Chapter IV: Part 4

In one of these letters Mr. Baker speaks of his desire to leave St. Paul's Church for some other field of labor. Nevertheless, he remained there six years out of the eight years of his Protestant ministry. In 1848 he received an invitation to the Church of St. James the Less, a very beautiful and costly, though small church, in the suburbs of Philadelphia, built after the style of the English Benedictine abbey-churches, and fitted up after the manner which delights the Anglo-Catholic heart. This invitation he declined, at the request of his bishop, who was naturally loth to part with him. A proposal was then made that he should found a new parish; and this, I suppose, was the plan afterward carried out at St. Luke's. This plan was postponed from time to time on account of the precarious health of Alfred Baker. Meanwhile, he devoted himself most assiduously to his private religious exercises and to his ministerial labors. I have never known a young clergyman more universally and warmly loved and admired than he was among the people of his communion. He improved sedulously his admirable gifts for preaching, and in a diocese containing a number of excellent preachers, he attained and kept the first rank. His fastidious taste and sense of propriety led him soon to drop the long cassock, and every thing else in outward dress and demeanor which had appeared singular in the first years of his ministry. He avoided controversy and all peculiarities of doctrine in his sermons, and confined himself chiefly to those truths of religion and those practical points which could be received without question by his hearers. Aside from the pastoral intercourse which he had with his people, his life was very retired. He had the ideal of the Catholic priesthood always in view, and this encompassed his discharge of ministerial duties with many practical difficulties. He felt this particularly, as he has often said, in his visits to the sick and dying, on account of the want of the proper sacraments, and the want of a real and recognized sacerdotal relation. {82} He could not help feeling always that while theoretically he regarded himself as a Catholic priest, in point of fact he was but a Protestant minister, compelled to fall back on a system of subjective pietism, based on Lutheran doctrine, to which he had an invincible repugnance, and in which his hands were tied.

Meanwhile events were progressing in the English Church and producing their reflex action in this country. On the one hand, the Oxford movement was still going forward under new leaders, and on the other, the Protestant character of the Anglican Establishment and its American colony was exhibiting itself every day more and more decisively. The first great wave that had rolled toward Catholicity had cast up those who were foremost on its crest on the Rock of Peter. Another wave was rolling forward in the same direction, which was destined to bear on its summit still more of those who floated on the great sea of doubt and error to the same secure refuge. The first converts were given up to obloquy, and their influence in every possible way lowered or destroyed, by belittling their character, if that was possible, or, if not, by inventing specious reasons to show that the course they had taken was the result of some personal idiosyncrasy, and not the just consequence of their Catholic principles. It was stoutly asserted that the movement was not responsible for them, and that it did not of itself lead to Rome. It began again afresh with new men, new books, new projects. Again there was an advanced party; and in due time this advanced party began to move Romeward, denying as before that it would ever actually arrive at Rome. Nevertheless, many of its members, some of very high character and position, did eventually follow the earlier converts over to the Catholic Church. Others, especially those who were in stations of dignity and authority, began to recoil and retract, and call back their followers to the safer ground of the old High Church. {83} In this country there was a sad lack of earnestness and reality on the part of the majority of those who had yielded themselves to Oxford influences, and these influences were but faintly felt by the laity. Mr. Baker was, however, deeply and sadly in earnest. He had schooled himself into submission to his _soi-disant_ Church and bishop, and resolutely determined to believe that he could think, act, and live up to Catholic doctrines and laws where he was. He had thrown himself anew into Anglicanism, putting faith in its new leaders and the old ones who remained, and confiding in the reality and success of their efforts. Long and wearily he struggled to hold out in this course, in spite of the daily increasing evidence that it was delusive and hopeless. For long years he was tossed backward and forward on the waves of doubt and uncertainty, sometimes almost gaining a foothold on the Rock, and then dashed again backward into the sea.

Most persons, whether they are Catholics or Protestants, will wonder that Mr. Baker, having approached at first, by almost a single bound, so near the very threshold of the Catholic Church, should have waited and hesitated so long before taking the final step over its border. Those who have not felt it can hardly understand the strong spell by which the system so ably advocated by the Oxford divines captivated many minds. To those who were deeply imbued with certain Catholic prepossessions, and yet not emancipated from the old hereditary prejudice against the Roman Church, it offered a compromise which allowed them to cherish their prepossessions and yet remain in the reformed Church, where they were at home and among their friends, and free to select some and reject other Catholic doctrines and usages, according to their own private judgment and taste. It pretended to give them "a Catholicity more Catholic, and an antiquity more ancient" than those of the ancient, universal mother and mistress of churches herself. {84} Once seduced by this specious pretence, there was no end to the ingenious arguments, wire-drawn distinctions, fine-spun theories, and plausible special pleading by which they were detained under its influence. The theory has infinite variations, and a flexibility which accommodates itself to every form of doctrine, from the lowest tolerated in the Episcopal ministry to the highest advocated in the _Union Review_. This influence on the mind and conscience is a very injurious one, and tends to disable them from reasoning and deciding, in a plain and direct manner, on broad and general principles. Mr. Baker became aware of this afterward, and regretted that he had permitted himself to be swayed so much by the authority of others instead of following the dictates of his own judgment and conscience. It is impossible for me to say whether he was dilatory in following the inspirations of divine grace or not. No one but God can certainly judge how much time is necessary in any individual case for the full maturing of the convictions into a distinct and undoubting faith. One thing I can assert, however, with confidence, and I believe that every one who reads the ensuing extracts from Mr. Baker's letters will share the same conviction: that he never deliberately quenched the light of the Divine Spirit, or refused to follow it from any worldly and unworthy motives. He sought for wisdom by study, prayer, and a pure life, and although he was slow in arriving at a full determination, yet he made a continual progress toward it; and when he reached it, he did not shrink from any sacrifice which obedience to God and his conscience required of him.

In a letter under the date of June 4, 1849, after speaking of the probability of his leaving St. Paul's, and the uncertainty he was in in regard to his future plans, which were interfered with by the ill-health of his brother, he thus writes:

{85}

"I missed you at the Convention; indeed, there are several
reasons why I did not enjoy myself at that time. It seemed to
me that there were but one or two with whom I had any real
sympathy. There was very little done. The bishop could not be
present on account of indisposition. K. read the bishop's
charge. It was able, but _thoroughly_ and _strongly_
Protestant. The position it took was perfectly unequivocal; and
it places certain people, whose position before was
sufficiently uncomfortable, in a most painful predicament. He
shuts us up to the very sense of the Articles and Prayer-Book,
_as understood by the Reformers;_ and tells those who
cannot submit to this, who are willing not to _contradict_
that sense, but do not _believe_ it, he tells them very
plainly that they are obliged to leave a ministry for which
they are no longer competent. The charge convinces me either
that we have heretofore misunderstood the bishop, or that he
has fixed himself upon a new platform. He now makes the
Protestant element in our Church's teaching (which is certainly
the most prominent one in her history) the most authoritative
and controlling. It appears to me that he might as well have
said at once that the Church of England was _founded_ at
the Reformation. May God teach us what we ought to do."

I have been told by Mr. Baker that the bishop, on some occasion, sent him his charge to look over, with the request that he would read it for him at the Convention, and that he declined reading it, on account of his strong objection to the doctrine it contained. I suppose that this must have been the charge in question. I find no other letter from this date until January 9, 1850, under which date he writes at length, and begins to unbosom himself more freely than he had done before:

"There was something in your last letter which was particularly
refreshing to me. It seemed like old times, and brought an
assurance of sympathy when I had begun deeply to feel the want
of it. You say that my letter was not so full or like myself as
some others. There was a reason why it was not so, and the same
reason has delayed the answer to your last kind favor.
{86}
I have had many painful and distressing thoughts, which I
hardly knew how to express to any one; and it seemed a wrong
and cruelty to grieve one's friends when every catholic-minded
brother had so much to bear on his own account. Now that I have
decided upon the course I will take, I can write more calmly,
and with less risk of perplexing others. You will guess the
cause of anxiety. My conviction of the truth and holiness of
Catholic doctrines has not diminished since I saw you; my
apprehension of what I hold is firmer and more distinct; my
prejudice against some things which the Roman Church holds as
catholic truths, but which we deny, has been shaken; and while
this was enough to make my present position in some respects
uncomfortable, the longing for a fuller measure of catholic
privileges, the want of sympathy, the uncertainty, dissension,
and mutability among us, and the awful greatness of the claims
and promises of Rome, made me willing to entertain the thought
of changing my ecclesiastical relations. On looking back upon
this state of feeling, there was much that was wrong. I felt in
many ways the results of past unfaithfulness; I was confused
and perplexed; I was doubtful of my own sincerity. Sometimes
every thing seemed uncertain to me. But whatever were the
causes, and whatever the characteristics of my state of mind, I
felt, upon a careful examination of myself that the only proper
course for me to pursue was to institute a candid and diligent
search into the claims of the Roman Church to be _the_
Holy Catholic Church. All her claims seem to resolve themselves
into that of the supremacy of the See of St. Peter, and I
accordingly resolved to confine my investigations to that
point. I communicated my determination to the bishop last week,
and asked him whether I could continue to officiate while I was
engaged in such a course. He thought I could and ought, and
offered me every assistance in his power, in the way of books,
advice, etc. He was wonderfully kind and forbearing, but firm
in assuring me that investigation of the point would but end in
conviction of the untenableness of the Roman claim.
{87}
I have felt calmer since I acted thus, and propose to enter
forthwith upon the study of this question, keeping it as clear
as I can of exterior matters, and pushing it, if I may, to a
decision. I need not, I know, ask of you the charity to
continue your prayers for the Divine blessing and guidance to
your perplexed friend."

"_Tuesday Night_.
"You will understand, from what I have been telling you of the
thoughts which have occupied my mind for some time past, how
the various events in the Church during the last few months
have affected me. With regard to ----'s departure, I confess it
was the deepest grief to me, and, in connection with other
circumstances, did much to distress and unsettle me. It is one
of the most afflicting things about the present controversies,
these separations between friend and friend, between master and
disciple; yet I know that even this is to be borne meekly and
obediently, if we cannot see it to be our _imperative
duty_ to follow those we have loved and lost; and now that I
have undertaken in a rational way to satisfy myself on this
point I can think more calmly of our isolation and bereavement.
To return to more Protestant ground (I know that it does not
suit unlearned people to say what they will do, but) I feel is
impossible. My conviction of the truth of the system (in
opposing and barking at which Protestantism has its life and
occupation) continually increases; but I think I feel that if I
could be persuaded that the Divine Will made it to be my duty
to remain where I am, I could submit to all the difficulties
and privations of our position uncomplainingly and even
cheerfully.

"Bishop Ives's movement, so far as it was intended to introduce
the general practice of auricular confession, had my
unrestrained sympathy. How far he meant to go in asserting its
_necessity_, I confess myself unable to determine; but
anyhow, I think he went farther than Protestant Episcopalianism
will bear him out in going.
{88}
It was an infinite relief to me when he came out as boldly as
he did; and now that he has presented the subject anew to the
Church, I feel assured that the Church will be obliged to meet
the question. I confess I do not feel very hopeful as to the
issue of the controversy, for it seems to me that nothing short
of a miracle could dispose the mass of our people to the
practice of confession. The High Churchmen will be as opposed
to it as the Low Churchmen. Maryland will kick as much as Ohio.
But _nous verrons_."

Some time after the date of this letter, Mr. Baker made a voyage to Bermuda with his brother Alfred, who was now in a deep and hopeless decline. He returned some time in the early part of the ensuing summer. One day, either a little before or a little after this voyage, I accidentally met him as I was out walking. I had returned once more to Baltimore, and was making my novitiate at the House attached to St. Alphonsus' Church. It was now nearly five years since I had seen my former friend, and three since I had received any letters from him. I was startled and pleased at our unexpected rencontre, and at the light of friendship which I saw in his face and eyes; but the pain of being separated from him was renewed. Mr. Lyman came to see me, one day, during the spring of 1850; and was much more frank and cordial in his manner than Mr. Baker, who kept a close vail of reserve over his heart until the last. I inquired of him particularly about Mr. Baker, whether he had made any retrograde movement, &c. He replied that he had rather advanced, and had become more spiritual in his preaching, advised me to visit him, and on my objecting to this on the ground that a visit might be intrusive and unwelcome, assured me of the contrary. It was through his influence that some degree of intercourse was from this time re-established between Mr. Baker and myself. A subsequent letter of Mr. Baker speaks of his visiting me, and also describes his visit to Bermuda in the following terms. The letter is dated October 24, 1850:--

{89}

"On my return from Bermuda, I found your kind and interesting
letter, and felt grateful to you for the friendship which you
have now continued to me for several years. I am sorry not to
have seen you when you were in Baltimore, and in fact that was
the only regret I felt on account of my absence from home at
the time of the Convention. The Convention itself I have ceased
to look forward to with any pleasure. The truth is, it always
saddens me to mingle at all with the clergy promiscuously. I
feel that there is so little sympathy between us, that the
sense of loneliness is forced upon me more distinctly than when
I keep to myself altogether. But I do not mean to write
gloomily to a friend with whom I communicate so seldom, and
indeed I do not _complain_ of the want of sympathy which I
feel, or blame others for it. I know that the cause of it is in
myself, and I acknowledge with gratitude the great degree of
indulgence, kindness, and forbearance with which I have been
universally treated.

"I have felt happier lately, though I do not know why I should,
for I cannot say that I have gained a satisfactory position;
and when I think of dying, anxious thoughts come across me; but
I have been pursuing (as my occupation allows me) my
investigations into the question of the supremacy, and I wish
to abide by the result, without being swayed by feeling one way
or another. I have read Newman's Discourses since I received
your letter. They are like all that he writes, thoughtful,
earnest, holy, and deeply impressive; but I think they differ
from his Parochial Sermons in having the appearance of more
excited feeling, and in being more affectionate in their tone.
He seems to write under a pressing anxiety to influence those
he addresses, and he opens his heart more than he did of old. I
think this accounts in part for an objection which I have heard
brought against them, that they are not so strictly logical.
{90}
He seems to me possessed with that proselyting spirit which has
always appeared to me to be so divine a token about the Church
of Rome, as if the constant reflection of his mind was, 'What
shall it profit a man if he shall gain the whole world, and
lose his own soul?'

"I was deeply interested in the account of your visit to H. I
too saw H., but only for a moment. We met on the road, and he
stopped most kindly, and we had a minute's conversation. Of
course there was nothing but commonplace. I know not how he
felt, but I felt very sad.

"You may imagine that I have looked with no little interest at
the progress of ecclesiastical affairs in England. The
secessions lately have made a tremendous excitement--more so, I
really think, than those in 1845, perhaps on account of the
'present distress.'

"I have not much of interest to tell you about Bermuda. You
know it is an English colony, and I saw there for the first
time the workings of the English Church. In every thing except
the Morning and Evening Prayer, I think we have the advantage,
particularly excepting the latter. The clergy I found a
hard-working set of men, frank and cordial, and very much
interested and well informed in matters relating to our Church.
The churches are very plain, but have a quiet, grave, soothing
air about them, the clergy mostly 'High Church,' but not after
our sort, and the people seemed to me to be almost entirely
devoid of a Church tone and spirit, though not irreligious.
Dissent is very rife, and, I fancy, influences even members of
the Church. They have a noble-hearted bishop, Bishop Field,
austere, self-denying, devout, hard-working, and charitable,
and by his assistance they are building a very handsome church
on the island; but I found that he was not popular, that even
his mode of life was objected to: he was called a
_Puseyite_. I did not preach while I was there, but I
assisted several of the clergy at the services, and once at the
holy communion, in which I found the omission of 'the oblation'
to have a most painful effect upon my feelings.

{91}

"I was very glad to get so full and gratifying account of your
church. I do indeed congratulate you on its completion. I think
you have done wonders, with so many difficulties, to succeed in
so short a time, and I sincerely hope that you may find your
zeal and labor repaid by an increase of your congregation, and
of true devotion and earnestness among them. From your
description of the church I thought it must be a very
magnificent edifice, quite beyond York Minster and churches of
that size; and to see so famous a building, and still more to
see the kind, warm friend who ministers within it, would be so
great a pleasure, that you must not be surprised if some old
friends should some time make a pilgrimage there."

"_January_ 27, 1851.
"I often feel what a relief it would be to open one's heart,
and to have the sympathy and counsel of a friend who can
understand one's views and feelings. But it is impossible to do
so by letter, because one shrinks from coolly writing down
one's thoughts, which would be expressed without effort in the
warmth and freedom of conversation. Since the receipt of your
letter I saw H. I had determined not to seek him, but about the
beginning of this month he called on me. He was kind, but the
visit was not agreeable: it was _awkward_. I returned his
visit last week, and enjoyed being in his society. I talked
with him as guardedly as I could while using any degree of
frankness and cordiality. I could not consent to postpone my
visit to him, as I had reason to believe that his coming to see
me was providential, to assist me in the matter in which I am
laboring, viz., to ascertain the Catholic Church. I asked him
several questions concerning the Papal supremacy, which he
answered very readily and with great ability.
{92}
He gave me some assistance in pursuing my inquiries, and I
promised to see him again before long. I came away feeling
better for having been with him, and with a heavy conviction on
my mind how little share I had in the blessing of the pure in
heart.

"I find very little time to study. The duties which devolve
upon me take so much of my attention, that I could find it in
my heart to throw them up, were I not advised otherwise by the
bishop. Besides, I know that it is only by humility and
obedience and fidelity that we can arrive at the truth. O
Dwight! again I ask your prayers in my behalf, especially for
earnestness in seeking the truth, to make the holy vow, 'I will
not climb up into my bed, nor suffer my eyelids to take any
rest, until' I have an obedient spirit to obey God's will,
_directly_ it is made known.

"The course of Church matters is to me increasingly
unsatisfactory. The anti-Papal movement has placed the Church
of England on decidedly worse ground, if indeed it has not
bound her to that decision, on rejecting which her Catholicity
seems to be suspended. I do think that, after all that has
happened, for bishops and people to be crying up the royal
supremacy looks like accepting that supremacy to the full
extent to which it has lately been claimed. What did you think
of Mr. Bennett's course? To say the truth, I was not satisfied
with his letters, though I felt a sympathy with the man. Pray
can you tell me what ground there is for the assertion that
Archdeacon Manning and Mr. Dodsworth have resigned and are on
their way to Jerusalem?"

* * * * *

Some time after this, Mr. Baker was appointed rector of the new parish of St. Luke's, where he remained until he gave up the Protestant ministry, that is, for about two years. During his rectorship he removed to a pleasant residence near the site of the church, and employed himself in building a tasteful Gothic church, which he proposed to finish and decorate in accordance with his own idea of ecclesiastical propriety. {93} It was only partially completed at the time he left it. His next letter to Mr. Lyman, who was now progressing rapidly toward the Catholic Church, and urging forward his slower footsteps, is dated

"_Tuesday in Holy Week, April_ 15, 1851.
"I read your letter with a great deal of emotion, and was
prompted to sit down and say a word in reply immediately; but
as I have gone to St. Luke's, there were some duties devolving
upon me which took up my time more than is usual with me. You
may be assured of my sympathy in much that you feel and
express. I do think that the statements of Allies's book are of
a kind which ought to make a profound impression upon us, and
which ought to modify very much the feelings with which we have
been taught to regard the Roman communion; and I _do_
think honestly that our Church is at present in a miserable
condition, and that no good can come of denying it. As you say,
it becomes at such a time a very solemn question, in view of
eternity, _what we ought to do_. My dear Dwight, I think I
am sincere when I say that to me the way of duty seems to take
pains and make such an investigation as I can into the question
upon which the claim of _authority_ rests, and to abide by
the result: meanwhile to live in prayer and upon such catholic
truth as we are permitted to hold, imploring God to take pity
upon us, and to look upon his distracted people. H. recommended
me a treatise on the supremacy by the brothers Ballerini, but I
find that I do not read Latin with such facility as to reap the
full benefit of the perusal of such a work at present. I have
therefore taken up Kenrick on the Primacy. With regard to my
duties as a minister, I have thought it right to be directed
from without, and I was passive in accepting St. Luke's, which
was strongly urged upon me. Surely we may hope that if we
faithfully and devoutly, and in a spirit of humility and
obedience, work with our intention constantly directed to God's
glory and the salvation of souls, He will bless and guide us.
{94}
It was a comfort to me to think you remembered me and my
difficulties in your Lenten exercises, and I assure you that
you have been constantly remembered by your perplexed friend. I
feel afraid of myself and of my own heart--afraid of taking a
wrong step, afraid on account of my past sins, afraid when I
look forward to the judgment of our dear Lord; and you may be
sure that I find prayer my greatest comfort, the belief in the
intercession of our Blessed Mother and the saints in heaven, as
well as in the value of the supplications of Christians on
earth, a source of real strength. Pray for me, my dear friend,
that I may be enabled sincerely to appeal to God and say that
His Church is the first object of my heart, and that I may be
diligent and studious and obedient to His grace and to
conscience.

"I see the English papers constantly, and they are full of
interest. We know not what is before us; these are
heart-stirring times, and we can but adore the counsel of God
by which we were born in them, and anxiously seek to take the
right course amid so many perplexities. I have recently read
Dr. Pusey's letter to the Bishop of London. It is a very able
letter, and one calculated to rouse the feelings of the
Catholic-minded men in England. I confess it made me feel more
hopeful.

"If it is _our duty_ to remain where we are, it is a noble
thing to be called to labor amid so many discouragements, and,
surrounded by temptations, to keep the Catholic Faith whole and
inviolate! Every day I feel a stronger repugnance to
Protestantism, and a determination by God's help to carry out
my principles consistently; but with regard to the Roman
Catholic Church, I do not see how intellectually it can
dispense with the theory of development, and I feel a strong
suspicion of that theory. I went to see H. again, but he was in
New York, and will not be back until after Easter.

{95}

"I feel that I am in a difficult and dangerous situation, but I
have the comfort of knowing that I have the advice of the
bishop to do as I am doing; and if I can be sure of God's
blessing, by watchfulness and strictness and faithfulness I may
yet be happy. I have written confidentially, and all about
myself, but you will forgive me. The bell rings for prayers.
Good-by."

"_August_ 4, 1851.
"You will be anxious to know the impression made upon my mind
by what I have been reading on the Roman Catholic question. On
the whole, many difficulties that lay in the way have been
removed, and the claims of the Roman See appear far more
strongly supported by antiquity than I had ever dreamed of
before. Kenrick's is, I think, a very strong book, although it
has a very apologetic air; yet there was a great deal in it
which seemed to me very forcible. But the book which made
altogether the most decided impression on my mind was 'The
Unity of the Episcopate.' The _principle_ of unity was
there unfolded in a way that was new to me, and which I think
does away with a whole class of passages (and they the
strongest) which are usually alleged against the Papacy.

* * * * *

"I find my greatest want to be the want of earnestness and a
spiritual mind. My dear Dwight, this is not cant. I want you to
pray that God would not take his Holy Spirit from me. I desire
above all things to be a Catholic, and I am resolved by God's
help not to give up the present investigation until I am
satisfied about my duty, which at present I am not, but very,
very much harassed and perplexed. May God in his good time
grant us both to see clearly the way we ought to take. I saw H.
a few weeks ago, and had a pleasant interview. He thinks it
possible that he will leave Baltimore in September. I have
sometimes felt lately as if a _decision_ of the great
question was not far off. Oh, that it may be a wise and true
decision!"

{96}

A few weeks after writing this letter, Mr. Baker came very near making a decision to give up his ministry and place himself under the instruction of a Catholic priest. His conviction was not yet fully matured, or his doubts quite removed, and the wisest course would have been for him to have gone into a complete retirement for a while, in order to complete his studies, and allow his mind and conscience time to ripen into a decision. He communicated his state of mind to the bishop, and was so far overruled by him as to consent to wait a while longer, and postpone his decision. He informs his friend of all that took place at this crisis, in a long and deeply interesting letter of thirteen pages, from which I shall only make a few extracts. It is dated November 11, 1851, and is full of affection, of sadness, and of the tremulous breathings of a sensitive, delicate conscience, deeply troubled by anxiety and fear, almost ready to seek repose in the bosom of the Church, but driven back by doubt to struggle yet longer with adverse winds.

He says at the beginning of his letter:

"First let me thank you again for your expressions of kindness
and affection. I assure you I thank you for them, and feel that
they, together with the friendship which has lasted so long,
give you a claim on my confidence and love. Nor have I been
unmindful of the claim, for I have constantly thought of you,
and often invoked God's aid in your behalf; and if I have not
written often, it is because I am myself in great perplexity,
and feel the responsibility which attaches to every word,
uttered at a time like this, on subjects which concern the
salvation of ourselves and others also. This was my feeling
when I last wrote. I felt as if I wanted a little
_recollection_ before I could write as I wished on some
points; and as I was then much occupied, I deferred writing
fully until some other time. However, your letter to-day
demands an immediate answer, and I proceed to give you an
answer to your inquiries, and a faithful transcript of my
feelings, and pray God that you may receive no injury from one
who would do you good."

{97}

He states the result of his studies quite at length, summing it up in these words, which I quote as an accurate index of the degree of conviction he had at that time reached:

"The result of my thought and reading last summer was to
strengthen my impression that the claims of the Roman Catholic
Church on the obedience of all Christians are divine. I cannot
say I felt perfectly assured."

After describing his interview with the bishop, and informing his friend that he had consented to _wait_, he says:

"I think I agreed to this from the fear of offending God, and
from that alone. As to the frown of the world, I do not think
it decided me, for I had looked the consequences of the act
full in the face, and had accepted them. I was the more ready
to wait, because I could not say _I had no doubt_ of the
propriety of secession."

The sequel of the letter and of its writer's history shows that this doubt was not a rational doubt, but a morbid irresolution and timidity of mind, which ought to have been disregarded. Consequently, in giving way to it, he simply fell back into a state in which he had just to go over again the same ground, and this discouraged and disheartened him, as he frankly acknowledges.

"I felt a sense of relief, partly, I believe, from having
opened my mind, and partly, I suspect, at finding that the
sacrifice to which I had looked forward was not then demanded.
But when I considered the matter, I saw that I was just where I
was before, with the whole question before me and resting on my
decision. From week to week I have been willing to postpone
looking my position in the face, seeking to excuse myself to my
conscience by the plea of the many unavoidable demands on my
time and thoughts which a new parish and a church just
commenced seem to make; although I feel that the danger of such
a course is that I may sink into a worldly, indifferent thing,
seeking in the praise of men a reward for my treachery to God.
{98}
I have seen H. but once since I saw the bishop. The visit was
more constrained, because I felt I ought not to betray my
feelings; indeed, I would not go to see H. unless I were afraid
of resisting some design which God may have formed for
me--because the intercourse has not been of my seeking, and
this appearance of deceit and double-dealing is dreadful to me,
and makes me feel as if I were guilty.

"I have not read any thing since my interview with the bishop.
My plan is to wait and seriously consider what I ought to do. I
need not tell you I am not happy. I am free from many of the
annoyances which distress you, as I read no R. C. papers, and
scarcely any of our own, and have no associate. I strive to
live by the rule recommended by Dr. Pusey, and am almost as
much isolated from Protestants as if there were none in our
communion. I believe most firmly in the Sacrifice of the Mass,
in the Real Presence, in the Veneration of Relics, in the
Mediation of the Saints, and especially of St. Mary. I
constantly beseech God to hear her supplications in my behalf,
and only do not invoke her because I am not sure of the
authority for doing so. I believe also in Purgatory. My
difficulties are on the subject of Church authority and the
Supremacy. My sympathy in doctrine, my reverence for the holy
men who have gone out from us, _my strong prepossessions in
favor of the Roman Catholic Church, which have never left me at
any period of my life_, and the distress among us, all draw
me to Rome; but the single question I ask myself (or strive to
do so) is, whether any of these things ought to decide me, and
whether the point of inquiry ought not to be--What is the
Church? Partly on account of my position, and partly, dear
Dwight, on account of grave deficiencies and sins in myself, I
feel that I am full of inconsistencies, contradictions,
apparent insincerities (perhaps real), presumptuous and fearful
at the same time, tossed with tempest, and not comforted, not
fully persuaded in my own mind, and not bending all my energies
to become so.
{99}
And now, my dear Dwight, I have only opened my heart to you,
without at all thinking of the effect it would have upon you.
Simply seeking, as in duty bound, to deal with you as a friend,
I have let you somewhat into my heart--only somewhat, for I
deeply feel that to a full understanding of my state of
feeling, even in reference to this subject, it would be needful
that I should kneel down and humbly confess (as it would be a
comfort to do) all the many offenses in word and deed of a
sinful and tangled life. I have humbled myself before you. I
know not how it shall be hereafter between us, how differently
you may soon look upon me from what you have been used to do;
but, wherever you are, think of me as a sinner and a penitent,
and as one who desires and needs your prayers.

* * * * *

"And now, my dear friend, I do not think of any thing else
which I ought to say to you, but to reciprocate the earnest
hope and the conviction that you express, that God Almighty may
enable us _together_ to have an abode here in that Ark
which He has set up as the place of safety and peace in a lost
world, and may give us _together_ an entrance into His
Presence forever. May He of His undeserved mercy grant it."

During the winter of 1851 and 1852, Mr. Baker was very much occupied with church-building, and also with the cares and anxieties of illness and death in his family, and his attention was thus drawn away in a measure from himself and from the question of the Church.

His next letter of interest was written in May, 1852, communicating the intelligence of the death of his aunt and of his brother:

"I have no doubt that you have thought your kind and patient
letter deserved an earlier answer, but I have been greatly and
particularly occupied ever since I received it When it came,
Aunt E. was very ill, and our anxiety about her continued to
increase until she was taken from us on the 31st of January.
{100}
Immediately after, dear Alfred began to decline rapidly, and
after an interval of some weeks of great suffering on his part,
and of watching and sadness on ours, he too was taken on the
9th of April (Good Friday). You, who knew them both, and knew
what place they held in our hearts, can imagine the greatness
of the bereavement, and the depth of our suffering. God has
supported us mercifully, and I heartily thank Him that I have
so great a solace in thinking of the character of our dear
departed ones; and it is at such times that I feel the
consolatory nature of the doctrine of the communion of saints,
and the comfort of the practice of praying for the dead. To
you, who know so much of my feelings, I will not deny that the
uncertainty which rests upon the question of the Church has
disturbed the fixedness of my hope and faith during this
sorrowful winter, but I have not been able to advance in its
investigation. I now propose to resume my studies as regularly
and as perseveringly as my duties will permit. You are much and
often in my thoughts, and often do I wish that I could do by
you the part of a faithful friend. You always have a part in my
prayers, and it would be to me a great happiness to have the
assurance one day that my friendship has not been without some
benefit to you. I assure you I prize it, and I feel more
strongly that I have more in common with you than with anyone
else with whom I communicate. I have not the heart nor indeed
the time to write more."

"_September_ 15, 1852.
"I came away from Columbia with many pleasant, affectionate
thoughts about you, and grateful recollections of your
kindness, and you have often been in my mind since my return.
You will be glad to learn that my little jaunt was of decided
service to me. I have been improving in health ever since my
return, and now feel quite well. I suppose by this time you
have been on to the North and have returned, and, like myself,
are now quietly settled down to your duties.
{101}
I found my sisters much benefited by their trip to the
sea-shore, and our little household has again resumed its
accustomed habits. I need not tell you, dear Dwight, how glad I
shall be if you will consent to come on now and pay your
promised visit. You might come at the beginning of the week,
and I would go and take your Sunday duties (choose a Sunday
when service is all day at Columbia), and then I would return
on Monday to be with you at home another week. I cannot promise
to do you good, but I can offer you, at least, what you will
not receive elsewhere, true and affectionate sympathy. I do
most deeply feel for you in your anxieties, and in much, in
_very_ much, I feel with you. I felt when I was with you,
my dear friend (now my only friend), as if the difference
between us was this: that you had really come to _a
conclusion_, while I was still of a fearful and divided
mind. I felt as if there was something dishonorable and
disgraceful in such a state of indecision, while there was an
appearance of manliness in your boldness and determination, and
I was ashamed of myself. Besides, I found myself sometimes
taking the anti-Roman side in argument with you, and then I was
vexed with myself for doing what I did nowhere else, and what I
could not do heartily anywhere, and I seemed to myself
insincere. I do not know whether you can understand me, but I
want you to understand my feelings; for I do not want you to
think I _am_ insincere, and I felt so much obliged to you
when you told me that you said to H. that you did not think me
so. I believe uncertainty often carries the appearance of
insincerity; and uncertain I own myself to be, full of sadness,
full of doubt. O Dwight, what is there in such a situation to
make one remain in it, if one could conscientiously leave it?
What could hinder me from being a Roman Catholic but for the
fear of doing wrong? I assure you, that as regards this world I
have not a hope or desire, and there is nothing earthly which I
could not part with this night.
{102}
Nothing seems to me worth living for but the knowledge of the
truth and the love of God; and that position in which I feel I
should be the happiest would be where I should be
_certain_ what was truth, and could live a life hidden
from the world with God. I feel concerned at finding myself
writing so much about myself, and in such a strain; but I
think, in reading over the letter, you will understand how I
came to do it, and will pardon it.

"I have been reading lately pretty systematically on the Roman
question. De Maistre and Lacordaire I have finished, and will
return them to you if you wish them. They are both
philosophical rather than theological, and from that fact, as
well as from the _French_ way in which they are written, I
think they will be less influential with persons brought up in
the school with you and me. I thought the remarks of De Maistre
on the temporal power of the Popes not near so forcible as
those in Brownson's Review. Thompson seems to me now, as he did
before, a remarkably cogent and attractive writer. I have not
finished his pamphlet as yet, but feel very much interested in
it. I have procured Balmez, and Newman on Anglicanism, but have
not yet read them. When I was in Philadelphia I saw Mr. ----.
He called on Manning when he was in London, and had a very
interesting interview. M. is about to publish another edition
of his book on the Unity of the Church. I should indeed like to
see it, or any thing else that Came from his hand.

* * * * *

"God bless you, my dear friend; write to me fully and freely as
of old, and be sure of the affection of your friend,
"F. A. B."

{103}

"_Ash Wednesday_, 1853.
* * *
"The general tone of your letter, too, was sad, and that also
fell in with my own feelings, for you may be sure that the
stirring event of the last month has not been without a great
effect on me, agitated as I was before by so many serious
doubts. Well, _another_ has gone, and that the most
eminent of the party with which you and I have been identified,
and you and I remain asking still what we are to do! To me the
question has been of late and is now one of absorbing and
pressing importance, and yet I do not know how to answer it,
and in my perplexity can do nothing but pray--pray, as I have
done most earnestly, for direction from on high; and my
comfort, dear Dwight, is to know that you also pray for me.
What I want is the heart just to stand waiting God's bidding,
and, when that is given, to act without delay or taking counsel
with the flesh. I should so much like to see Bishop Ives's
Reasons, which I suppose will in some way be published.

* * *

I received the first number of a newspaper from New York, the
_Church Journal_ (which is most vociferously anti-Roman).
---- is one of the editors. By the way, ---- is also connected
with this paper, and ----. I felt sorry to think of what a
different spirit they once were; and yet, if the Church of Rome
be not what she claims to be, the position of such men as
Bishop Whittingham is the right one, and ours is untenable.
However, I cannot but own that I have a drawing toward the
Roman Catholic communion so strong that, if I were to be
without it, I should feel as if I were not myself. I have not
thought it right to go by this feeling, but it is very strong,
and I confess I feel _envious_ of Bishop Ives, when I
think of him in his new home--a feeling which I often have in
reference to dear H., whom I loved and reverenced so truly. (By
the way, H., I hear, is either at present in Baltimore, or is
about coming here, to conduct a 'mission' in the Cathedral.) I
often feel afraid, my dear Dwight, in writing on such subjects,
of doing wrong in expressing my feelings and thoughts, and of
doing you harm; but after all, it seems not improper for
friends such as we are to speak without reserve, and perhaps I
have done so too little.

{104}

"I have been reading a good deal lately.

* * *

The articles on Cyprian (by Dr. Nevin) were indeed most
masterly, and seemed to me to express the true doctrine of
antiquity as to the primacy of the Roman See. They have caused
a good deal of speculation on my part. I do not see how the
writer can fail to become a Roman Catholic. I did not tell you
what I thought of Newman's book; it was full of power, many
most capital hits and brilliant passages, and, what is better,
satisfactory explanations of difficulties. The eleventh lecture
seemed to me the least successful, and I own, even after
reading it, the position of the Greek Church, based on a
theological theory not unlike that which is advocated by
Anglo-Catholics, and much the same (as Brownson seems to think)
with that held by many Roman Catholics, does seem to me a
difficulty. Balmez, too, I have proceeded some way with, and am
much interested in.

"I thank you for Brownson very much. I have read the number you
sent me, and it has set me to thinking. His positions are bold
and require some reflection; and though I find in him the
consistent expression of much that I think I always believed,
yet he presents many new ideas to me.

* * *

"Adieu to-night, my dear Dwight. May the blessing of Heaven be
with you."

This was the last of these sad epistles--these outbreathings of a pure and noble, but troubled spirit, enveloped in the obscure night of doubt, and seeking wearily for the light of truth. It was written on the first day of Lent; and when that Lent had passed by, the clouds of mist had lifted from around the soul of Francis Baker, never to return. Before he wrote again to his dear friend, the _coup de-grace_ had been given. The blow was struck suddenly and effectually, and the news of it came unexpectedly, with a startling and almost sunning effect upon his friend, through the following brief and abrupt communication--

{105}

"Baltimore, _April_ 5, 1853.
"My Dear Dwight:--The decision is made: I have resigned my
parish, and am about to place myself under instruction
preparatory to my being received into the Catholic Church. I
can write no more at present. May God help you.
"Your affectionate friend,
"Francis A. Baker."

This letter was followed by another, written three days after, in reply to one from Mr. Lyman.