivered from the pulpit. He brought to
theological study a highly trained and powerful
intellect, a deeply religious heart, and a sense of
literary form which made his work in that depart
ment of supreme importance. Dr. Dale's earlier
writings are perhaps too diffuse. He had a picture
of the particulars in his own mind, and incidents
and allusions came to him in troops. His experi
ence of life yielded readily a stock of instances on
which he was wont to expatiate. But he tolerated
no slovenliness or imperfection, and if at first he
was too turgid, the study of the masters, especially
of Burke, soon educated him to one of the most
perfect styles in the whole range of English
literature. A third and most important part of
his pulpit work was his instruction on conduct.
He held very strongly that the Christian ethic,
which is the will of God, should be taught from
the pulpit, and certainly no more effective moral
teacher has ever appeared. This kind of writing
he found very easy. Subjects and their treatment
came without the slightest difficulty, while in

80 PRINCES OF THE CHURCH
dealing with the great truths that are the burden of
revelation, he to the last experienced a certain
sense of effort and strain.
Dr* Dale undertook and carried through almost
incredible labours in the political and ecclesiastical
world. Birmingham is a town which inspires its
citizens with warm affection, and Dr. Dale threw
himself without reservation into its abundant life.
His services to the municipality, to education, to
philanthropy, were countless, and can never be
told here. No doubt his ecclesiastical and religious
work gained from this contact with affairs. It has
been said that no one would guess from Bishop
Butler's writings that he ever had the disposal of
five pounds. Dr. Dale was of another type. Full
of sanguine energy and masculine activity, he
knew too much about the sorrows of life to be
overbearing. There was in him that moral
thoughtfulness which Arnold made the goal of
his teaching. At the early age of forty he became
Chairman of the Congregational Union, and de
livered the finest addresses ever given from that
high position — addresses which he himself never
surpassed. In the battle for religious equality he
took the foremost place, and no such champion of
the cause has appeared in this country. He had
every qualification — firm principle, an entire free
dom from the angularity of mind often seen in
those who are brought up to object to what is
established, a deep, steady undercurrent of strong
feeling, and, above all, a religious temper which

, DR. R. W. DALE 81
helped him to preserve a certain aloofness even in
the thick of war. These twenty years were indeed
rarely vivid, full, and happy. They were years
when his only rest from work was in other work,
and when he found that rest sufficient. They were
years when he saw the fruits of his toil springing
up on every side, and when it seemed as if he and
the other captains of the Birmingham army were
very soon to see the speedy triumph of every
cause they pleaded.
Reverses came, and to those who do not know
the facts it may have seemed that the last years of
Dr. Dale's life contrasted somewhat sadly with the
triumphant and thronged career which preceded
them. But it was not so. By faith we under
stand that the dark Love which ordains our lot
is wise, but sometimes gleams of light shine upon
the way. It might have been said, it probably
was said, that Dr. Dale had been too prosperous,
too happy, too masterful. Hazlitt remarked that
no woman ever cared for Burke's writing. It was
too hard, too dry, too glittering. To Dr. Dale
came, later than to most of us, the experiences of
bereavement, sickness, and weariness, which test
the reality of faith and the power of endurance.
He encountered them bravely and tenderly. He
was refined, ennobled, and taught by pain. It
opened up to him such new reaches and depths of
experience that he wittingly turned aside from
many things that had claimed his care in order to
develop the positive argument for Christianity,

82 PRINCES OF THE CHURCH
on which he had all his life relied. And so in
him was fulfilled the great word that the men of
sorrows are the men of influence in every walk of
life. Not without tears was the New Testament
written, not without tears can it be understood.
In his earlier works Dr. Dale had consistently
made his ultimate appeal to the experiences of
penitents and saints. He came to see in his
last years that he had been wiser than he knew.
He came to see, and he was able to show, that the
true verifying of Scripture lies in its application
from point to point in life. This is the highest
criticism, and it is a criticism which is independent
of every other. ' They that wait upon the Lord
shall renew their strength.' Is this true ? If it
is, then nothing else matters much any more. We
behold as in a glass the glory of the Lord. So
much every Christian knows. Is it true that,
beholding, we are changed into the same image as
from a Lord who is Spirit ? Dr. Dale found it
to be true, and the permanent value of his later
works lies in their constant and triumphant appeal
to religious experience, not the experience of the
individual, but the experience of the commonalty
of those who have received the Christian redemp
tion, who, living the Divine life, are in contact
with the presence and power of the Spirit of God.
During his ministry he had borne the brunt of the
controversies which commenced with Colenso and
' Ecce Homo,' and which ended at last in the
breaking down of all authority which is per-

DR. R. W. DALE 83
manently external. He saw what was coming,
and he steadily endeavoured to place Christianity
beyond the reach of all such assaults, to show that
the Christian religion cannot be judged from any
standpoint but its own, and that all true theology
must in the end be the interpretation of the truths
revealed in the experience of believers living and
departed. He was thus able to vindicate finally
the New Testament as itself the experimental and
standard interpretation of Christianity. There are
points on which we have ventured to differ from
him, but on the whole there are no contributions
to Christian theology made in our time so likely
to endure as the series of volumes which includes
The Living Christ and the Four Gospels, and
Christian Doctrine. It is significant that these
works seem to open up a new audience to Dr.
Dale, and it was gladdening in the highest sense
for him to know that he was fortifying the faith of
the Church in his last days, as even he had never
been able to do before. In intellectual power, in
beautiful and stately expression, in wise, catholic
interpretation, his last books are his best. How
ever much we may wish that he had remained a
little longer to give us the ripe fruit of his long
meditation in his work on the 'Holy Spirit,' it is
surely matter for joy and thanksgiving that he
has given us so much, that he went on from
strength to strength, and knew no waning and no
decay in his intellectual and spiritual power. Of
too many theologians what was said of the younger

84 PRINCES OF THE CHURCH
Pitt is true — ' He never grew, he was cast.' The
diligent readers of Dr. Dale — and happily they are
many — know that this is the last thing that could
justly be said of him.
We leave to others better qualified to tell how
sweetly and nobly his faith was manifested in
daily life. It is impossible for us not to testify
how many kindnesses we received from him, how
many words of encouragement he wrote us, how
considerate and steadfast was his friendship.
From time to time, in spite of his weakness and
his exhausting labours, he sent us contributions
to these columns. These kindnesses, which
meant so much to him who received them, were
such matters of course in that beneficent career
that he scarcely seemed to remember them. But
there are hundreds all over the country who owe
him what they cannot express, what they can
never forget. God has been good to our Non
conformist churches in these latter days, and has
given them many wise, gracious, and spiritual
leaders, but none of them all has done a greater
and more enduring work than * our high Star and
true Apostle that is gone.'
March 21, 1895.

A SPIRITUAL TRIUMPH : THE LIFE OF
DR. JOHN CAIRNS1
Those who knew Dr. Cairns will be stupefied at the
first sight of Dr. MacEwen's biography. It is a
very stout and handsome volume of eight hundred
pages. Dr. Cairns was so reticent, his life was so
uneventful, his numerous letters were so brief, that
it is difficult to imagine how such a book could be
made up. But the biography is excellent, and
fully justifies itself. There has been no Scottish
ecclesiastical memoir of the same value published
since Hanna's Life of Chalmers. It almost gives
what is, after all, the incommunicable freshness of
impression which comes from the contact with a
living man. More than that, those who knew
Dr. Cairns will find that this book helps to inter
pret him, and really adds to their understanding
of his personality. While writing in the most
affectionate and reverent spirit, Dr. MacEwen is
rigorously truthful. We have here the story of a
spiritual triumph, and something which came short
of being an intellectual triumph. Dr. MacEwen
throws a strong and faithful light on a deeply in
structive history. That most serious and awful
1 Life and Letters of John Cairns, D.D., LL.D. By A. R. MacEwen,
D. D. (Hodder and Stoughton. ) 85

86 PRINCES OF THE CHURCH
description of Christian experience contained in
the words, ' Ye died, and your life is hid with
Christ in God,' rises to the mind habitually as these
pages are read.
It must be acknowledged that Dr. Cairns started
with great advantages. He was the son of Scottish
Christian peasants, who bestowed upon him full
health of body and mind. It may be doubted
whether any lot could have been more fortunate,
though the father and mother with their eight big
children had for a time to content themselves with
a single room, with bed recesses, and ' a milk closet
six feet broad.' The indulgences and graces of
existence were absent, but other things were
absent also. There was no moral weakness weav
ing itself into life as an inseparable thread of dark
ness. There was a strong sense of law and duty, a
Spartan simplicity, a serene and broad intelligence,
a sober yet ever-pleasant and cheerful light of
morning, a plain, undemonstrative fidelity, and,
above all, a hallowing piety and faith. The fever
of modern life, the tremors of sickly foresight and
restless ambition, were unknown in this quiet world,
where the generations went and came calmly.
Dr. Cairns had, besides, throughout his life a sin
gular immunity from sorrow. Not that he escaped
the common lot — his affectionate nature was again
and again sorely tried by the loss of dear friends
and comrades. But his faith rose easily above
such griefs in the assurance that, though clouds
and darkness are round about God, yet in Him

DR. JOHN CAIRNS 87
there is no darkness at all. He did not enter into
the closest relationship of life. His biographer
tells us that ' at the age of thirty-one he was the
rejected suitor for a young lady's hand. At that
time he was consoled by the hope of renewing his
suit with more success, but presently she was
married to another man. Stray notes in a holiday
journal show that a fierce struggle followed, in
which his whole nature was stirred, but he was
victorious.' We read further on that he had
thoughts of marriage up till about the age of forty,
and then completely dismissed them. He was
not a man to be tortured with unavailing broodings
over what was left behind, and he was spared the
passage through the heaviest clouds that can over
come humanity. Although this is not a point
on which one can speak with confidence, it seems
as if his heart never received a lasting wound.
The supreme interest of religious biography often
lies in the conflict of the soul succoured by grace
with sin and grief. Such interest this biography
does not possess.
On the other hand, it brings out with singular
clearness the fine and strange combination of open
ness and reserve which is perhaps the ideal form
of the Christian life. We should say about
Dr. Cairns that nothing was more characteristic
of him than his power of making himself at home
with all classes of men. He might have repre
sented St. Paul's words about being ' all things to
all men.' Doubtless this was very largely a natural

88 PRINCES OF THE CHURCH
endowment, and indeed it must be this in part with
every Christian. Dr. Cairns was enthusiastically
human, full of the sympathies which are at the
basis of human character. He was naturally
drawn to men and women, aware of the richness
of the common vital stock, sure about any stranger
that if he knew him he would find much to love.
If there is any natural gift that Christ takes under
His protection it is this, and so Dr. Cairns found it.
A universal good-will often loses itself fairly in
sentiment, and is found incompatible with strong
individual attachments, but Dr. Cairns's broad, out-
reaching nature was always ruled by one purpose.
He constantly longed and laboured to bring men
under the power of that Love which had taken
their burden to the Cross. This openness went
along with a most curious reserve, which his bio
grapher duly signalises. He did not seem to want
companions. Through his wide-ranging journeys
he travelled alone. Though very companionable
and possessed of many devoted friends, he deliber
ately preferred to be solitary. During a pedestrian
tour in the Lake District in 1849, he had a lofty
and impressive religious experience, and the
Borrowdale Hills were ' consecrated to him for
ever by memories of God.' As Dr. MacEwen says,
' he found his Mount Hermon after happy days of
eager sight-seeing and cheery talk with unknown
foreigners.' It may be a complete error, but it
seemed to the present writer that in his later days
he even preferred the company of the poor and un-

DR. JOHN CAUtNS 89
lettered, and that he shrank from discussions of
debated points in theology, choosing rather the
freedom of that broad region where all believers
are one.
Many will say that the chief thing notable, the
first memory attached to his name, is that of his
great and life-long humility. It is difficult, and
would "be impossible in our space, to give any idea
of the extraordinary beginning o'f his career as a
dissenting minister. On his University he left an
unprecedented impression of scholarship and mental
power. The highest hopes were cherished of his
future, but his intellectual ambition died an early
death. He was more than content with his lot as
a Nonconformist minister in Berwick-on-Tweed,
and it is not too much to say that, after a certain
stage, he received everything which his Church
brought to him in the name of religion with the
tender faith of a child. He asked nothing from
the Church, looked for nothing, desired nothing,
except the satisfaction of labouring in what he
believed to be the cause of God. But for that
cause how great were his hopes, how manifold
were his efforts ! It was impossible to hide such
a man, and when his head appeared above the
level, it was inevitable that he should be called up
higher. His career from beginning to end was
full of pathetic refusals to accept the estimates and
invitations of his fellow-men. Many of these he
concealed. Dr. MacEwen tells us that in 1859
Dr. Cairns was offered the Principalship of Edin-

90 PRINCES OF THE CHURCH
burgh University. He was then in his fortieth
year, and his most exacting ambition might well
have been satisfied, but he immediately declined
the offer on the ground that he had consecrated
himself to the service of Christ in the Church. But
far more noteworthy and characteristic is the fact
that he mentioned the offer to no one, and that his
own brothers knew nothing of it until they examined
his correspondence after his death. He had indeed
died as few have died to worldly ambition, and he
kept his secrets well. More than once we have
come unexpectedly on traces of the good deeds
he hid so jealously. No one ever knew how much
of his time was spent in works of mercy and of
prayer. His Christian experience was, as might have
been expected, singularly joyous and peaceful. He
survived the failure of many hopes, but he was not
ashamed. Dr. MacEwen tells us that the year
which witnessed the breakdown of the Union ne
gotiations between the United Presbyterian Church
and the Free Church was perhaps the happiest of
his life. To this cause he had given measureless
labour and thought, yet the failure did not disturb
him. It recalls Wordsworth's lines —
' From all doubt
Or trepidation of the end of things,
Far was I as the angels are from guilt.'
He took an active part in controversy from time
to time, and made special efforts in the cause of
Disestablishment. He acquitted himself bravely

DR. JOHN CAIRNS 91
as a soldier in the uniform of Jesus Christ, and was
indeed as true a crusader as ever took up the cross.
But we do not know of his ever speaking a scornful
or impatient word, nor do we remember that he
was ever charged with insincerity, although exposed
to misconstruction like others. The strong, simple,
unselfish motive that impelled him was not to be
mistaken. Yet in these discussions, while he plied
his weapon well, there was about him a strange air
of remoteness, as if his soul had soared beyond the
field of battle, and looked down from the rest of
victory. His zeal was wholly for the Kingdom of
God, and he believed intensely that God was bring
ing that Kingdom through defeat and delay as
well as through triumph. His life was above and
beyond the incidents of the hour, and the secret of
its tranquillity was that he was perfectly at peace
with God, and found Christ made to him, moment
by moment, wisdom, and righteousness, and sancti-
fication, and redemption.
So his days ran on quietly, and men more and
more deeply marked his goodness. When his
health failed and his work had to be restricted, he
was ' clothed as usual in unconscious cheerfulness.
He talked frankly about his symptoms and his
prospects as one who had no need to be troubled
or perplexed.' His speech was free and hopeful,
his spirit bright, his memory strong. Even when
he had to resign, he wrote with the utmost calm
ness and cheerfulness, ' I am quite willing to take
into consideration any hint for indoor work, if the

92 PRINCES OF THE CHURCH
outward be taken away. As to means of sub
sistence, I am thankful that I am so well in hand
as to have no motive on that score to cling to any
thing. My mind is much relieved by the proceed
ings. God has been gracious, and my times, with
those of all others, are in His hand.' How good
it is to read such words ! to see how, as the dark
ness closes in and the strength fails, there come the
peace, the stillness, the dews of evening ! He did
not die beclouded by pessimism ; he was not like
the great Frenchman, Montalembert, with whom
he had most curious intellectual affinities, and of
whom it was said that a certain still despair lay at
the bottom of his heart in the declining of his life.
Dr. Cairns rejoiced in the unswerving hope of the
glory of God, and as the splendour of the earthly
sunshine was fading, he saw a new lustre rise.
To sum up : John Cairns was a living proof and
illustration of the words of the Shorter Catechism,
which was so dear to him : ' The benefits which
in this life do accompany or flow from justification,
adoption, and sanctification, are assurance of God's
love, peace of conscience, joy in the Holy Ghost,
increase of grace, and perseverance therein to the
end.' May 9, 1895.

PROFESSOR HENRY DRUMMOND
When we think of the friend we have lost, and of
the prodigious influence he exercised over his
fellow-men, it is his personality that always comes
to the forefront. Born in a Christian home, ever
under the influence of the most earnest and loving
Christianity, he was himself not only naturally
good, but naturally virtuous, to use the subtle
French distinction. His tall, athletic form, his
beautiful face, his rare union of strength and
gentleness, of courage and tenderness, of boldness
and sanity, gave him a charm which can be partly
accounted for, but which in the end of the day we
must call magnetic, for it could never be com
pletely reduced to its grounds. He never showed
that he had himself experienced the agonies and
travails of religious conflict. But no man was
more familiar with the battles and the defeats of
his fellows. Humble and simple, always at the
furthest remove from self-sufficiency, he was yet
self-sufficing. /The incalculable work he did as a
father confessor of multitudes was apparently
accomplished with triumphant ease. He was
always willing to hear, to help, and to give,/but he
himself never asked anything, never seemed to
need anything, and so far as one could see, had
93

94 PRINCES OF THE CHURCH
nothing to grieve over in the past, nothing to fear
in the future, nothing to turn for to any friend save
to his Saviour Christ. Though he well knew the
sorrowful side of life, he himself never seemed till
the last to be entangled in the coils of pain. His
temperament was joyous, and he lived life with
unfailing zest from sunrise to sunset. Such natures
are so rare and separate that they cannot fail to
be influential. Such a union of qualities, as Dr.
Dods remarks, may not occur twice in a century.
With the largest breath of sympathy, he yet held
a faith which never seemed to be shaken or even
clouded. In addition, he had very unusual en
dowments as an orator and as a writer. No one
we have ever listened to impressed us quite in the
same way. His words were the effortless utter
ance of a man with a message, a man who could
clothe his thoughts in the simplest and at the
same time the most shining vesture. Perhaps his
main characteristic both as speaker and writer was
his brilliant and untiring freshness. You might
agree with him, or you might not, but you could
not choose but hear and remember. As a stylist
he occupied a high and singular position. What
he wrote had the polish and the exquisite fitness of
phrase which belong to a great literary artist.
He was never turgid and never obscure. He had
grasped with firmness the primal law that epithets
must not be introduced for ornament, but only to
give a real and pregnant meaning to the sentence.
Of reporters he had a curious horror, a horror which

PROFESSOR HENRY DRUMMOND 95
is not easily justified, for he had so trained himself
that his expression from the platform and from the
press was equally consummate.
It followed naturally that his message was,
before all things, gracious. Into whatever he
spoke or wrote he put his own radiant personality.
It is not our business to-day to discuss his theo
logical system, if he had one ; but to him, almost
more than to any other preacher of the generation,
the Gospel was good news, and he stood up to
speak it as one fully inspired by its spirit. He
did not endeavour so much to rouse or probe as
to strengthen and soothe. It might be maintained
with a great deal of plausibility that our Lord was
wont at first to quiet the spirit of His hearers.
He began with the beatitudes themselves, instead
of insisting on the effort necessary to win them.
At any rate, Drummond did justice to that rest-
fulness of Christianity which lies behind its spiritual
sharpness and searchingness. Many — and we count
ourselves of the number — believed that he never
had a complete intelligence of the religion of
Redemption, simply because he had no adequate
conception of sin, and no sufficient place for it
in his teaching. But we have to remember both
his own nature and the circumstances in which he
appeared. When he began his public work in
1874, intelligent observers were declaring that the
Free Church was hopelessly encased in an iron
shroud of dogma, and that her days of influence
were over. It was thought that the powerful

96 PRINCES OF THE CHURCH
and original men who founded the Church were to
have no successors, that the very zeal of the Free
Church had generated an impatience of independent
thought that put it hopelessly out of harmony
with the growing liberalism of the age. The
Church, in short, was forgetting that this is the
nineteenth century, and was undergoing a process
of intellectual starvation. On the other hand,
the Established Church was gaining command of
mental power as fast as the Free Church was losing
it. We do not think that any one would say so
to-day, and the brilliant literary and theological
renaissance of the Free Church is largely due to
Drummond and to a few of his contemporaries.
These men by no means abandoned, they have
never abandoned their idealism. Drummond him
self, with all his gentleness, his manliness, his
shrewdness, never reduced revelation to the limits
of sagacity. It would not be right to call him a
mystic. No mystic could ever be so popular.
It would perhaps be fair to say that he lacked
the Hebrew and Christian perception of the veil
veiling over all nations. But his was not one of
those precise, definite, and narrow minds that
rule off all possibilities at the visible horizon. It
sometimes seemed in what he wrote or said that
he fell into the dangerous argument that the
most disinterested actions are in a sense interested,
that if you could only lengthen out the vista of
calculations far enough, you would find that
virtue pays. But it was not so. He always

PROFESSOR HENRY DRUMMOND 97
acknowledged the higher will and the deeper
purpose. In his nobler moods he was conscious
of that mysterious world which wraps earth like
an ocean of mist, and makes all horizons dim.
Many people were and are puzzled by Drum-
mond's sympathy with Moody. They can under
stand very easily the immense debt, always
acknowledged so proudly and generously, which
he owed to Dr. Marcus Dods. But they cannot
understand his occasional subordination to and
constant sympathy with a man like Moody, who,
for all his talent and even genius, cannot be said
to be in the very least alive to the problems of
modern Christianity. We do not think the diffi
culty beyond solution. Drummond was above
all things practical. When he spoke he meant to
achieve results, and he believed that they could be
achieved at the very moment of his speaking. As
the readers of Natural Law in the Spiritual World
are aware, he maintained at first that there was a
tremendous interval between the natural man
and the spiritual man. He argued that the passage
from the natural world to the spiritual world
was hermetically sealed on the natural side, the
spiritual world being guarded from the world next
in order beneath it by a law of biogenesis. ' Except
a man be born again he cannot see the kingdom
of God.' It is not true to say that he held the
natural man to be as remote from the life spiritual
as a stone. But he did seem to maintain that
the natural man is as remote from the life spiritual

98 PRINCES OF THE CHURCH
as a stone is from the life natural. Probably he
would have shrunk in later days from such a
comparison. He would not have insisted — per
haps he never would have insisted — that there
must be a conscious turning to God at a fixed period
of time on which you could lay your finger. But
he did always believe, and he was right in believing,
that if preachers aim at producing definite results,
they can often do it. The^ great defect in most
modern preaching is that it does not appeal directly
and cogently to the will. Take the appeal at its
lowest. Is it not true that many men have a
latent feeling of unworthiness and hopelessness in
their lives ? They see that their course is not
drifting to a fair end. It is often a great service
if they can be made to feel that they need not
travel as they are travelling, that they may
reverse their course. ' I thought upon my ways,
and turned my feet unto Thy testimonies.'
Drummond had always a profound sense of the
ruinous bent of innumerable lives, especially among
young men, of whom he knew so much. He was
aware of the countless wrecks due to sensuality.
He feared, above all things, that paganism which
smites the moral sense with decay. We remember
his expressing himself vehemently on the vicious
nature of a novel which, compared with much
contemporary fiction, was comparatively innocuous.
And so he spoke straight to his hearers. He
appealed to their consciences and their reasons ;
he showed them that whether Christianity was
true or not, they were taking the wrong road, and

PROFESSOR HENRY DRUMMOND 99
he constantly declared to them that they might
form a friendship with Christ. A noble friend
had an influence that changed into nobility, and
if to live with men diluted to the millionth degree
with the virtue of the Highest could exalt and
purify the nature, what bounds could be set to the
influence of Christ ? Without a very strictly
defined theology, he preached Christ as a potent
influence whereby we can become what we are not
through intimate communion with perfect love
and perfect holiness. Thus he won his immense
success with the most difficult classes — especially
with students. They saw in him the likeness of
Christ, and they gave him earnest heed.
' For to know good is to love it,
And the honour that I covet
Is the pride of your pure youth.'
Besides, with all the sense and sanity which could
weigh the possible against the ideal, and strike
the balance of wisdom between them, he had a
profound sense of the incalculable sudden powers
that work upon the soul. He knew that as he
reasoned the involuntary rush of forces came up,
often from half-hidden springs, that incredulity
gave way not step by step as it was conquered
by evidence, but with a revulsion of feeling, and
passed at once into what might almost be called
the opposite degree of conviction. No wonder that
his speech often produced a magical instantaneous
effect. /But he left seeds in many minds which
fructified in a way of which the world knew nothing.
However his early theological dogmas might have

100 PRINCES OF THE CHURCH
changed, his addresses to the last might all have
been delivered from the text, ' Turn ye, turn ye ;
why will ye die ? '
We have only room for a few words on his
apologetics and his theology. It is noticeable
that he always seemed somehow to assume
Christianity, never to argue for it. As we know
that fire warms us, and that water quenches our
thirst, so we may know that Christ has redeemed
us. He believed that the evidences for the truth
are both above and beneath the alleged evidences,
and that Christianity can afford to stand speech
less in the world's judgment hall, knowing that its
works bear witness to it that it is of God. The
present writer often urged upon him a work which
he could have done incomparably well — a new
Gesta Christi — an argument for Christianity from
its effects. As to his theology, no theologian
would admit that it was satisfactory or coherent.
Of the Atonement, for example, he made nothing,
not that he rejected it, but that he had no place
for it, and received it as a mystery. Criticism did
not in the least trouble him. He was not affected
by any dogma on inspiration. Large parts of
the Bible he was content to leave alone. At first
he was Calvinistic, but always with a sense of the
intention of Christ as Sovereign. He had no
adequate conception of the idea of the Church as
the place in which the scattered body of revealed
truths which wander as pilgrims up and down
through the world find a centre of unity and a
definite home. We think he would have said that

PROFESSOR HENRY DRUMMOND 101
no reason can be given for that which lies at the
basis of all reasoning, and that Christ was a living
power before gospels were written, and would be
a living power although they perished.
A word must be said about his eager and con
tinued interest in science. To understand this,
it must be remembered that his career began
when Huxley and Tyndall were dominating the
nation, and when it seemed that physical science
was congealing into an intolerable universal des
potism of material forces. He saw that the age
was essentially scientific. He saw that there
appeared to be between science and religion a
spanless and fathomless abyss. He discerned that
the materialists were swiftly poisoning the nation,
and that they were following Comte in erecting
materialism into a religious system. He threw
himself with all his strength into the work of
effecting a reconciliation, and though we do not
propose in this place to discuss the value of his
work, it may certainly be said at the very least that
it helped to change the situation, and to bring
into many minds, scientific and religious, more
than a ray of hope.
In the noble and discerning tribute which Dr.
Dods paid to his friend, he rightly signalised the
fact that Drummond wisely and courageously
chose his own course in life. He would not be the
slave of conventionalities. He refused to run in
grooves, or to undertake work that did not suit
him. It is best for most of us that we should be
compelled to do our work, but there are bright

102 PRINCES OF THE CHURCH
spirits who accomplish their best if they are left
untrammelled, and he was eminently one of
them. His friends were chosen from all classes of
society. He had endless sources of pleasure. But
he gave you always the sense that he was dis
engaged from them, that he was not dependent,
that all might go, and that he would remain the
same. And so these testing, terrible last years
proved it to be — proved that his faith, his gaiety,
his courage were no gifts of fortune and circum
stances, but gifts of God that are without repent
ance. What can we say about the early close of his
labours ? Like so many others — Elmslie, Robert
son Smith, Robert Barbour, Mackay of Uganda,
belonging to the same Church, he has passed away
in his prime. It may be that the best of his
original work was accomplished, but there is little
comfort in such thoughts. If he had lived he
could have done what no man left behind him can
do, and Drummond in good health would always
have been a force of the first rank. We must
take refuge in faith. We cannot see, but we may
trust. It is something to remember that the
exuberant and beneficent vitality in which we
rejoice is not lost — not lost for us or for any who
share the good hope through grace. Henry
Drummond' s departure for the new country has
made the other life for many, in an unspeakable
degree, more real and more winsome.
March 18, 1897.

REVIVAL CHRISTIANITY :
PRINCIPAL BROWN *
Dr. Blaikie has been signally successful in his
delineation of the late Principal Brown. This is
one of the best religious biographies written for a
long time, sympathetic yet discriminating ; not
too long, and yet not too bald ; well arranged
and full of interesting matter. Dr. Blaikie hits
the white when he says that Principal Brown was
naturally humble and contented. Many who did
not know him well, and some who did, were of a
different opinion. But we have no doubt that
Dr. Blaikie is correct. A certain want of ambition
and' concentration made him miss distinctions and
fail of achievements easily possible to him ; and
had it not been for his prolonged lease of health
and life this loss would have been more conspicuous.
We doubt, however, whether many of his con
temporaries saw as many good days as the Principal.
His happy disposition, his universal curiosity, his
ready address, and his quick methods, his scattered
but constant industry made his life fresh almost
to the last. Every new day was a day of hope for
1 Dr. David Brown, D.D., LL.D. By W. G. Blaikie,, D.D., LL.D.
(Hodder and Stoughton.) 103

104 PRINCES OF THE CHURCH
him, and when it grew clear that the days on earth
were numbered he hoped mightily in the day to
come. Dr. Brown had very little success as an
ecclesiastic. He had none of the qualifications
which, according to a» friend of ours (whom on
this point we do not entirely trust), are necessary
for ecclesiastical ascendency. He had not the
art of clearing his throat in a lengthened and
impressive manner — an accomplishment which, if
our friend is to be believed, must be put in the
very forefront. He could not speak slowly and
deliberately. He was not a man of what is called
a fine presence. He did not know how to use
large gold eye-glasses, moving them up and
down solemnly to the march of his speech, and
laying them to rest where his delighted hearers
might gaze upon them. He was not a master of
such sonorous phrases as ' I desire to associate
myself.' He could not pronounce the word
moderator as it ought to be pronounced, that is
as a word of at least twenty syllables uttered
with infinite relish and with a lingering pride.
He could not suppress his own personality, his
own quickness, his own cleverness. To be a
great ecclesiastic — we are giving our friend's
view — an able man must rigidly suppress his
ability, and a humorous man his humour, and
a sarcastic man his sarcasm. Principal Brown
could not suppress anything. He was as open
as the day. In five minutes you could under
stand him.

PRINCIPAL BROWN 105
Nor was the Principal a very successful professor.
He was not a failure, and in some ways he did
well, but he was not of the class of men who have
great and abiding influences on students. After
many years' study of the subject we frankly confess
that we cannot tell what makes a good professor.
Dr. Brown used to tell with much satisfaction
that an old minister once said, ' I am not afraid
to preach to probationers ; I am not afraid to
preach to ministers, but there is a thing called a
divinity student. God preserve me from preach
ing to it ! ' ' There is a thing called a divinity
student,' and that thing is a mystery. Some men,
you might think, would most certainly win his
worship, and yet somehow they do not. There is
no failure in earnestness, in ability, in labour, in
temper, it may be even in genius, and yet somehow
the effect is missed. Others there are, and we have
known them, who seemed to have everything
against them, who are never by any chance con
ciliatory, who make no sacrifice to the graces, who
are somewhat scornful of modern culture, and yet
their students idolise them. All that can be said
is that you can generally tell whether a man will
be a successful professor by appointing him to a
chair and hearing what the students say about him
at the end of two years. This does not seem
satisfactory, but it is all the length we have got.
Principal Brown did not make his service what it
might have been because he did not always do his
best. It is unreasonable to ask that a man should

106 PRINCES OF THE CHURCH
always be at his best. That is, of course, impos
sible. But a man may always do his best, and he
always should. He may be depressed, ill, weary,
hopeless, burdened ; but the work, whatever it is,
must be carried through with as much conquest of
circumstances as possible. There rise before our
mind some whom we have known intimately, of
whom you could always say this, that be their work
or subject what it might you were positively certain
it was the utmost they could do at the time, that
if they failed they never failed for lack of effort,
self-sacrifice, resolution. Principal Brown, when
he girded his loins and thought and studied and
wrote carefully, could do better than most, but
often he was content to talk, and talking was much
too easy for him, and the lapse into anecdotage
too swift and deep. Nevertheless, as the years
went on, and as it seemed as if he would ' dander
about till the resurrection,' you rarely met him
but he opened a grave of memories, and you were
spellbound by the rising ghosts.
Principal Brown was certainly one of the most
brilliant men we have ever known. He had many
amiable and noble qualities — qualities of courage,
of cheerfulness, of resilience, which appear more
rare, more estimable, as experience of life increases.
But what impressed us at first in him, and all
through, was that he had a true zeal for souls.
From the beginning to the end he was never so
happy, never so much at home, as at a revival
meeting. You saw' the true man then as he joined

PRINCIPAL BROWN 107
in some passionate hymn of redemption, with
the tears running down his cheeks, or listened
tremulously, eagerly, and ' with such believing
eyes ' to an evangelist preaching on ' that most
blessed thief who stole the Kingdom of Heaven,'
or on the cry of the Spirit and the Bride. His
conception of Christianity was that of a revival
Christianity, and this conception dominated his
life. It is worth thinking a moment of what
this implies. It means in the first place that
Dr. Brown found his true rest and home in the
central truths of Christianity, the truths of re
generation and redemption. There is a Christi
anity much in favour now. It contains what
Vinet called a portion and emanation of the
truth, and consequently some of the promise of
the life that now is, but which does not save or
renew. There is an element in Christianity which
can be made intelligible and congenial to the un
renewed nature. Much indeed has been recog
nised by the unrenewed nature, and even yielded
to ; that is, there are maxims of Christianity which
have created a new civilisation. There is an honest
admiration for the character of Christ on the part
of many who do not own Him as Redeemer. It
is possible that this kind of Christianity, this Chris
tianity of secondary ideas and applications, may
go on prosperously from year to year like a well-
managed business. It may even go so far that the
world may become Christian in a certain sense, but
Dr. Brown would have held that such a victory was

108 PRINCES OF THE CHURCH
no real triumph of Christ. He would have fallen
back on his revival hymns : —
' He suffered the just for the unjust,
That the unjust might not die.
For these things were done in the green tree
That they might not be done in the dry.
' Oh ! think of the love and the pardon,
And ask, " Why should I die ? "
For these things were done in the green tree
That they might not be done in the dry.''
No, the fundamental truths of Christianity and the
live faith of the Church can never be made clear
and lovable to any but the spiritual man. To the
natural man the mystery of redemption will always
be more or less unintelligible, and more or less
odious. And the Church can only live in the
world by successive individual transferences from
the natural to the spiritual kingdom. In other
words, the Church is always dying, always being
raised again.
That is why we speak of revival Christianity.
For it is by revivals of religion that the Church of
God makes its most visible advance. When all
things seem becalmed, when no breath stirs the
air, when the sea is like lead, and the sky is low
and grey, when all worship seems to have ended
but the worship of matter, then it is that the Spirit
of God is poured upon the Church, then it is that
the Christianity of the apostles and martyrs, not
that of the philosophers and Liberals, keeps rising,
as Vinet says, from the catacombs of oblivion, and

PRINCIPAL BROWN 109
appears young and fresh in the midst of the obsolete
things of yesterday and the day before. If Chris
tianity be as she is, eternally a stranger to the
world, she is not in any sense established there.
The world is increased by every being born into it,
but the Church has no natural increase, only a
supernatural. The Church lives by capture, by
booty, by winning over from the world the citizens
that make her number. Nor is it too much to
say with a great thinker that she can hardly be
said to live at all. Her life is a perpetual resur
rection, and she is for ever issuing from the tomb.
This was Dr. Brown's view of Christianity, and
it was this that made him delight in revivals. He
saw Christ with his own eyes leading captivity
captive. He knew that this was not the work of
nature, but the work of grace, and in consequence
in an age when faith in the supernatural supports
itself by a struggle, his never wavered, we believe,
for a single instant. It is only by grasping this
view of the Church as fighting and struggling and
suffering for every inch of ground that we can
learn how much we depend on God, and how
surely God is to be trusted. This view of the
Church as not an establishment but an encamp
ment in the world does not lead to despondency.
It leads to the blessedness that comes from a
constant nearness to the Eternal. Dr. Brown's
Christian life was eminently happy, buoyant,
exuberant, in spite of much that seemed threaten
ing in the signs of the times. It is too true to say

110 PRINCES OF THE CHURCH
of many old men that during their last years their
fears exceed their hopes, and their outlook for the
Church of God is gloomy. ' A facie malitiae
collectus est Justus' (Isa. lvii. 1) is what we natur
ally think when they die. But Dr. Brown recalled
rather the strange saying of Bunyan, that there
will come a time when Antichrist will be matter of
history, when the saints will speak of how he grew
and spread, and how he was consumed by the
breath of the Lord's mouth, and destroyed by the
brightness of His coming. Dr. Brown was not
afraid to die, and, what is better, he was not afraid
to live. He was too near the source of hope and
quickening to be dismayed, and sometimes he would
speak as of those who sit in the heavenly places
with Christ Jesus, who look down on the conflict
as though it was already passed, and behold the
fallen Satan.
June 2, 1898.

WAS BISHOP WALSHAM HOW A
PERFECT CHRISTIAN ?
Was Bishop Walsham How a perfect Christian ?
Judging from his biography, we almost think he
was. We have never risen from any Christian
biography with a similar impression of its subject.
Of course we have to remember the drifted tradi
tions Ruskin warns us against, which throughout
the whole of history cover the vaults of searching
fire that must at last try every man's work what
it is. And there is great reason to rejoice in the
new concern with Gospel law, though without the
Gospel Gospel law is but a weight to sink us.
People generally assume that while there is much
variance on points of Christian dogma, all Christians
are at one on points of conduct. The truth is, we
have much more to learn about conduct than about
dogma. Our whole standard and conception of
what the Christian life may be and ought to be is
under imperative need of revision. For ourselves
we frankly confess that many characters and many
biographies interest and attract us far more than
the character and biography of Bishop How. And
yet if we take the record of his life and set it beside
the New Testament, we seem to discern a new and
wonderful harmony, a transcript of the Lord in
hi

112 PRINCES OF THE CHURCH
the disciple, which is almost a unique thing in
religious literature.
To begin with, Dr. How from the beginning of
his labour was a signal example of diligence and
content. He was for nearly thirty of his best
years rector of a comparatively small country
parish. Yet from morning service at eight o'clock,
till he laid down his pen about midnight, every
day was fully occupied, and when he took up
larger responsibilities he could say that no man
can do more than work his whole time. It was
said of him by a friend, and everything bears it
out, that he was perfectly and absolutely content
to live and die in his little parish. This is monitory
and suggestive. It may be doubted whether
Christians have taken fully to heart the parable
of the talents, whether they clearly realise that
our talents may be and must be doubled wherever
we are placed, and that in every sphere, no matter
how humble, there is always the opportunity and
the call for unrelaxed diligence. There are Chris
tians who are amiable and slothful, of whom their
friends say that they have great talents, which
have never yet found full development ; Christians
who salve their consciences by always talking about
some great work they mean to do before they die.
So far as we have noticed, these people are looked
upon affectionately, without any passion of moral
reprobation. Yet surely there can be no sin
greater than this, no guilt heavier or more damning
than that of the unlit lamp and the ungirt loin.

BISHOP WALSHAM HOW 113
Thd world has been taught that its one standard
of action and the one thing worth living for is
happiness, and one can see how this evil teaching
has gradually affected the general mind. In the
view of Christ, our first business in this world is to
do the will of God, and the happiness that is to be
coveted is not the happiness that we pursue, but
the happiness that overtakes us as we faithfully
fulfil our task. Quiet spheres seem to give excuse
for large intervals of leisure, but the Christian has
no right to any leisure beyond the necessary rest.
How found that he had more than enough to do.
He would not even waste a few odd minutes. He
would go to his writing-table and add a few lines
to the book he was engaged upon. He ruled his
life, as life can only be ruled, by being most absolute
and rigid in method. When he knew that a letter
had to be written, he would go and address the
envelope so that it might serve as a reminder.
And all this work was done with the most unbroken
and steady content. In one church, ministers are
asked at their ordination whether they will ' faith
fully, diligently, and cheerfully ' do their work.
It is in the cheerfulness that most of them fail.
How had his trials like every man. He says that
the only people with whom he was very successful
were old women, but he was patient with the
strange vacillations of morning and night that come
to every Christian toiler. However narrow any
man's allotted space of dominion may be, it is
enough— enough for all his time and for all his
H

114 PRINCES OF THE CHURCH
energy. There is a strange contrast between his
biography and that of his friend Edward Thring.
Thring, if ever any man was, was a faithful and
diligent worker. He went on resolutely through
all his difficulties, but he almost destroyed the tonic
effect of his life by his eternal groaning, and grumb
ling, and complaining, and self-pity. No doubt
his difficulties were exceptional, though largely
self-made, but if any one thinks that there is a
sphere where there are no difficulties he is mis
taken. Most striking, and as it seems to us most Chris
tian, was his total lack of ambition in every form
but one. He was ambitious, as St. Paul was am
bitious, to be well pleasing unto Christ. In the
worldly sense he seems to have had no ambition
at all. The sin that most easily besets Christian
workers is perhaps the desire for a larger sphere,
and it is plausible to say that the longing is lawful.
But as a great churchman said, the Church as
Christ conceived it has "no place for secular aspira
tions, and in its ideal form should have nothing to
encourage them. What is called the patrimony of
the Church is perhaps to Christ only the golden
chains of the arch enemy. Christ has endowed
His Church not with earthly wealth and honour,
but with the Holy Ghost. The New Testament
has no suggestion in any shape or form that the
ministers of Christ are to look for a more settled
maintenance than their Master. When prizes
exist in churches— and they exist in all churches,

BISHOP WALSHAM HOW 115
but very specially in the Church of England— they
excite passions which are entirely foreign to the
temper of Christianity. Even noble men have
their lives marred and their hearts turned to bitter
ness by frustrated desire for promotion. We spoke
some time ago of the Indian reformer, Baboo
Keshub Chunder Sen, and his saying that if the
people of the East adopted Christianity they would
bring out into the light truths that Westerns have
left in the shade. One such truth is that believers
should be as dead to the ambitions of the world
and as little touched by them as little children are
touched by cheques or titles. When Christianity
has worked its perfect work and Christians become
as little children again, this will be so, and if there
is any desire it will be the desire to go lower rather
than to mount higher. It was so, eminently, with
Bishop How. When he was offered the See of
Manchester, a place of much greater dignity than
he occupied in London, he declined it without even
mentioning the matter to his wife. His purpose
was that nobody should know of it, but it leaked
out somehow. He accepted his call to the bishopric
of Wakefield with genuine pain and simply as a
matter of duty. When he was an old man he was
offered the great position of Durham, with an
income of more than double what he then had.
Here, too, he decided absolutely, and only with the
greatest difficulty allowed the refusal to become
public. ' I wish,' he wrote to his daughter,
' people would not speak in such exaggerated terms

116 PRINCES OF THE CHURCH
about so very simple and obvious a duty as that
of refusing Durham.' We are by no means sure
that it was a duty, but he was the best judge. So
it was with him through life— no envy, no grudging,
but an unfeigned and unforced delight in the
success of others. These qualities were his to the
very last. We are not quite sure that modern
Christian writers are in harmony with the New
Testament in making so much as they do of sacrifice.
Certainly it is true that the constant oblation of
sacrifice unites us to the pure offering on Calvary,
and that those within the Temple understand as
outsiders cannot the increase of happiness that
follows. But is it not the highest type of sacrifice
to struggle to do those things as a matter of course
—to be unconscious, as it were, that any sacrifice
has been made ?
Bishop How also shines in what is one of the
most straining tests of Christian character, the
manner in which personal injuries are treated.
We may sin by resenting them, and we may sin by
forgiving them. Last week we referred to the
letter Dr. Temple wrote to How after coming to
London. How understood that he had the charge
of the East End, and was not a mere suffragan
bishop at the command of Temple. Temple set
him right in terms which may be characterised as
brutally plain or plainly brutal. The manner of
his action was as remote from Christianity as it is
possible to conceive. Imagine how Dr. Temple's
letter might have been dealt with, and would have

BISHOP WALSHAM HOW 117
been dealt with, by the ordinary Christian. Wal-
sham How was so popular and so prized that he
could have without difficulty raised a storm of
popular indignation before which Temple would
have had to quail. Instead of this, he did what
Temple should have done — he went and talked
over the matter. He schooled himself to believe
that Temple might be right, and did not allow
himself to say one angry or disparaging word,
though he felt that his work in East London was
done. There is, we say, an un-Christian manner of
forgiving as well as an un-Christian manner of
resenting. In fact, in certain circumstances there
is no greater sin than the sin of forgiveness. There
is a demure conceit which receives all criticisms,
however just, pityingly. The man never imagines
that he is ignorant and vain and blundering, that
he has much to learn from criticism. No, he
forgives it ! You cannot forgive in the true sense
unless there is an offence, and criticism is often an
offence, but a duty. There was one, and one only,
who could say, Whosoever speaketh a word against
Me, it shall be forgiven him. Walsham How
seems to have considered carefully and humbly
all criticisms made upon him, but he himself would
not consent to enter into personal quarrels, and
we ask whether this was not in the highest sense
of the word Christian. We may also ask whether
it is not very rare.
We are conscious of entering on more delicate
and difficult ground when we come to speak of

118 PRINCES OF THE CHURCH
Bishop How's behaviour under the greatest of life's
bereavements. There is nothing more fascinating
in modern religious writing than its note of melan
choly. Who among us has not owned the spell ?
The books that we take continually from the shelf
and ponder over and over are the books that strike
this note. To read and think of the dusky strand
of death inwoven in all love, seems to bring us to
the heart of Christ by a nearer way than any other.
Think of the part which Death plays in all the
nobler literature of the world ! And assuredly
the moment of calamity is the half-light in which
much becomes visible that is veiled by the full
glare of prosperity. Yet we may doubt very much
and we doubt increasingly, whether this is per
fectly Christian. There is no melancholy, as
moderns understand the word, in the New Testa
ment. It is ' bright and sun-beshone.' It passes
through earthquake and through heartquake with
a firm tread. It always indicates joy as the note
of the Christian life : a supernatural joy in the
midst of distress and grievance. We are to sorrow
for the dead, but not bitterly, and never hopelessly,
for the law which prevails on their shroud and on
their dust does not prevail on them or on our vision
of them, and the years that seem to remove us
from their side are in reality bringing us nearer.
For, indeed, there is no hour of human existence
that does not draw on to the perfect day. The
Gospel has a place for grief, but it is not nearly so
great a place as Christian literature and Christian

BISHOP WALSHAM HOW 119
teaching often try to make it. True love is to
nerve us for bearing sorrow, to make us pure by
pain, by the forgetting of self, and by that
forgetting of the past which is not oblivion, but
much rather the anticipation of the future. To
read lacerating passages from Bishop How's
journal on his great bereavement would no doubt
be a greater luxury than just to be told that he
went and did his work, that he recovered his
cheerfulness, that he was happy in the innocent
enjoyment of life. But we suspect that in all
this, as in other things, he was very near the mind
of Christ.
Once more, there is something very admonish
ing in the manner in which the old man faced
death. He saw it coming long before, but said
little. He made all the preparations he could,
wrote the fullest and clearest directions to his
children on every matter, and even such small
things as instructions to his successor with respect
to ventilators and other details. He continued in
excellent spirits, enjoying everything, and went
on preaching. He arranged a fishing holiday in
Ireland, and had some good sport. He was glad
in the scenes of the beautiful world he was soon
to leave. He had none of the morbid feeling that
these things were shadows soon to pass : —
' When shall these phantoms nicker away
Like the smoke of the guns on the wind-swept hill,
Like the sounds and colours of yesterday,
And the soul have rest and the air be still ? '

120 PRINCES OF THE CHURCH
There was nothing of the craving : —
' O, Paradise ! O, Paradise ! who would not long for rest ? '
He was in the strait, no doubt, which St. Paul of
old was in. He was willing to depart and be with
Christ, which is very far better, and yet willing
to remain in the flesh as long as that was expedient
for any. Again, we ask, is not this in the full sense
Christian, the thankful acceptance of all the bless
ings of earth ? All of them were lightly held, and
though he said little, there lay, no doubt, on all
that last year of waiting the foreglow of the coming
Angel. November 3, 1898.

PRINCIPAL CHARLES EDWARDS
' He was the wisest man I have known, a Socrates in Life and in
Death. There was no one I loved and honoured more.'
The words came into our mind when we heard of
Principal Edwards's death. Greater things might
be said of one for whom to live was Christ, in a
quite peculiar way, and for whom, therefore, death
was a gain. His passionate personal love for our
Lord burned like a hidden flame at the heart of all
his thought and speech and action. There can be
no hopeless sorrow for one who has passed in his
Master's company through the shattered gates of
death. It is not for us to attempt anything like a bio
graphy of our revered friend. We shall try, how
ever, to give some impressions of an intercourse
necessarily limited, but lengthened, and occasion
ally most intimate. The present writer cannot
but remember with pride that Dr. Edwards was
one of those who helped in the establishment of this
journal, and was a contributor to its first number.
Many articles from his brilliant pen are scattered
through its pages, and his friendly interest was
maintained to the very end. We shall always
be thankful to remember that one of his last acts
was to remind us of a promise to visit him in spring,

122 PRINCES OF THE CHURCH
a promise which had not been forgotten. Every
one who had the friendship of Dr. Edwards must
feel that such a friendship was in itself a very great
distinction. Of all the men we have ever known
he was in many ways the most remarkable, the
most individual. Were we compelled to put our
impression of him into one sentence we should say
he is the only man known to us since Spurgeon
died, who might have been the founder of a great
sect. He had the rare combination of necessary
qualities. Absolutely disinterested, completely de
livered from worldly ambition, fired with an ardent
and constant passion, a great orator, a great
thinker, and a born administrator, he was a natural
leader of men. On the other hand, the large
catholicity of his nature, his peculiar aversion to
prominence, and his intense and affectionate loyalty
to the Church in which he was born, prescribed the
course of his life and service.
Dr. Edwards's unfeigned faith dwelt in his an
cestors. He was of the best blood of Wales. For
his father, Dr. Lewis Edwards, a thinker of wide
outlook, massive power, and indomitable industry,
he had a peculiar and growing reverence. His last
task was a pious commemoration of that father's
work in Wales. Dr. Lewis Edwards had ambi
tions for his brilliant son, and it was natural that
he should go to London and distinguish himself
there. A more daring step was his enrolling him
self as a student at the University of Oxford. The
old tradition, handed down from the days of the

PRINCIPAL CHARLES EDWARDS 123
first Methodists, that Howell Harris had fled from
Oxford as Lot from Sodom, still survived in strength
amid the Welsh Nonconformists. Added to this
there was a horror of the Puseyites, and an equal
aversion from Jowett and the Broad Churchmen.
Nevertheless, in the face of much opposition the
step was taken and never regretted. The young
Welshman soon made his mark at Oxford. He
lost nothing of his old fervour, and he gained much.
Among the notable Oxford leaders who were
interested in him from the first were Benjamin
Jowett and Mark Pattison. For both of these he
had the warmest regard, for Jowett even a venera
tion. And he would quote to the last the words
from the translation of Plato : ' One of the wisest
and just and best of all men I have ever known,'
and apply them to his old master. It was char
acteristic of Dr. Edwards that when he published
his great work, his commentary on First Corin
thians, he dedicated it to his father and to Jowett.
This did not mean that he had moved from his
father's theological position to Jowett's. Dr.
Edwards was not, in the technical sense, a Broad
Churchman at all. He was a keen student of such
writers as Maurice, though held in the main by
the older and profounder theology. He came to
believe, and believed steadily, that there was such
a thing as much love without much faith ; and in
another way he thought that Christianity was
much more a matter of the heart than of the
intellect, and judging them by this standard he

124 PRINCES OF THE CHURCH
pronounced Jowett and Pattison true Christians.
He read with much enjoyment the posthumous
volume of Jowett's sermons, and, speaking of it,
said that at heart Jowett was a very true Christian.
The young Welshman was particularly grateful to
Jowett for advising him to exercise his gifts in the
Church of his birth, although surprised that his
master knew so very little of Welsh Noncon
formity. At Oxford he acquired his fine mastery
of the classical languages, . and took the highest
honours, while in philosophy he continued eagerly
to pursue his studies. Dr. Edwards was no doubt
a true humanist. An oxjjLfjLadtfs he studied his
Plato with continued devotion, and yet I think
the classical writers never really won his heart.
He would never have sympathised with the German
scholar who gave his life to the study of the manu
scripts of Petronius. He said, very characteris
tically, that all the classical writers were more or
less deficient in depth of feeling, and he was never
satisfied till he came in contact with the fervent
heat of the New Testament. What he did at
Oxford was mainly to master the tools which he
needed in his profound investigation of the mysteries
of the Christian faith.
Dr. Edwards began the work of the pastorate
and ended it in Liverpool. Short though his time
was there, it was influential, and there survives a
graphic account of his preaching, from the very
competent and sympathetic pen of Sir Edward
Russell. Soon, however, he was called to one of

PRINCIPAL CHARLES EDWARDS 125
the most prominent places in Wales, to the Princi-
palship of the University College at Aberystwyth.
In the opinion of most people, the great work of
his life was done there. He had to face a most
arduous task. To secure the establishment of the
College, to carry it through its first difficulties, to
meet occasionally almost overwhelming obstacles
which presented themselves, was work which taxed
even the strength of his magnificent youth. We
suspect that he was led to this labour partly from
his passionate love for Wales, and partly from
his zeal for education. His feeling for the Princi
pality was like Burns's devotion to Scotland, when
he spoke of the wish that to the end ' would strongly
heave his breast.'
' That I, for puir auld Scotland's sake,
Some usefu' plan or beuk might make,
Or sing a sang at least.'
And his zeal for education was inborn. Most com
petent witnesses have borne their testimony to
the enthusiasm and self-sacrifice which carried the
effort to triumphant success. To the very last
his whole energies were absorbed. He had to act
as Professor of Greek, to conduct the government
of the College, and to raise funds. Nothing could
divert him from preaching and theology, and he
went through the country on Sundays like a flame
of fire, throwing himself on the warm heart of the
Welsh people. He found, of course, that they
responded eagerly, and though influential men
were against him the people were true, and carried

126 PRINCES OF THE CHURCH
him to victory. We shall not easily forget our
experiences of his life there. It seemed as if the
bell never ceased to ring. He would come in and
tell you how an anxious parent had called, how
some visitor had asked assistance, how some little
trouble had arisen that needed to be settled. And
so it went on for hours and hours of the day, the
Principal taking all with nearly unruffled calmness.
It was not till the night wore on, and till silence
had fallen upon the street, that you could enter
into real communion with him. Then he opened
up his heart. Or he would drive you far into the
beautiful country round Aberystwyth, and there,
among the pleasant fields, he would rest and talk
freely. In the ordinary sense of the word, Principal
Edwards was not a brilliant conversationalist.
In a mixed company he had not much to say,
though he was a courteous and intelligent listener.
Often he would answer a tolerably long paragraph
with three or four words. He was at his best when
alone, and yet even then it was never quite an ex
change in the usual sense. If, however, he saw
that you really wished to know his thoughts he
would open up amazingly, and then his talk was
as lucid and as pregnant as any I have ever heard.
He did not care for personalities. I never knew
him say an unkind word of a student or a minister.
Some he would praise warmly, others less warmly,
and of others he would say nothing, and thus you
might draw your inferences. For his own people,
and especially for his brethren, he had the warmest

PRINCIPAL CHARLES EDWARDS 127
regard, and he would often deplore that Welsh
thinkers like the late David Charles Davies and
his colleague, Ellis Edwards, were so little known
in England. But he loved to talk about the great
themes of theology, about the interpretation of
texts, about great dead divines, and sometimes,
though rarely, he would speak of his own deeper
experiences. Even when he said very little, what
he said was always worth hearing and remember
ing. In a short sentence he could give a serviceable
direction. There was no mistaking the constant
current of his thought. It was always to the
great revelation of God in Christ.
And now I shall venture to say what perhaps
I have no right to say, what perhaps may be justly
contradicted by those who know better. It ap
peared to me that great as was Dr. Edwards's in
fluence at Aberystwyth, great as was the work
which he accomplished, great as was his satis
faction at its success, he undertook and carried it
through as an act of self-sacrifice. It diverted
him much from the real object and delight of his
life — preaching and the study of theology. But
he was one of those for whom the mystery of life
had been unlocked by the mystery of Christ's
sacrifice, and so I believe that this was the sacrifice
which he laid quietly upon the altar. Dr. Edwards
always maintained a modest dignity. His ways
were those of the scholar, of the Welsh gentleman,
but his generosity was lavish, secret, and untiring.
In speaking of his self-sacrifice one feels that there

128 PRINCES OF THE CHURCH
is a danger of being misapprehended. It was no
sacrifice to him to give in the sense of suffering.
It was his joy and delight. We remember a long
discussion with him over Maurice's book on the
Doctrine of Sacrifice, in which he strongly main
tained that self-sacrifice was a law, even although
no good might seem to come out of it. On his
own consecration, on his countless acts of kindness,
his lips were closed. He had such a great faith in
the wisdom of ordaining love that I am sure he
never doubted the guidance of his life. And yet
some think that, if the time given to Aberystwyth
had been devoted to theological work and study,
Wales might have boasted of the most influential
among nineteenth-century theologians.
At Aberystwyth, amidst all his varied work, he
made time for his favourite theme. It was there
that he wrote the classical Commentary on First
Corinthians, which made him known to the world
of letters and the Christian Church. The merits
of the book have been recognised by such men as
Ellicott, Godet, and Marcus Dods. It is much
more than a commentary. It expounds as no
other book does the doctrine of the Mystical Union.
No one can read it thoughtfully, and remain quite
the same. Much of it furnished material for ser
mons. Principal Edwards was thoroughly con
vinced that preaching came before everything else,
and he believed that preaching would never have
its due unless it dealt with the profoundest mys
teries of the Christian faith. One memorable

PRINCIPAL CHARLES EDWARDS 129
sentence he used more than once — ' A great preacher
is Christ's last resource.' He meant that when
faith was decaying, when the Church was cooling,
the hope was in the sudden appearance of a great
preacher. Preaching, he said, would continue in
the Church to the ages of ages, for Christ would
not leave His people to die. We had a bond of
union in our common admiration for the preaching
of Mr. Spurgeon. Dr. Edwards seemed almost to
struggle for words in trying to express his sense of
Mr. Spurgeon's transcendent genius. What he
specially admired in the preacher of the Tabernacle
was that he could expound Christian thoughts in
their depth and richness in adequate language,
and apparently without a struggle. The masterful
repose with which Mr. Spurgeon took hold of texts,
which almost seemed to say the unsayable, and
revelled in preaching them to the common people,
constantly moved Dr. Edwards's wonder. The
mystic knows the mystic ; the theologian knows
the theologian. A great mystic and a great theo
logian, Dr. Edwards knew that in Mr. Spurgeon
he was in the presence of a teacher even deeper
than himself, though his own scholarship was so
far superior. No one who ever heard Dr. Edwards
preach will forget the experience. He began with
his little Bible in his hand, speaking slowly in a
low voice, and gradually rose to the height of
eloquence and passion. He never lowered his
preaching, but, like Mr. Spurgeon, brought his
hearers face to face with the most august themes.
i

130 PRINCES OF THE CHURCH
When Spurgeon, as a youth, came to London, he
did not preach about the anecdotes of the Bible,
but took for texts : ' Accepted in the beloved,'
' No man can come unto Me except the Father
which hath sent Me draw him,' and so plunged
into the deep sea. In the same way Dr. Edwards
from the first asked his hearers to think, and to
think profoundly ; but his thoughts were all of
them fused in passion.
At last he had his way, and went to be Principal
at Bala — too late, and yet not too late. There he
was most generously supported by his Church.
His hands were upheld by sympathetic colleagues,
and he had great happiness among his students.
Dr. Edwards had plans for literary work. He was
to gather together the fruits of his long labour.
He hoped, in particular, to give the final results
of his study of the Epistle to the Hebrews. There
was something in that book which always attracted
him. Its calm passion, the peculiar depth and
subtlety of its thought, its miraculous penetration
into the heart of the Old Testament, and its many
difficulties, drew Dr. Edwards by an irresistible
spell. Some of his favourite sermons were taken
from texts in the book, but, as he said to us, he
never felt that he understood it as a whole. He
would say that he fed on the bits of herbage that
grew on the crags. But the mystery remained a
mystery. He published, however, admirable essays
towards its interpretation in his Expositor's Bible
volume, and in a Welsh book for Bible classes.

PRINCIPAL CHARLES EDWARDS 131
He had great hopes of being able to give his final
conclusions in the International Critical Commen
tary, but was obliged to abandon the work. Who
ever the author to the Epistle to the Hebrews was,
he must have been a kindred spirit to Dr. Edwards,
' an eloquent man, and mighty in the Scriptures,'
and a subtle, devout thinker. Dr. Edwards loved
to talk of the author's doctrine of the Atonement
as it bore upon God, Satan, and the children, and
his argument for the Sabbath-keeping to which the
people of God attain, moving from rest to rest, and
of many other thoughts the Epistle stirs. Alas !
it was very soon clear that his strength was sapped,
and that he could not do very much more. He
could do much, no doubt. His lectures were
eagerly appreciated, and his name was a tower of
strength. His counsels grew more weighty, and
his friendships warmer, and yet the dreams of youth
and middle age were not to be fulfilled. Then
there was a revelation more beautiful than any that
even he could have put in profound writing or
eloquent speech, of Christ's work in his soul. He
enjoyed — and the fact was visible — a singular rest
in God. He had lost his life and found it again,
according to the word of the Lord. His love, his
humility, his resignation, and even his joy, touched
those who met him with a kind of awe. There
were no repinings and no regrets. In his own
humble way he felt that he had finished the work
God had given him to do, and looked forward.
Watchers were reminded of Pater's fine words :

132 PRINCES OF THE CHURCH
' The infinite future had invaded this life percep-
tibly to the senses, like an ocean felt far inland up
a tidal river.' He was recollected, loving, and
calm. We have been deeply moved by Professor
Ellis Edwards's account of his contempt of death.
There was about Dr. Edwards most noticeably
that ' solemn scorn of ills,' which seals the great
saint. He was very sensitive, very modest, easily
wounded, yet with a certain high disdain of life's
dangers and evils. We cannot but recall the fine
words of Amesius, a theologian whom Dr. Edwards
warmly appreciated : —
' Concerning death, the first question is whether it be
a thing to be contemned. Comparison being made be
twixt death and these things which after death are pre
pared for the faithful, death may and ought in some sort
to be contemned by all believers.'
How should we grudge our dear friend his rest ?
He was ever a student of divinity, and all that has
happened is that he has gone to study where the
divinity is clearer. And so many fellow-students,
so many venerated teachers, have gone before : —
' Good-night, and not good-bye,
Good-night, and best good-morrow when we wake.
Yet why so quickly tire ? Well we must make
Haste to be done and die.'
March 29, 1900.

BISHOP WESTCOTT
The Bishop of Durham, who was taken ill after
his farewell address to the miners in Durham
Cathedral on Saturday week, died on Saturday
night, surrounded by his family, conscious and
cheerful to the last. In May he lost the beloved
wife to whom he had been united for nearly fifty
years. Doubtless the blow brought the close
nearer, but he retained his courage, his cheerfulness,
his undaunted optimism till his long labour ended
in the home which he so dearly loved. Few sun
sets have been more splendid. Nearly all the
greater plans of his life have been accomplished
to the satisfaction of his own exacting conscience.
Happily he was spared, like Browning, to see his
last book, Lessons from Work, a book of special
value in these disheartened times. It has a tonic
quality. It contains little that will be new to his
students, but it strikes, as even he seldom struck,
the ringing notes of high faith and hope. He lived
and worked and died in the certainty of the Chris
tian faith. The truth of truths never broke away
from him.
Westcott will always be remembered as one of
the great Cambridge triumvirate, the other mem
bers being Lightfoot and Hort. It is as impossible
133

134 PRINCES OF THE CHURCH
to dissociate his life and work from theirs as to
dissociate theirs from his. The late Archbishop
Benson was a close friend through life, and a fellow
townsman, but his activities were mainly ecclesi
astical, and intellectually, in spite of all his gifts,
he was not on the same level. It is important to
note that both Lightfoot and Hort were Westcott's
pupils. Lightfoot spoke of him at the outset with
the warmest admiration as ' one of the most
gentlemanly, quietest, humblest, and most con
scientious of mankind, to say nothing of cleverness.'
This was in March 1848, and it was in 1849 that
he became private coach to Hort, on whom his
influence was no less great. Born in Birmingham
in 1825, the son of F. B. Westcott, secretary of the
Botanical Gardens, Westcott went to King Edward
Sixth Grammar School, and there fell under the
powerful influence of Prince Lee, whom he always
considered one of the greatest teachers of his time.
The Times is wrong in saying that he made friends
there with Benson. Though Benson was at the
school, the two men did not become acquainted
till Benson went to Cambridge. When Westcott
passed from Birmingham to Trinity College he
had a very brilliant career in a very brilliant time.
He graduated in 1848 as twenty-third wrangler,
and was bracketed Senior Classic with C. B. Scott,
afterwards headmaster of Westminster School.
Professor J. E. B. Mayor came next, and amongst
those in the first class were Mr. Llewelyn Davies
and Bishop Barry. A Fellowship at Trinity

BISHOP WESTCOTT 135
followed, and shortly after he was ordained by
Prince Lee, at Manchester. In those days his
interests were very various, and nearly all of
them told on his future work. Thus he was fond
of music, and along with Henry Bradshaw and
others was a member of the Choral Society. It
is said by those competent to judge that not
the least admirable of his publications is his
Paragraph Psalter, an edition of the Psalms ap
pointed for use in Peterborough Cathedral. The
book shows the advantage of some knowledge of
music as part of a clerical education, and recalls
the days when the precentor of a cathedral was
almost the highest in rank of its members. He
anticipated the Psychical Research Society by
founding a ' Ghostly Guild ' for the investigation
of apparitions. The members were disposed to
believe that such things really existed, and deter
mined to find out the truth. Westcott drew out a
schedule of questions, and most of his friends
joined him, but little came of the scheme. He
was also, like Hort, interested in the Christian
Social Movement led by Maurice, Kingsley, and
Ludlow, a movement which, though seemingly
abortive, has come to much and very much, which
will come to more. We do not gather that he
went so far as Hort, who was a contributor to the
Christian Socialist, but seeds were sown in his
mind which resulted in fruitful harvest. His first
book was the Norrisian Prize Essay, issued in 1851,
under the title of Elements of the Gospel Harmony,

136 PRINCES OF THE CHURCH
and extended nine years afterwards into the well-
known Introduction to the Study of the Gospels. It
is now in its eighth edition, and was an extra
ordinary achievement as coming from a young
man of five-and-twenty. It did not miss almost
immediate recognition. Hort, who perhaps was
always inclined to concede more to criticism than
either Westcott or Lightfoot, said that the dis
cussion of inspiration was ' a wonderful step in
advance of common orthodox heresy,' and wrote
a review of it in the Guardian. The late Dr. John
Cairns, who was then writing on German Theology
in the North British Review, referred to the book
in terms of high praise as a proof that it is possible
' to be a debtor to Germany without being a slave,
and to contend intelligently, thoughtfully, yet
charitably, for the doctrine of inspiration.' West
cott gratefully recognised the kindness of his
unknown reviewer, and Mr. Macmillan tried to
bring the two men together, an attempt defeated,
we may surmise, by Dr. Cairns's invincible modesty.
But the exact scholarship, the wide range of
reading and the penetrating quality of thought in
the book pointed out Westcott's true line in life,
and this was not broken when in 1852 he accepted
a temporary appointment at Harrow in place of a
master named Keary, who died. Dr. Vaughan
was at the head of the school, and offered the vacant
position to Westcott, who accepted it with the full
purpose of continuing his work on the New Testa
ment. On a memorable day in 1853, during a

BISHOP WESTCOTT 137
visit to Birmingham, where Westcott met Hort,
the two agreed to edit a Greek text of the New
Testament. Westcott's work as a teacher during
his seventeen years at Harrow did not count for
very much in his life. He did not care for games,
and the subtleties of his scholarship were lost upon
ordinary boys. One of his pupils says : ' I re
member that he took two whole Sunday lessons
in discovering a " great verse in Galatians," and
when the verse was set in examination at the end
of term, two boys could not even translate it.'
His influence, however, in other ways than the
direct communication of knowledge was very
valuable, and his biographer will no doubt take
account of the Public Schools Report, published in
1874, where Westcott's examination is given. From
this we make a curiously interesting quotation,
as it seems to have been overlooked in all the
newspapers : —
' 1189. (Lord Clarendon). — You consider you stand [to
the boys in his house] entirely in loco parentis ? — Abso
lutely. The idea of a small house is that of a family.
1190. You think, then, that you would be able to put
yourself in the place of a parent more effectually than
any of the masters of the large houses who are de facto
private tutors to their boarders ? — It could hardly be
otherwise. My boys would feel less scruple in consulting
me, and they have free access to me at all times.'
He retained his mastership till 1869, serving most
of the time under Dr. Montagu Butler. In 1885
he issued his General Survey of the History of the
Canon of the New Testament, which shows even in

138 PRINCES OF THE CHURCH
a more marked form all the merits of his first
book. It was characteristic of him to bring his
new editions up to date, but just as the Introduction
to the Study of the Gospels maintains the original
thesis of Elements of Gospel Harmony, contending
that, though the Gospels are not adequate materials
for a biography in chronological order, they yet
are not only adequate for their actual purpose as
a revelation, but are trustworthy, though incom
plete, as historical documents and complete as a
Gospel, so it is with the second book. In the
edition of 1875 he replied to the strictures of
Mr. Walter R. Cassels, the author of Supernatural
Religion. Mr. Cassels had rashly attacked West
cott, and had moved the wrath of Bishop Light
foot, who fiercely resented imputations on his
friend's scholarship and good faith. Westcott
replied in a crushing but perfectly courteous way
— in fact, with the calmness of a composition
master. He could not conceal his amazement at
the extraordinary blundering of his opponent, but
he was much more respectful than Lightfoot and
Salmon. The book was partly abridged and partly
expanded as The Bible in the Church, and its scope
was extended to take in the history of the Old
Testament Canon as well as of the New. So far
as the New Testament Canon is concerned the
book is, as Hort says, ' as thoughtful, solid, and
thorough a piece of work as you will not often see.'
Meantime he was busy with other schemes. He
kept on working with Hort at the text of the

BISHOP WESTCOTT 139
Greek Testament, and would go from Harrow to
Hort's country parsonage near Hitchin during his
vacations, and toil for several hours a day. Hort
and Lightfoot came really to know one another
about 1856. Hort pronounced Lightfoot ' West
cott's best pupil. He always seemed solid, a great
scholar, and disposed to be a learned and thought
ful theologian, but I was hardly prepared for the
vivacity and liberality which he has shown in the
last few months.' The friends laid out a scheme
for a commentary on the New Testament. It
makes one's mouth water to read it. To Westcott
were assigned St. John's Epistles and the Apoca
lypse, to Hort the Synoptic Gospels, the Acts,
James, Peter, and Jude. Commentaries by Hort
on the Synoptic Gospels and the Acts would be
simply priceless in these days, but Hort could not
bring his thoughts to the birth as the others could.
Westcott did not write on the Apocalypse, but he
took Hebrews, which was originally assigned to
Lightfoot. Hort was partly deterred by thinking
that his colleagues insisted on the absolute infalli
bility of the New Testament. While he believed
that it was possible there might be no errors, yet
he thought it hardly probable, and he insisted on
a posteriori criticism. He was disabused of his
fears, but never had strength or heart to face the
allotted task. Another project was a reply to
Essays and Reviews. The triumvirate viewed with
little satisfaction the attitude of the so-called ortho
dox party, agreeing in this with Dean Church, and

140 PRINCES OF THE CHURCH
they thought much of the clamour unfounded and
unjust. Westcott himself warmly defended Temple
against the attempt to remove him from the head-
mastership of Rugby because he had contributed
to Essays and Reviews. But the friends thought
the book superficial, and they planned to give a
reasoned and scientific defence of historical Chris
tianity. This time it was Lightfoot who broke
down. He found that he could not do his part,
his burdens being already more than he could
carry. Westcott afterwards published in 1866 a
volume on The Gospel of the Resurrection, which
has affected theological thought as much as any
thing he ever "wrote. In an interesting letter to
the late Dr. Reynolds he said that his own per
sonal experience of the modern sceptical school
in England was almost entirely confined to young
University men, and their objections had been in
his mind while he was pondering over the argu
ments which he had now tried to express through
many years. In this letter he defended his ob
scurity. He considered it better to suggest than
to develop thought. ' An adversary or a waverer
may be won by an argument which is, he feels, his
own, when he would be inclined to question it if it
were placed, I believe, before him.' The History
of the English Bible was also written during his
Harrow days, and admirable as it is, it is perhaps
not on his own level ; in fact, it has been pro
nounced ' the least interesting and the most dis
appointing of the author's works.' It is at present

BISHOP WESTCOTT 141
out of print, but we believe a new and thoroughly
revised edition will be published soon, and that
Dr. Aldis Wright has taken part in the revision.
All this time promotion had tarried, but in 1868
Magee, the Bishop of Peterborough, made him
Examining Chaplain, and in 1869 promoted him
to a residentiary canonry in the cathedral, with an
income of £540 and a house. The change was
welcome, for his health was breaking down under
his work at Harrow. He set himself immediately
to promote theological learning in the diocese,
and his preaching, which was greatly admired
by Maurice, was most acceptable, though it had
nothing of the popular power of Magee. In 1870
he was appointed to the Regius Professorship of
Divinity at Cambridge. Here he found his legiti
mate place and true sphere of work. We have
been told that his promotion was due to the great
generosity of his friend Lightfoot, who might well
have had the place, but was content to hold the
Hulsean Professorship. It was a great time for
Cambridge when Hort joined these two, and when
the incomparable trio were members of its theo
logical staff. Maurice, then nearing the end, was
also very happy in Westcott's appointment, and
felt that he had at last a coadjutor whose ears
were open. About this time Westcott eagerly
took up the plan for the revision of the New Testa
ment. He did not quite approve of all the details
of the scheme, but thought it very much better
than might have been expected. In his quiet way

142 PRINCES OF THE CHURCH
he was always a leader, and it was he who suggested
the Communion Service which began the work, a
service which led to much controversy. In this
year 1870 the Westcott-Hort edition of the Greek
New Testament was in the press, but it was not
published till 1881, and might never have been
published had it not been that the Revised Version
was to come out. It was thought desirable to
anticipate the Revised Version, and the feat was
accomplished with just five days to spare. Pro
bably no work has ever been so long in going
through the press, but the result justified the labour,
and the Westcott-Hort text practically holds the
field, and will hold it till scholars of equal rank
after the same toil produce their results. Even
more important were his great commentaries on
St. John, the Epistles of St. John, and the Epistle
to the Hebrews. Some of his works, including
Christus Consummator and Lessons of the Revised
Version of the New Testament were first published
in the Expositor. There was no more kind, cour
teous, and obliging contributor than Dr. Westcott.
In the Revision Committee the influence of West
cott and Hort was dominant.
In 1879, Lightfoot went to Durham, and West
cott preached the sermon at his consecration—
' perfectly unique in the fierce love of it, and the
tremendous charge for bishops to choose between
the important and the routine of their lives, and to
do the important.' Later on, in 1890, when he
was in his sixty-sixth year, he succeeded Light-

BISHOP WESTCOTT 143
foot. ' I come,' he said, ' in simplest obedience,
offering the little I have without reserve.' Light
foot had been very successful at Durham, though
some shook their heads at his attitude to the
Salvation Army. Westcott found in the office a
new spring of life. He was able to apply his long
cherished principles, and he did so with singular
effect, being instrumental in settling the great strike
in 1892. He introduced the system of sending
home-clergy into the mission field for a term of
years, and sent four of his seven sons to do mis
sionary work in India. But the work of a bishop,
however important, becomes separated from his
personality, and Westcott will live as one of the
greatest of Biblical scholars and theologians.
We had hoped to consider at some length the
peculiar qualities of his contribution to criticism
and theology, but the limitations of space forbid.
It must suffice to say that his main characteristic
was his fine classical scholarship. In that the
Cambridge Biblical school immensely surpassed
their Oxford contemporaries. Lightfoot in an
early essay handled Stanley and Jowett severely,
and, as Dr. Sanday says, his conclusions have
never been questioned. They also proceeded on a
strictly scientific method. All of them, and especi
ally Westcott and Lightfoot, were conservative.
They yielded very little to modern criticism.
When Westcott reviewed Sanday's book on John
he praised it warmly so far as it went with his own

144 PRINCES OF THE CHURCH
conclusions, but expressed his dissent from Sanday's
free handling of the discourses, and his confidence
that further study would bring him to a sounder
view. Westcott was a mystic as well as a scholar,
but his mysticism was not suffered to take the
place of science. No commentaries have been
more valued by great Christian teachers than his.
Dr. Maclaren of Manchester, we believe, puts them
above all others. Dr. Dale in one of his most
finished pieces reviewed with enthusiasm the com*
mentary on St. John's Epistles. On the commen
tary on Hebrews opinions somewhat varied. In
our columns Principal Edwards of Bala described
it as ' a beautiful rather than a great commentary,'
and Dr. A. B. Bruce endorsed this view. But we
have heard Dr. Dale, whose own exposition of the
Hebrews is a really valuable book, refer to it with
almost rapturous admiration, and if we are not
mistaken it was Dr. Fairbairn who wrote the
warmly appreciative and yet thoroughly critical
review of it which appeared in the Speaker. There
can be no doubt that Westcott was in little sym
pathy with Pauline modes of thought, and in this
he was followed by the late Professor Milligan.
Dr. Dale considered that Westcott was of all men
the most qualified to write a treatise on the Atone
ment, because the explanation of the Atonement
was to be found in that mystical relation between
Christ and humanity realised in the Church on
which Westcott dwelt so long and constantly.
Dale thought that though in life the objective had

BISHOP WESTCOTT 145
as a rule to be believed first, in theory it was reached
last. Nevertheless Dale could see that Westcott
did little justice to the objective aspects of our
Lord's sacrifice, and he felt, as many readers have
felt, the reluctance of Westcott to define his
thought. Westcott's real attitude to theological
systems is indicated in one most significant sen
tence in his essay on Origen : ' No fact, I think, is
sadder in the history of religious thought than that
Augustine had no real knowledge of Greek.'
With some leading Nonconformists Westcott's
relations were close and cordial. They were parti
cularly so with Dr. Dale, whose work on the
Ephesians was one of his favourite books. Years
ago we were permitted by Dr. Westcott to publish
in the Expositor his own favourite photograph of
himself. We ventured to consult him as to the
choice of a contributor to supply the accompanying
appreciation. Dr. Westcott expressed his wish
that Dr. Dale should write the essay. Much as
Dr. Dale wished to gratify his revered friend, the
state of his health prevented him. Dr. Reynolds
was another friend, and much more intimate was
the late Dr. Moulton, who worked along with
Westcott on the revised translation of the Apo
crypha. But even Dr. Moulton could not induce
Westcott to take part in the celebrations of the
Centenary of John Wesley's death. Westcott be
lieved in an external unity of the Church, though
he regarded with the kindest feelings Christians
who were still separated from himself. Among

146 PRINCES OF THE CHURCH
the preachers who most fascinated him was Edward
Irving, and he showed extraordinary interest in the
reminiscences of Irving which were published in the
Expositor by the late Dr. David Brown. Among the
writers to whom he loved to own his obligations were
two from whom he differed profoundly, but from
whom he learned much— Baur and Comte. We
cannot better close this inadequate sketch than
by quoting from Bishop Westcott's last book these
noble words : ' Can we call an opinion or a practice
" catholic " when it is opposed to the deliberate
convictions of multitudes of believers not less
fertile than we are in Christian works ? In India,
to take one example only, the non-episcopal bodies,
as far as a conclusion can be drawn from the latest
statistics to which I am able to refer, do appar
ently twice as much for missions as is done by our
own Church and the churches in communion with
it. We cannot dissemble the facts ; we cannot
summarily dismiss them.' We have spoken of
Dr. Westcott's gifts and his noble and pure use of
them. Behind these there was a character of
grand simplicity, humble, winsome, real and tender,
a character which inspired the unwearied hope
and labour in which he lived and died.
August 1, 1901.

JAMES MARTINEAU 1
Dr. James Drummond, of Oxford, has undertaken
the purely biographical part of Dr. Martineau's
life, and this occupies nearly one and a half of
two volumes. The other part is an exposition
by Professor C. B. Upton, formerly his colleague,
of Dr. Martineau's philosophical work. Dr.
Drummond's contribution will be received with
entire respect and gratitude, but it is disappointing.
The author is a scholar of high rank, and a man of
noble candour. These qualities are known to all
readers of his book, Via, Veritas, Vita. But he is
notably deficient in the faculty of expression, and
he has none of the biographer's special gift. The
book adds very little to our knowledge of Martineau,
and leaves his personal character as much an
enigma as ever. The chances are constantly
missed. For example, there is no attempt at
picturing the Liverpool of Martineau's day. There
are no side lights ; there are no vivid reminiscences ;
there is nothing to show the effect of Martineau's
ministry, which was, doubtless, very great. In the
same manner, the London ministry is hardly de
scribed at all. It was a very wonderful ministry.
1 The Life and Letters of James Martineau. By James Drummond and
C. B. Upton. (Nisbet and Co.) 147

148 PRINCES OF THE CHURCH
It brought together men of all types. The con
gregation at Little Portland Street Unitarian
Chapel was singularly representative, but of all
this Dr. Drummond has practically nothing to say.
Neither does he set Martineau in the framework
of his friendships. In some ways Martineau was
singularly accessible, and if Dr. Drummond had
tried to collect facts, he might have told us much
of Martineau's associations alike with State Church
men and Free Churchmen. We should have par
ticularly liked to read about the friends Martineau
made in Scotland, and their impressions of him.
Neither are we told much of Martineau's home life.
The one new fact here is that Mrs. Martineau,
twenty years before her death, suffered more or
less from mental affliction. Much might have been
said about Russell Martineau, for some time his
father's colleague, and for long well known to all
frequenters of the British Museum. But on all
this Dr. Drummond is silent, or reticent to the
highest degree. Never was there a more shadowy
figure than the man Martineau as he is presented
in these volumes. The letters, too, have very
little personality. Most of them are like pages
from his books, very well expressed, of course,
and very stately, for Martineau seems to have
lived day and night in full dress, but strangely
devoid of humanity. By far too much space is
occupied in accounts of Martineau's sermons and
addresses. All that might safely have been left
to Mr. Upton. Of him it may be said that he has

JAMES MARTINEAU 149
discharged his duty to admiration. He is a tho
roughly competent metaphysician, and has a real
mastery of Martineau's writings. We have not
found any reference to the remarkable little book
based on Martineau's lectures by Professor Henry
Stephen of Calcutta. The criticism, however, we
should be disposed to make is that the life should
have occupied two volumes, and the exposition of
the philosophy should have been thrown into a third.
As it is, Dr. Drummond and Mr. Upton are largely
engaged in the same task, and those who wish
to know Martineau's life better will be disappointed.
Neither of them, it should be said, enters with any
thoroughness into Martineau's position as critic
and theologian. It could not be expected that
Dr. Drummond should sympathise in the extreme
scepticism which was the last phase of Martineau's
opinion. We turn to say something of Martineau as a
man, as a writer, as a philosopher, and as a
preacher and theologian. In all these capacities
there seems to have been about him a certain zone
of chill. He doubtless had a fervent heart, but
that heart was hard to reach. In the personal
episodes of controversies recorded by Dr. Drum
mond there is an evident element of harshness.
We refer specially to his two battles with his sister
Harriet. The first of them turned upon her demand
that her old letters should be burned. She was
afraid that they might get into print. Her brother
absolutely refused to surrender them. They were

150 PRINCES OF THE CHURCH
interesting records of the past to him, and he would
rather preserve the past than sacrifice it to the
future. So he calmly broke off the friendship.
It seems to us that his conduct was impossible to
defend. Miss Martineau was quite entitled to ask
for her letters. The brother who would rather
lose the living friendship of his sister than part
with a collection of dead letters could have been no
brother at heart. Neither is it easy to think that
Martineau was right in the final controversy.
Harriet Martineau joined with a Mr. Atkinson to
write a foolish atheistical book, and her brother
savagely criticised it in his review under the in
sulting title, Mesmeric Atheism. We have just
read the review over again. As Dr. Drummond
confesses, it does not bear out Martineau's own
description of it. It is thoroughly bad in tone and
temper. Whatever aberrations of judgment his
sister might have been guilty of, it was not for
her brother to expose them in that fashion. On
the other hand, Martineau certainly had some warm
friends, as well as many admirers. Among the
closest was R. H. Hutton. We gather from this
biography how bitter was the mortification which
Hutton endured when he found that there was no
place for him in the Unitarian ministry. On great
questions of faith he separated himself from his
old teacher, but the attachment between the two
does not seem to have waned, and to Hutton's
steady and strenuous championship in the Spectator
Martineau owed much of his late fame. The

JAMES MARTINEAU 151
controversy which took place over Manchester
New College, when J. J. Tayler and Martineau were
appointed professors, was not pleasant. We gather
that Mr. Vance Smith was removed because he
could not control the students. It was proposed
to retain his services as teacher of Hebrew. To
this Martineau offered the most determined opposi
tion, and his own son received the appointment.
This was not done at Martineau's instigation, but
it was very agreeable to him. On the other hand,
he behaved very well when Croom Robertson, then
an unknown young man, was appointed over his
head to the Chair of Philosophy in University
College, London. It is painful to read that John
Stuart Mill would not allow his testimony to
Martineau's fitness to be used, as he could not
miss the opportunity of planting a disciple of his
own school in an influential position. Archbishop
Thomson, of York, in reply to an application from
Martineau, kept silent for a year, and then wrote
that if he had helped he would have been assisting
to a place of power one who did not believe in the
doctrine of the Trinity. This is very painful, but
Martineau bore no grudge, and afterwards became
an intimate friend of Robertson's, who was a man
of high ability and noble character. What is most
admirable in Martineau's life is its lofty and serene
dignity. ' A great soul in a small house ' was
the spectacle that fixed Lacordaire's admiration.
If the great soul dwells contentedly, nobly, in
the narrow surroundings, then he deserves rever-

152 PRINCES OF THE CHURCH
ence. As Hutton said, Martineau would have
drawn thinkers from all parts of the world if he
had lectured in any great university, but, as a
matter of fact, he was engaged in discoursing to
' two or three boys in a corner.' What he did for
these ' boys ' is shown in the fact that the great
books of his last years were mainly recasts and
digests of the lectures he prepared for them.
There is something very noble also in the patience
with which Martineau worked without recognition.
Up to his sixty-fifth year he attracted very little
attention, though his essays were reprinted in
America and his Endeavours after the Christian
Life slowly won its way among religious readers.
He was in his seventy-seventh year when his study
of Spinoza was published. The Types of Ethical
Theory appeared when he was eighty, and his
Study of Religion when he was eighty-two. His
academic eminence was recognised by Edinburgh
shortly before his eightieth birthday, by Oxford
when he was eighty-three, and by Dublin when
he was eighty-seven. But Martineau worked al
ways for higher ends than fame.
To many of us the greatest wonder about
Martineau is his style. He had an unrivalled
mastery of expression. He could turn out, appar
ently without effort, sentence after sentence, page
after page, of subtle, strong, varied, precise, and
stately English. Whatever he was writing— letters
or sermons or philosophical treatises — he is always
at the same high level. There seems no bound to

JAMES MARTINEAU 153
the riches of his resources in this way. He could
not express himself in a free and easy way. Every
page he wrote, at least for the latter part of his
life, was characteristic. Perhaps it is in his purely
metaphysical arguments that his unlimited com
mand of words shows itself most marvellously.
Yet we are inclined to retract this, and to say that
in such sermons as Tides of the Spirit he reaches his
highest point. In such pieces he seems to surpass
every one, living and dead, in the wealth and
surprise of his diction. The question which
Jeffrey put to Macaulay, ' Where did you get that
style ? ' presses upon us. We venture with diffi
dence to suggest that it was originally derived
from the Scottish philosophers. In his early days
he was a warm admirer of Thomas Brown. The
reader of to-day will very soon toss Brown aside,
but he will not deny that Brown was in his way a
great writer. The Scottish philosophers of that
period carried philosophical eloquence very far.
We need only refer to Dugald Stewart's dissertation
in the Encyclopaedia Britannica, and to Mackintosh's
in the same publication. Even the natural philo
sophers at that time used the arts of style in
exposition in a very notable manner. Few more
genuinely eloquent writers than Professor Playfair
can be found, and there is a true sublimity as well
as serenity and clearness in MacLaurin's treatise
on the Newtonian discoveries. It may be super
seded as a scientific work, but as a masterpiece of
expression it still repays study. Yet Martineau's

154 PRINCES OF THE CHURCH
style was by no means unexceptionable. Its
stateliness became wearisome. You ' dig for dul-
ness as for hid treasure ' in travelling through its
incessant eloquence. If the writer could be simple
for a moment the effect would be far greater. Nor
is it without frequent notes of harshness and un
truth. We will take what is perhaps his most
admired passage. It occurs in one of his sermons.
' Where is it that God, in His searching of the hearts
of His children, hears the tones of deepest love, and sees
on the uplifted face the light of the most heartfelt grati
tude ? Not where His gifts are most profuse, but where
they seem most meagre ; not where the suppliant's worship
glides forth from the cushion of luxury through lips
satiated with plenty and rounded by health ; not within
the halls of successful ambition, or even the dwellings of
unbroken domestic peace ; but where the outcast, flying
from persecution, kneels in the evening on the rock whereon
he sleeps ; by the fresh grave, where, as the earth is
opened, Heaven, in answer, opens too ; by the pillow of
the wasted sufferer, where the sunken eye, denied sleep,
converses with a silent star, and the hollow voice enumer
ates in low prayer, the scanty list of comforts and the
shortened tale of hopes.'
How good this is and how bad !
As a philosopher there can be no doubt at all of
Martineau's almost unrivalled power. He grappled
with his problems until he forced their solution.
He grasped the salient facts with the utmost
firmness. His thought was subtle, his criticism
firm, and his power of exposition and illustration
quite unrivalled. He had a most disinterested
enthusiasm for the pure truth of philosophy, and,

JAMES MARTINEAU 155
above all, he was a spiritual philosopher, the fore
most of our time, perhaps the foremost of his
century. Everything went back with him to the
supreme idea of moral obligation. From this he
deduced the human intellect as apprehending truth
and not illusion. Whatever may be thought of
his theology, in philosophy he was purely Christian.
We cannot think that such a book as Types of
Ethical Theory can easily be dethroned. It was
the result of a lifetime's labour. His steady witness
to theism and immortality in face of the vast
difficulties raised by evolution was a signal service
to the Church of Christ. Many passages come
back to the memory, and the first thrill of reading
them is renewed. ' Is the eternal design of Per
fection to be gained by the frustrated aspirations of
countless ephemeral generations ? Or to the rule
that " One soweth and another reapeth " is there
not the compensating sequel, " He that soweth
and he that reapeth shall rejoice together " ? '
Martineau remained a Christian, but only in the
most shadowy sense so far as intellectual belief
went. He began in 1836 by denying the Christian
name to unbelievers in the recorded miracles of
Christ. He ended by denying all miracle, and
treating as a moral humiliation the attempt to
extract a proof of eternal life from the records of
Christ's Resurrection. He held to his own ideal
of Christ, not the Christ of the Gospel story, but
the Christ whom his own thought fashioned. To
him the conceptions of Christ as King, Priest, and

156 PRINCES OF THE CHURCH
Judge were deforming investitures. But he be
lieved that Christ was a Spirit of sublime fragrance,
and even that He was the realised possibility of life
in God ; but he would not allow that He was more.
He would not trust God's revelation as something
higher and worthier than man's sense of fitness.
He was like a child who would take nothing on the
father's authority except what the father could
prove to the undeveloped reason and conscience.
He so far assimilated modern scientific thought as
to rule out miracle in every form as impossible.
As a higher critic he showed the most extravagant
incredulity. Of his last valuable book, The Seat
of Authority in Matters of Religion, it has been
remarked as ' strange that whenever our Lord's
language is at issue with Dr. Martineau's philo
sophy, the evangelists have been bad reporters.'
No great weight is to be attached to his judgments
in this kind, for, strictly speaking, he was not a
scholar, and never had the chance of being one.
But, strange to say, the intensity of his historical
scepticism was accompanied with an equal intensity
of spiritual devotion which burns especially in his
sermons. He never abandoned the possibility and
the blessedness of communion with God. The
voice obeyed at prime was obeyed at eve — ' Come,
my people, enter thou into thy chambers, and shut
thy doors about thee : hide thyself as it were for a
little moment, until the indignation be overpast.'
October 30, 1902.

HUGH PRICE HUGHES
The sudden death of Hugh Price Hughes is to the
present writer a keen and disabling personal dis
tress. What it must be to the home circle of which
he was the centre and the sun, we hardly dare to
think. The Wesleyan Methodist Church has lost
one of its most eminent and devoted leaders. But
the death is almost the greatest bereavement that
could have befallen Nonconformity. Others carry
and will continue to carry the banner, but no one
can quite take his place. By many years of
strenuous and unceasing toil he had gained the
ear of England, and upon vast sections of the
people he had an unrivalled influence. In the
ordinary course of things, he should have been
with us to give his fire and counsel for fifteen years
more. By the time these years are gone, many
issues will be decided. We shall vehemently desire
him in the day of battle, but still and always the
Leader of faithful souls is with us.
Yet, since we had to lose him, it was better we
should lose him so. He was stricken as it were in
a moment, and as years count he was hardly past
his prime. For months, however, his wonderful
energy had been failing. The zeal of God's house
had eaten him up. The signals of danger were
157

158 PRINCES OF THE CHURCH
manifest to his affectionate watchers, even so long
as two years ago. He tried to rest, and did rest
in some measure, but he could not straighten his
back from toil, his ardent spirit could not refrain
from the fray. When he returned to his work there
were symptoms that gave cause for grave anxiety.
But he went on working up to his power and even
beyond his power, and he has died in harness, as
he would have wished to die. He has been merci
fully spared the experience of long inaction, of
gradual and hopeless decay. The enthusiasm that
burned like lava for so many years has suddenly
gone out — for earth and time. On Sunday he
preached, on Monday he was writing letters and
giving interviews, and his last act was to attend
a meeting. Then God's finger touched him, and
he fell asleep. It was a death that fitted him, a
death to be desired for its surprise and its oppor
tunity. We think of Goethe's words, ' He has the
advantage of figuring in the memory of posterity
as one eternally able and strong, for the image in
which one lives in the world is that in which one
moves among the shadows.'
The career of Mr. Hughes, though it seemed
short, was in reality long. No life of our time
has been more laborious, more consuming. From
the night when we first saw him— it was in the
Lower Hall of the City Temple, after a lecture-
on to the last, it seemed as if he were never a
moment still. His preaching, and writing, and
speaking, and travelling, and raising money, and

HUGH PRICE HUGHES 159
fighting, all England knew. Others were aware
that he never ceased to give himself away. He
had a passion for detail. He loved the work of
committees, and never failed to take a leading
share in them. It was one of the signs of the end
that latterly he would sit quite still and listen to
others as they discussed a course of action. He
was extremely punctual and methodical in dealing
with his vast correspondence. On Saturday we
received a letter in his own handwriting, and,
indeed, we cannot remember receiving from him
any letter that was dictated. Up till a few weeks
ago he took great delight in his work for the
Methodist Times. He was full of matter, and
dictated with the utmost ease and relish. Of
late, however, he seemed to feel this and other
labours a burden. But perhaps his conversation
was more remarkable even than his public speaking.
We remember no conversationalist quite like him.
He was a careful and accurate listener, and at the
same time a most copious and eager talker. In
this as in other things he seemed always to be
parting with vitality. The last time we saw him
his eagerness seemed even feverish. His enthu
siasm gathered into itself the stress of the nerves
and the heat of the blood, and it is no wonder that
he died worn out.
Mr. Hughes has not left behind him any mellow
and finished literary performance, but his con
temporaries know how deeply for the last twenty
years he has influenced the Christian life and

160 PRINCES OF THE CHURCH
thought of England. We do not feel competent
to describe his work in the great Wesleyan
Methodist communion. That its effects were far-
reaching every one can see, but only a Methodist
can tell how he altered not only the procedure of
the Church to which he was so devotedly attached,
but even its atmosphere. We prefer to say some
thing about his handling of the larger problems
which confront the Christian Churches, and especi
ally the Free Churches. Mr. Hughes came into
prominence at a time when it was manifest that
Christianity had to face new conditions, and he
addressed himself with unbounded hope and
courage to the situation.
First of all, he saw that the working classes in
this country were becoming alienated from the
churches. He saw that the Christian Church had
to deal with this life as well as with the next, that
the social problem could not be evaded without
dereliction of duty and the sacrifice of souls. The
time was past when it was enough to preach the
peace of a world to come, when men would be
content with building for their dark poverty a
house not made with hands. The sullen and
alienated democracy had to be met upon their
own ground. Mr. Hughes did his very best, and
perhaps no Christian minister in our time has done
more. He perceived that if the workers of the
country were to be gathered, the Church must
give them the services of her best men and her best
buildings. He saw that Nonconformity could

HUGH PRICE HUGHES 161
never prosper unless its central church in every
great town was a church of the poor, a church in
which all were equal, a church in which the choicest
in every kind was freely given. He perceived also
that such churches must have a social side, that
the church must lay herself alongside of the whole
life of the people week-day and Sunday. But he
never made the mistake of supposing that Chris
tianity is to be subordinate to social reform. In
the great missions which he directed so long, the
preaching of the Gospel came foremost. Mr.
Hughes's chief resource, speaking from the human
side, was the contagion of a great conviction.
No more fervent evangelical addresses were de
livered anywhere than the sermons preached by
him in St. James's Hall. He did not live to
accomplish all that he desired, but he lived long
enough to see his policy vindicated. The Wesleyan
Methodist Church, through him and others like
minded, has led the way. It is more and more
clear that other churches will follow. In St.
James's Hall he had representatives of all classes
in his audience, and he could tell many wonderful
stories of the distress and peace of souls under the
preaching of himself and his colleague, Mark Guy
Pearse. Along with this went an elaborate organ
isation of social work. In many respects the
conditions were such as are not to be found else
where in London. Up to the time when his
health broke down, Mr. Hughes carried on the
mission with unabated success. It was intended,

162 PRINCES OF THE CHURCH
we believe, that he should have charge of the
services to be held in the new Church House at
Westminster, but so much did he prize the oppor
tunity given by St. James's Hall that he never
dreamed of abandoning it. We hope yet to see
the system of work which he did so much to
establish carried out by all the great denominations
in every great town. It will be a most permanent
monument to Mr. Price Hughes, for it can never
be dissevered from his name and his toil.
Mr. Hughes had also to face the necessary
readjustment of Christianity to the changed con
ditions of thought. Though he was a highly
educated man, with a civilised mind, the conditions
of his life did not leave him free to become a
specialist in any department of knowledge. But
he knew what was in the air, and he had to handle
the problem as it acutely presented itself in life.
He knew that it was necessary to face the questions
raised by scholars and scientists. He knew also
that even if these difficulties can be dispelled, they
are apt to be replaced by others deeper and sadder
still, which will not yield to argument. He knew
that Christianity has to be presented to the age
on a purified, simple, and intelligible basis. Mr.
Hughes was not a theological or spiritual adventurer.
He was not himself, so far as we are aware, troubled
by perplexity. Some things were sure to him,
and these were enough. He knew very well how
one single thought may keep the soul alive for
years. He had much sympathy with mystical

HUGH PRICE HUGHES 163
depth and religious reverie. The essence of
Christianity to him was union with the living
Christ. His definition of a Christian was based
upon this. We remember his saying that he
wished to have written on his tombstone the lines —
' Thou, O Christ, art all I want,
More than all in Thee I find.'
Under the government of this and other kingly
thoughts he himself remained undiscouraged and
even blithe through all the confusions. He had
also a very practical conviction that Christ is
Legislator as well as Redeemer, and that obedience
is the way to knowledge. His mind, perhaps,
had more affinity with the Johannine than with
the Pauline writings, but he would have professed
himself a loyal Methodist in essentials. We rather
think, from recent conversations with him, that
on some points of theology he was inclined to go
further than he ever said in public. But he had
a constant sense of responsibility, and would not
speak till he was sure. It will be remembered
how at the last Conference he led his brethren in
their decision to retain Professor Beet. The
decision may have been wise or unwise ; we simply
note the fact.
The problem which perhaps most distressed
Mr. Hughes was that which confronts us to-day —
the assault of clericalism on religious liberty. Mr.
Hughes had a genuine affection for the Church of
England. He had many friends and relations in
her communion. At one time he hoped that

164 PRINCES OF THE CHURCH
better and closer relations could be established
between the Church of England and Nonconformity.
He took a great part in what were known as the
Grindelwald Conferences, and resented the very
moderate degree of hope with which some of us
looked on them. To Episcopacy as a system of
Church government he took no objection ; in fact,
he would not perhaps have been sorry to see the
Methodist Episcopal Church of the United States
reproduced here. He had a high view of the
ministerial profession, and was as rigid as an old
Presbyterian in maintaining the clerical garb.
But, on the other hand, he abhorred sacerdotalism.
He held the Presbyterian view of the Sacraments ;
beyond that he never went. As time went on, it
was forced upon him that the Anglicans would
make no concession of any kind. Mr. Hughes was
abstractly in favour of Disestablishment, especially
Disestablishment in Wales ; but he did not take
any prominent part in the fight, and in fact was
sometimes inclined to discourage it. But he saw
that it was advisable that Nonconformity should
organise itself, and no one did more to start and
support the National Free Church Council. When
President of that organisation he delivered an
address on the idea of the Church, following pretty
closely the lines of Dr. Dale. He successfully
prevented the National Free Church Council from
taking up the question - of Disestablishment. It
was his desire to see the Wesleyan Methodists
and other Nonconformists working more cordially

HUGH PRICE HUGHES 165
together, and there can be no doubt that this aim
was largely attained. He gave much time and
thought to the problem of religious education, and
unswervingly supported undenominational teach
ing. He would, however, have gone so far as to
teach the Creed in every school. The Education
Bill, under which Nonconformists are to be rated
for a Church atmosphere and Church teaching,
awoke the deepest hostility of his nature. He
saw at once that the only effectual resistance
Nonconformists could offer was the resistance
of suffering, and was one of the first to advocate
the passive resistance policy, which he stead
fastly maintained to the end. Through weak
ness he was unable to do much in the public
agitation, but his speech in St. James's Hall will
be remembered, and he continued to write in his
journal. Mr. Hughes sorrowfully recognised that
the Bill had permanently altered the relations
between the Church and Nonconformity — that the
latter had to defend its life against the former.
How far the National Free Church Council will
fulfil his hopes will be decided soon. Mr. Hughes
had also great hopes of Methodist union, and
laboured hard in that cause, but the difficulties so
far have proved insurmountable.
In politics he was driven to take an active part,
but he was not really a politician. Parties did not
interest him as such ; it was causes he cared for.
In the struggle for Home Rule he was an enthusiastic
Gladstonian. Though his zeal cooled, he was

166 PRINCES OF THE CHURCH
always a friend to Ireland, and always convinced
that the Irish must be conciliated. To the pro
posal for a Roman Catholic University he offered
a stern opposition. Perhaps the most trying
episode of his political career was his support of
the South African War. War in itself he hated
as much as Arthur Helps hated it. ' Just think
for one moment of the agonising night of suffering
passed by a wounded man on the field of battle.'
He often said that the results of war were very
rarely what the promoters of war counted or hoped
for. He would have done anything to put his
fellow countrymen in love with the ways of peace.
Hence it was very painful for him to oppose the
anti-war party in this country, especially as many
of them had been amongst his closest friends.
Having persuaded himself, however, that the war
was a war of defence on our part, and not a war of
aggression, he did not flinch from saying so. He
encountered a storm of opposition, but met it with
perfect good temper. The little brush between
him and Sir Henry Campbell-Bannerman need not
be recalled, but it is no breach of confidence now
to say that at the private meeting between Sir
Henry Campbell-Bannerman and the Noncon
formists Mr. Price Hughes took the lead in ex
pressing, with the utmost good nature and good
feeling, his earnest desire that bygones should be
bygones, and that unity among Liberals should
be restored. The response was as gracious as the
speech that prompted it.

HUGH PRICE HUGHES 167
We have no space to write of the qualities that
so eminently fitted Mr. Hughes for his work. Fore
most among them was his deep piety. Nobody
knew him at all who did not recognise that he was
profoundly religious. The lower ambitions he
plucked out and cast from him. He was delivered
from the love of money and the love of ease.
Nothing entered his life that was not penetrated
by his passion for Christ. Even when one did not
quite understand him one was sure that he was
following the lines : —
' The loftiest spirits in their wildest motion
Dip to their anchors underneath the ocean.'
His courage was based on faith. Faith, it has been
said, once could shake mountains ; mountains
now shake faith. Mountains never shook his
faith. He was extraordinarily alert and swift. As
a manager of meetings he could not be surpassed.
Those who were present at the great gathering
where he denounced Parnell in face of a large
hostile element will never forget the scene. As a
speaker he was not one of the masters of an
eloquence enhanced by
' that great voice which, rising, brought
Red wrath to faces pale with thought,
And, falling, fell with showers of tears.'
But the Times has rightly said that he was one of
the six most popular speakers in England. He
was always clear, direct, and full of life. Though
he was a born fighter, and always in controversy,
there was no bitterness in his nature. We doubt

168 PRINCES OF THE CHURCH
if he was ever guilty of a cruel and wounding
personal remark. We say this who have fought
him, and who have watched his battles with
others. In private conversation he was the same.
There is not a word we ever heard him say of any
human being which might not be written down
and published. All who really knew him know
the inherent kindness, gentleness, and generosity
of his nature, and the intense tenderness of his
domestic affections. Then he was practically
sagacious in the highest degree. He knew what
he longed for, what he wished to do. He had the
gift of getting things done. He often appeared
to be intemperate in expression, but this was not
really so. He had an exaggerated way of speaking.
Every hour was regal to him. But his nature was
cautious and conservative, and he had all the
attributes of a great general. He did not know
how to take care of himself, and so to-day multitudes
mourn and miss him, and will continue to miss him
all the time between the digging of his grave and
theirs. But it is ours to remember that he who
lies dead to-day was a good soldier of Jesus Christ ;
one who did not take counsel of meaner fears ;
one who was tried and bore the test ; one who was
eager to welcome great experiences ; one who
said with his whole heart, Even so come, Lord
Jesus. We were not blind to all that when he
was near to us in the flesh ; we see it more clearly
now. November 20, 1902.

DR. PARKER
To estimate aright a personality so great, so com
plex, and so many-sided as that of Dr. Parker, is
a task so difficult that I shrink from attempting
it. Nor is it necessary to record in detail the few
outstanding events of his public life. The stern
but victorious struggle of his youth, his pastorate
of five years in Banbury, his conspicuous ministry
in Manchester for eleven years, and his world-
known work in London for the long period of thirty-
three years, have been fully described by himself
and others. I shall rather try to picture him as he
appeared to me during the last years of his life,
when I saw much of him. It is, as yet, impossible
to imagine that he is dead — impossible to associate
the thought of death with a vitality so exuberant.
He believed himself that his strength began to fail
at the time he delivered his address as Chairman
of the Congregational Union in the Manchester
Free Trade Hall. But he had boundless faith in
his physical resources, in his power of recovery,
and cherished the hope of restoration till very
near the end. Dr. Parker believed himself that
his illness was a mystery even to his physicians.
I suppose, however, that he died of no specific
disease. His magnificent energy was worn out,
169

170 PRINCES OF THE CHURCH
the heart ceased to fulfil its proper functions, and
refused to answer stimulants. All his life he had
been pouring out his force into his work, and the
intense strain of soul and body from which he
suffered before and after his great bereavement,
could not but sap his strength. Yet it is but a few
weeks ago since he went back to his pulpit with,
as it seemed, the fresh hope of young life in his
veins. He preached with unabated power, and
looked forward to years of work. When at last it
became evident that there was little hope, he faced
the end with a heroic yet sad composure. He loved
his life, and he loved his labour. But his sufferings
were so great that he craved release, and almost
sued for the mercy of death. He bore his burden
with wonderful patience, and though he spoke
not much of religion when dying, he said his Amen
to God's will. Among his last signs of life was the
response he gave to favourite hymns like ' My
faith looks up to Thee,' and ' There is a fountain
filled with blood.' It is impossible for human
nature to look on the end of such a life without
pain, but there are weighty consolations. It was
very hard to witness his sufferings, so hard that
the affectionate watchers by his deathbed longed
for his release. His life was not maimed as so
many lives seem to be. His longings were high
and noble, and in large measure fulfilled. He
found his true path in life, and he followed it with
out weariness and without failure till death was in
sight. He was not condemned to live in the

DR. PARKER 171
prison of a paralysed body. The note of dis
appointment which echoes from all the winds is
less audible in his career than in almost any we
can call to mind. He never swerved from the
firm conviction that he was called to serve God in
the Nonconformist ministry, and there was never
an hour when he would have changed his work
for any other in the world.
I shall try to set out simply the course of his
days. While the tributes to his memory have been
almost always kind and well-intentioned, many
stories told in them are entirely without foundation.
His way of living was very regular, very methodical,
and very simple. Every morning he was in his
study at half-past seven, and spent his first half
hour looking at the newspapers. After breakfast
he retired to his study, and dealt immediately
with his correspondence. He answered letters
either at once or not at all. He reserved to him
self the right to ignore unreasonable requests and
complaints, but his charity was great, and he
could not easily resist appeals for aid. He then
went on with reading or literary work for a couple
of hours. Afterwards he walked, invariably alone.
It was during his walks that he loved to meditate
his sermons ; and he might be seen any day on
Hampstead Heath absorbed in contemplation, and
sometimes with his lips moving. In the evening
he loved to be read to. Hour after hour he would
listen, and if he liked a book he had it read over to
him again. He retired to rest early after his simple

172 PRINCES OF THE CHURCH
meal, and this was the routine of his days. Though
he lived in a handsome modern house, and had
everything well appointed, he was eminently frugal
and homely in his habits. Dr. Parker's charity was
very great. He did not care to speak of it, but he
was unable entirely to conceal it. I doubt whether
I have known any man who habitually gave away
a larger share of his income. At the same time
the straits which he went through in his early life
had made him careful, and though he was generous,
he never wasted money. Few men have cared less
for general society. He liked to meet people in
whom he was interested, and sometimes accepted
invitations, but no man in a similar position ever
went out so little. When he did accept an invi
tation to a dinner-party, he was always miserable
before he went, and often miserable after. He
would imagine that he had said something or done
something that should not have been said or done.
Yet he liked to think and speak of the famous
people whom he had met. What is much more
remarkable, Dr. Parker had at no time in his life
any special genius for friendship. Those nearest
him, those who have known him best and longest,
bear witness with one voice to this. He was full
of friendliness, but till the days of his loneliness
he did not need close friends. That craving for
fellowship which has characterised so many was
not his, even in his early days. His was essentially
a lonely nature, much occupied in brooding, and
in musing, far withdrawn. On the other hand, he

DR. PARKER 173
had a more than common delight in the fellowship
of his home. The society of his wife and her re
latives and a few more seemed to satisfy his wants.
He loved to have visits from his own inner circle.
Even then, however, he spent much of his time
alone, though he liked to know that his wife was
in the house, and was restless and uneasy in her
absence. He needed also the stimulus of the
great crowds he preached to three times in the
week. Between his congregation and his home
his life was practically lived until his wife died.
After that he turned very strongly to two or three
friends who visited him every week. In general
company he had little to say, but among his own,
and especially in dialogue, he was at his very best.
As a rule he wakened up slowly, but once embarked
in the full stream of conversation, he was vivacious
and brilliant to an extraordinary degree. He
then showed himself a man of genius. I have
met men cleverer and more accomplished, and
even men more alert, but never a man, with per
haps one exception, more plainly possessed of the
indefinable quality called genius. In conversation
he could adapt himself to his companion, but,
latterly at least, he liked nothing so well as to
discuss his texts with a sympathetic hearer, or to
recall his memories of the past. He would often
speak with the utmost finish, precision, and beauty.
To set down one's memory of his sentences would
only be to mar them. No man was ever more
concerned with his own special work, but his

174 PRINCES OF THE CHURCH
method of preparing his sermons was his own.
He read much in the Bible, and texts started out
of its pages. When he found a text he brooded
over it in his solitary walks, in his study, and in
his garden, till he reached the heart of it. Once
that was discovered, illustrations crowded upon
him, and his work was practically done. There
lie before me as I write many of his sermon notes
used in the pulpit. They are written in pencil,
and each text is followed by about a dozen lines.
This was quite enough for him. His preaching was
never at any time a burden to him, but always a
joy. He was very rarely in need of a text ; in
fact, he had almost always a few texts in hand.
Dr. Parker's thoughts all concentrated themselves
on his pulpit work, and on his Sunday morning
sermons especially. When he was in the pulpit
all was well with him. The crowd roused and
stimulated all his faculties. There was no want
of words, and the words came as at the command
of a magician, arranging themselves in forms of
startling beauty and freshness. He forgot his
own sentences as soon as they were spoken, and
could not recognise them when they were quoted
to him again. It was rarely if ever that he repeated
a sentence or a phrase. He was not, in my opinion,
a good judge of his own work, but in his preaching
he was notably equal, though some subjects
naturally fitted him better than others. There
was no abatement in his pulpit power, but rather
the reverse. Perhaps as time went on he became

DR. PARKER 175
more aphoristic and sententious, but of this I am
not sure. His power of attraction grew with the
advancing years, and at a time when most preachers
are repeating themselves, he was ever striking out
new lines of thought and expression. He would
say, however, that young preachers ought to write
their sermons, and that he himself had written
carefully for years. On the rare occasions when he
wrote and read a sermon, he was much less effective,
and as a rule his appearances on great occasions
were much below his average. Of this he was
very well aware. The only time I ever knew him
decidedly fail was in his speech at the Union of the
Churches in Scotland. He failed simply because
he had prepared too much. For months the
speech ran in his mind, until at last he lost con
fidence in himself. No one ever preached more
earnestly the absolute necessity of labour and
concentration for any success in the pulpit, and he
practised all he preached.
Dr. Parker was extremely sensitive. Perhaps
sensitiveness goes much more often with genius
than with talent. He greatly lacked self-con
fidence, and lived in the constant need of encourage
ment. The occasional brusqueness and egotism
of his manner was in reality a mask of shyness,
for he remembered with marvellous tenacity all
who had shown him any kindness. He never
forgot to be grateful. His was a nature that had
much need of brightness, and he would often pray
for some visible sign or token that he was doing

176 PRINCES OF THE CHURCH
good. He had himself a generous admiration for
every kind of excellence in the old and in the
young. The two men, I think, whom he admired
most were Dr. Maclaren and Principal Rainy,
and their visits in his sickness gave him peculiar
delight. But it need not be denied that this
sensitiveness, almost grotesque at times, led him
into much trouble. As a rule, he did not read
attacks upon himself, but when he read them he
could hardly be restrained from replying to them,
no matter how puny the assailant might be. He
had even the weakness of seeing allusions to him
self which were never meant as such, and in this
way he suffered needless pain. It was difficult for
him to believe that he was loved. He could not
take it upon trust. He had to be told it over and
over again. In his later years he mellowed greatly,
but the story of his life is in one aspect a record
of struggle and combat, and its peace was marred
by needless misunderstandings. Struggle and com
bat may be the happiest conditions under which a
man can exist, but it would have been well for Dr.
Parker if he had given more trust alike to himself
and to others. He was often taken for an enormous
egoist, and in a sense that was true. His thoughts
were much concentrated on himself and his own
work, but no one judged himself more humbly,
no one was more vulnerable to unkindness, no one
was more easily shaken by a breath of adverse
criticism. This sensitiveness was caused, I have no doubt,

DR. PARKER 177
by the hardness of his childhood and youth. He
said once that his life had been a continual fight
and a frequent pain. It was true that his career
was hewn out by stress of will. Every sixpence
he possessed was earned. He won and kept his
own position against hosts of adversaries. His
impulsiveness and his sensitiveness cost him much.
They prevented him from being a really great
leader. He could take up a cause and fight for
it, but it was hard for him to differ from those
he cared for, and harder still to hold on through
storm and darkness and defeat, looking con
fidently for long and far results. On the great
questions that have divided Liberalism in the last
twenty years he wavered, changed his views from
time to time, and latterly he shrunk wisely from
committing himself. He would take up a cause
and grow weary of it, and turn to something else.
On all but the great subjects his mind was restless,
and he would seek for premature and impossible
reconciliations. Yet, as I have said, he had much
happiness, and in the old days I believe his spirits
were often exuberant. He was always grateful
for his life, though he never wished to live any
part of it over again.
Dr. Parker, through all his career, was firmly
and consistently evangelical and Nonconformist.
Through all his years and labours there ran the
intense unwavering sense of Christ's redeeming
care. For him Christ was the Alpha and Omega,
the Beginning and the End, the First and the Last.
M

178 PRINCES OF THE CHURCH
His strong influence had its source in a hidden life.
He was deeply, humbly, and fervently religious.
He was before all things a preacher of the Christian
redemption, living and dying under the benediction
of the Cross. With works of systematic theology
he had small acquaintance, but he was mighty in
the Scriptures, and never was the Bible read more
earnestly and believingly than by him. By his
own study and thought he had worked out inde
pendently all the main conclusions of evangelicalism
and he never moved away from them. In the same
way, he was a convinced and consistent Noncon
formist. Where Nonconformists were divided he
would hesitate, and move sometimes from one side
to another, but though he received much kindness
from members of the Church of England, and was
most grateful for it, he had no sympathy at all
for the Anglican position. Indeed it often struck
me that he did not understand how much can be
said for sacerdotal views, though I do not forget
Springdale Abbey. Everything in the shape of
ceremonial and external religion was intensely
repugnant to his nature. He so much disliked
the undue estimate of the Sacraments that he
did not give them their due, and would have agreed
with Dr. Bruce that it would be well if for a time
they were abandoned. He attached his own
meaning to Baptism and the Lord's Supper,
looking upon them as beautiful symbolic acts,
but he did not believe that either did anything to
strengthen the life of the Church. He vehemently

DR. PARKER 179
maintained that any one might preside over the
Lord's Supper, and' said that he would rather
receive the emblems from the hands of his own
mother than from those of many ministers. His
Nonconformity took shape in the old strenuous
days of the Church Rate fights, and he loved to
tell how his father's furniture was sold, because
he would not pay. It was natural he should be
one of the first to suggest resistance to the new
Church Rate, and on this his mind dwelt much.
Dr. Parker was convinced that the present crisis,
if bravely met, would be the rebirth of Non
conformity. He had a certain pity for Non
conformists who went over to the Church. For
himself the desertion of the cause to which he was
bound by ties so dear would have been an act of
spiritual suicide.
Dr. Parker's literary achievements, apart from
the pulpit, are not memorable. He had an
ambition to write novels, and there was un
doubtedly a deep vein of romance and tenderness
in his nature, notwithstanding its rugged virility.
There are fine passages in Springdale Abbey and
Raven Digby amid much that is unsatisfactory.
He had journalistic ambitions also, but the truth
is that he did not work hard enough and long
enough either at fiction or at journalism to achieve
any real success. He almost always grew weary
of a book long before he had finished it, and eked
it out with passages from former books. Ecce Deus
and the Paraclete were works on which he spent

180 PRINCES OF THE CHURCH
much labour, and they had a certain success.
But the fact is he was too deeply pledged to
preaching to win any real triumph in other fields.
It was as a preacher that he made his great mark
and exerted his mighty influence. For multitudes
there was no preacher like him. He showed power
from the first, but he took bad models, and his
taste was imperfect. It is wonderful to trace
his progress, to see how he toiled and how he
ascended. To other preachers he owed almost
nothing. The one preacher whose influence is
traceable in his later work is Newman, and Newman
was almost the only sermon writer whom he read
for many years. I make no attempt to analyse
his preaching, or to discover the secret of his power.
It was a spiritual wonder. There was about it
the touch of miracle. Apparently free from rule,
it was unconsciously obedient to the great prin
ciples of art. As you listened you saw deeper
meanings. The horizon lifted, widened, broadened
— the preacher had thrust his hand among your
heart strings. You heard the cry of life, and the
Christ preached as the answer to that cry. The
preacher had every gift. He was mystical, poetical,
ironical, consoling, rebuking by turns. Sometimes
' As from an infinitely distant land,
Come airs and floating echoes that convey
A melancholy into all our day.'
The next moment you could not help smiling at
some keen witticism. Then he was ironical, and
you remembered Heine, and saw that he knew how

DR. PARKER 181
much irony is mingled by God in the order of His
creation. Then tears sprang to your eyes as he
pictured the failure of success, and told of the long,
triumphant struggle and the victory turned into
mourning by the death of the only child. But
what description can render, or what analysis
explain, the visible inspiration, the touch of fire
from heaven ?
Dr. Parker's last days were shadowed by his
great bereavement in the death of the wife whose
loyal affection had sustained him through all the
storm and struggle of thirty-four years. When her
call came she heard it long before he would listen,
and was always very calm and very brave. He
controlled himself in her presence, but when he
left her he would break into fits of passionate
weeping. He never could bear leave-takings.
When visitors stayed in his house he never said
good-bye, and never liked to know when they were
going. He had asked his wife in their early days
of marriage to promise that they would never say
farewell to one another, and the promise was kept.
Death was to him the most formidable of foes, and
he would say, ' When I come to die do not preach
to me, do not exhort me — leave me with myself
and with God.' His wife had an exulting faith in
immortality. Dr. Parker himself, for many years,
was most curiously fascinated by the idea of
corporate immortality. It was not by any means
that he disbelieved in individual immortality, but
much was dark to him on that side. He viewed

182 PRINCES OF THE CHURCH
the life after death for long with hesitations and
tremors, and fought his battle in many sad, long,
quiet hours after his wife was gone. Scrupulously
truthful and sincere in every expression of feeling,
he said nothing of reunion for long. His mind
imperatively rejected the commonplace and the
sentimental. The unknown and untried regions
which the spirit enters when it is severed from the
flesh daunted him. But the mists lifted. As the
end drew near his faith became clearer, and the
hope of reunion seemed to shed a soft radiance and
illumination over his worst sufferings, a soothing
sense of repose and hope.
December 4, 1902.

DR. GEORGE MATHESON
It is not the night but the light that has fallen on
the strenuous, brave life of Dr. George Matheson.
In him we have lost one of the most chivalrous
spirits of our time, one who lived as he taught,
faithfully and nobly. The dimmed and hindered
body in which he did his work has been laid
reverently in its last resting-place till the trumpet
shall sound, but he himself is where the pleroma
of the universe has become luminous. He has
received a house from heaven where they who look
out at the windows are not darkened.
It was Dr. Matheson's characteristic way to
make as little as possible of his affliction. The
trial was one of the hardest that can fall to a
human being. In his early days as a schoolboy
and a student, he was the most brilliant of his
compeers, and when he was only twenty there fell
upon him the dire calamity of blindness. He would
not suffer it to break his spirit. When, in 1899,
he took farewell of his Edinburgh congregation,
he described himself as ' barred by every gate of
fortune, yet refusing to give in ; overtaken by the
night, yet confident of the morning.' He said :
' My sermons may have flown over your heads
like the bird of paradise, but my life has been level
to yours — an obstructed life, a circumscribed life,
183

184 PRINCES OF THE CHURCH
but a life of boundless sanguineness, a life of
quenchless hopefulness, a life which has beaten
persistently against the cage of circumstance, and
which even at the time of abandoned work has said
not " Good night," but " Good morning." ' We
may not judge the love so darkly wise that ordained
his lot any more than he did, but it is impossible
not to think of what he might have done in the
ordinary conditions. George Matheson, we verily
believe, was potentially the greatest man given
to the Scottish Churches since the days of Dr.
Chalmers. He was a great orator, a powerful
thinker, a man born with the instinct of scholarship,
a master of expression, overflowing with love and
vehement ardour, and dauntless courage. Such
a man might have had Scotland at his feet, and he
would certainly have been one of the rulers of the
spiritual empire. In spite of all, he did great
things, but the greatest of all was the living of his
life. There can be no doubt that the natural course
of his intellectual development was seriously dis
turbed by his infirmity. In his devotional writings,
as in all devotional writings of real mark, we some
times overhear the author. It would not be right,
it would not be fair, it would not be considerate to
point out what is overheard. He himself made no
complaint ; but to him it was easier a great deal to
die than to live. We will try to point out the strange
course of his mental and spiritual history, though
this can be done only in a very imperfect manner.
Where he was reticent we must not be too confident.

DR. GEORGE MATHESON 185
The first time we saw Dr. Matheson must have
been somewhere about 1880. He was delivering
the second of the Baird lectures on a Sunday evening
in St. George's, Edinburgh. The great building
was but scantily filled, but the address, alike in
matter, in form, and in utterance, was worthy of
any audience. It seemed as if we had in Dr.
Matheson the coming prophet of the time. His
face was turned with eager welcome towards the
new light, and his strong brain was busy in the
work of reconstruction and reconciliation. When
the sermon was over, we went to the Synod Hall
and heard the latter part of an oration by Principal
Cairns. This was a grand defence of the old
apologetical positions delivered with overwhelming
passion, and uncompromising in its orthodoxy.
That evening was indeed spent well and nobly.
We had heard the fittest representatives of the
old school and of the new. But it was not as a
philosophical thinker but as a devotional writer
that Dr. Matheson was to win his fame.
i
Before he was blind, he distinguished himself in
philosophy, and later on he came under the power
ful influence of John Caird. His attainments were
very considerable, and he went on adding to them
to the utmost of his power. It was as a scientific
theologian and as a scholar that he first made his
appeal to the public. In 1874 he issued his first
book, Aids to the Study of German Theology, and

186 PRINCES OF THE CHURCH
in 1877 there appeared in two volumes what was
perhaps his most elaborate work, The Growth of
the Spirit of Christianity, from the First Century
to the Dawn of the Lutheran Era. The publication
of that book seemed to close an epoch in his life.
It was a very able and thoughtful work, the result
of wide and well-directed reading. But it had
weaknesses which were perhaps inevitable. We
do not specially refer to the somewhat fantastic
analogy drawn between the mental growth of a
man and that of the Christian Church. Dr. Matheson
assigned places to St. Paul and St. Augustine in
the 'child life.' The 'school life' ended with
the Council of Constance, and then followed ' the
independence of youth,' which closed with the
appearance of Luther. The inference drawn was
that the period from Luther to the present day is
the manhood of the Christian Church. It is
needless to make any comment. Dr. Matheson
made a bold and not unsuccessful attempt to show
how the free teaching of the earliest ages passed
into scholasticism, and how scholasticism was
dethroned. In the course of his discussion he said
much that was suggestive, but also much that was
open to criticism. For example, he wrote, ' Reason
is given to China, imagination to India, under
standing to Egypt, and will to Persia. With
Greece there begins the reconciliation of that which
was destroyed, and at length in Christianity the
reconstruction is complete and the human race
resumes its original position as a united and
harmonious family.' We believe he came to see

DR. GEORGE MATHESON 187
that there is something quite unconvincing about
these characterisations. How should China have
reason, and Egypt understanding ? and how can
it be said that the human race is united and
harmonious ? But the point on which his ablest
critics fastened was the number of small in
accuracies in the volume. One reviewer pointed
out some of his mistakes, and brought against
him the general charge that he lacked accurate
knowledge. ' Mr. Matheson makes odd blunders
in small matters, which seem to show that he is
not an accurate student.' Little do reviewers
know the circumstances in which books are written.
If that reviewer had understood that the author of
the book was a blind man, he would have ex
pressed himself differently. But Dr. Matheson
was from first to last resolutely determined to
claim no immunity and no indulgence on account
of his blindness. If by reason of that blindness
he could not adequately fulfil any particular part,
he would withdraw from the attempt. When he
saw that for the purposes of scholarship his blind
ness was a fatal hindrance, he withdrew from the
field— not without pangs, but finally.
n
The next step of his work was that of an apologist.
He conceived that he might be still able to do
something in harmonising the old faith with the
new. At that time the young theological thinkers
of Scotland were breaking through the barriers
of the old orthodoxy. The Broad Church party

188 PRINCES OF THE CHURCH
had established itself in the Church of Scotland,
and Robertson Smith had begun his revolutionary
work in the Free Church. Evolution and the
Higher Criticism had come to stay. It was a
testing time. We remember one evolutionist tell
ing how, at a period when the Recreations of a
Country Parson and the sermons of Henry Ward
Beecher furnished him the food which delighted
his soul, he came in contact with Darwin. The
new philosophy fell on the orderly line of his
mental evolution like a shell, blasting and wrecking
it. He had to begin all over again, and discover
the ideal anew, both in the mind and in the world.
The sentence of Huxley kept ringing in his ears,
" Extinguished theologians lie about the cradle of
every science like the strangled snakes about that
of Hercules.' It seemed for the moment as if
theology itself were the great snake and science
the Hercules that had destroyed its life. The
sentence sounded like Louis xiv.'s ' There are no
more Pyrenees.' But the Pyrenees exist and
theology exists. Then Robertson Smith, clinging
fondly to the Calvinistic theology of his Church,
expounded the processes and results of the Higher
Criticism as applied to the Old Testament. What
was left of the Bible when the critical process
attained its completion ? These were the ques
tions which young Matheson confronted, and he
did so at the beginning in a most sanguine spirit.
When we first became personally acquainted with
him, he was full of such subjects. The religious
bearings of the doctrine of evolution engrossed

DR. GEORGE MATHESON 189
his mind. We remember him expressing his great
admiration of Liddon's apologetic work, and his
conviction that some Broad Churchmen had
yielded more than they needed to yield. The
fruits of his thought were given in various books,
among them Can the Old Faith Live with the New ?
published in 1885, and the Psalmist and the
Scientist, in 1887. The latter work was hailed
in the pages of The British Weekly by Professor
Elmslie. Dr. Matheson was keenly alive to the
spiritual perplexities of his time. He knew the
changed conditions under which the Church had
to do its work, but he had no fear. He was con
fident that he could establish the intellectual
coherence of religious and scientific truth. He
was alive to the fact that a sinister divorce had
taken place between faith and science ; that the
main advances of reason had been made outside
the borders of the Church ; and that immense
departments of new knowledge and experience
had grown up unreconciled to her creed. The
hostile forces seemed to have with them the powers
of the new world — the reason, the knowledge, the
criticism of the coming age. He took the field
desiring to welcome the truth from every quarter,
and persuaded that no truth could contradict or
impair the Christian religion. in
But as time went on he seemed to lose his con
fidence. On this subject we must speak with
caution, for he has not said much about his trial.

190 PRINCES OF THE CHURCH
Suffice it to say that he came to disbelieve in the
Higher Criticism and in the doctrine of evolution,
at least in its extreme form. He even came to the
conclusion that a new revelation would be given
to keep the Church alive. Dr. Matheson was one
who could never have forsaken Christianity as he
had received it. There are those who in per
plexity part from the Church, deeply as they feel
the moral beauty of its precepts and the greatness
of its work. There are those who nominally remain
in the Church while adopting a form of Christianity
bereft alike of mystery and of power. Dr.
Matheson could do neither. He abandoned the
difficulties with which his searching intellect and
his deep heart had vainly grappled, and turned
his face to the spiritual East. Since then his
books have all been essentially devotional books.
He set himself to live more truly the life that is
hid with Christ in God. For ourselves, we do not
doubt that the harmony of all truth is already to
be discerned, though for many reasons the complete
reconciliation must be slowly accomplished. Dr.
Matheson made his choice and contributed his part.
He turned his face towards Sion. He proved and
proved again the reality of the spiritual light.
To him the East was not silent and relentless. The
dayspring from on high visited him more and
more gloriously, and the finest book he ever wrote
is his Studies of the Portrait of Christ. Even in the
darkness of this world the kindly light was about
his feet and on his face. He was strengthened to

DR. GEORGE MATHESON 191
the end and strengthened many by the ancient
succours of the soul.
We linger as we recall him— his cheery cordiality,
his zest of appreciation, his large and winning
charity. We met him first at the Presbyterian
Council in Belfast some twenty years ago, and
attended with him many of the meetings. How
frank and refreshing were his criticisms ! One
night Dr., Stalker gave one of his finest addresses,
and it seemed as if Dr. Matheson could not cease
analysing it and praising it. After many attempts
to characterise it justly, he satisfied himself by
saying it was truly on the model of Aristotle !
At that Council an American Presbyterian minister,
long dead now — Dr. G. P. Hays, of Denver — made
the most successful, witty, and tactful of chairmen.
Dr. Matheson was so pleased with him that he
insisted on being present all the time he was in the
chair, and at night he recounted, with his marvellous
memory, every good thing the American had said.
Dr. Matheson was a firmly attached member of
the Church of Scotland, and a strong supporter
of her position ; but he delighted in everything
that was excellent wherever he found it, and
attached small importance to mere churchmanship.
So the radiance of his nature mastered the darkness
of time. He was indeed one of the most brotherly
and generous of men. ' Might we meet when
twilight has become day ! '
September 6, 1906.

PRINCIPAL RAINY
Dr. Rainy was one of the greatest of Churchmen,
and the name of his Church was deeply graven upon
his heart. Her solicitudes occupied his last waking
moments. He, we may be sure, was not one of the
exiles who needed Jeremiah's precept, " Let Jeru
salem come into your mind.' Jerusalem had been
in his mind, his thought by day, his dream by night
this many a long year. But to those who saw him
of late years it was evident that he who had carried
the cross of the earthly Jerusalem, prayed for her
peace, toiled for her triumph, had let the heavenly
Jerusalem come much into his mind. He was
watching for the great door to open and the welcom
ing angels to beckon. The nearest and the dearest
had gone first. The fourscore years were over ;
life was by the day and hour, and the mother city
was smiling down on the old pilgrim. He was to go
to Jerusalem out of Galilee, and it mattered little
from what port he should sail into the Fair Havens.
' Is the almond blossom bitter ?
Is the grasshopper heavy to bear ?
Christ make me happier, fitter
To go to my own over there :
Jerusalem the Golden,
What bliss beyond compare.

PRINCIPAL RAINY 193
' My Lord, where I have offended
Do Thou forgive it me,
That so, when, all being ended,
I hear Thy last decree,
I may go up to Jerusalem
Out of Galilee.'
To us it seems that there is no sadness here, no
tragic story of unfulfilled hope and life broken off
in its beginning, no repetition of the many-toned
disappointment which echoes from all the winds.
Nothing of that, but a life spent well and nobly, a
life that buckled itself early to a great work, and
never failed to thrill in every vein to the inspirations
of faith and hope. He has heard the great decree
which they have heard who have been already
taken and sanctified. He has gone with them up
to Jerusalem out of Galilee.

We foresee that there will always be some diffi
culty in bringing home to succeeding generations
the greatness of Principal Rainy. Those who knew
him and had watched his ways will all say that there
never was a human being through whose nature
there rang more distinctly the note of personal
greatness. That was the word. Others exceeded
him easily in various qualities ; but he excelled in
that. We cannot argue from his books, and we
could not in his lifetime always reason with con
fidence from his sermons or addresses. He would
be at the least well worth listening to, but there were
N

194 PRINCES OF THE CHURCH
more potent authors and more masterful orators.
Those who wished to know Principal Rainy had to
see him at the head of the Free Church Assembly.
Like Pompilia in The Ring and the Book, Dr. Rainy
had each year his ' great fortnight.' This was the
fortnight during which his Assembly met to discuss
the affairs of the Church. Very likely when the
Assembly met there were complaints about some
of his doings, there were possibly little jealousies
and conspiracies, though we do not know of them.
He had against him a strong body of conservatives
of whom one at least was a foeman quite worthy of
his steel — the late Dr. Begg. But this man sat
quietly at his table taking notice of everything,
apparently unwilling to move, the least eager of all
leaders. The business went on, and things, as they
always do, became mixed. Then every one turned
to that silent figure. The more difficult the busi
ness was, the more eagerly and imperatively they
turned. But there was no question on which
opinion was divided on which men did not wish to
hear the view of Principal Rainy. It might be a
question of order, it might be a question of good
manners, it might be something that bore on the
relations of a minister with his congregation, it
might be something far wider and weightier. What
ever it was, all looked to Rainy, and he would in
due season rise up and in his stately, calm, quiet,
adequate way set forth his view of the case. The
view almost invariably commended itself to the
house. So great did his power become, that on one

PRINCIPAL RAINY 195
occasion, we remember when some question had to
be decided, and it was discovered that Rainy was
not in the house, the Assembly quietly adjourned to
wait for his opinion. This extraordinary action
was taken by a body of able men, not a few of them
very able, most of them fully convinced of their
own power to transact business. But Rainy was
the leader, always drawing up resolutions, motions,
admonitions and the like, and always with his finger
on the pulse of the house. He gave an extra
ordinary impression of wisdom. Here was a wise
man ; take heed to him. Nor can it be doubted
that he was a wise man, and wise not only as a great
man of the world is wise, but with a wisdom that
was rooted very deep. He was more than adequate
for all the work of a leader. When he saw it to be
safe he could laugh away a matter of threatening
aspect. As a debater none was cooler or more
ready. When a great speech had to be made, it was
generally forthcoming, and it was always forth
coming if the call for it was primarily moral. The
atmosphere in that old hall suited him perfectly.
It called out all his best qualities. He was absol
utely at home ; he did himself justice there as he
never perhaps did elsewhere. There was about him
an element of inertia, and the quickening impulse of
the Assembly was just enough to break the spell.
We appeal to those who have watched Dr. Rainy
through these weeks to confirm us when we say that
those who accepted his leadership in the Free Church
Assembly were perfectly certain that in any deliber-

196 PRINCES OF THE CHURCH
ative assembly in the world he would have taken
the same place. He would have been the first man
in no time. His ambitions were not great perhaps,
and he would cheerfully have stood aside for any one
he believed in, but the mass of mankind love to be
led. They like nothing so well as to have a man
whom they can trust, who speaks for them, who acts
for them. The power of leadership is extra
ordinarily rare. Where it exists it is often seriously
marred by untrustworthiness, by impulse, by
passion manifesting itself variously. In Rainy's
case this was not so. He was perfectly self-
controlled ; he was incapable of mean retaliations,
and his hand when he lifted it was very heavy.
If Dr. Rainy had been a member of the House of
Commons, he would most certainly have been the
first man there, and it would have been so in the
House of Lords or anywhere else. This was a born
ruler of men, and much greater in a deliberative
assembly than anywhere else.
It might appear as if the leadership of the Free
Church Assembly was a limited sphere, but it never
seemed so to him. He was heart and soul with the
Free Church, the grateful recipient of its first en
thusiasms, of its championships, of its ideals. The
eagerness with which he accepted the whole Dis
ruption doctrine was very wonderful, and what was
more wonderful still was the fact, we think un
doubted, that he retained it with very little
modification to the last. In his final years, when
he could smile at some old battles, he was very

PRINCIPAL RAINY 197
loth to admit anything against the Disruption
heroes. Through all the storms of his time he
carried the old evangelical theology. We should
be very much surprised to hear that he ever
admitted in public the errancy of Holy Scripture
in any part. On one occasion he spoke vehemently
in private about certain methods of New Testament
criticism. He said, ' The man who believes that
any nameless forger could have written a book like
the Epistle to the Ephesians or any part of it, is a
man entirely outside of my comprehension.' We
say he loved the principles of the Church, and he
loved the Church equally. He knew the whole
body north and south. Highland himself, for he
was essentially a Highland gentleman, he delighted
in the Highland ministers, and in the Lowlands all
doors were open to him. He took his work in hand
cheerfully, and gradually obtained concessions to
liberalism such as hymn-singing and the like. But
the prejudices against hymns and organs did riot
seem to him unreasonable or vexatious. He con
sidered them with patient care, and was not shocked
or at least would not admit he was shocked, when
a famous friend declared that if organs were intro
duced to churches there was no barrier to the
re-establishment of the Levitical system in all its
fulness ! n
So much for Rainy in his own Church. There he
attained as much success as can be expected by any

198 PRINCES OF THE CHURCH
human being, but it is vain to deny that there was
another side to his life. Superbly prosperous in
winning his own men, he was very much less
successful in obtaining the confidence and over
coming the hostility of those who were outside and
opposed to him. Perhaps there was no ecclesias
tical leader more bitterly attacked and more
sincerely disliked than Dr. Rainy. It is not easy
to explain this, but something may be said.
When Rainy was a young minister in the north,
a fellow-presbyter, a man of delightful innocence,
was asked his opinion of the youth. He replied :
' Mr. Rainy is a truly devout young man, but has
great difficulty in expressing himself.' There is
something in this — a quaintness, a salt — which has
kept it alive in our mind. In a sense Dr. Rainy
had very great difficulty in expressing himself. It
was often very hard to follow him. A golden mist
hung over his words — sometimes it was a leaden
mist. All the Scottish humorists did their best.
' Dr. Rainy was misty as well as Rainy,' gave
satisfaction for a time. But his own men did not
resent this. They accepted perhaps the familiar
explanation that their want of apprehension was a
mere evidence that the thought of the speaker had
its spring in a region quite above the mind of the
hearer. They saw that he himself was intense,
earnest, and spiritual. His glimpses were to them
more precious than clear logical demonstrations.
Some two years ago we read with great care the
whole of the discussions on union in the Free Church

PRINCIPAL RAINY 199
Assembly from 1865 to 1875. They represented
the best men of the Church, and no one could deny
that the case of both sides was effectively stated.
One series of speeches, however, was very far above
the rest, both intellectually and morally. The
speaker had the power of marshalling his arguments
in the most telling way, and above all, he never ran
away from any argument. These speeches were by
Sir Henry Moncreiff. Rainy's speeches as a whole
had little bearing on the real points under discus
sion, but they were redeemed by a certain noble
vision of what the Church might be. We have
no doubt that Rainy was rapturously listened to
where Moncreiff was heard with decorous patience.
This is proof to Our mind that obscurity may
be a great power in a speaker, notwithstanding
Sir George Cornewall Lewis. Sir George Lewis
wrote : ' If we were asked what is the first and
second and third qualification of any English states
man we would answer Intelligibility. As in oratory
the most eloquent words and the wisest counsels
will avail but little if they are not impressed by
voice and manner on the minds of an audience ; so
integrity and public spirit will fail to command
confidence if the course adopted is intricate and
inexplicable.' Dr. Rainy never had the gift of
lucidity, but undoubtedly as time went on he took
a certain pleasure in his own power of innocent
mystification. The result was very bad. Op
ponents were exasperated. They became per
suaded that Dr. Rainy was an astute and crafty

200 PRINCES OF THE CHURCH
ecclesiastic, with a double meaning in all he said.
The extraordinary series of attacks on him published
in the Scotsman for many years have probably no
parallel in journalism. We doubt whether Dr.
Rainy gave them any attention. If he satisfied
his own people, the other counted for nothing. Was
this right ? We cannot think so. Sometimes a
church has at her centre a great, benignant, fatherly
figure, a Chalmers or a Norman Macleod, who by the
mere warmth of his glowing life softens asperity and
banishes suspicion at every turn. We believe that
the great ecclesiastic of the future will do his very
utmost to understand the position of his opponents.
Dr. Rainy was satisfied with the Free Church. He
was not even anxious to promote a reconciliation
between the Church and culture. He himself was
a man whose reading took unexpected turns ; we
remember in the height of the Church case receiving
from him a long' quotation copied from the last book
of Anatole France. But though during his leader
ship much was done to develop Free Church litera
ture, it was not done by him. He showed himself,
for example, singularly indifferent about the loss of
a man like Robertson Smith. Robertson Smith had
been his pupil and admired him very much, but
Rainy thought him impossible. When Dr. Rainy
had his famous controversy with Dean Stanley, it
was reviewed by Mr. Rauwenhoff in the Theologisch
Tijdschrift. Robertson Smith summarised this re
view in the British and Foreign Evangelical Review
for January 1873. After mentioning that Rauwen-

PRINCIPAL RAINY 201
hoff regarded the controversy as parallel to that
going on in Holland between the Modern party and
the orthodox school, he went on : —
' He is quite at one with Dr. Rainy in regarding the
Dean's lectures, not as a contribution to Church history,
but an apology for Moderatism. " The contest between
the two doctors must thus properly turn not on the
question whether persons and periods of Scottish Church
history are correctly sketched and valued, but on the
rights of the Church without a name, which the Dean uses
as the standard of his criticisms. This Dr. Rainy fully
perceives. . . ." But at the bottom, Stanley, just like
the " Moderni " in Holland, seeks the essence of the
Church in what is common to humanity, not in what is
specifically Christian. We have no doubt that in those
remarks Rauwenhoff has correctly stated the gist of the
dispute. But we do doubt whether Dean Stanley is
conscious of so fundamental a difference between himself
and his antagonist. And it is worth noticing that the
clearness with which Dr. Rainy recognises the character
of the point in dispute is, in Rauwenhoff's eyes, a decided
merit, while on the part of certain petulant critics on this
side of the water, it has exposed him to unmerited re
proach. ... It is not without an aesthetic regret that he
parts from a man like Dr. Rainy. He recognises and
honours in him the glow of intense conviction, so powerful
for the formation of churches and the fostering of a spirit
of religion, which Moderatism with difficulty attains to.
And so, though he feels it to be rather unfriendly in the
Scottish Professor to ask where a position like the Dean's
leaves room for a conviction strong enough for martyrdom,
he regretfully confesses that the modern acknowledgment
of the rights and importance of the finer shades of opinion,
do make it difficult for a man to have many sharp con
victions. He recognises the moral force of a Christianity
that rests on positive conviction of supernatural truth,

202 PRINCES OF THE CHURCH
and though he cannot himself see how a scientific mind
can hold such a position, freely admits that " the Church
without a name" may learn from Dr. Ramy's lectures
the need for a great deal of that which gave the old
Church its great name. We confess to have read the
article with much pleasure. It states the point in dispute
with a fairness which has by no means been present in
the strictures of certain Moderates of the new school in
Scotland, who are themselves examples of the way in
which " emancipation from dogma may proceed, under
the form of party spirit " ; and we are sure that no true-
hearted adherent of a churchly Christianity of positive
faith, will shrink from the test which Mr. Rauwenhoff
proposes — the power of keeping hold of all classes of men.'
Here we must break off, thankful that our in
adequacy is made up for by the kind co-operation
of others. Dr. Rainy lived till the hour of perfect
reconcilement, till the hour when misunderstandings
even on earth were almost over. He has passed in
a reverent hush, and we know what we have lost in
him, the saint, the seer, the leader, the prophet, all
subdued to an innocent and most wise gentleness.
There will be no successor to him, and no successor
is needed. The Church has her living Lord, and it
is far better that her energies should be guided by
the free and frank and democratic action of the
rank and file. Men of special power will have
special offices given to them, but for our own part
we are most deeply convinced that our Noncon
formist churches are most wisely guided by the
judgment of the average man. Just as the world is
wiser than any philosopher, so the Church is wiser

PRINCIPAL RAINY 203
than any Churchman. ' There is some one wiser
than Voltaire and wiser than Napoleon : c'est tout
le monde.' As Bagehot has said, popular judgment
on popular matters may be crude and vague, but it
is right. The long domination of the Free Church
by Principal Rainy was so inevitable that it is quite
useless to try to adjust the balance of its good and
evil. If another Rainy is granted, then we shall
see what will happen. In the meantime, with great
calls sounding, with wide doors opening, with many
adversaries waiting, she has to go forward a free,
evangelical and spiritual Church of the Lord Jesus
Christ. January 3, 1907.

IAN MACLAREN
We must be allowed to use the name which as we
shall always be proud to remember first appeared
in these columns. The last thing we ever dreamed
of was writing an obituary notice of Dr. John
Watson. It seems but the other day when he was
with us in that abounding and rejoicing vitality
which almost terrified those of a feebler make.
So strong was the impression of this, that we did
not at first give much weight to the telegrams in
the papers. The blow fell suddenly, and in the
turmoil of thought and feeling which it has evoked,
we scarcely know how to write about him. We
have been set the hard task of analysing and repro
ducing for others as a picture that which we feel
most acutely as a reality. We have to do it at a
time when we do not care, and are hardly able, to
feel more than the reality. But certain features
will remain as we continue to individualise and
imagine him in the days that are to come. It is
on these that we must dwell.

t
Now that we think of it, John Watson ever and
anon gave expression to his Celtic presentiment of
204

IAN MACLAREN 205
an early death. The past assumes a new signifi
cance. Three years before he retired^ apparently
in full vigour, and at a comparatively early age,
he told his friends of his purpose. It was mani
festly a deep purpose. He carried it through
amidst all but universal remonstrance, without
hesitation or misgiving. He looked backward to
it without one single regret. His life, he would
say, was not to be a long one, and perhaps he was
not unpleased to see it passing. He contemplated,
too early, the softer, fading aspects of our earthly
life, the joy and rest and reunion of the world of
hope. Those who looked at him while he was
speaking could hardly take it all seriously. But he
meant what he said. It is strange, too, that he
died in America. To no Briton, perhaps, was
America ever so dear as it was to him. He observed
it, he admired it, he laughed at it, and he truly
loved it. Indeed he seriously thought on his
retirement that he would make his home in America,
doing such occasional work as offered itself. Three
times he had proved the place he held in American
hearts, and now he has passed away among
American friends. ' He was worn out,' he said
when he retired, and we laughed at him, but we
did not know what he knew.
It is on the loss of a friend that our thoughts are
mostly lingering. Few men have been more
beloved than John Watson. In the great city to
which he gave, his heart, in thousands of homes
throughout the country, he will be lamented as

206 PRINCES OF THE CHURCH
one very near and very dear. Many of us know
that the loss is beyond repair. No new friendship
can make up for it. Dr. Watson had a watchful
solicitude for those admitted to his inner circle.
He never lost sight of them. He was always
ready to succour and to comfort at the hours of
need ; he was ever doing kindnesses, and he
appreciated and magnified the most trivial kind
ness to himself as very few men ever did. Of the
desolation in his own household, where the air was
always warm with love, we cannot speak.
His death is also an unspeakable loss to the
Churches. When he resigned his charge, he really
wished to be free. He believed that his years of
indefatigable service gave him a right to freedom.
But he very soon saw that he could not escape
the yoke. The times needed him, and he recog
nised it. He was led to accept the Presidency of
the Free Church Council, and we were all looking
forward with great hope and thankfulness to the
work he was to do for Nonconformity in England.
By the retirement of his close friend, Dr. Oswald
Dykes, the Principalship of Westminster College
was vacant. Dr. Watson had done much to
establish that institution, and when his name was
brought forward as successor, he was reluctantly
led to think it might be his duty to stand. There
was no attraction of emolument. Another nominee
with high claims had his warm regard, and he most
unwillingly consented to come into competition
with him. But then Dr. Watson passed a very

IAN MACLAREN 207
humble judgment on his own qualifications for the
position. He disparaged his learning, but he
thought that he might be able to do something in
bringing about a closer alliance between the
College and the Churches, and in helping the
Presbyterian Church of England to undertake
more aggressive work among the masses. He
would, we know, have been intensely relieved if
the Church had preferred another. In the last
long letter we received from him he said he had
heard that an important Presbytery had voted
against him and assumed that this was decisive.
He expressed no regret, but a characteristic con
fidence that the interests of the College would not
suffer in the hands of the eminent scholar preferred.
We have little doubt, however, that the new sphere
would have been open to him, and that he would
have filled it most worthily. So we lost him, as
it seems, when he was most precious to us. We
saw in him a man who could speak to England,
and when we most need such a man we must look
for him no more. He had gathered his stores — his
strength, his experience, his seriousness, his grasp
of his own thoughts — and was ready to lead us
into the new era, and then he was taken away.
It is indeed a bitter loss— how bitter we shall
realise through the days and years.
When we try to think of John Watson, it is on
the unity, rather than on the diversity of his
character that our thoughts soon settle. He was
indeed on one side a man of the world, brilliant,

208 PRINCES OF THE CHURCH
witty, frank, engaging, affluent in conversation,
the orator, the wit, the central figure. As a
preacher and speaker, his eloquence, the nobleness
and warmth of his tone, his keen sympathy, his
percipiency put him in the foremost rank. But
along with the exuberance and buoyancy, the
freedom and the daring, there went a remarkable
severity of self-discipline, a fixity of principle, a
precision of thought and style, which made him a
worthy ruler of men. We cannot distinguish
between John Watson and Ian Maclaren. If our
dear dead friend could speak to us at this moment,
we know very well that he would urge us to write
of him as first and last a Christian minister. His
last words to us were that he stood on his twenty-
five years in Liverpool— that his life-work had been
done there. As a preacher he did not at once
come to his own. In his early years he showed no
ambition. He held a good place easily, and was a
friend and associate of the best men, but few of his
comrades imagined that he would become one of
the personalities of the nation. In his early years
his individuality was trammelled by his association
with influential Conservative Presbyterians, and he
was too true a man ever to abandon wholly the
system that had moulded his youth. Indeed, he
leaned much to it even to the end. But he found
himself when he came to form a new congregation
in Liverpool. There he came under new and
strong influences. He gathered his own congrega
tion by the most conscientious and unsparing

IAN MACLAREN 209
labour, and the most brilliant ability. He built
it up year by year till it was the largest and most
influential in the city. It was on this rather than
on his books that he loved to dwell. The reception
of his books, indeed, gave him a natural and just
joy, but he never made much of them in conversa
tion. He would talk for ever on Sefton Park
congregation, on the men who had helped him as
office-bearers and members, and on the history of
the people, rich and poor. From the first he had
a high conception of pastoral duty, and to the end
he contrived to visit every member of his con
gregation once a year. He bore a great affection
to the city where he had been so long one of the
purest and most potent influences. But his pulpit
was his throne. At the close of his ministry, he
claimed truly that he had preached Christ. The
great thoughts of Incarnation and Atonement,
which are the life and light of theology, always
possessed him. His temper was truly catholic,
and he was sensitive to changes, but he was ever
more convinced that in the end theology reverts
to its broad immemorial features and the New
Testament language. He pressed home his message
with personal force, that is, he had always in his
mind, not merely ideas, but persons. He saw sin
and pain not in the mass, but by their real tokens
in the souls they bow down. The characters, the
dangers, and the sorrows of his people were ever
in his mind. Dr. Watson, as the nation knows,
was a man of great oratorical power, but he never
o

210 PRINCES OF THE CHURCH
presumed on it. He studied hard for his sermons,
and he had the power of ranging widely and fast
without losing his point of view, or entangling
himself in detail. Of ^11 his religious convictions,
the one to which he most constantly returned was
that of the immortal hope. Since George
Macdonald, there has been no such prophet of
immortality. The vision always before his eyes
was that of a heaven peopled with the crowding
guests of God.
Dr. Watson strove very hard to present the
Christian ideas in the forms of his own mind and
age. At a certain period he seemed to discard at
once outworn words and phrases. He wrote like a
modern — as the fathers and even the schoolmen
did in their day. This made him a close student of
style. With Hazlitt, Pater, Stevenson, and above
all with Lamb, he was very familiar. But his end
was always practical. He was an artificer and
master of phrases. But in our judgment he was
at his best when he was stating truth in a calm,
exact, measured way, and when he was making the
concluding appeals of his sermons. His great
conviction lifted a heavy load from many hearts
that had been oppressed by the noise of conflict.
He never treated any theme without a strong
sense of moral responsibility for his hearers. He
may have been at times imprudent and rash, but
really great subjects subdued and restrained him.
He found in them a call to recollection and to sober
words. In the driving home of ethical truth there

IAN MACLAREN 211
were very few to match him. No one more power
fully advocated the sanctity and beauty of the
family tie, and no one more powerfully enforced
the claims of citizenship. Though he very rarely
spoke about the effect of his work, he never con
cealed his pride in the fact that many members
of his congregation had taken a leading part in the
government of Liverpool. He was, so far as we
could judge, always at his best and always most
at home in his own pulpit.

n
Many of our readers will recall the start of wonder
and pleasure with which they read his first story
in these columns. Beside the Bonnie Brier Bush
had a reception which has not been paralleled in
our time, and all his books, theological and general,
have been very widely read. We cannot for our
part draw a strict line between his fiction and his
sermons. He was always preaching, and he
attained his end perhaps as well in the informal
as in the formal conveyance of his message. It is
true to say that sentimentalism was alike his
strength and his weakness, but those who imagined
that John Watson was a weak sentimentalist were
profoundly mistaken. His sentiment was very
deep and true. He wrote himself once as a New
Year's message : ' Be pitiful, for every man is
fighting a hard battle,' and he lived up to it.
We have never known any one whose life, if

212 :^\ ;;;•; PRINCES OF THE CHURCH
scrutinised, would show so many minute kindnesses,
thoughtful attentions, unobtrusive consolations.
All life seemed to present itself to him as simply an
opportunity for doing kind things. But the man
himself was, in every sense of the word, a strong
man. He was the master of a deadly irony, and
a withering sarcasm. Generally speaking, it was
only in private conversation that he made use of
these gifts. He looked upon them as wild beasts
to be held in check. He was wont to say that the
power of irony was a power which could never be
employed to any good purpose by a Christian
minister. To say that he never employed it in
public would be an exaggeration, though we cannot
recall an instance. He had often great provocation,
and he knew well that he had the use of the weapon
that would punish his assailant, but he deliberately
kept silence. Few, if any, knew ' the weight of
his terrible hand.' It would be unpardonable if
we were to recall some of these characterisations
which linger in the memory, for Dr. Watson
regarded no man with bitterness. He could
measure to a nicety, but he did not issue price-
lists. He could be strong and severe, but he did
not go out of his way to insult, to insinuate, or to
sneer. He knew the darker aspect of Scottish
life as well as most, for he had been familiar in his
early days with the Bothy system ; in fact, he
long contemplated writing a Scots novel which
would tell the worst, and when The House with
the Green Shutters appeared, he remarked that he

IAN MACLAREN 213
could have drawn the picture in darker lines.
Dr. Watson had meditated very seriously and un
shrinkingly on the objects and the real conditions
of life, but something kept him back from saying
all he thought and knew. He considered that
there were in the world bitterness enough, sadness
enough, pessimism enough, and so he bore the
reproach of being a gushing sentimentalist very
meekly, and made it his business to unlock and
soften the hearts that had grown hard in prison.
In Dr. Watson the elements of Conservatism
and Radicalism were strangely combined. By
his upbringing he was Tory, and in fact he was by
sympathy a Jacobite. Though connected with the
Scottish Free Church, he inclined to favour
Establishments, both in Scotland and in England.
In general politics he was for the most part on the
Conservative side, but he would never have made
a good party man, for in many ways he was
advanced in his views. Loving the order and
stateliness of Anglican services, he utterly rejected
sacerdotalism. He sympathised more and more
as time went on with the Nonconformists in their
struggle for a righteous settlement of the Education
question. He was an Imperialist, but for the
democratic institutions of America he had the
warmest admiration. In some ways he was con
ventional. He loved ceremony and the innocent
joys of life. He observed with keen interest the
ways of the great, and his books brought him
into contact with the highest, and even into royal

214 PRINCES OF THE CHURCH
circles. Academic pomp pleased him, but nothing
could prevent him from seeing the humorous side,
and pomposity in particular gave him the best
opportunity for the exercise of his powers. He
did not resent pomposity, but seemed rather to
enjoy being patronised. But his friends will never
forget the state of helpless laughter to which he
brought them when describing his experiences.
Dr. Watson never thought it any part of his duty
to come forward in politics. His work, as he con
ceived it, was the work of the Christian ministry,
and he came into the battle of public life only when
he thought that great Christian and moral interests
were concerned.
The temper of his life was eminently joyful,
though, like every Celt, he had intervals of deep
depression. With all his brightness he had borne
his share of the burden of this unintelligible world,
and could feel with those whom it oppressed.
When we look back we can see better than before
how he strove to encourage others, how he would
not allow his occasional melancholy to cast a
shadow, how he cultivated joy as the purely
Christian temper of life. In any and every com
pany he gave himself largely and freely. It did
not matter who his companions were. The best
that he could give them was at his disposal, and
it was a strange exception, if any one ever met
him, even casually, without being better and
brighter for the meeting. Indeed, he gave away
his life with prodigal generosity. His industry was

IAN MACLAREN 215
constant ; he lost no moment of time, and for years
his activity might be described as restless and
feverish. We have seen him often, after an ex
hausting day, go to bed in the early morning.
He would appear at breakfast as vivacious and
blithe as if he had done nothing. The moment
breakfast was over, he would take up his task and
persevere with it till it was accomplished. Then
he would go out to be the chief guest at a company
which simply basked in his presence. He would
pass from that to a round of visiting, then he would
come in weary, and at dinner be the life and soul
of the guests. He would go out from that to
preach or lecture, and on his return he would carry
on a conversation till two or three o'clock in the
morning. This would go on for weeks at a time,
varied only by the Sunday, and by incessant
railway travelling. We grudge all this activity
of the twentieth century, for it costs us many a
cherished and thrice-prized life.
In his later years Dr. Watson gave much time
to the study of Church history, and, like Lightfoot,
he drew from it a message of cheer. He came to
realise the life of the Divine Society. Christ, he
perceived, had promised to be with His Church in
the blaze of noon, in the dark, or in the twilight
between the two, wherein mainly the course of her
journey lies. He saw how the Church had seemed
to perish, how her defenders had seemed to, be
confounded, and yet how truly the Lord's promise
had been kept. He perceived— and would that

216 PRINCES OF THE CHURCH
he were with us to enforce the lesson in his own
incomparable manner — how these alarms, and fore
bodings, and prophecies of dissolution that often
shake the hearts of the faithful, drop into in
significance in the course of that vast history which
has not fulfilled them.
May 9, 1907.

DR. BARNARDO1
It is more than thirty years since I first met
Dr. Barnardo. He was addressing meetings in
Inverness, and we were living in the same house.
At that time he had begun to be famous, and was
in the fullest vigour of his many-sided enthusiasm.
We had endless talks at night, and I learned much
from him. I conceived a strong belief in the man
and a warm regard for him. This affection and
admiration continued to the end. Communication
with so busy a man in London is not easy, but we
managed to maintain a measure of intercourse,
and I was well able to see how his life developed.
It was a life of continual growth, a life that never
flinched, never wavered, a life which was spent to
its last drop in the labour it loved. When Dr. Bar
nardo died, quite worn out, I was deeply touched to
learn that he expressed his wish that I should have
something to do with any memorial that might be
written of him, and it is in obedience to his desire
that these words are set down.

The great apparent characteristic of Dr. Barnardo
was ardour. He flamed up into vehemence very
1 Introduction contributed to the Memoirs of Dr. Barnardo by Mrs.
Barnardo and James Marchant. 217

218 PRINCES OF THE CHURCH
easily. Love, pity, wrath, scorn manifested them
selves in turn almost volcanically. These bursts
soon subsided, but very readily recurred. Dr. Bar
nardo was a man of strong opinions on many points.
Latterly he became somewhat deaf and was wont
to carry a fearful and wonderful instrument which
he described as an ear trumpet. I never saw him
use it for the purpose of hearing, but he employed
it freely in thumping the back of his companion,
whether to enforce the point of a joke or of an
argument. He would run round the table pouring
himself out, and then as his climax approached, he
seized his ear- trumpet firmly. But one soon noticed
that this great effervescence was not first or last
among his qualities. He had that strange tenacity
possessed by a few, to which it seems as if almost
everything yields at last. Dr. Barnardo had taken
up his work in life and he clung to it all the time.
On general subjects he could talk very brightly.
He was emphatically a gentleman, and there was
a measure of justice, courtesy, and toleration in his
speech which were somewhat surprising in a man
so firm in his own mind. Matters of home interest
to himself and his friends he would dwell upon with
a genuine interest and sympathy but in the end he
had only one subject. It was about the Homes and
the children that he was always thinking, and when
conversing on other themes one could sometimes
see that ' his eyes were with his heart, and that was
far away.' His shrewdness and humour came out
plainly ; he was a man who had one aim in life. In

DR. BARNARDO 219
later years I came to know much of how he was
regarded in his own Homes by his fellow-workers
and the children. It is not too much to describe
the feeling as that of affectionate reverence. He
was a born leader if ever there was one, and his
people followed him gladly. It is of supreme im
portance that the life of such a man should be
written, if it be true, as F. W. H. Myers has said,
that the record of a great and pure personality is
the best bequest of time.

n
I am anxious to emphasise the fact that Dr.
Barnardo was of the old school of philanthropists.
Early in his days he was able to conceive the
profound influence that may be given to one life.
Dr. Barnardo started with hardly any advantages.
All around him was difficult and even threatening,
but he resolved to see what by God's help one man
could do. He did not merely make speeches about
the necessity of his work, nor did he show any great
interest in Parliamentary reforms. He did the
work— that was all. While others were talking and
writing, he was pursuing his task of rescue. No one
did more to effect the change that has come over
our own nation in its view of the relative importance
of political and social questions. No one did more
to bring social problems to the front. But he him
self was not an active politician. He would not, I
am sure, have accepted the dictum that there is no

220 PRINCES OF THE CHURCH
obvious connection between politics and the good
of society, but he would have refused to go to the
other extreme. In a world of talkers Dr. Barnardo
determined to do all he could for the miserable and
the weak so long as he could, and that is the story
of his life. in
It must be noticed that he started and continued
as a strongly convinced Evangelical believer.
Religion was always uppermost with Dr. Barnardo.
He accepted with the most childlike, simple, and
absolute faith the gospel of the Cross. Is it not
true that so far the greatest social reforms have
been effected by men who hold the same views ?
Dr. Barnardo was much influenced by the great
Spurgeon, but it would be utterly misleading to
range him in the usual way as a Churchman or a
Nonconformist. I fancy he had little or no sym
pathy with the political aims of Nonconformity, and
certainly he was a strong Protestant. He said,
' Grace be with all them that love our Lord Jesus
Christ in sincerity.' Dr. Barnardo, like others of
the old philanthropists, had no faith in Utopias.
He never ignored the great facts of life — sin and
sorrow and death. All of us are under sentence of
death, probably death by torture, and all of us have
to fight the battle with temptations. Dr. Barnardo
thought that when everything was done that could
be done, much evil would remain. He did not
believe that he had found Excalibur in the magic

DR. BARNARDO 221
sword of democracy. He believed, however, with
all his heart, that the sum of human misery could
be indefinitely lessened and also that the gospel of
the grace of Christ was a sword not wielded in vain.
He himself preached continually and with extra
ordinary force and fervour. I have before me a
sermon on the ' Cities of Refuge,' which he preached
at the Metropolitan Tabernacle many years ago.
It is remarkable for its red-hot earnestness. So
far as I have heard Dr. Barnardo was invariably
an evangelist. He lived, too, a hidden life of deep,
prayerful, constant devotion, and without that he
never could have carried his battle through.

IV
Dr. Barnardo gave to this service of the children
what he had to give, and it was much. No one who
really knew him could doubt that he was a man of
great and commanding powers. If these powers
had been exercised in the world of business, or in
his own profession, they would certainly have
brought him to the front. He had that very rare
quality, the genius of organising. Sometimes at
his meetings he would suddenly change his pro
gramme, to the discomfort of his associates, but
generally it was found out that he had done the
right thing. But what gave him his triumph was
his unfeigned and passionate love for poor, op
pressed, neglected children. This comes back to
me as I think of him as by far the most striking

222 PRINCES OF THE CHURCH
feature of his character. It seemed as if he loved
the mass and the individuals also, and it seemed as
if his love had no limits. The children from whom
others would turn away went straight into his
heart as through an open door. He seemed to
know every child of his multitude, or at least to
know something of every one. He loved them and
yearned over them as if they had been his own dear
children. For nearly all his time I imagine that
his working day was sixteen hours, and he seemed
to hate the thought of a complete holiday. For
his own family his affection was deep and tender,
and particularly for his delicate child, whom he
loved as John Bunyan loved his, but in the service
of the outcast the full enjoyment of home life had
to be largely sacrificed. Of course he was not
perfect ; he would have been the last to claim it.
He made mistakes and suffered for them, but he
was emphatically one of the few to whom the
maxim can safely be applied that the man who
never makes mistakes never makes anything.

v
It would be as far as possible from the truth to
say that Dr. Barnardo missed his share of happiness.
He had the fulfilment of that word of Christ,
' Whosoever will lose his life for My sake shall find
it.' But measured by ordinary standards his life
was a very hard one. This man was perhaps the
best servant of the empire, but no recognition, no

DR. BARNARDO 223
honours came to him. The small salary he received
was hardly enough to supply his necessities. His
work was incredibly wearing, and accompanied by
infinite worries. He was always in need of money
for his ever extending enterprises, and it had to be
raised largely through his effort. Dr. Barnardo
was a proud and sensitive man, but for the sake of
the children he humbled himself to beg. He had
experience of the somewhat bitter saying of Lord
Shaftesbury, that the British people have an
immense capacity for enthusiasm, and an equal
incapacity for giving money. The worries he
encountered would have goaded most people to
madness, and it is idle to deny that they told upon
him and shortened his life. But he never thought
of giving up ; he held on in the darkest hours to
his task.
In addition, Dr. Barnardo had much obloquy to
face. I will not sav that he met the terrible resist-
ance which the early philanthropists had to face.
He did not suffer as the anti-slavery men, as the
men who attacked the hanging laws, and as Lord
Shaftesbury did in his, campaign for the factory
hands. But there is perhaps no hostility so violent
and reckless as that roused by the exposure of brutal
ity, cruelty, and filth by which money is made. So
Dr. Barnardo had his full share of violent abuse.
But he was of the same breed as the philanthropists
who in their struggle faced lives of insult and long-
continued poverty and shameful and violent death.
Lord Shaftesbury was habitually despondent, but

224 PRINCES OF THE CHURCH
Dr. Barnardo had a high and buoyant courage, and
his sufferings seemed to anneal him like fire. The
strengthenings he had acquired so painfully helped
him when he was down in the thick of the fight, and
he did far more to convert public opinion than he
himself knew. Then his expectations were measured,
He was not of those who believe that nothing but
stupidity prevents universal happiness. He was
one of those who recognised that when every other
obstacle to progress has been removed, human
nature will stand right across the road and that
only Christ can deal with it. Never even amidst
his gleams of success did Dr. Barnardo expect a
world at ease. Each day he rose to face the storm.
He had many solaces. He had his home. He
drew to him the love and help and confidence of
many among the leading men and women of his
time. What he valued still more was the affection
of the children, and if the mystical saying is true,
that all love is returned, he must have had much of
that. Anyhow he never complained and he never
boasted. He belonged to the small transfigured
band whose reward is with them and their work
before them. VI
Many who loved him were moved to tears at the
tributes rendered him after his death. The gracious
messages of the King and Queen, the noble leading
article in The Times, Mr. Owen Seaman's verses in
Punch — these and many other things showed that

DR. BARNARDO 225
the world had not been so blind to the greatness
of his achievement as he himself supposed. It was
instinctively felt, even among those who had reviled
him, that a man who had done the work of reclama
tion on so great a scale was on a different level of
nobility, independence, and clear-sightedness from
the mass of his generation. Dr. Barnardo had
entered into the mind of Christ by his practical
service more deeply than almost any other, and
men knew it. There must be few indeed who have
done the work given them more diligently, more
bravely, or with a more simple heart.
1907.

PRINCIPAL HUTTON
The Rev. Dr. Hutton, of Paisley, so long known
as the indomitable and fearless champion of Dis
establishment, died quite suddenly on Friday.
He had been attending the meetings of the General
Assembly of the United Free Church, and taking
a very active part in the discussions on Disestab
lishment. The old man (he had nearly attained
his eighty-third year) was much exhausted, and
the end seems to have been merely the result of
age. Dr. Hutton was, we repeat, indomitable. It
does not appear that he ever thought of retirement
either from his pastoral duties or his public work.
Most men come to seek for a quiet backwater in the
river of life, where the pressure of the current can
no longer reach them. But Dr. Hutton was not
one of these. He had to know by experience that
' living is outliving.' But he did not outlive his
interests. He fell upon the field of battle, and on
all sides he has been recognised as one whom no
foe ever made afraid, no victory ever rendered
insolent, and no defeat ever irritated or depressed.
It is most honourable to the Church of Scotland
and a most gratifying sign of the times that in the
General Assembly and from the leading pulpits
226

PRINCIPAL HUTTON 227
of that body warm and tender tributes have been
paid to the great fighter against privilege. As
was written about his comrade, Henry Renton of
Kelso : — ' A death like thine hath called a truce,
Heard round about thee many a mile,
And men forget their daily use
To stand beside thy grave awhile.
' To pay that honour due to one
Who bore the battle brunt of life,
And ranked a second unto none
Where conscience called him to the strife.'
Dr. Hutton has been followed to his grave by the
universal respect and regret of his countrymen.
His life-work was done in one pastorate — in the
church at Paisley, of which he became minister in
1851. We have been told years ago of the spiritual
warmth in Dr. Hutton's congregation, of the
numbers of young men who waited on his ministra
tions, of the depth, force, and distinction of his
sermons. His literary abilities were unquestion
ably of a high order. There was that blending of
the new with the old in his style which always
rouses interest, and on occasion, as in his tribute
to Dr. Rainy, he rose to a high and solemn strain of
eloquence. He was also remarkably acute, quick
to detect fallacies, and a master of pungent phrases
and sentences. But to the general public he was
known mainly as the advocate of religious equality,
and with this he was content. Some of his most
intimate friends rather resented this. They said
that Hutton might have revealed himself far more

228 PRINCES OF THE CHURCH
truly and fully if he had not been everywhere
expected to speak on one subject. The same thing
was said about Edward Miall. Miall had literary
gifts which might have given him a high place
among the graceful, thoughtful, and pensive
essayists of his time. He had a truly poetic and
tender sense of the encompassing darkness of life.
But he saw it to be his duty to concentrate himself
on one cause, and so did Dr. Hutton. In Dr.
Hutton's mind the cause of temperance was hardly
second, if at all second, to that of Disestablishment.
We have seen him called a statesman, and it
is true that he took much part in political warfare,
and had a strong influence over Liberal politicians.
But in the ordinary sense of the word he was not
a statesman, at least if we take Henry Vaughan's
definition of the statesman : —
' The darksome statesman hung with weight and woe,
Like to thick midnight fog moved there so slow,
He did not stay, nor go.'
Dr. Hutton had nothing of the opportunist about
him. He appeared insensible to considerations of
prudence and policy. He pressed in all circum
stances the interests of the cause which so strongly
held him. So far as we are aware, he was no
organiser. No movement ever known to us was
so little organised or so badly organised as the
cause of religious equality in Scotland. Dr.
Hutton did not even seek to enlist the young and
rising men of his Church. Nor did he do much in
the way of appealing to the public through the

PRINCIPAL HUTTON 229
press, though he wrote frequently and trenchantly
in the newspapers and elsewhere. His service was
rendered in speech and in debate, and it was a great,
weighty, and influential service. In all his speeches
that we ever read or heard, there was strong logical
argument. But he could dot the dark expanse of
heather with tufts of flowers. He could be very
playful and very amusing. No matter what the
temptation was, Dr. Hutton never descended to
vulgar violence. His weapon was the keen and
glittering sword ; he did not fight with his fists.
He had no diplomacy and no art, but he believed,
and therefore spoke. The Church that knew him
best did not mistake the man. When Principal
Cairns died, Dr. Hutton received the highest
distinction that could have been conferred upon
him ; he was appointed Principal of the Theological
College. A Voluntary so strong and pronounced
naturally did not desire union with churches whose
position was indefinite or adverse. Thus the
negotiations for union between the United Presby
terian Church and the Free Church, alike in their
earlier stage and in their later, did not command
his sympathy. Latterly, indeed, he saw that
union was inevitable, but he held that the union of
1900 was ten years too soon. However, he went
in with it ; and it was characteristic of the man
that when the great testing trouble came there
was none more loyal, none more ardent, none more
fearless in the fight for the despoiled and harassed
Church than the Principal.

230 PRINCES OF THE CHURCH
Dr. Hutton was in truth a faithful son of the old
Secession Church. He had drunk deeply of the
teaching on the relation of Church and State
delivered by the fathers. The dust has gathered
thick on the many sermons, pamphlets, and books
which the Voluntary controversy called forth.
We are not sure that even Dr. Taylor Innes could
claim to know them all. Certainly our own know
ledge is superficial enough, and yet a very shght
knowledge is sufficient to show that no more
powerful and searching treatment of the difficult
problems involved in the relations between Church
and State is to be found anywhere than in some of
these productions. What can be better than the
calm, masterly, and truly Christian work of
Lawson on The Power of the Civil Magistrate in
Matters of Religion ? Who are more trenchant
and logical than Marshall of Kirkintilloch and
Coventry Dick ? There are others, but it must
suffice to name these. We ought not, however, to
forget Dr. Young of Perth, the minister under
whom Hutton was brought up. Dr. Young was
a thorough Voluntary, and no doubt did much to
impress the ardent mind of his pupil. The argu
ment for Disestablishment which appeals to most
is that once stated very powerfully in the Free
Assembly by Dr. Robertson Smith, that the new
ethical conception of the State forbids the State
to give secular privileges and emoluments to any
one denomination. All this is carried in the
phrase religious equality. Dr. Hutton stood for

PRINCIPAL HUTTON 281
religious equality, but what moved him and men
of his school far more strongly was the religious
consideration. They held that Disestablishment
was needed not so much to right Dissenters as to
right Christianity. Establishment dimmed the
true glory of the Gospel Church. They conceived
that the union between Church and State was
essentially contrary to the first principles of
Christianity, and always and everywhere injurious.
It was as a Christian man believing in the Lord
Jesus Christ as the Head of the Church that
Hutton pleaded. He would have said that the
Christian religion originally made its way in the
world, not only without the patronage of the
secular authorities, but in defiance of their enmity
and power. He would have considered it in
consistent with piety, with faith, and with reason
' to suppose that the Divine author of Christianity
should suffer that one thing, which is transcendent-
ally the best on earth and the object of His peculiar
care, to depend for its effective existence on
arrangements in the political constitution of a
nation.' It was not the sense of injustice, galling
as that sometimes is, that urged him on to his life
battle. It was the conviction that the Church of
Christ cannot do her best work in alliance with the
State, and that the tutelage of the State is always
hampering and often fatal to spiritual power and
growth. It is not surprising that under these circum
stances Dr. Hutton should have looked very coldly

282 PRINCES OF THE CHURCH
on proposals for co-operation and conference with
the Established Church. In this we are not able
to sympathise with him. We believe there is a
drawing together of Christian men in all the
churches, and that the end of it will be the estab
lishment of justice and the peace that results there
from. It has been questioned whether the cause
of Disestablishment has made progress in the last
thirty years ; and no doubt, so far as politics go,
it has been subjected to many thwartings and
bafflings. Yet, in spite of all this, we are firmly
convinced that it has made a real and great advance,
and that it is increasingly engaging the sympathies
of thoughtful and Christian men everywhere. The
catholic-minded Dean Alford, in one of the last
things he ever wrote, pointed out that we encounter
our greatest trouble, not in the matter of deeds,
but of words. ' Words, like weapons, are soon
whetted to keenness when war is in the air. The
most important steps toward our great end will be
drawn on one after another by the deep working
of Christian public opinion ; in other words, by
the wisdom of God's Spirit. They will come in
the train of other and unsuspected designs ; they
will not be recognised as of great import till they
have passed by. Many a deed is done, many a
word is spoken which not a soul on earth con
templated an hour before, but which, when done
or spoken, shifts the level of human thought and
opens a new era for mankind.' Yes, the spirit
of truth and justice is opening up the way. The

PRINCIPAL HUTTON 238
barriers are falling. The spirit of intolerance, of
disdain, of superiority, of exclusiveness is vanishing.
It is vanishing in spite of the fact that it never
had more resolute and bitter champions. They
fight every concession, and yet in the end the
conflict is settled against them, and measures are
passed by an irresistible drift of national conviction.
There have been reactions, and there will be
reactions again. All the same, the trend and the
end are sure. All things make for righteousness,
and the slow pace at which our way has been fought
hitherto is already so much accelerated that we
may expect in the comparatively near future, and
not through revolutionary violence, measures of
which the most sanguine once hardly dared to
dream. Towards this the labours and sacrifices
of men like Dr. Hutton have contributed much.
It is due to him and others like him that we are
able to believe that there never was a time when
the soldiers and servants of religious justice had
more reason to thank God and take courage.
June 4, 1908.

PRINCIPAL MARCUS DODS
The long illness of Dr. Marcus Dods came to its
close early on Monday morning. He has been
almost utterly helpless and often in great pain
through many months. He has had weary days
and nights of suffering. Until lately he has been
able to read a little and to talk for a short time in
the day with much of his old vivacity and spirit.
He was affectionate and brave and hopeful. But
it was only too plain that he could never recover.
In answer to a congratulation on his appointment
to the Principalship of the New College, he said,
' It has come too late.' He loved life, and he
seemed to love his work more than ever, and he
had dreams of what he might do for his College.
But since the day when he recognised that he was
moving towards death he has humbly accepted the
will of God, and he passed from us in full assurance
of the life to come, though little able to conceive
its manner and way.
It is impossible for me to write anything like an
estimate of Dr. Dods. He was the best friend and
the most Christlike man I have ever known. He
was in his daily work and conversation a living
evidence of Christianity. There were many who
have never lost their joyful confidence in Christ,
and they owe this to him as much as to any.

PRINCIPAL MARCUS DODS 235
In the circumstances I ask to be pardoned if I
seem to dwell unduly on my own relations with
Dr. Dods. They have been constant for nearly
thirty years, ever since the time when I induced
him to put in print some of his expository lectures.
He was a contributor to the first number of The
British Weekly, and to almost every number until
his last sickness came upon him. Much of what
he wrote was unsigned, but much was signed.
But the relations between us were not merely
business relations. I might perhaps say that
they were relations of great intimacy, whereby I
had the unspeakable privilege of knowing him as
one man may seldom know another.
The outstanding thought that comes to me in
this hour of deprivation is the thought of his
grand character. Years ago we were sitting side
by side in the memorable Free Church Assembly
debate which ended in the removal of Dr. Robertson
Smith from his chair. On that occasion Dr. Begg
made a characteristic speech on the conservative
side. Dr. Dods turned to me and said : ' He is a
grand natural man.' He himself spoke in defence
of Smith in a really noble utterance. Dr. Rainy,
the leader of the other side, said that it was the
finest thing he had ever heard. Dr. Dods began
with a natural greatness of soul. If it can truly
be said of any one that he is naturally Christian,
then it could be said of Dr. Dods. But he was a
Christian in the full sense of the word, and all that
was pure and high in him was reinforced by faith,

286 PRINCES OF THE CHURCH
by prayer, by the practice of the presence of God,
by the imitation of Christ.
There was something wonderful in his kindness.
He did not go out of his way for occasions of self-
sacrifice. He found them to his hand, and took
them up one by one. During a trying year of life,
when I was searching for health with not too much
hope of finding it, Dr. Dods, then a busy minister
in Glasgow, found time to write me every Monday
a long letter of several quarto pages, in which he
included every bit of news and comment that he
could think of in order to interest and cheer me.
I had no claim on him ; many at that time knew
him far better. If he did this for me, what must
he have done for others ? But if he had only
done this for me I should have cherished his memory
with everlasting gratitude.
So kind was he that it was a positive pain for
him to refuse any request, even though the granting
of the request might inconvenience 'him. He
could not be forced to publish what he did not
think fit to publish, but he was always ready to
oblige even at the cost of time which could not well
be spared. He loved books, and he liked to
review them. But his happiest time was when
he found a book which he could enthusiastically
praise. I remember well his delight in Principal
Edwards's Commentary on First Corinthians.
Within a day or two after I sent him a copy, he
wrote me in terms of rapture. They used to say
that he was too enthusiastic in his praises, but

PRINCIPAL MARCUS DODS 237
when any one told him that he merely smiled. I
could mention not a few books which were helped
into large circulations by his early and warm
eulogy. His taste was most catholic ; he laid
stress upon the excellence of workmanship and
intent, and easily overlooked differences of opinion,
and even grave differences.
Another characteristic in which Dr. Dods excelled
all other men known to me was his magnanimity.
' He nothing common did or mean.' He always
put the best interpretation on anything that
happened. If one of his letters did not at once
find an answer, he assumed that there was some
reason for the delay. If the publication of any
of his articles was delayed he never made any
trouble, but assumed the postponement to be
matter of necessity. If any one wrote or spoke
against him he might flare up for the moment at
the injustice, but would soon find an excuse, and
was only too ready to suppose that the misunder
standing was his own fault. There was a generous
incredulity at his heart. He was slow to wrath,
and especially very slow to believe anything against
those whom he cared for. He was not only willing
but even anxious to hear the other side in every
controversy, even when his own mind had been
resolutely made up. ' Wait till you are seventy,'
he would say with that unforgettable smile.
Then he was the very soul of veracity. It was
disagreeable for him to criticise unfavourably. I
scarcely remember any slashing review from his

238 PRINCES OF THE CHURCH
pen. When he did not approve he preferred to be
silent. When he encouraged and praised he meant
all that he said. There was something emphatic
ally true about all his work and life. His days
were laid out in regular order, and he did not
allow the distraction of newspapers or visitors till
the back of his work was broken. Morning by
morning he was at his desk with his blue sheet of
paper before him, and his pen in his hand. By
the time the morning was over much had usually
been accomplished. A few weeks ago when I last
saw him he told me how he had loved to write ;
the exercise of the pen was a pleasure to him. He
would review almost any book, and his reviews
were invariably competent, interesting, and careful.
He never made a mistake that I know of in matters
of fact. Those who challenged his accuracy had
reason to regret their temerity. His strong, bold,
beautiful handwriting was a delight to the printers.
He was punctual and trustworthy to the uttermost.
One could depend on getting his manuscript on or
before the hour when it was promised. If he was
impatient of anything it was of disorderly and
slovenly work. His hours were so well laid out
and so filled with work that hardly any life of our
time can have been more fruitful.
He was singularly bold in his way of speech,
even when he knew that what he said would
provoke opposition. At the Pan-Presbyterian
Council in London long ago I heard him deliver a
paper in which he spoke of the ' errors and im-

PRINCIPAL MARCUS DODS 239
moralities ' in the Old Testament. When the
meeting was over we spent some hours together,
and I ventured to ask him whether he thought the
words were quite justified. He replied gravely
that he had considered the matter. Afterwards
Professor A. B. Davidson took exception in con
versation to both words. He said he would admit
that there was religious idealisation in the Old
Testament, and that morality was progressive,
but that what was immoral now was not necessarily
immoral then. This opens a great controversy,
but I give the incident as characteristic of the two
men. Dr. Davidson was not a whit less truthful
than Dr. Dods, but his habit of mind was more
hesitating. In any case you always knew that
Dr. Dods told you frankly all that was in his mind.
He was not keeping back any secret unbelief.
He was grandly and frankly and constantly
truthful. But to say this is to say little. Dr. Dods was
in his daily walk and conversation a living evidence
of Christianity. In one of the last articles he
contributed to The British Weekly— -it was on his
favourite subject of St. Augustine's Confessions —
he said that St. Augustine was one of the few who
really loved God. Dr. Dods was another. ' I am
the Almighty God ; walk before Me and be per
fect,' was an injunction ever in his mind. He was
a friend of God. If there was something very
simple and homely in his religion, there was that
also which was august and profound. His devotion

240 PRINCES OF THE CHURCH
was not ecstatic or ostentatious. It was recollected,
concentrated, tranquil. I do not think he was
much at home in revival meetings, but religion
was the great and ruling element in his life, and
no one could have much intercourse with him
without perceiving it.
Of Dr. Dods's noted ability and scholarship and
of his power as a preacher I shall leave others to
write. He was always visibly a great man under
whatever aspect you might see him. For many
years he did me the signal honour of carrying on a
weekly exchange of letters, which were for the
most part letters of friendship. I cannot adequately
describe the effect of those letters. Their wisdom,
their humour, their patient considerateness, their
far-sightedness, their frankness came as an ever
fresh surprise. But perhaps it was in a long con
versation that Dr. Dods showed at his very best,
and that you saw fully the hid treasures of his
nature — his strength, his courage, his charm. In
early days he was assistant librarian to the Signet
Library in Edinburgh. This laid the foundation
of his vast knowledge of books, a knowledge so
great that I have only once or twice known it
exceeded. But he was a scholar as distinct from
a bookman. He was willing to read almost
anything, but he carefully sifted his library, and
he studied the enduring books. In this way his
mind was nobly built up. On the strange fortunes
and destinies of the Christian Church he looked
with interest and hope. He came to be very happy

PRINCIPAL MARCUS DODS 241
in teaching students, but he did not seek a pro
fessorship, and would have been glad to remain
in the pulpit. ' There is something about preaching
that keeps life sweet,' he used to say.
Dr. Dods was in fact unconscious of his own
greatness. He was the humblest of men, and he
never offered counsel unless it was asked for. But
unconsciously he had a haunting influence on those
who knew him. Unconsciously he prompted them
to do right. His ideals were very high, and though
most forgiving he never came to terms with
frailty, or consented to take a low view of what
man by God's grace may be. The memory of
him is at once a stimulus and a reproach. He
demeaned himself so nobly in the critical and
testing occasions of his life, he had such refine
ments of loyalty, such wonderful secrets of patience
and endurance, that one could not fail to be moved
and humbled, if nothing more, by intercourse with
him. I have no hope of making up his loss or of
finding such another friend again. But when we
see not our tokens, and when the voices that helped
and cheered fall silent one by one, we think of
what has been and of what yet may be.
April 29, 1909.

DR. ALEXANDER M'LAREN
Dr. M'Laren passed in peace on Thursday in the
fulness of years and honours. He died in Edin
burgh, where he had many friends. He loved to
talk of his first visit to that City, the rapture with
which he beheld it, and of the thoughts which its
beauty and its history stirred in his young mind.
He remembered also hearing the great Dr. Chalmers
talking like a tender father to a company of poor
people. For days before his death he had been
withdrawn from the loving watchers at his side.
All the air was held in a solemn stillness. Till
close on the end he had worked at his lifelong
task as a Servant and Teacher of the Word of God.
He had very nearly completed his great series of
Expositions. There was no failing, no decay.
What he wrote last is as fresh and strong as any
work of his prime. For the present, at least, we
shall attempt no biography. The outward events
of his life are few. He spent his life as a Baptist
minister for nearly twelve years at Southampton,
and afterwards at Manchester. His career has an
immense stretch — over the extraordinary period of
nearly sixty-five years. But we give one letter,
only part of which has hitherto been published.
442

DR. ALEXANDER M'LAREN 243
It was agreed that it should be printed in full after
his death. Carr Bridge, N.B.,
September 1, 1905.
My dear Nicoll, — I suppose that you are back at work
again, and so I wish a word with you as to this month's
British Monthly. I am very much obliged to you for
planning and to your contributor for executing it, and I
hope the readers will allow for kindly exaggeration, which
makes me rather ashamed. If I had known of the inten
tion to publish, I should have craved an opportunity of
supplying material to fill two regrettable gaps. I do not
know whether you can do anything still to fill them up,
but I should be grateful if it could be done somehow.
The first of them touches on sacred matter, in regard
to which I am habitually reticent, as I should and must
be, but which should have a foremost place in any notice
of me. I refer to my married life. My wife, Marion
M'Laren, was my cousin. We were much together from
our earliest days. Her father, James M'Laren, was an
Edinburgh citizen of high standing, a deacon for many
years in Dr. Lindsay Alexander's church, and a compeer
of worthies like Adam Black, Charles Cowan, George
Harvey, and other strong men of their day. The atmo
sphere of his house was redolent of the best traditions of
Scottish religion and culture, a home of plain living and
high thinking. With all its large and happy group of
children I was as a brother, and the childish bonds grew
stronger and graver as the children grew to be men and
women, and they are stronger than ever to-day between
the few survivors and myself. In 1856 Marion M'Laren
became my wife. God allowed us to be together till the
dark December of 1884. Others could speak of her charm,
her beauty, her gifts and goodness. Most of what she
was to me is for ever locked in my heart. But I would
fain that, in any notices of what I am, or have been able

244 PRINCES OF THE CHURCH
to do, it should be told that the best part of it all came
and comes from her. We read and thought together, and
her clear, bright intellect illumined obscurities and "re
joiced in the truth." We worked and bore together, and
her courage and deftness made toil easy and charmed
away difficulties. She lived a life of nobleness, of strenu
ous effort, of aspiration, of sympathy, self-forgetfulness,
and love. She was my guide, my inspirer, my corrector,
my reward. Of all human formative influences on my
character and life hers is the strongest and the best. To
write of me and not to name her is to present a fragment.
' I should also have wished to have had the name of the
Rev. David Russell, Congregational minister, of Glasgow,
mentioned. To him, under God, I owe the quickening of
early religious impressions into living faith and surrender,
and to him I owe also much wise and affectionate counsel
in my boyish years. He became my brother-in-law at
a later period, and during all his long and honoured
ministry he was my friend. I deeply revere his memory.
I know, as few did, his patient work, his quaint freshness
of thought and speech, his simplicity of life and stead
fastness in cleaving to duty, his profound devoutness and
his large heart, and I should have liked to have had my
great obligations to him set prominently forth.
' I do not know if you can do anything, nor what you
can do, to gratify my wishes in these respects, but I tell
you what they are, and am sure that you will help me, if
you see any way to do so. — Yours affectionately,
'Alex. M'Laren.
' De profundis amavit.''

We think first of his gifts and graces, then of his
discipline of these, and then of his lifelong and
almost fierce concentration on his work as a
Baptist minister.

DR. ALEXANDER M'LAREN 245
His natural gifts were extraordinary. He was
out of sight the most brilliant man all round we
ever knew. From his youth he looked like a
Highland chieftain born to command. In any
company where he sat was the head of the table.
Before you knew he was a prophet you were sure
he was a king. Who can forget that wonderful
face, tender and stern, more beautiful and more
saintly as the years went on, with the lights and
shadows sweeping over it ? Who can forget the
flash of those magnetic, dominating eyes ? There
was a kind of regal effulgence about him in his
great moments. He might have been anything —
soldier, politician, man of letters, man of science,
and in any profession he would have taken the
head. He was gifted with a swift and clear-
cutting intellect. He had also a true vein of
poetry and genius. He could master any subject,
and he had an all-sided strength and capacity.
These gifts were early brought into captivity to the
obedience of Christ. If ever any one was appre
hended of Christ Jesus in early years, it was
Alexander M'Laren. The religious training of
his youth, which he loved to describe, seized him,
held him, ruled him through all his many years.
Never was any one more profoundly loyal to the
lessons of the morning. He desired no other and
no better thing than that the end of his life should
circle round the beginning, only with a deeper
conviction and a stronger love at last.
We shrink from writing about his religious life,

246 PRINCES OF THE CHURCH
but it was hid with Christ in God. Those who
observed him recognised that he drank from
fountains older than the world, and for him they
were always running fresh. In his later years it
seemed to be his supreme desire to obtain a fuller
communion with God in Christ. Although not
mystical in his writings, he loved the mystics,
and pondered over the sermons of Tauler and such
books with a wistful eagerness. He knew by
experience, as the true mystics knew, that God is
the Rewarder of them that diligently seek Him.
He proved the truth of that word. He was con
tinually alive to the great realities of sin and grace,
and this was the secret of the intense and solemn
emotion that burned into the midst of heaven
when he spoke to the people. Though he was
very chary of speaking on such themes, I think
he had some belief in the actual communion of the
living with the dead, and he sometimes touched
on it when his memory recurred to old dark hours.
But in public his sole business was to expound the
Word of God. n
As wonderful as his gifts was the use he made of
them. They were all disciplined for one purpose.
He toiled terribly that he might be an effective
preacher. He made himself a scholar familiar
with Greek and Latin, and with the best in litera
ture, English and Continental. With great labour
he mastered and perfected a style. Carlyle was a

DR. ALEXANDER M'LAREN 247
potent influence in his early years. Browning
he much preferred to Tennyson, though he had
much of Tennyson's finish and music. Still there
were traces of Carlyle and of Browning in his work
at times, and more in his talk — something of
brusqueness, something of fierceness, something of
cutting through to the heart of things. But his
fastidious taste was always in exercise. He made
much of style in judging the merits of authors, and
he thought that among living prose writers Joseph
Conrad was the best.
Above all, he taught himself to speak in that
style. Thomas Binney touched him powerfully
in his early years. He resolved that he would not
read sermons, but speak them, and that the
spoken sermon should be as careful and as polished
as the written sermon. He used to say that it
took him years to accomplish this, and I can well
believe it, for the result was miraculous. I have
had in my hands some five thousand of the notes
of his sermons, and I think I can say positively
that the finest sentences were not found in the
notes. They say that in the early years of his
ministry he would pause a long time for a word.
This never took place when I heard him, but he
had learned his lesson. He had the temperament
of an orator, and he acquired the rare faculty of
speaking better English than he could write. It
was amazing to see him in the pulpit, absorbed by
the passion of the moment, and yet summoning
and dismissing his phrases. You could see the

248 PRINCES OF THE CHURCH
double process going on, the mind shaping the
consummate sentence behind the act and ardour of
utterance. At last words came at his call, or
without being called. He commanded words as
an emperor and as a magician. In his very loftiest
flights one hardly knew whether he spoke or sang ;
it was ' Speech half asleep or song half awake.'
Every detail of the service was attended to in
the same manner — the prayer, the Bible reading,
the choice of hymns. He could not have been
slovenly if he had tried to be. The last time I
heard him speak was at the jubilee meeting of
the Rev. Arthur Mursell, of which he was chairman.
What a speech ! The superb finish, the ease and
grace that marked it were unforgettable. No
living man could have come within measurable
distance of it, and yet all was effortless.

in
All these disciplined gifts and graces were con
centrated on his work as a minister — one might say
as a Baptist minister.
A phrase much in his mouth was ' this ministry,'
and another phrase was ' neither priest nor philo
sopher, but messenger and proclaimer.' He knew
philosophy, and he knew how philosophies came
and went. ' The feet of them that are to carry
thee out also are already at the door.' To him
preaching was the exposition of the eternal divine
thought. Anything else was not preaching. So

DR. ALEXANDER M'LAREN 249
the Bible was his book. Through his long life he
was continually studying it in Hebrew and in
Greek. Like Dale, in his latter days he put
Westcott's Commentaries above all the rest.
Nothing interested him more in recent years than
Dr. Moulton's New Testament Grammar, and the
translation of the New Testament as affected by
the discovery of the Greek papyri. All the wisdom
of the world was to him contained in the Bible,
but his business was to apply the Bible to life,
and he read very widely in general literature. For
biographies and sermons he cared nothing, but he
knew the best novels well. The Waverley Novels
he knew so intimately that latterly he could not
read them. But Dumas continued to be a great
favourite, especially the memorable series which
includes the Vicomte de Bragelonne. Books of
travel attracted him. He was a close student of
history, and not ignorant of science. He studied
the living book of humanity. His whole effort
was to bring Bible truth into effective contact
with the human heart.
Every one knows his method of preaching. His
people, as one of his friends said, ' were fed with
the three-pronged fork.' He had an extraordinary
gift of analysing a text. He touched it with a
silver hammer, and it immediately broke up into
natural and memorable divisions, so comprehensive
and so clear that it seemed wonderful that the
text should have been handled in any other way.
He sought to give truth an edge ; he brought

250 PRINCES OF THE CHURCH
everything to a point. His style in his early
Manchester sermons was richer and more adorned
than in his later. His desire to get at men's souls
simplified his speech. He proved himself more
than adequate in the profoundest parts of Scripture,
and I do not think he ever rose higher than in his
exposition of the Epistle to the Colossians, where
he expounds the cosmic significance of Christ.
His spirit yoked itself with the loftiest thoughts
and imaginings of prophets and apostles.
This concentration involved great sacrifices.
Dr. M'Laren conceived it his duty to preach
certainties, and only certainties. In the main he
was what is called orthodox, but on the subject of
eternal punishment he believed that the New
Testament gave no clear teaching, some passages
pointing to universal punishment, and others to
universal restoration. But I do not remember that
he ever stated this view in any sermon. He
preferred to dwell on the certainty of sin's punish
ment. There were many who thought that he
might have done much as a mediator between
Church and modern thought. They considered
that he, above all others, was the man who should
lead his brethren with a clear lamp held patiently
aloft, and throwing its light so broadly on their
steps that when they came up with him they could
not believe they had ever doubted of the way. But
he deliberately declined the task, though not un
willing in conversation to state his views upon
vexed problems.

DR. ALEXANDER M'LAREN 251
For the same reason he rarely and reluctantly
intervened in pubhc affairs. When he did, his
speeches were remarkable for their wisdom and
fire. But they were few. He would say that he
worked upon a very small reserve of force, but I
believe that he could not bear to be away from the
true work of his life— the exposition of triumphant
certainties. Nor was he a constructive, dogmatic theologian.
He believed that if he explained the New Testament
as it stood, the truth would go home. So he did
little or nothing to restate, for example, the
doctrines of the Incarnation and the Atonement. He
held on his way in his own quiet course. I suppose
he was like the man who, when asked to expound
what God is, replied : ' I know if I am not asked.'
It is hardly needful to say that he never took
subjects of the day into his pulpit. He might
preach a funeral sermon or make a reference to
some impressive pubhc event, but he did so very
rarely. His sermons were, to use a favourite word
of Mr. Howells, aoristic, or we may call them time
less. They had hardly any direct relation to the
circumstances of the hour.
I have thought sometimes that he concentrated
himself not merely on the ministry, but on the
Baptist ministry. He seemed to have none of the
ordinary ambitions of a preacher. He went to a
very small congregation on a very small salary,
and remained for the best years of his youth, in
spite of all invitations to remove. When he came

252 PRINCES OF THE CHURCH
to Manchester there was only a moderate con
gregation in a moderately sized chapel to receive
him. He created his own place by the sheer power
of his preaching. People had to come to him ;
he did not go to them. Such was his attractive
power that he ministered to one of the greatest and
most influential congregations in Manchester. But
he did not bow his proud head one inch to win
any hearing. He was exceedingly unwilling to
preach outside of the Baptist denomination. For
example, he had no more ardent admirers than
the Presbyterians of Scotland, but very few of
them ever had the opportunity of listening to him.
It was most difficult to induce him to preach any
special sermon. So far was he from seeking to be
included in programmes, that secretaries had to
go on their knees almost in order to get his name.
In fact, he seemed to prefer the humblest place.
For village chapels he had a great love, and many
of his finest utterances would be given in some
poor House of Christ crowded by a rustic audience.
Amidst the modern developments of church life
he harked back to simple and primitive ways,
the ways of the Quakers, the ways of the Pen Folk.
He had to yield to the current of his time, and he
did so with full conviction. But statistics, organ
isation, machinery, crowds, elaborate music, dis
play, advertising— these things were not to his
taste. We have said that he might have done
great things in literature, but he would not be
enticed away. He did speak at times about

DR. ALEXANDER M'LAREN 253
writing a volume of Scottish Baptist idylls, but he
played smilingly with the idea, as Robert Browning
did with the idea of his writing a novel on Napoleon.
It never came to anything beyond a few pages.
He translated for his own pleasure a good many
letters of Luther in a most original and graphic
style, but he would not go on with them. Once he
very nearly accepted a professorship in Regent's
Park College, but it was coupled with an engage
ment to preach in Bloomsbury Chapel every
Sunday morning. Also, when very ill and deeply
depressed by the death of his wife, he wrote to a
publisher friend, suggesting that he should do
literary work. But these were only passing moods.
He was a minister of the Word, a minister among
the Baptists, faithful to the death, working in the
inspiration of the early days to which his heart
held firm.
In this way he refused almost everything. He
was always saying no. Every visitor whom he
suspected of a new proposal was received at first
with a certain gruffness and suspicion, soon dis
armed into smiling gentleness. His first book of
sermons was simply dragged out of him. It was
printed from reporter's notes, and he was got to
agree to a private publication. Then he had to
give it to the pubhc, and others followed. But
if he had been left to himself he would never have
published any sermons. I take pride in having
suggested to him the preparation of his Expositions
of Holy Scripture, which have been so widely

254 PRINCES OF THE CHURCH
read in this country, in the Colonies, and in
America. I cannot say that he received the
suggestion too graciously, but in the end I believe
it gave him much pleasure to be working to the
last, and the later volumes contain much more
new matter than the earlier volumes did.
I have said nothing of his wit, his humour, his
sarcasm, his sympathy. I have said nothing of the
white light he threw upon men and movements. I
have said nothing of the aloofness which, until his
release from ministerial duty, prevented him from
cultivating intimate friendships with men of his
own intellectual rank. He "had a hearty love for
Lancashire, and especially for the character of the
Lancashire people, on which he would dwell with
great delight and many amusing stories. He
was gratified by the recognition which he received
from the University of Manchester, and took
pleasure in his work as a Governor of Rylands'
Library. But I think there can be very few cases
where a man of his noble and magnificent powers
had so limited a range of intercourse with the more
potent personalities of his time. This was his
own choice, his own sacrifice.
' We pass ; the path that each man trod
Is dim or will be dim with weeds.'
But it is difficult to believe that Dr. M'Laren will
be soon forgotten. It is difficult to believe that
his Expositions of the Bible will be superseded.
Will there ever again be such a combination of
spiritual insight, of scholarship, of passion, of

DR. ALEXANDER M'LAREN 255
style, of keen intellectual power ? He was clearly
a man of genius, and men of genius are very rare.
So long as preachers care to teach from the Scrip
tures they will find their best help and guide in him.
That remains, but we who knew him know what
has been taken from us as we recall the man, his
heart, his voice, his mien, his accent, his accost.
We shall not see his like again. We know also that
in him as much power was kept back as was brought
out. He did his work not merely for the time,
but for the time to come. He spoke to those
pierced with an anguish, ' whose balsam never
grew.' He spoke to the cravings, to the aspirations,
to the hopes as well as to the sorrows and the pains
of humanity. The generations to come will care
little or nothing for our sermons to the times, but
they will listen to the sweet, clear voice of the
man who preached to the end of Gilead— and
Beulah— and the Gates of Day.
May 12, 1910.

CARDINAL VAUGHAN i
Mr. Snead-Cox's Life of Cardinal Vaughan is,
from a literary point of view, the best biography
we have read for years. It is admirably pro
portioned ; it is written with remarkable grace
and ease ; and it is characterised by a candour
which never, so far as we see, descends into bitter
ness. It seems to us that Mr. Snead-Cox under
values Cardinal Vaughan's literary powers. While
allowing that he sometimes wrote noble prose,
he says that the Cardinal was often deficient in
the sense of words. It is true that his pages do
not show the grace and colour, the undulations
of fine moods which are evident in Newman, but
his style seems to an outsider clear, nervous, and
dignified from first to last.
The book is one which ought to be read by
Protestants. Cardinal Vaughan did not stand so
high in the general opinion as his predecessor,
Cardinal Manning. His unfortunate phrase in a
letter to Mr. Redmond, ' The triumph of the
Government over the Nonconformist opposition,'
is admitted to be indiscreet. It stated the fact,
however, with great precision. Mr. Snead-Cox
1 The Life of Cardinal Vaughan. By J. G. Snead-Cox. Two volumes,
(Herbert and Daniel.)

CARDINAL VAUGHAN 257
admits that the Cardinal was thought to be
haughty, stern, and aloof in manner. But he
deserves study as a born Roman Catholic. Pro
testants are more interested in the converts to
Roman Catholicism, and, if we may judge from
the Tablet and the Dublin Review, so are literary
Roman Catholics. But there may be more in
struction in the life of a Roman Catholic born and
bred, saturated with the doctrines and practices
of his faith, and most attracted to those which
to us seem most repulsive. Cardinal Vaughan
was one such. There is a good deal in him that
must be repellent to Protestants, but there is also
an element that attracts.
No one is likely in these days to think that we
are done with Roman Catholicism. Matthew
Arnold was a great believer in the Zeitgeist, the
Spirit of Time. ' The Spirit of Time,' said he, ' is
a personage for whose operations I have the
greatest respect. Whatever he does is, in my
opinion, of the greatest effect.' Arnold said of
Butler's Analogy : ' It seemed once to have a spell
and a power, but the Zeitgeist breathes upon it, and
we rub our eyes, and it has the spell and power no
longer.' But Arnold's new religion has probably
not a single living adherent. The truth is that
the Zeitgeist is a will-of- the- wisp. When it breathed
upon Bunyan he thought that Giant Pagan was
dead and that Giant Pope was tottering and crazy.
Let the World Missionary Conference say whether
Giant Pagan is dead. As for Giant Pope, he
R

258 PRINCES OF THE CHURCH
embarrasses us at every turn. It might have been
thought that the sun would have put out the
candles, but we doubt whether Roman Catholicism
was ever stronger in such enlightened countries as
Germany, Holland, Belgium, and America than
it is to-day. We have to recognise the facts, how
ever unwelcome these facts may be.

The convert to Popery is attracted by various
reasons. There may be those who are captivated
by the splendour of those ceremonies in which
the mighty intellect of Pascal found only a certain
weariness, puerility, and unprofitableness. Cer
tainly Newman and those who went with him were
not drawn that way. Lord Acton, who was, after
all and in the end of the day, a Roman Catholic,
had a passionate admiration for the great Protestant
theologian Vinet. This may puzzle at first sight;
but, after all, it is not mysterious. For Vinet, in
his argument for Christianity, started from the
needs of human nature. He questioned his own
mind in the face of the Infinite. He found himself
drawn right on from consequence to consequence,
to the necessity of the Christian revelation. He
believed that he had arrived at a point of view
from which every detail of Christianity was seen
to be in perfect harmony with the clamouring
necessities of his own soul. Then, like Thomas
at the sight of the Stigmata, he prostrated himself

CARDINAL VAUGHAN 259
before the Christ and cried, ' My Lord and my God.'
At this point men like Newman come in and assert
that they need more than the Protestant can give
them. The question whether Newman was sceptical
is now seen to be largely one of words. Certainly
Newman never doubted at any time the truth of
the Christian religion, but though he himself might
be safe, he believed that the reason of man was
so restless, so disposed to devour its own offspring,
that it needed more than the guidance of the Holy
Scripture and the Holy Spirit. It needed an
infallible human authority. Such were the fever,
the disorder, the corruption, the restlessness, the
insatiableness of human nature, that the spiritual
drugs in the possession of the Church at Rome
seemed to him a necessity. In particular, there
must be an infallible human authority, who could
say without possibility of error, This is the revela
tion of God, and that is not.
Vaughan went through no such process of
reasoning. He was born of a good family, and his
mother had become a passionate Roman Catholic.
She had five daughters and eight sons, and she
wanted them all to become priests and nuns. The
eldest son was the future Cardinal. For many
years she prayed an hour a day that God would call
every one of her children to serve Him in the
Choir or in the Sanctuary. In the end, all her five
daughters entered convents, and of her eight sons
six became priests. Even the two who have
remained in the world for a time entered ecclesi-

260 PRINCES OF THE CHURCH
astical seminaries to try their vocations. It was
a principle of Mrs. Vaughan's life never to ask
God to send any earthly blessing to those she
loved. She said : ' I never ask for any temporal
favours for my children.' Herbert Vaughan, to
all appearance, never knew a doubt. He had a
struggle indeed when he gave up his worldly
prospects, which were bright, but that struggle
was never with the faith he professed, and, once it
was over, he did not look back. A man of this
type was necessarily a persona grata. Vaughan,
to do him justice, seemed quite free from ecclesi
astical ambitions. He took up uncoveted tasks
like begging for missions from door to door in
South America, and founding a missionary college
for which he had no money. He also undertook
the Tablet, a weekly newspaper, and later on the
Dublin Review, and we gather that these were
both troublesome and unremunerative under
takings. But he welcomed with rapture the
definition of Infallibility. Every demand for the
sacrifice of the intellect was answered with the
utmost readiness. When the subject of Papal
Infallibility came forward, Vaughan decided in
his newspaper to exclude completely any and every
expression of the opposite view. ' A search through
the correspondence columns of the Tablet fails to
show a single letter on the side of which in this
country Cardinal Newman and the Bishop of
Clifton (Dr. Clifford) were the conspicuous ex
ponents.' He considered it an awful responsibility

CARDINAL VAUGHAN 261
to allow the seeds of doubt to be scattered abroad.
Mr. Snead-Cox frankly says the peculiar policy of
the Tablet at this period made many enemies.
' Its dogmatism, its intolerance of all opposition,
its impatience of the attitude of those who dreaded
the consequences of a definition, and, above all,
its readiness to cry down and discredit its opponents
by suggestions of disloyalty, or by open accusations
of Gallicanism, alienated the sympathy of a multi
tude of moderate men.' When certain Anglicans
sought for the recognition of their Orders by Rome,
Vaughan offered a fierce and scornful opposition.
When he received the brief nominating him to be
Bishop of Salford, he writes : ' I am grateful for
the inspiration to take it at once and lay it upon
the Altar before the Tabernacle, and to take it
from Our Lord. I then placed it in the hands of
the statue of the Immaculate and received it from
her, and finally laid it at the feet of St. Joseph
and took it thence. I have promised to propagate
devotion to the Blessed Sacrament, to our Lady
and St. Joseph, and on them I place myself and
my whole work of the future.' There are several
like passages : ' I do not know what St. Joseph
will do for me this month,' he says, towards the
end of his life. ' I get something every year from
him in March.' He went to see the so-called
miracle of the Liquefaction of the Blood of St.
Januarius in April. He accepted the ' miracle '
completely, declaring that science could not account
for it, and that it helped to maintain men's faith

262 PRINCES OF THE CHURCH
in the supernatural, in the power of God, and in the
intercession of the saints. It is easy to see that
such a man had no relation whatever to the intel
lectual movement of his time. But he was great
in practical affairs. He has left a monument of
himself in the new Cathedral at Westminster. He
fought hard and, for the time, successfully in the
interests of the Roman Catholic schools, spurning
the view affirmed in his own paper, that schools
paid by the public must be managed by the public.
He took more familiar Roman Catholic ground
when he said that Roman Catholics would not
send their children to any but Roman Catholic
schools, and that therefore things must go on.
But in America and in many other places this
threat has proved of small effect.

n
No one can question that self-renunciation was
the rule of Cardinal Vaughan's life. In his early
days he was determined to be a missionary, and
almost broke his heart when his wish was frustrated.
He took for his model the blessed Peter Claver,
the seventeenth-century saint, who stayed till
death on the burning sands of New Granada, to
be the first to welcome the dark slave ship with its
freight of human wretchedness, and to bring the
message of hope and love to the most miserable
and unfriended people in all God's earth. When
the days of his strength went, old age still found

CARDINAL VAUGHAN 263
him at his work, still looking out for the slave
ships, still serving the slaves. When death came
at last to bring release, Peter Claver was found at
his post. The foreign missionaries whom Herbert
Vaughan sent out were vowed to consecrate them
selves to the service of the heathen, not for a term
of years, but without reserve and for ever. ' They
go and have gone continuously from Mill Hill
for more than thirty years, not into exile, because
exile means absence from home, but simply into
new homes, to labour there until the end.' Scarcely
less rigorous were his rules for the clergy at home.
He thought that no priest ought to accumulate
money. The idea of a priest leaving property
away from his work and the poor he had served
was abhorrent to him. The smallest stipend that
would keep body and soul together and suffice
for efficient work, he held to be ample. Whatever
was over from the income of a mission should be
spent for the good of the diocese. A full and
normal salary for a rector was £50 per annum, and
for an assistant priest £40. In no case was the
salary payable to an assistant priest to be less
than the sum common in many dioceses, £25.
He held that the diocesan clergy were a great
mendicant order. ' Nothing assuredly is sadder
than to see a priest fretting and repining in
poverty.' A priest was not to be blamed if he
laid by some provision for sickness and old age
where there was no common fund for the purpose,
but the money must not be bequeathed to friends

264 PRINCES OF THE CHURCH
and relatives. ' It is a scandal to the faithful and
a lasting stain on the name of a priest when money
given in the service of God, or for the use of His
anointed, is hoarded and finally left away from the
Church for the enjoyment of a private family.'
What he preached he practised. In the Arch
bishop's house at Westminster he occupied two
small rooms, barely and poorly furnished, and
without carpets. In fact, those who knew him
best feared that he was suffering from actual
privation, and sent him a little money. He
kept the money, and it was found in his desk when
he died, with a label on which he had written,
' To be returned to Nazareth House after my
death.' He insisted on all the privileges of a
Cardinal Archbishop, including precedence, and
was evidently one of the proudest of men. All
he had was given away. He lived and died a
lover of evangelical poverty.
It is strange and painful to read that during his
last years he wore on his left arm an iron bracelet,
with spikes on the inside, which were pressed into
the flesh. It was made out of steel wire, and the
points were sharp. When it was made to his
satisfaction, he told a friend to bring a pair of
pliers and to fasten it on the arm so that it could
never come off. When that was done, the Cardinal
brought his right hand down heavily on the iron
circlet and so drove it home. It was cut off his
arm after death.

CARDINAL VAUGHAN 265
III
We feel more strongly than ever, after reading
this book, that the radical error is that of sacer
dotalism. We are less able than ever to believe
in the dependence of God's people on miracle-
working priests. We cannot accept the infalli
bility of a Church of which the earthly corner
stone may be such an one as Alexander Borgia.
Nor can we believe that the true fold of Christ
contains none but those who pronounce a solenin
anathema on all forms of religion but their own.
Dr. Schanz, in his well-known Christian Apology,
decides that ' what are called bona-fide heretics
must in all fairness and justice be morally con
sidered members of the one true, visible Catholic
Church, though they are not visible in her com
munion. Thus it remains true that there is no
salvation outside of the Church.' But the religion
of the New Testament is a religion of unrestricted
fellowship with God. The law made nothing
perfect ; but the bringing in of a better hope did,
by the which we draw near to God. We are not
come to Mount Sinai, but to Mount Sion and unto
the city of the living God, the heavenly Jerusalem,
and to an innumerable company of angels, to the
general assembly and church of the first-born,
and to God the Judge of all, and to the spirits of
just men made perfect, and to Jesus the Mediator
of the new covenant — and the Forerunner of His
people. June 9, 1910.

PRIMATE ALEXANDER *
The Church of England is by no means poor in
great ecclesiastical biographies. Some of them
have been criticised as needlessly long and detailed,
but on the whole the larger works have justified
themselves. For example, the three volumes
devoted to Samuel Wilberforce are still invaluable
as a contribution to the history of the Church.
And the same may be said about the lives of Tait,
Magee, and, notwithstanding its extreme dullness,
the biography of Dr. Pusey. Nor should we forget
to mention Mrs. Creighton's life of her husband.
William Alexander, the eloquent Archbishop of
Armagh, was one of the most attractive personalities
of his time. Very human, very affectionate, of a
glowing temperament and an exuberant eloquence,
he was never a man to be overlooked. Hearts
went out to him, and his eager tenderness made
him very lovable. He was one of the first preachers
of his time, one of the very few who can be de
scribed as orators of the first rank. He was not a
poet in the supreme sense, but he was a very
brilliant rhetorician in verse, and at times a little
more. It would be idle to say that he was with the
1 Primate Alexander, Archbishop of Armagh : A Memoir. Edited by
Eleanor Alexander. (Edward Arnold.)
2«6

PRIMATE ALEXANDER 267
great poets who sit on peaks above the snow-line.
But many of his lines lodge themselves in the heart,
and at an advanced age he could write memorial
tributes more happily than almost any other
poet. By circumstances he was drawn into great
battles of the time. First the Irish Disestablish
ment controversy, then the keen conflicts over the
revision of the Prayer-book, and last of all the
long contention about Home Rule. Such a man
deserved a biography, and we are grateful to Miss
Alexander for the readable, interesting, and lovable
memoir in which she records the experiences of
her father. It would be inhuman to criticise
severely a tribute by the truest of daughters,
and yet we cannot honestly say that her book is
satisfactory. It reminds us of the old Scots
woman who praises the extempore prayers of her
minister because they were so ' bonny and throu-
ither and throuither.' Miss Alexander's uniform
kindness and charity are disarming, but there is a
provoking and amusing want of method about
the whole book which was highly characteristic of
its subject. We suppose this had to be. We are
willing to excuse the sparing references to con
troversies, although we should have liked to know
more about the effects of Disestablishment on the
Church of Ireland. The great defect of the book,
however, is its slender treatment of Archbishop
Alexander's literary work. The very scant list of
his books given at the beginning is both deficient
and erroneous. We specially deplore the in-

268 PRINCES OF THE CHURCH
adequate account of his numerous and valuable
contributions to periodical literature. We must
also say that the proofs should have been carefully
read. The number of mis-spellings and the like
is inexcusable. But we gladly pass on to say that
the biography is successful, at least, in giving a
distinct and personal and attractive impression
of its subject.

The freshest part of the book is the account of
Alexander's early years, and in particular of his
time in Oxford.
His father was a parish minister in the Irish
Church, and his mother, who was brought up as
a Presbyterian, succeeded to a small property
which seems to have been burdened. There was
a large circle of friends and connections. Miss
Alexander has used throughout occasional notes
of his life written by her father, and they show
the tenacity of his memory and his love. His
schooldays were spent at Tonbridge, within a mile
of his grand-uncle's place, Somerhill, and the boy
seems to have done well. At that time he pro
posed to be a barrister, and it was said of him
that he would have succeeded in any position in
life except as a judge. We are tolerably certain
that he would never have succeeded as a man of
business. His heart was set on going to Oxford, of which
he dreamed waking and sleeping. He entered the

PRIMATE ALEXANDER 269
City of Enchantment with awe and rapture, but
things very speedily went wrong. He fell in love
with a gardener's daughter who cruelly deceived
him. There followed months of despair and reck
lessness, to which he looked back with repentant
shame long after. He fell deeply into debt, and
his parents cleared him by raising money on
already overloaded Irish land. They never mur
mured, and he made a solemn engagement to repay
when he could every penny they had advanced.
His mother's unalterable belief in him led to his
conversion, and he resolved to dedicate himself to
the ministry of the Gospel. With all his weak
ness at Oxford, he was never insensible to religious
impressions, and Newman's influence, then at its
height, affected him very deeply. In fact, he
determined to join the Church of Rome, and
packed up his possessions with the intention of
never returning to Oxford. But he came back to
Brasenose College, of which he received an honorary
fellowship in 1907, when he was eighty-three.
Although his time at Oxford was marred by idle
ness and extravagance, it was not altogether
unprofitable. Newman taught him much which
he never forgot about literature as well as theology.
He must have been in some way a student of great
literature. His attainments were not contemptible.
He showed himself very early to be that very rare
individual, ' a man with a style.' We cannot
deny that he is best described as a rhetorician,
but there are passages in his essays and sermons

270 PRINCES OF THE CHURCH
of satisfying grandeur and richness and beauty.
He possessed something not far short of genius,
and an earnest, solemn religiousness marked his
best productions. n
From Oxford he passed at once to parish work
in Donegal. He was ordained in 1847, and was a
curate till 1850. He began at Derry, where he
was born, and from the start he was recognised
as a preacher of unusual gifts. Miss Alexander
says : ' He had himself been born anew with a
deep baptism of fire — mental and bodily suffering ;
he owed much at this time and throughout life to
the noble and restraining influence of his friend
and master, Professor- Archer Butler. It was with
him as guide and counsellor that he was duly
ordained priest in Derry Cathedral in 1848.' It
might have been mentioned that Butler was then
close upon the end of his marvellous career.
Probably Alexander himself wrote the short notice
of Butler's ordination sermon which appeared in
the Christian Remembrancer. It was when return
ing from the ordination that Butler's last death-
sickness struck him. Fever rapidly set in, and his
mind wandered. One ejaculation was constantly
upon his tongue, ' Christ, my Righteousness.'
He was in his thirty-fifth year.
The most interesting new fact in the biography
is that Archer Butler wooed in vain the lady
who became Alexander's wife in 1850. She was

PRIMATE ALEXANDER 271
indeed a pearl among women. But it is strange
that she should have numbered among her lovers
the two most brilliant men in the Irish Church.
Mrs. Alexander's hymns are the heritage of the
universal Church, and of her poem, ' The Burial
of Moses,' Tennyson said that he should like to
have written it himself. She was singularly attrac
tive, though short-sighted and very shy. William
Alexander carried her affections by storm, and, in
spite of the usual difficulties, they were married
in October 1850. Then began Alexander's true
life and ministry, for this was indeed a perfect
marriage. They settled in a remote little parish,
and after five years they were transferred to
Fahan, about nine miles from Derry. It was a
romantic home, and very dear to them always.
They worked together with great energy and
complete harmony in the parish and in the study.
It was at Fahan and in Camus Rectory, to which
they were promoted, that the Alexanders did
their very best literary work. We should have
been more than grateful to Miss Alexander if
she had helped us to trace that work. But,
beyond the barest outline, she tells us nothing.
William Alexander followed Archer Butler as the
principal contributor to the Dublin University
Magazine. By examining the old volumes it is
possible to see the variety of his gifts and interests,
and his singular power of individual writing.
Indeed, as a magazine writer he surpassed Archer
Butler, though very much below that wonderful

272 PRINCES OF THE CHURCH
man in scholarship and in general power. To the
Christian Remembrancer, then a valuable quarterly
organ of the Church of England, he contributed
some of his very best papers. Miss Alexander
does not tell us how her father and mother joined
in competing for the prize offered at the Crystal
Palace for the best poem on Burns, and how they
very nearly won it. She says nothing about the
noble and magnificent tribute to Archer Butler
paid by Alexander in the Christian Remembrancer.
We long thought that this article must have been
written by Dean Church, and there can be no higher
compliment. We wish she had said something
about Alexander's comments on the Irish revival.
Though Alexander was somewhat suspected by
his brethren as a High Churchman, he attracted
the attention of powerful London critics. Hutton
invited him to write in the Spectator, and he did
so for many years. Froude admired him, and so
did Matthew Arnold. Hutton in his generous way
took him up in the Spectator, and urged his claims
to preferment. Norman Macleod enlisted him
among the contributors to Good Words. He was
invited to co-operate in the Speaker's Commentary.
We cannot but feel that something should have
been said about the characteristics of his ex
pository work. While in point of scholarship and
critical power it cannot be compared with that of
Westcott and Evans, it is nevertheless very well
worth reading. It bears marks of a very wide and
varied culture, and many passages are singularly

PRIMATE ALEXANDER 273
beautiful and poetical. This is specially true of
the introduction to the Epistle to the Colossians.
Alexander was invited to preach on special
occasions in England, and made a great impression.
He might be defined in Archer Butler's words as
a preacher ' whose inmost spirit has been busy
with the New Testament,' and his splendid gifts
were warmly recognised. The result was his
appointment in 1867, when he was only forty-
three, to the rich Bishopric of Derry.
in
It was as the Bishop of Derry that he became
generally known. Alexander and his wife had
little time thenceforth for literary work, but their
house was a centre of hospitality, and they were
soon confronted with the Disestablishment con
troversy. Of this Miss Alexander says as little
as possible, and we shall follow her example.
After it life went on with a gentle dignity and
peace. The Bishop had a happy time in America,
where he lectured and preached. They brought
up a family of sons and daughters, and the Bishop
paid frequent visits to London. Wherever he
preached the church was crowded. Gradually all
parties in the Irish Church came to trust him,
and when in 1895 his beloved wife passed away
streams of love and confidence flowed round him.
He was elected Primate of all Ireland by his
brother bishops in February 1896, when he had
attained the age of seventy-two. s

274 PRINCES OF THE CHURCH
IV
He was to remain Primate till 1911, so that at
the time of his resignation he had attained the
great age of eighty-six. He retired to Torquay,
where he passed away peacefully a few months
later. The Primate's last years were full of love and
peace. He mellowed and cultivated the friendship
of ministers outside his own Church. While he
held fast by the ancient faith, he came to see more
clearly than ever that true faith is of the heart,
and is compatible with much intellectual defect
and confusion. He regretted that he had spoken
of Dean Stanley as ' dogma-blind,' and rejoiced
in the story of Stanley's deathbed, when he drew
himself up on the pillow, stretched out his slender
hand, and said to those around him, ' The blessing
of God Almighty, the Father, the Son and the
Holy Ghost be with you always.' ' Was that
dogma-blindness ? ' said the Primate. From his
early years he had exercised himself on the
difficulty presented by the divine and exclusive
claim of the Church and its apostolic ministry and
the existence of Christian holiness outside it. He
was not perfectly satisfied with Archer Butler's
solution. Archer Butler thought that it was
possible to believe ' that every single member of
a schismatical congregation has been by God's
mercy made a member of Christ, and in the same
sacred act registered in heaven a member of the

PRIMATE ALEXANDER 275
Church, which is His Body, and yet believe that
that congregation is itself as such existing in direct
opposition to His will.' This is not easy, and
Archer Butler tried another solution by comparing
the outside denominations to the little ships that
were also with Christ in the tempest, and enjoyed
a share in the blessing of calm obtained by the
ship that bore Him. The Archbishop ultimately
came to the conclusion that Presbyterian orders
were valid, and he meant to promote private
conferences on the subject. In fact, his last work
was a preparation for a discussion on Presbyterian
orders. He cultivated tender friendships with
Presbyterian ministers, whom he described as
' men of powerful thought and speech.' Before
his speech could be delivered he was gathered
to the unity of the General Assembly and Church
of the First-born.
November 27, 1913.

CHARLES SILVESTER HORNE
The most sad and unexpected news of Mr. Silvester
Home's sudden death in America has deeply moved
the Churches. To his friends, and they were many,
it is a bitter personal bereavement with which it is
very hard to make terms of peace. His was a spirit
indescribably precious. He won from all who knew
him both admiration and affection. When he went
out to America he was not decided as to his future
sphere of work, but he did not doubt that great
tasks were before him. He was conscious that his
health had been impaired, and not very long ago,
in an hour of almost boding reverie, he spoke of the
possibilities. Even then, however, it was clear that
a certain innermost peace was his, and he soon re
covered to talk as brightly and lightly as ever. He
was, it seems, in his fiftieth year, but there was a
breath of life's morning about him to the very last.
Since he went to the States we have had some
communications with him — direct and indirect.
After his old manner he threw himself lavishly into
labour. He renewed his old friendship with Presi
dent Woodrow Wilson, whom he knew as Governor
of New Jersey. After their first meeting he never
doubted Dr. Wilson's great future. ' Some men
dominate you by what we are wont to speak of as
876

CHARLES SILVESTER HORNE 277
the magnetism of their personality ; and Dr. Wilson
simply radiates vitality.' Mr. Home asked the
Governor whether if the Democrats won they would
be as friendly toward England as the Republicans
had shown themselves. Dr. Wilson replied cor
dially, and then asked what England was going to
do with Ireland. He said that since he had gone
into public life he had learned much of the griev
ances of those Irish who were driven out of Ireland
with great cruelty, and whose descendants have
not forgotten, nor forgiven, the circumstances of
their exile. Mr. Home replied with a question,
' Suppose we consent to Home Rule ? ' Dr. Wilson
emphatically declared that the passing of Home
Rule would sound the death-knell of Irish hostility
to Britain so far as America was concerned. When
they met again two or three weeks ago the subject
was resumed, and the two men were still of the same
mind. Mr. Home had not arrived at the solution of his
perplexities. He saw that it was not possible for
him to be at once the minister of a Church and a
Member of Parliament. He hesitated between the
alternatives. But they did not present themselves
so sharply to him as they would to most men.
There was never in his mind the faintest thought of
ceasing to be a preacher. If his health had been
restored and if he had been without pastoral re
sponsibilities he would have preached oftener than
ever. He did not draw a line between his religious
and his political activities. He included his politics

278 PRINCES OF THE CHURCH
in his religion, and it was in the Name of the Lord
Jesus Christ that he spoke the deepest convictions
of his soul. We believe that ultimately he would
have resumed the pastorate, and that this was the
life for which he was best fitted. But his term of
earthly service was drawing swiftly to its close,
though none of us saw it. He could not measure
the limits of his strength or unfailingly keep within
them. It was his nature to answer every call, and
to encumber himself with labour that was for others
rather than for him. So his perplexities were
suddenly scattered in the great Morning which rises
out of the Eastern Sea.
Alas ! that it should be so hard to give a living
picture of the dead ! How many of us sit down
sorrowfully to recall the memories of past inter
course, and all we can find is an attitude, a look, a
tone, a word, or it may be a phrase. Such things,
at least, are all we can give to others, though our
own heart holds what we cannot put into words.

Our first impression, and our last, of Silvester
Home is his winsomeness. He resembled Henry
Drummond more than any other man we have ever
known. His gracious look and manner, his high
bearing, his attractive courtesy, and his musical
voice impressed and attached every one who met
him. He seemed a child of fortune on whom
every one smiled.

CHARLES SILVESTER HORNE 279
' None knew thee but to love thee ;
None named thee but to praise.'
We believe, and indeed we are sure, that this win
someness was a natural gift, but he cultivated it
carefully. He learned to be patient with the
tedious, and to suffer fools gladly. He had a natural
and warm interest in every one he met. But there
was grace as well as nature in Silvester Home's
charm. Men heard in him the soul's high note,
the spiritual voice rising strong and clear over the
turmoil. It is not wonderful that he was accepted
of his brethren. No Congregational minister was
better loved by other ministers than was Mr. Home.
A fact of this kind is always extremely significant,
for ministers understand ministers. A proof of his
popularity was his early election to the Chair of the
Congregational Union. We have heard that when
Dr. Dale, of Birmingham, began to fail in health
he was recommended to seek a colleague, and his
answer was that if he could get Silvester Home to
be his colleague he would gladly agree. Far beyond
the Congregational churches — all over the land he
won hearts wherever he went, and the tributes
already paid to him in America showed that the
old enchantment lingered with him to the end.

n
His great and supreme gift, however, was the gift
of speech. He was what is called a born speaker,
and the man was behind the speech. Preaching

280 PRINCES OF THE CHURCH
was his delight. His Yale lectures dealt, we be
lieve, with the romance of preaching, and told the
story of great Gospel victories in the past. His own
beliefs were deeply evangelical. He was broad and
sympathetic ; he welcomed thought and study ;
he was never tied to forms. But his faith was an
anchor cast into the deep sea, and it held fast.
Those who imagined that Mr. Home habitually
preached on the political controversies of the day
did not know the man. In the pulpit he dealt
chiefly with the high and solemn mysteries of faith.
He never made any special study of style. He did
not trouble about the right verbal garment for his
thought, but he was a master of lucid exposition.
He was very careful in his preparation, and he spoke
right on. When Dr. Dale introduced him to the
church at Kensington in 1889 he pleaded with the
congregation to allow their young minister a place
in their prayers. ' Pray for him that his courage
may be high ; that his faith may have the fortitude
of granite rocks ; that the fires of his love for God
may burn higher and higher, and with a clearer
flame as the months and years pass by ; that his
zeal for your righteousness and your full realisation
of the Christian redemption may grow in intensity ;
that his joy in the vision of God may become fuller
and fuller.' Shall we not say that these prayers
were offered and answered ?
What William James said of Emerson is true of
Silvester Home : ' The hottest side of him is his
Nonconformist persuasion, and if his temper could

CHARLES SILVESTER HORNE 281
ever verge on common irascibility it would be by
reason of the passionate character of his feelings on
this point.' He had a burning interest in the social
problem, and his political beliefs were those of an
advanced Radical. But what strikes us most as
we think of him is the intensely religious character
of his total thought.
We have all been accustomed to say that he
excelled chiefly as a platform speaker. At his best
he was the equal of any man in this country when
dealing with the problems of life and action.
He could rise on occasion to almost matchless
eloquence. Victory beamed from his brow. He
believed in God and man and woman. Through
the worst squalor he saw the transfiguration.
Though capable of a very lonely courage, he was by
nature sane. He hated revolution, and it was this
that made him so urgent in his pleading for reform.
History had taught him that evils should be checked
in time before they became past remedy save by
violence. What was peculiar in Silvester Home
was that he could not draw any distinction between
his politics and his religion. He believed that
nothing could save the State except that Chris
tianity which is its only bulwark. He had an intense
belief in conversion. He longed to make his church
a place in the atmosphere of which no sceptic could
come and remain a sceptic. There were mysteries
into which his vision did not pierce, but what he
saw he saw clearly.

282 PRINCES OF THE CHURCH
ill
It is worth while to dwell on this, for it was this
faith that was the key to Silvester Home's life.
He was blamed for making a political meeting one
of his services on Sunday. He was also blamed for
entering the House of Commons as a Christian
minister. He was almost ludicrously unable to see
the meaning of these charges. To him every politi
cal question was at its roots a religious question.
When he went into the House of Commons what
impressed him was the amount of time devoted to
arguing religious questions. He thought that there
was no place where a really Christian minister would
be more likely to feel at home. There was the
subject of slavery in the Congo or the Putumayo.
There were the relations of Church and State in
respect of marriage. There was a great Home
Rule issue, renewing the old No-Popery agitation.
There was Welsh Disestablishment, involving the
positive argument for a free church in a free State.
Temperance Bills were asked for by religious men
on religious grounds. The Churches were not silent
on the white slave traffic, and they ought not to be
silent on the reconstruction of the Poor Law. The
rights of trade unionists, the duty of insuring
workers against ill-health and unemployment were
to him profoundly religious questions.
He went so far as to lay down a programme for
the Churches. There were certain measures in
regard to which the Church had to let her mind be
known or abdicate all claim to moral leadership.

CHARLES SILVESTER HORNE 288
Among these were Licensing Reform, the Recon
struction of the Poor Law, a Living Wage, Divorce,
the Arrest of Gambling, and, above all, International
Peace. He suggested that 'the Churches should
agree to carve out, as it were, of the general body
of political questions certain problems as to whose
social and moral character there can be no dispute,
and frankly claim and freely exercise the right and
the duty to deal with these questions in the light
of Christian ethics.'
In private, and we believe also in public, he
vindicated a theory of Church and State which we
have often told him amounted to Hildebrandism.
He really believed that the Church should rule the
State, that the children of light should govern the
children of the world. Hildebrand was a Pope who
convinced himself that the Church was entitled in
its own nature to ascendancy over the State, and
carried the conviction into action. He quarrelled
with Henry iv., and summoned him to appear at
Rome and be judged. The Emperor convened a
Synod of the German Church at Worms, which
declared the Pope to have forfeited his high place
and called on him to come down. The undaunted
Pope excommunicated the great uncrowned Em
peror, interdicted him from ruling his kingdoms of
Italy and Germany, and absolved all his Christian
subjects from their oaths. Let Dr. Taylor Innes
tell the story : ' The spiritual stroke paralysed the
unwieldy secular power. The great northern
bishops shrank from the side of their excommuni
cated lord; Swabia and Carinthia prepared to

284 PRINCES OF THE CHURCH
follow the Saxon revolt against him, and most of
his princes called upon Henry to submit. Suddenly,
in the midst of the fierce winter of 1077, the mon
arch crossed the Alps to seek absolution, and made
his way to where Gregory dwelt as guest of the
Countess Matilda in her fortress of Canossa. For
three days successively the lord of the world stood
from morning to evening in the outer court of the
castle, in woollen shirt and with feet bare, petition
ing in vain for admittance. Not till the fourth day
was absolution granted to his weeping submission.
The Pope lost not a moment in publishing the
astounding transaction to the world.'
But Hildebrand went too far and died rejected.
His last words were : ' I have loved righteousness
and hated iniquity ; and therefore I die in exile.'
We have dwelt on this subject to show the
originality and daring of Mr. Home's thought. In
essence he may have been right. The future may
yet vindicate him. One art he never learned— he
did not know how to husband the taper. Alas !
there are many like him, and their light goes out
too soon and leaves us in a dark sorrow. The taper
may be husbanded meanly and selfishly. It may
also be husbanded with humble faith and pious care.
We did not know how dear Silvester Home was to
us till we lost him. But we have not lost him, for
he lived his short earthly life in the power of the
life of the Eternal Son.
May 7, 1914.

THE POWER OF KNOWLEDGE:
PROFESSOR FLINT *
The biography of Dr. Flint follows hard upon that
of Dr. Fairbairn. Both books enforce with over
whelming effect the truth that Knowledge is Power.
It was their extraordinary learning that singled
out Flint and Fairbairn from their contemporaries.
Both had manifold gifts, of speech, of intellectual
energy, or religious devotion. But it was their
supremacy in knowledge that impressed men's
minds. They spent long and lonely hours of study
in comparative obscurity, but once they had ac
complished their tasks and displayed their resources
the most jealously locked doors fell suddenly open.
When Tennyson died in 1892 a very able critic
of the time said : ' It is a mark of our age that we
are replacing all the old fissures between classes
by the bridgeless chasm between the cultivated
and the ignorant ; that while we talk of the quality
there has grown up a secret sign, the modulation of
the voice, by which, in the darkest night or in the
thickest cloud, the educated can and do recognise
one another.' This statement would now need to
be much modified. It is true that the unlearned,
the half learned, and the learned do homage to the
very few who are really masters.
1 The Life of Robert Flint, D.D., LL.D., by Donald Macmillan, M.A.,
D.D. (Hodder and Stoughton.) 285

286 PRINCES OF THE CHURCH

Dr. Macmillan, whose skill as a biographer is
already well proved, has written a book of which it
can be unreservedly said that it is worthy of its
subject. Higher praise we cannot imagine. We
admire the skill with which the facts are arranged,
the just proportion of the chapters, the wisdom of
the comments, and, above all, the becoming spirit
of affectionate reverence which pervades the book.
Dr. Macmillan does not tire us with the dreary drip
of incessant panegyric, but he knows, and makes it
clear that he knows, how great and noble was the
man he is dealing with, how worthy, influential, and
Christian was the career which it is his lot to de
scribe. If any fault is to be found, it is a fault on
the side of virtue. Dr. Macmillan has modestly
assigned certain chapters of his biography to Dr.
Wenley and Dr. James Lindsay — Dr. Wenley dealing
with Flint as a philosopher, and Dr. Lindsay dis
cussing his works on Theism. Dr. Wenley is always
racy and suggestive, while Dr. Lindsay has shown
himself an accomplished student of the Theistic
controversy. We cannot help saying, however,
that we wish Dr. Macmillan had written these
chapters himself. He is well qualified to do so, and
the result would have been more satisfactory. For
Dr. Wenley often wanders from his subject, and
Dr. Lindsay was not called upon to characterise
works on Theism subsequent to Flint — not even his
own. There is also an assumption of finality in

PROFESSOR FLINT 287
Dr. Lindsay's judgments which provokes rebellion.
Still, the chapters make good reading and are
written in a becoming spirit. For the rest we can
only repeat our praise in the hope that many
students will read this memoir with profit and
delight. No recent book of the kind has pleased
us half so well.
We do not propose to summarise Dr. Macmillan's
volume, but rather to supplement what he has given
us with a few notes on Flint's personality and works.
In doing so we may at least claim as title an almost
lifelong and reverential appreciation of this great
man, philosopher, and divine.

n
Dr. Flint's father was a shepherd in Dumfries
shire, but soon became a business man in Glasgow.
He was evidently remarkable for his piety and his
intellectual vigour. He was a devoted member of
the Free Church, and it might have been expected
that his son would follow him. It seems, however,
that Flint was alienated from the Free Church after
the age of twenty by some miserable heresy
squabble involving Glasgow divinity students. He
thus turned to the Church of Scotland. Flint's
powers were more quickly discovered than Fair-
bairn's. He was a distinguished student, and he
devoted himself with much earnestness to mission
work in the slums of Glasgow. There he came into
contact with the radiant spirit of Norman Macleod,

288 PRINCES OF THE CHURCH
an experience for which he never ceased to thank
God. Flint had developed early striking powers of
speech, and he was settled as minister of the East
Church in Aberdeen in 1859, when he was only
twenty-five. It is touching to read that he took his
parents with him, and that they remained with him
to the end. His father remained a Free Churchman,
and it sounds almost incredible to be told that
during the time of his residence in Aberdeen he never
worshipped in his son's church. So far was this
from offending Flint that his father was head of the
household, and continued to conduct family worship
even in the time when the son had become Professor
of Divinity in Edinburgh University. Dr. Mac
millan says well : ' The father remained the head of
the house until he died. There is surely something
touching and beautiful in all this. One of the
greatest scholars of his day, a man of world-wide
reputation, the leading theologian of Scotland, sits
humbly at the family table and kneels reverently
at prayer while his aged father, a simple peasant,
conducts the devotions of the household.'
Flint was very successful in Aberdeen, and also
in a Fifeshire parish, Kilconquhar, where he re
mained for a few years. But it was obvious that
he would find his place in a Professor's Chair.
Accordingly he became, in 1864, at the age of thirty,
Professor of Moral Philosophy in the University of
St. Andrews. The Chair had been occupied by men
like Chalmers and Ferrier, and it lost none of its
dignity when held by Flint. Indeed the impression

PROFESSOR FLINT 289
he made is proved by the saying of A. K. H. B. :
' There can hardly ever have been a better Professor
in any University in this world. A quiet, recluse
student, by pure force of high qualities he gained
extraordinary popularity with the undergraduates.'
During his time in St. Andrews Flint studied
without ceasing. Gradually and silently he ac
quired all the languages necessary for his purpose,
and read as few men have ever read. But he did
not become known to the world of letters until
1874, when he published his book on The Philosophy
of History. in
The appearance of this book was an event. It
is not too much to say that it astonished the world
of letters. John Morley devoted an article to the
volume in the Fortnightly Review, of which he was
then the editor. He gave the highest praise to
Flint's ' gift of being candid and fair in the highest
degree.' He spoke of his ' thorough justice of in
tellect.' He also laid stress on the learning of the
treatise. ' His reading has been most extensive,
and the list of his authors, so far as France and
Germany is concerned, is remarkably complete.'
George Eliot praised the book ' for its thorough
fairness from his point of view and masterly grasp
of the subject.' Equally gratifying was the recog
nition from scholars and thinkers on the Continent.
Germans, Frenchmen, Italians, Spaniards, all re
viewed the book with the highest praise, and the

290 PRINCES OF THE CHURCH
position of the author as one of the first scholars
of his time was thenceforth assured.
Dr. Macmillan says that the very able article on
the book which appeared in the Spectator ' is be
lieved to have been written by Sir Frederick Pollock,
at the time a young barrister in London.' He ought
to know, but we have always beheved, and still
believe, that the article was written by James
Macdonell of the Times. We know, at any rate,
that Macdonell, who wrote a very elaborate article
on the same subject in the North British Review,
was most keenly interested in the treatise. In fact,
his whole mind was occupied by it for the time.
Both Flint and Macdonell were very intimate
friends of a gifted Baptist minister in Aberdeen,
the Rev. G. S. Mee, and if we are not mistaken they
were personally acquainted. Macdonell was pro
foundly impressed by the provincialism of Scottish
theology. No voice from a Scottish Chair reached
the ear of Europe. When Flint appeared ' in
shining armour dressed ' it was recognised at once
that this was a philosopher and divine first among
the foremost. Macdonell hardly did justice to
Flint's learning— that is, he thought that Flint had
paid attention to men who did not deserve it. He
considered that Flint was most effective when he
was most controversial. Differing from Morley, he
considered that Flint's criticism of Comte was con
spicuously able and powerful. Morley understood
better than Macdonell the vital importance of
exhaustive knowledge. Flint's outstanding merit

PROFESSOR FLINT 291
was that he never allowed his knowledge to deaden
the ceaseless activity of his intellect. Flint was
appointed Professor of Theology in the University
of Edinburgh, and from that time ranked with A. B.
Davidson as one of the two really commanding
influences in the Divinity Halls of Scotland.

IV
Passing over Flint's precious contributions to
Apologetics, the influence of which it would be
impossible to overrate, we pass on to say a word
on his theology. He held firmly to Catholic Chris
tianity. There was in his time a strong Broad
Church party in the Church of Scotland. Its
leaders were able and eloquent men, but they were
not learned, and Flint would scarcely be numbered
in their camp. His attitude reminds us of West
cott's remark on Essays and Reviews — that they
were to be refuted by a deeper learning. Flint was
the last man to bring charges of heresy in a reckless
way. As a rule he understated his case, and was
perfectly calm and courteous even while he planted
his most telling blows. His temper, naturally
sweet and equable, burst into fierce flames of wrath
wherever he saw injustice. But in the main he was
patient, candid, and forbearing to a degree. The
narrow Evangelicals could not claifn him, but he
was to the last Evangelical. He held that a deep
creed lay at the very core of Christianity. Chris
tianity is something more than the emotions of

292 PRINCES OF THE CHURCH
wonder, love and awe. These are followed by
reflection, and the reflection must build up a creed.
In Flint's view it is revelation, and revelation only,
that gives us the means of steering on unknown seas.
With the help of revelation the human mind is able
to analyse its trust in Christ, to meditate on the
apparent incompatibility of Divine and human
knowledge ; on the humility and supremacy of our
Lord ; on His omnipotence and His death on the
Cross. Flint's sermons, of which many have been
published, had an intense effect when delivered,
though they are very quietly written. They are for
the most part timeless. There are preachers who
owe their freshness and their impact on the mind of
hearers to the fact that they deal with themes which
at the time are uppermost in the hearts of men.
Flint's sermons were expressions of the deeper mind
and feeling of the speaker and charged with the
memory and reality of living emotion.

We take leave to make a note on Dr. Flint's
treatise on Socialism, which was published in 1894.
Though the situation has much altered, the book
still deserves to be read. Flint never lost his early
interest in the condition of the people. He wrote
on the subject with the heat of a living and beating
heart. Souls that are chiefly fed on books are apt
to grow up, like plants in the dark, weak and colour
less, without the direct stimulus of the sun of life.

PROFESSOR FLINT 293
But Flint cared for life as well as for books, else he
had never interpreted books so well. In reading it
one is more impressed than ever with the tremendous
learning at the back of every sentence, and the
wealth of knowledge of which one feels that he has
only seen a glimpse. In this respect Flint was
without a rival among students of the subject. His
position is that of a generous individualism. He
believes that Socialism in every form spells slavery.
The evils of society are to be mitigated by charity
and by cautious legislative reform. As Dr. Mac
millan does not quote it, we may give Flint's views
on Old Age Pensions. The following sentence
seems to anticipate Mr. Lloyd George's scheme : —
' When men have worked steadily and faithfully during
the years of their strength in any useful occupation, a
system securing for them pensions in old age would only,
I think, be the realisation of a genuine right which they
had fairly and honourably earned. Those who bring about
the realisation of this right will deserve to rank high
among the benefactors of the working classes and among
true patriots.' VI
Here we must pause. Mrs. Burnett Smith con
tributes to Dr. Macmillan's memoir a delightful
account of Flint's happy life with his devoted and
accomplished sister. She allows us to add that
their acquaintance began when she consulted him
about one of her books, Maitland of Laurieston.
In this she endeavoured to bring her hero back from
the path of agnosticism into the path in which he

294 PRINCES OF THE CHURCH
was reared. Flint gave her his advice and among
other things he wrote, ' Remember that religion or
faith can only be lost or won through the affections.'
Flint had no arrogance in his manner ; he was the
friendliest and simplest of men ; but there was a
certain dignity about him which only the most
obtuse could miss. One had a feeling of awe in the
presence of such learning and power. From his lips
the most commonplace opinion was weighty. One
knew that the judgment had been passed through
the fire. Dr. Flint retired from the Chair, which
he so long adorned, in 1903, and was able to publish
two books more ere the end came. If at the last his
luminous intellect was partially dimmed, and his
eloquent voice no longer moved multitudes, he was
at peace. He bore all he had to bear with fortitude
and dignity, and the most loving care surrounded
him to the very last.
December 17, 1914.

FATHER STANTON : THE CENTRE
OF COMMUNION 1
We give a most cordial welcome to the handsome
volume which contains an abiding memorial to
one of the least ostentatious and most powerful
of London ministries. For close on fifty years,
without receiving a penny in the way of earthly
reward, Father Stanton preached to great and
deeply impressed crowds at St. Alban's, Holborn.
He was a very High Churchman and, as was right
and proper, his special views are well represented
in this book. But he attracted multitudes who
in various respects were more or less at issue
with him. They found themselves none the less in
true accord with the Gospel which he proclaimed.
He himself was also indebted to preachers who were
not of his own school. As Father Russell tells us,
he had a great admiration for Phillips Brooks,
but he found more help in Spurgeon, whom he
loved, and— towards the end — in Dr. Parker, whose
powers as an expositor he placed very high.

We can understand why Father Stanton's friends
should feel sensitive about the effect which dis-
1 Father Stanton's Last Sermons in St. Alban's, Holborn. Edited, with
a preface, by E. F. Russell, M.A., St. Alban's, Holborn. (Hodder and
S to ugh ton.) 296

296 PRINCES OF THE CHURCH
courses like those contained in this volume may
have upon the public. Father Russell himself
says : ' To some of us it seemed as if the influence
of the spoken words was so inseparably, so in
extricably bound in with the energy and the
charm of the speaker's remarkable presence and
personality — face, voice, grace of manner — that to
divide his words from him would be like the
dividing of body and soul : it would leave the
separated words motionless, pale, and dead.' Also,
the sermons are shorthand reports, uncorrected
by the speaker. But we are sure that these mis
givings will be completely dispelled when the
sermons are read. Behind the easy and spon
taneous fluency of Father Stanton's eloquence
there was the most anxious labour, care, and
preparation. Father Stanton prepared every
sermon as thoughtfully and precisely as if he held
his long experience of no account, and he has left
six quarto volumes containing elaborate outlines
of over a thousand sermons. It is true, indeed,
that for those who were accustomed to hear him
nothing can compensate for that piercing glance,
for the sight of the pilgrim soul in that changing
face, for that varied rise and flow of utterance
which characterised the preacher. And yet we
are sure that the winsomeness of this book, its
charm, its fullness, and its divine simplicity, which
is the first step of nature and the last of art, will
command the gratitude and the joy which come
from hearing a true voice.

FATHER STANTON 297
Father Stanton's eloquence was the eloquence
that comes from a living fountain of love. His
sermons are full of fine thought and pure theology.
But their main characteristic is their evangelicalism.
The essence and core of his faith were an intense
and personal love for Christ. He was possessed
by a most earnest and, on the whole, a deep and
catholic faith, and the points in which we differ
from him are small in proportion to those which
command our heartiest sympathy. For the true
meeting place of divided Christians is not, as many
think vainly, in the circumference of the creed,
but in its burning centre. No man of his time
preached more earnestly, or with a more simple
heart, the doctrines of conversion and of com
munion with the living Redeemer. He never
travelled far from Calvary, and he understood well
that Calvary, as he says, goes back into the very
Being of God. ' Calvary has no date ; it lies right
back in the truth of God. The redemption of
mankind is as old as God Himself, so do not you
ever say that our faith is not old. Our religion
is like God, from everlasting to everlasting. There
never was a time when redemption was not in the
Mind of God, and there never is or will be a time
when redemption will not be in the Mind of God.
We put Calvary so many years back, but we are
thinking of Calvary under the ticking of the clock.
Put yourself into eternity, and Calvary has no
beginning and no end, either in time or applica
tion.' So he continued to say, ' Behold the Lamb

298 PRINCES OF THE CHURCH
of God, the Lamb slain from the foundation of
the world, and slain to its final judgment.'
It is with a great refreshment of spirit that we
come across some of Spurgeon's favourite quota
tions. As for the coming to Christ there is but
one way. There is to be no manner of delay.
L Do you feel your need of Christ ? If you feel
your need, you will be in earnest.'
' Let not conscience make you linger,
Nor of fitness fondly dream ;
All the fitness He requireth
Is to feel your need of Him.
This He gives you,
'Tis the spirit's rising beam.'
We come to Christ as the leper came, bowed by his
reproach. There is no preparation. There is no
hanging back. There is the approach and the
welcome and the covenant and the blessed and
eternal peace. These fifty sermons range over
the Christian year, but Christ, and Calvary, and
Resurrection, and the Descent of the Holy Ghost
make up nearly all the themes. We like very
much the meditation on the Seven Words. The
preacher ventures to cherish a hope even for the
thief who received no promise, the thief who
blasphemed and was silent. Even that great
outcast of Israel may have been gathered in.
' Silence reigns over him. He passes away in
silence. The Holy Scripture gives us not a word
about his end. Do you know nothing about
him ? No — nothing about him. ... I have no

FATHER STANTON 299
warrant to tell you he was saved, but I have no
warrant to tell you he was damned.'
And, however this may be, it is always true that
there is life in a look from the Crucified. When
the suffering thief turned round and looked on
Christ and saw Christ looking at him, and asked
his Saviour to give him remembrance, the Lord
Who reigned from the Tree gave him something
more than a remembrance. He gave him Paradise.
Readers of William Law will understand us
when we say that Father Stanton preached not
Christian redemption, but the Christian redemp
tion. This is the line between false and true
Evangelicalism. n
It is this strong grasp of Christ, living and dying,
rising and reigning, that brings together in strange
ways the children of God's divided Israel. Of this
we venture to give one or two illustrations from
biography. The great Evangelical movement in Scotland,
which had visible manifestation in the Disruption,
had singular points of contact with the Tractarian
Movement in England, although the leaders on
each side were ignorant of each other and failed
to acknowledge it. One of the very ablest men in
the Scottish Free Church was Dr. James Walker,
of Carnwath. Dr. Walker left little save a really
brilliant fragment on Scottish Church history,
and he was for many years an invalid incapable

300 PRINCES OF THE CHURCH
of work. In more favourable circumstances he
might have been a leader of theological thought.
As a student he was a Tory and a Moderate, but
he changed, and became a passionately convinced
Evangelical. This change seems to have mani
fested itself decidedly after a visit to England in
the early 'forties. He was deeply interested in
and attracted by the Oxford- Movement. The
effect of this Movement upon him was to make him
immensely more serious and earnest, so that his
whole family became affected by his spirit. His
interest in Tractarianism led him to the study of
the Fathers, and with many of their writings he
became specially familiar. The influence lasted
with him, for he admired the saints of the Early
Church and Middle Ages and passed through an
ascetic experience. He had early manifested his
taste for Church history ; he was at home in every
department of it — early, mediaeval, Reformed,
Puritan, Covenanting. His biographer says that
in later years these various types, so diverse, were
blended in him in strange harmony. In after life
he was a Presbyterian High Churchman.
We may refer also to the experience of Coventry
Patmore. There is something about Patmore that
is very repellent though not easily defined. But he
understood what Christianity was. In early days,
he tells us, it came to him to consider ' how it
would be if Christianity were true, and if there
were not only a loving and governing God but one
Who was also Man, and so capable of accord-

FATHER STANTON 801
ing to me the most intimate communion with
Himself.' Young Patmore went to Edinburgh to visit
some friends when the Free Church was new-born.
These friends were very pious members, and were
the first religious persons he" had ever had anything
to do with. He says : ' I was at first greatly
delighted with this atmosphere, and the warmth
with which I communicated my own aspirations
much interested my new friends in me ; but the
inequality of my moods startled and somewhat
shocked one of my aunts, who told me that my
strange alternations of ardent effort and despondent
indifference reminded her of Saul.' Later on he
says, referring to the intense Protestant feeling
of the Free Church : ' The only sincere and effec
tive religion I had come across in the world had
been that of persons to whom the name of the
Catholic religion was an abomination. My aunts
had the sincerity, sweetness, and devotion of
Catholic saints — and such I hope they were — and
while in Edinburgh I had come into personal
contact with some of the chief of the ministers of
the Free Kirk, which was just then in its first
fervour. The devotion of these men was un
mistakable ; and my consciousness had no con
crete evidence to counterpoise what I supposed to
be the testimony of such characters.' Patmore,
as is well known, became a Roman Catholic, a
sincere though somewhat perverse member of
the communion.

302 PRINCES OF THE CHURCH
We could add to these instances, but we content
ourselves with one more. In his beautiful little
biography of R. A. Suckling, the saintly Isaac
Williams tells us that some of the sermons by Mr.
Suckling which he published in the first edition
were in a measure derived from printed matter.
Two in particular were from a late minister of the
Free Kirk in Scotland. There was no plagiarism
in the business. Mr. Suckling selected the sermons
as expressive of his own mind, adapted them, and
interspersed them with passages unmistakably his
own. Still, the communion of spirit is remarkable.
If we are not very much mistaken, the sermons
were by McCheyne, but at this moment we are
unable to make sure. in
We feel that we have failed to do anything like
full justice to this powerful and winning volume.
We could have desired to say more of its childlike
faith and something of its deep pathos, accom
panied by touches of that humour which is never
very far away when pathos is present. Readers
will feel, as hearers did, that they are neither argued
nor thundered into conviction. The preacher
speaks with authority from a valid experience,
and he enters very fully into the cares, the per
plexities, and the sorrows of his listeners. His
book is not encumbered with impossible or obsolete
orthodoxies. But experience has shown, and will
continue to show, that when certain truths and

FATHER STANTON 303
facts are abandoned, the sovereign and supreme
love for Christ, which is the bond of believers,
cannot be maintained. The human mind in in
dividual cases may harbour for long contradictory
beliefs. But logic has its way at length, and out
side of those to whom Christ has ceased to be
Very God of Very God, this ardour is chilled and
killed. It is the business of us all to labour for
that outward and visible unity of the Church
which is clearly taught in the New Testament,
but we will reach it, not by the adoption of
formulas which may have a hundred meanings,
but by the patient search into those beliefs which
are necessary if Christ is to be held up as the Lover,
the Redeemer, the Prophet, the Priest, and the
King of souls.
January 13, 1916.

THE CENTENARY OF
FREDERICK ROBERTSON
Frederick Robertson, of Brighton, that good
soldier of Jesus Christ, that just and faithful
knight of God, that royal preacher, was born on
February 3, 1816 — exactly a hundred years ago.
' And now, I pray you, do your part of the work
quickly,' said Dr. Hamilton of Leeds, as he put the
last sheets of his Life of John Ely into the hands of
the publisher, ' for ministers are soon forgotten.'
This is only too true, but Robertson is not forgotten.
His Brighton ministry lasted but a few years, and
it was exercised in a shabby little chapel holding
some five hundred people. He published in his
brief lifetime only one sermon, and that, strange to
say, was on the death of Queen Adelaide. Since he
died, however, multitudes have been moved by him
as by no other teacher, and there is that in Robert
son's sermons which may keep them alive for
another hundred years. Brighton has not been
without her share of gifted preachers. We recall
James Vaughan, Wade Robinson, Alfred Norris,
and others. But the chief glory of the Brighton
pulpit is, and will remain, the minister whose
centenary we are recalling.
304

FREDERICK ROBERTSON 305

It is not at all our purpose to attempt an estimate
of Robertson either as a man or as a preacher or as
a theologian. This has been done a thousand times,
and often very effectively. We wish rather to add
something to the very little that is known about
him outside the Life by Stopford Brooke. His own
family, though the materials were abundant, de
cided at last that they would not use them for a
supplementary volume. Considering his amazing
genius and personal charm, he had very few intimate
friends, and not one of these was a man of high
distinction. He was a solitary spirit, and no writer
of his rank has ever dwelt more poignantly on the
misery of loneliness. He belonged to no party in
the Church. Though he had a bare acquaintance
with Kingsley and Maurice, he was not in any sense
a member of their school. He came to repudiate
the Evangelical party, in which he had been nur
tured, with a strange bitterness, and with the High
Church party he had little or no sympathy. One
sometimes imagines that it was his great misfortune
not to meet and cope with minds on the same foot
ing as his own. He hammered out his own theology,
and yet it was not so original as he imagined it to be.
In these days he would certainly be described as
a Liberal Evangelical. But Liberal Evangelicals
were then very few, and his mind would not have
stood still. He would have gone further in direc
tions which no one has a right to indicate.
u

306 PRINCES OF THE CHURCH
Robertson, however, did come to some extent
into contact with the larger world. He was one of
those whom the unhappy Lady Byron drew into
the circle of her kindness, and there was at one time
a probability that her biography and papers would
be edited by Robertson. Lady Byron had many
proteges. Sometimes her friendship with them
was steadfast, sometimes even it grew. With George
Macdonald, for instance, she remained in the
strongest spiritual communion, and, as one of the
dedications of his books shows, he loved her with a
love stronger than death. He has drawn her char
acter, as she appeared to him, in Lady Bernard,
in his novel, The Vicar's Daughter.
R. H. Hutton was for a short time one of her
acquaintances. She helped in providing funds for
the publication of his National Review. The con
nection was short-lived, and Hutton wrote of her
sudden changes from cordial to icy moods, and her
unfortunate errors of judgment. These he thought
extenuated by the terrible sufferings she went
through. We shall probably never know what
Lady Byron really was, for we believe her represen
tatives will not allow her writings to be published.
Through her Hutton came to hear Robertson
preach, at the time when he was struggling out of
the Unitarian into the Trinitarian faith. Happily
he has left some notes of the impressions made upon
him by Robertson, and as such notes are very few,
we are sure our readers will thank us for them.
Hutton knew Theodore Parker, and he used to

FREDERICK ROBERTSON 307
contrast the brightness of Parker with the sadness
of Robertson. He attributed the difference to the
fact that Parker, who died of consumption, had all
the sanguineness which often marks that disease,
while Robertson very early gave signs of that pain
ful malady of the brain to which he succumbed.
For Robertson as a man and as a preacher he had
the warmest admiration. On first hearing him he
was specially impressed by a certain effect of
chivalry and romance which was inseparable from
Robertson, and which, while it greatly increased
his fascination over the minds of others, filled him
self with distrust and even sometimes with alarm.
Robertson thought that he was merely stirring a
superficial sentiment into activity when his desire
was to reach the conscience and the will. He was
doubtless mistaken. This was not the final effect
of his influence, but it was the first point on which
his influence fastened itself in the minds of his
hearers. ' This half-ideal and romantic aspect of his influence
was due to a number of causes ; a little perhaps to the
symmetry of his figure and his faultless features ; more
to the half-commanding air and military carriage express
ing, if not resulting from, his strong passion for a soldier's
life, and his eager preparation for it in youth ; still more
to the hectic expression of nervous suffering which his
constitutional delicacy, his liability to strong excitement,
and the lassitude which followed it, left almost always
more or less traced upon his face ; and very much also
to that delicate poetic sensibility to physical influences
which always speaks out plainly in the face, and that, too,
in a way to invite even more sympathy than the lines of

308 PRINCES OF THE CHURCH
those deeper and more permanent cares which never vary
with the expression of the moment. All these causes
together produced a temperament and an expression which
it was singularly difficult to connect with the common
place framework of daily life. A high-strung tension of
nerve, due certainly in some measure to disease, seemed
to mark his face even in repose. The slight undercurrent
of fever which was, with him, due to physical delicacy,
heightened the moral colours of his mind, and gave them
that air of ideality and romance for which the young are
always thirsting. Not only his extraordinary eloquence,
but all the constituents which went to make that eloquence,
conspired to deepen this impression.'
We count ourselves happy in being able to reproduce
this description, which somehow seems to bring
Robertson nearer to us than any other we have read.

n
His devoted son, the late Mr. Charles Robertson,
of the Foreign Office,, said to us more than once that
the omission he most regretted in Brooke's bio
graphy of his father — of which he highly approved
in the main — was that it did not bring out the fact
that he was essentially a Scotsman. His father was
one of the Robertsons of Struan, and his mother
was one of the old Scottish family of the Bethunes.
His father, being a Captain in the Royal Artillery,
had to move from place to place, and so it happened
that Robertson was born in London. But he was,
in everything but the name, a Scottish Celt, and the
fact is significant and illuminating in no ordinary
degree. Much of the continual controversy which

FREDERICK ROBERTSON 309
unhappily occupied him was due to the fact that his
lifelong passion was, not to be a minister, but to be
a soldier. There is something very painful in the
continual thwartings of his desire. It is likely
enough that in the Army during peace time he
would have been unhappy. But when he was
persuaded to study for the ministry, he knew, and
he never ceased to feel, that he had sacrificed the
dearest wish of his heart. The sacrifice proved to
be altogether gratuitous. Within three weeks of
his matriculation a letter arrived from the Horse
Guards offering him a cornetcy in the 3rd Life
Dragoons — the same regiment which in the wars of
the Punjab a few years later greatly distinguished
itself. But he had put his hand to the plough and
would not withdraw it. At the same time, he could
never be brought to affirm that he was satisfied
with what he had done. ' Wait,' was always his
answer ; ' some day I will tell you.' The soldierly
feeling entered everywhere into his preaching. He
was always teaching discipline, the braving of
danger, the duty of unhesitating military obedience
towards a leader, the stern truth of retribution.
He foresaw the Armageddon in which we are now
living — foresaw it without fear. Very early during
his residence in Germany he marked the hatred of
the Germans for the British people. He had an
immense faith in the courage of his countrymen.
Some of his most eloquent writing relates to this.
His rapturous joy in a military career breaks out
when he is describing, for example, the glorious

310 PRINCES OF THE CHURCH
death of the heroes of Trukee. He wished to die
sword in hand against the invaders : —
' If a foreign foot be planted on our sacred soil . . .
terrible as the first reverses might be, when discipline
could be met only by raw enthusiasm. — thanks to gentle
men who have taught us the sublime mysteries of capital
in lieu of the old English superstitions of Honour and
Religion, they may yet chance to learn that British
chivalry did not breathe her last at Moodkee, or Ferozeshah,
or Sobraon, or Goojerat, or Meeanee, or Hyderabad.'
He gloried in the news of the Birkenhead : —
' God forbid that we should glory in our country's
wealth, her renown, or her military successes, merely as
such ; God forbid that we should glory in aught of hers,
save in that English spirit of Duty and of Sacrifice on
which are stamped so unmistakably the lineaments of the
Redeemer's Cross. It was this which constituted the real
force of that sublime battle-cry which preceded one of the
most terrific lessons ever given to the world by the lips
of her artillery, and told men wherein lay the might and
the majesty of a country which expects of her chosen
sons, in the hour of death and danger, not that every man
shall save his own life — nor that every man shall seek his
own glory— but that " every man shall do his own duty."
... I do love and honour my dear old country with all
my heart and soul ; her sons cannot sing, paint, nor
carve, but they can die at their posts silently, without
thinking that " forty centuries are looking down upon
them " from the Pyramids.'
' I felt,' he said, discussing Macbeth, and Mac
duff's revenge, ' I felt as if to have a firm grip of a
sword in a villain's heart were the intensest rapture
this earth has to give — the only thing that such as
Macduff had worth living for.'

FREDERICK ROBERTSON 311
This temper of antagonism, heightened no doubt
by approaching disease, made him fiercely impatient
of criticism and opposition. We have no intention
whatever of taking up dead controversies. We
doubt whether Robertson made any very original
or remarkable contribution to theology, but his
wrath against the Evangelicals, to whom he had
once belonged, seems unreasonable in view of the
fact that he undertook practically to correct all the
schools, and teach them that their way of holding
religion was false and base. He suffered, but to the
last he was a formidable antagonist, and at this
distance we can see that on his side, and on the side
of his opponents, there is much to regret, much to
forgive, and something to excuse. They were
nearer one another than they knew.

in
We would say, in a word, that Robertson's work
was done in the most glorious of all spheres of work
—the preaching of the Gospel of Christ. It was he
as much as any other who reminded the world, and
has kept reminding it, that there may be as much
originality and genius in sermons as in anything
else. The lesson is unspeakably precious. For the
rest, we recall the sad, heroic story of his death.
He suffered from what he seemed to feel most —
bitter and unremitting physical pain. He was
partially paralysed, pitifully emaciated. Worse
than that was the prostration of all mental force,

312 PRINCES OF THE CHURCH
the obliteration of large spaces from the memory,
and the loss of all power of attention. The disease
was in his brain, and it killed him. His mother,
his wife, and one friend, with his physician, watched
over him, seeking by every means in their power
to alleviate his sufferings ; but he could not bear
to be touched. ' I cannot bear it,' he said ; ' let
me rest. I must die. Let God do His work.'
These were his last words. He died when he was
little over thirty-eight years. A nobler Christian
gentleman never appeared among us.
February 3, 1916.

DR. ALEXANDER WHYTE
Dr. Alexander Whyte died in his sleep, at
Hampstead, on Thursday. He had completed his
eighty-fourth year. In the few months of his
residence at Hampstead he had to bear suffering,
but he had many consolations and supports. As
the days went on he became more and more
mellow and radiant. The occasional rapture of
his face still bore witness that his thought was far
away in the heavenly places with Christ. Those
who were near him knew the meaning of every
light that passed or lingered in his countenance.
He was often marked with memorial suffering,
but he was loved as not many have been loved,
and though the stuff of the tabernacle was wearing
thin he remained splendidly handsome, erect,
dignified and courteous. He had lived a long
life, and by the end he stood as one on the key
stone of a bridge and held communication now
with those who had crossed the flood, and now
with those who were still crossing. He had his
company both on this side of the river and on
that. Whatever occasional glooms might fall upon
him, the ascending stair was always at his feet.
His was not an easy life, and could not, with his
313

314 PRINCES OF THE CHURCH
temperament, have been so. He had his hours in
that valley of the shadow of death where faith
seems to grow weary and sleep, when all things that
are of the night wake up and speak. But the
prevailing temper of his mind was eminently
happy and hopeful, and few can have more per
fectly fulfilled and realised the dreams and
ambitions of their youth.
It is very difficult to write on this subject ;
but for the friendship with which he honoured me,
and for the love I bore him, I must make the
attempt. He was for many years one of the
most constant and one of the most highly valued
contributors to this journal.

Dr. Whyte's early life was a period of vic
torious struggle. He was born in the Thrums
which Sir James Barrie has made immortal. He
had little schooling, and worked as he could.
He entered an atmosphere bleak from the out
sider's point of view, but in reality full of
eager intellectual and spiritual life. Next to his
great and noble mother, his best friend was the
Free Church minister of Airlie, the adjoining
parish. The Rev. David White took the lad
in hand, and provided for him some poorly paid
teaching, besides helping him in other ways.
At what was then considered an advanced age,
he entered the University of Aberdeen. In spite

DR. ALEXANDER WHYTE 315
of scanty acquirements and chances, he proved an
ardent student, and graduated in four years with
honours in philosophy. The bracing influence of
Aberdeen stimulated him mightily, and the com
panionship of his fellow-townsman, A. 0. Barrie,
afterwards the distinguished Inspector of Schools,
greatly helped him. Among the professors he was
specially influenced by Bain, Geddes, and per
haps above all by Martin, who introduced him to
Butler's Analogy and the study of the Epistle to
the Romans.
Whyte had made up his mind on all essential
points before he went to Aberdeen. He was a
profoundly convinced Christian, and an ardent
Free Churchman, and in these matters he remained
of the same mind through all his long and loyal
hfe. Loyal is, indeed, the word for him that
comes most frequently to the mind. He never
forsook a cause, never was deterred by any threat
or loss from following the way of conviction, and
never showed that he had any doubts or any fears.
His favourite preacher in Aberdeen was the
polished and cultivated Dr. A. D. Davidson. But
he was not a little influenced by a young Baptist
minister who had more power over the aspiring
young men of the city than any other preacher.
I refer to George S. Mee. Mr. Mee was the idol
of James Macdonell and of many others not of
equal intellectual rank. He became a journalist,
however, and so a great preacher was lost to the
Church.

316 PRINCES OF THE CHURCH
Whyte determined to take his theological career
at the New College, Edinburgh, of which he was
afterwards to become the head. He had been
used to read in the British and Foreign Evangelical
Review and in Hugh Miller's writing in the Witness,
and he threw himself with ardour into the atmo
sphere and the studies of the place. He maintained
himself by acting as missionary assistant to Dr.
Moody Stuart, of St. Luke's Free Church. He
used to hear Candlish preach in the morning and
Moody Stuart in the afternoon, and rightly thought
himself fortunate. One of the most grateful of
men, he particularly appreciated courtesy, and he
was wont to say that Moody Stuart and others of
his early friends treated him with the same punc
tilious respect when he was a poor unknown
student as they did when he came to the front.
The Letters of Marcus Dods give us some glimpses
of Whyte as a divinity student. Whyte was
always very frank, and he told Dods that he would
never succeed as a preacher, urging him to establish
a house for students where they might be trained,
intellectually and otherwise. By that time Whyte
had full hold of the Puritan theology. Dods
characterised him as ' a fine, honest, doctrinal,
outspoken, hearty fellow, that knows what he
is himself, and does not require others to be much
better, though he thinks they are.' Again : ' I
like him for his honesty, his intelligence, his good
ness and his real happiness of spirit. He has
sorrows, but they don't cut very deep, as how

DR. ALEXANDER WHYTE 317
could they in a fair-haired Scandinavian like him ? '
Further, Dods notices : ' Whyte is a very high
Calvinist and a lover of the Puritans, and would
talk doctrine for a year on end.'
At that time in Edinburgh the publisher, James
Nichol, was issuing a series of the works of the
great Puritans. I beheve that Whyte helped in
the preparation of the index to Goodwin and in
reading the proof-sheets. However this may be,
there is no doubt that Goodwin was the master
influence of his life. Whyte wrote himself in his
later ministry the words :
' If I am to have some spare time to prepare myself
finally before I die, I know the great masterpieces of
salvation that I shall have set on the shelf nearest my
bed. Shall I tell you some of them ? My New Testa
ment ; my " Paradise " ; my " Bunyan," and especially
the Jordan scenes at the end ; my Saints' Best, and it is
my old classfellow Wilham Young's beautiful and fit
edition ; my life-long " Goodwin " ; my " Rutherford " ;
my Catechism on the Benefits of being a Believer; my " Geron-
tius," and Olney and Wesley and kindred hymns. . . .
Since I may any day die in a moment, let me have my
hand on that heavenly shelf for a few minutes every day,
and especially every night, lest the cock crow in my case
suddenly.' This desire was fulfilled. He was surrounded
to the last with his cherished books, and ' Goodwin '
was bound in morocco.
His power was fully recognised at once : he had
a brief and brilliant ministry in Glasgow, but
soon accepted a call from St. George's Free Church,

318 PRINCES OF THE CHURCH
Edinburgh, to a colleagueship with Dr. Candlish.
Candlish died in a very few years, and Whyte was
left alone with the charge of the largest and most
influential congregation of his Church.

in
Thus began one of the most memorable and
wonderful ministries of which we have any record.
I might well fill a volume with an account of his
activities. He was a great centre of force, and his
influence told all over his Church. By dint of
genius and unremitting methodical labour he was
able to attain the highest pulpit .standard. He
had strong health, a resolute will, and a conse
crated mind and heart. Perhaps what struck the
listener at first was his intense earnestness. There
was fire in him, and it found its way. At his best
his sermons were wonderful for their pure, true,
genuine eloquence. They made a mighty impres
sion. He had an absorbing belief in the power
of the pulpit. He failed in no activity, but the
pulpit was his throne. Sunday by Sunday he
preached to great crowds from the fulness of his
heart and mind. He also conducted what was
called a prayer meeting, when he spoke for the most
part extempore on vital subjects. He held great
classes for young men and women, and showed the
richness of his culture and the variety of his
interests in a way which enthralled and attracted his
hearers. He always refused, as far as he could,

DR. ALEXANDER WHYTE 319
to take part in ecclesiastical business, but, of
course, his influence told both directly and in
directly. He fascinated the young by the breadth
of his intellectual sympathies, and speedily took
his place at the head of the Edinburgh pulpit.
One of his greatest services was the use he made
of his influence over young ministers. He was
alive and watchful to every sign of promise in
young men. Though he could, and did, criticise
severely, he preferred to encourage. But the
burden of his counsel was always an exhortation
to work, to work harder, to work incessantly, and
to put the claims of the pulpit first. He rose early
to do his own work. For years he wrote out all
his sermons in full. He was convinced that
ministers generally could accomplish far more
than they did because their aim was not high
enough. IV
But on his ministry, generally, I must content
myself with two remarks. It has to be borne in
mind that at the background there was always
that intensity of conviction and feeling which
never fails to be contagious if it is matched with
a character behind it.
As to the theme of his preaching, I have always
thought that his own description was the best.
He said a few years ago that he had received a
message when walking in the Highlands that
urged him to go on in his evangelical strain.

320 . PRINCES OF THE CHURCH
' What seemed to me to be a Divine Voice spoke with
all-commanding power in my conscience, and said to me
as clear as clear could be : " No ! Go on, and flinch not !
Go back and boldly finish the work that has been given
you to do. Speak out and fear not. Make them, at any
cost, to see themselves in God's holy law as in a glass.
Do you that, for no one else will do it. No one else will
so risk his life and his reputation as to do it. And you
have not much of either left to risk. Go home and spend
what is left of your hfe in your appointed task of showing
My people their sin and their need of My Salvation." I
shall never forget the exact spot where that clear com
mand came to me, and where I got fresh authority and
fresh encouragement to finish this part of my work. I
know quite well that some of you think me little short of
a monomaniac about sin. But I am not the first that
has been so thought of and so spoken about. I am in
good company, and I am content to be in it. Yes, you
are quite right in that. For I most profoundly feel that
I have been separated first to the personal experience of
sin and then to the experimental preaching of sin above
and beyond all my contemporaries in the pulpit of our
day. And I think I know why that is so.'
That intense sense of sin never left him. In
fact, if possible, it grew stronger and stronger.
To the same period belongs the following : —
' During a solitary walk along the hillside above the
village of Durinish one day last September, all the way as
I walked I was thinking about my own unceasing and
ever-increasing temptations. Now as God would have it
there had been a whole night of the densest sea-fog from
the Atlantic, and the wet spray stood in millions of
shining gems all over the spiders' webs that were woven
all over the broom and the bracken, and the bushes of
whin, and the bushes of heather. Had I not seen the

DR. ALEXANDER WHYTE 321
scene with my own eyes I could not have believed it. The
whole hillside was absolutely covered from top to bottom
with spiders' webs past all counting up.'
He goes on to say that he thought of the blood
thirsty devil that lay watching for the silly flies
at the hidden heart of every silvery web. The
hillside that Sabbath afternoon was Satanic. ' So
it is,' he said to himself, ' with thousands of Satan's
death-spreading snares in the case of every human
soul.' I make a note on his theory of reading. He was
a genuine bookman, if there was one in Scotland.
The last words he wrote for publication were
advice about reading. A bookman is one who has
derived the intensest pleasure from books. But
Whyte would have said that the true lover of
books nourishes in his reading certain of the
higher tendencies of his nature. He reads with a
constant reference to his own views of life, and the
confirmation, change and enlargement of his
theories of life. He would have said that to read
properly is to read with the highest aim of all —
the expansion of reverence, obedience, and faith.
Whyte was not eager in encouraging young
ministers to write. He thought that they should
confine themselves to writing for the pulpit, and
he himself steadily refused flattering offers from
publishers, and wrote for his first book a com
mentary on the Shorter Catechism. I think he
relaxed somewhat his strictness in these matters,
and, in fact, he was an omnivorous reader himself.
x

322 PRINCES OF THE CHURCH
Reading cannot be made the subject of laws and
regulations, but strong in Whyte's mind was the
motto, ' One thing I do.' The business of his life
was to preach the gospel as he had received it,
but in Scotland men like Stevenson and Barrie
had no more eager friends and admirers than the
great preacher of St. George's, and he could not
help his own delight in fine things. I heard him
read aloud some of the finest of Dante Rossetti's
poems when they had just been published, and his
magnificent library showed his catholicity. He
was not narrow. His books show how far removed
he was from narrowness. Every movement for
liberty in his Church was supported by him,
although he himself did not require any modifica
tion to his creed. At a considerable cost he
supported Robertson Smith, and there were others.
His culture was so wide and so true that it carried
his words into places seldom reached by a Free
Church minister. It was significant that he
received, amidst universal congratulations, the
freedom of the great city to which he gave his life.
His own Church compelled him to accept their
highest honour, the Principalship of the New
College. It should never be forgotten in any
sketch of his life that he had the most material
aid from two colleagues, Dr. Hugh Black and
Dr. John Kelman. Their association with Dr.
Whyte was of the happiest kind, and he had no
greater pleasure than in praising their work. So
great was his influence in Edinburgh that hardly

DR. ALEXANDER WHYTE 323
any one in the city was not touched by it directly
or indirectly. Since Alexander Whyte preached
his first sermon in St. George's from the words,
' Man goeth forth, to his work and to his labour
till the evening,' he faithfully pursued his appointed
path, and he has been gently released at evenfall.
There is one word I should like to add. On
thinking over our long association, it becomes
clear to me that his main characteristic was his
intense humility. He might seem austere, and he
was austere at times. The burden of the world
lay more heavily upon him than it lies on most,
and before men he could at times denounce sin
with terrible emphasis, but his face was often before
God as a fountain of tears. He could not endure
controversies with individuals. If he thought he
had been carried away in some access of passion he
humbled himself to the dust before the man whom
he thought he had wronged. Evangelical humility
is the note of all he preached and wrote. This was
never a base humility. It never passed into a
painful and haunting sense of inferiority. That
feeling is the ruin of true humility, and Whyte,
who was in all ways a just and faithful knight of
God, had none of it. One thing for which he
ardently prayed has been denied him. He longed
with the whole passion of his powerful nature for
a reunited Scottish Church. His death should
lead to a greater visible earnestness in this vital
matter. ' The King's business requireth haste.'

324 PRINCES OF THE CHURCH
What a gift he was to his Church, to his nation !
How wide were the irradiations of faith and love
and hope and repentance that came from his
intense and prayerful life ! And he died as we
should have wished him to die. Literally, he fell
asleep in Jesus.
January 13, 1921.

INDEX

Acton, Lord, 63, 258.
Alexander, William, 266-75.
Alexander, Mrs., 270-1.
Alford, H., 78, 232.
Barnardo, Dr., 217-25.
Beaconsfield, Lord, 12.
Begg, James, 12-15, 194, 235.
Benson, E. W., 134.
Blaikie, W. G.,103.
Bonar, Andrew, 55-61.
Bonar, Horatius, 16-21, 56, 57.
Brown, Baldwin, 9.
Brown, David, 103-10.
Butler, W. Archer, 270.
Butler, Joseph, 26, 80.
Byron, Lady, 306.
Caird, John, 185.
Cairns, John, 86-92, 136, 185.
Chalmers, Thomas, 16, 85, 200,
242.
Church, R. W\, 40-6, 139.
Dale, R. W., 18, 74-84, 144-5, 164,
249, 278.
Dalgairns, Father, 50.
Davidson, A. B., 3, 64, 239, 291.
Dawson, George, 33.
Dods, Marcus, 94, 97, 101, 128,
234-41.
Drummond, Henry, 93-102.
Drummond, James, 147, 278.
Dykes, Oswald, 3, 206.
Edwards, Lewis, 122.
Edwards, T. C, 121-32, 236.
Elmslie, W. G., 1-11.

Evans, Harrington, 21.
Flint, Robert, 285-94.
Foster, John, 43.
Godet, F., 128.
Gratry, Pere, 34.
Hare, Julius, 22.
Holland, Henry Scott, 38.
Home, C. S., 276-84.
Hort, F. J. A., 134-42.
How, W. Walsham, 111-20.
Hughes, H. Price, 157-68.
Hutton, Principal, 226-33.
Hutton, R. H., 150-3, 272, 306-7.
Irving, Edward, 56, 146.
James, J. Angell, 75, 77.
Jowett, Benjamin, 123, 124.
Kingsley, Charles, 305.
Lacordaire, Pere, 36, 151.
Lewis, G. Cornewall, 199.
Liddon, H. P., 34-9.
Lightfoot, J. B., 22-7, 138-9,
142-3.
McCheyne, R. M., 16, 65, 67.
Macdonald, George, 2, 210, 306.
MacEwen, A. R., 85, 88.
Maclaren, Alexander, 144, 176,
242-55.
Maclaren, Ian (see Watson, John).
Macleod, Norman, 200, 272.
Magee, W. C, 141.

326

PRINCES OF THE CHURCH

Martineau, James, 147-56.
Matheson, George, 183-191.
Maurice, F. D., 70, 123, 128, 141.
Miall, Edward, 228.
Minto, William, 63.
Moncreiff, Sir Henry, 199.
Moody, D. L., 79, 97-
Newman, J. H., 28-33, 258-60,
269.
Parker, Joseph, 169-82, 295.
Parker, Theodore, 306-7.
Pater, Walter, 131.
Patmore, Coventry, 300.
Pattison, Mark, 62, 123, 124.
Rainy, R., 176, 192-203.
Rickards, Samuel, 42.
Robertson, Frederick, 304-12.
Rogers, Henry, 76.

Scott, Thomas, 30.
Smith, W. Robertson, 2, 62-73,
235.
Spurgeon, C. H., 47-54, 129, 221,
295, 298.
Stalker, James, 191.
Stanley, A. P., 274.
Stanton, Father, 296-312.
Upton, C. B., 147.
Vaughan, Herbert (Cardinal),
256-66.
Walker, James, 299, 300.
Watson, John (Ian Maclaren),
204-16.
Westcott, B. F., 133-46, 249.
Whyte, Alexander, 313-24.
Wilson, President Woodrow,
276-7.

Printed in Great Britain by T. and A. Constable Ltd.
at the Edinburgh University Press

19£0