George Washington Doane.

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f ^ SEP 80 1931




D.D., LL.D.,











346 & 348 BROADWAY.


Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1860, by


In the Clerk's Office of the District Court ofthe United States for the

District of New Jersey.




D.D., LL.D.,



" Ever witness for him
Those twins of learning, that he rais'd, —
And, to add greater honours to his age
Than man could give him, he died, fearing God."


346 & 348 BROADWAY.





OF THE dead;



A WORD or two seems needful, as to the plan adopted in
the pages that follow. When the work of preparing this
Memoir, was first suggested to the Author, he shrunk from
its difficulty ; and only undertook it, upon the advice of those,
whose judgment he is bound to respect. The delicacy of his
own position, the difficulty of the task, the responsibility in-
volved in it, the very large material, to be selected, condensed,
arranged, all these have only grown upon his mind, with the
progress of the book, which has been prepared under personal
sorrows, and sickness, and the added disadvantages of haste,
and a change of home. It was a work, especially demanding
the Horatian rule, to be laid aside, at least, to the ninth month,
that its birth might be after the full time. But this could
not be.

An order has been adopted, in the arrangement of mate-
rials for the Memoir, consulting, rather, principles, than time.
It is hoped that this has not created any chronological con-
fusion. If it has, it is suggested, that our common estimate
of great lives, measures them by their doings, and not by their
years. The mere miles, that measure distance, are lost, in the
absorbing beauty of a landscape ; and a life's milestones, if it
be a great life, are its achievements, and not its age. And
though this method must give an appearance of diffuseness, to
portions of the work, this, too, is natural. There are deeper
currents^ and wider reaches, here and there, in all streams,
except canals. And a great soul, possessed with special aims,
overflows a deeper fulness, upon certain portions of its life,
that are specially consecrated to those aims. It will readily


be seen, that Missions, and Christian- Education, as the two
points most dwelt on, in this Memoir, were the broadest and
the deepest places, in the broad, deep current, of this life. To
bring this out, and to develop the beautiful unity of my
Father's life, I have taken up these points, and traced out,
without interruption, his whole connection with each of them ;
returning, after a review in each case of his whole life, (in one
bearing of it,) to the date, from which the opening of the
subject began. The reader is asked to remember this. The
Appendix, in some degree, but not altogether, relieves the
seeming confusion.

The order of the Poems, as far as possible, is that of time.
Most of the original " Songs by the Way" are. reprinted; and
as many are added, as could be, with a proper regard, to the
sacredness of personal affection.

The order proposed for the Sermons, combines subjects,
and time. Under the head of Episcopal Sermons, are in-
cluded many preached, parochially. But my Father wrote
no sermons, for his visitations, except in cases of Institution,
Ordination, or some special service of that sort. His confir-
mation sermons, and those ordinarily preached at visit-
ations, were written for his own people of St. Mary's. A few
of these visitation sermons are included. The Baccalaureate
addresses, and the addresses to the graduating classes of St.
Mary's Hall, are reserved for the fifth volume.

To the many friends of my Father's, whose tributes to his
blessed memory adorn these pages, the Author personally owes
a most pleasing debt, of grateful affection. To the Rev. Dr.
Mahan, w^ho was for many years my Father's most trusted
and beloved counsellor and friend, the Author gladly acknowl-
edges his obligations, for suggestions and services that have
been invaluable to him, as well as for the graceful words, that
introduce this volume. And there are kind hearts and hands,
that have helped on the labour of this writing, whose love is
its own best reward.

Burlington, Jamiary A. D. 1860.




Birth and Early Life — Indications of Character — School and College

— Candidateship, 11


Life in New York — Bishop Hobart — Educational Plans and Work, . 29


Life in Hartford and Boston — Dr. Croswell — Church Press — Missions, 87


Call to New Jersey — Consecration and Episcopate — "Wharton, "Wins-
low AND Ogilby — Monuments — Growth op the Diocese — General
Public Interests, IS*?

English Correspondence — Visit to England, 255


Bishop ; Pastor ; Teacher ; Theologian ; Friend ; Host ; Poet ; Pa-
triot. Letters ; Personal Points, 312


Sermons — Addresses — Charges — Pastoral Letters — Lectures — Cate-
chizing — Prayers — Speeches — Obituaries — Controversies, . . 374
VOL. I. 1




CnuRcn Principlks-Adtanoed Views -Establishment of them-Ex- ^^^

LARGED Sympathies,


.... 4:68

Trials, and Triumph,


. 512
Peace, * *



A BIOGRAPHY of Bishop Doaiie needs little in the way of elab-
orate introduction. The title-page alone is sufficient to commend
it to the favourable attention of a public, which, however divided
in sentiment it may have been as to the religious and ecclesiastical
merits of a distinguished prelate, has always shown itself ready to
appreciate his benevolence and public spirit, to admire his brilliant
talents, to sympathize with his extraordinary trials, and to give his
name a high place among those which are to be handed down to
posterity as honourable representatives of the times in which we
live. Believing this to be the case, it is with unfeigned diffidence
and reluctance, that, in compliance with the fi'iendly urgency of
a beloved brother in Christ, the author of these Memoirs, I have
undertaken to say something by way of preface to his labour of
love. The Life itself is vastly more interesting than any thing
that can be written to commend it. It is the more incumbent,
therefore, in the few words that flow naturally from the pen, to
aim at brevity rather than at any merit proportioned to the dignity
of the subject.

It was about twelve years ago, that a casual remark of one of
the noblest and truest of Christian men, the late Rev. Martin P.
Parks, first opened the mind of the present writer to a knowledge
of one of the grand traits of Bishop Doane's character. Dr.
Parks had been on a visit to Riverside ; had spent several days


there in that chister of busy hives— the Episcopal residence, the
Hall, the College, the Parish Schools, the Church ; returned full
of enthusiasm from his visit, and, urging a brother clergyman to
go and see what he had seen, added the following inducement :
" You will meet," says he, " a man, who does habitually the work
of three or four men, and yet is as light and gay under it, as if ho
had nothing at all to do." This was quite new to me at that time.
My acquaintance with the Bishop had been but slight, and casual ;
extending hardly beyond a knowledge of some of his literary
efforts : those sparks thrown ofi' from the rapid movement of his
mind, the articles in prose or verse, that appeared occasionally
under his signature in one or other of the papers. These ad-
mirable little gems, which are collected in the present volume, I
had taken as an index of the whole man, rather than, as they are,
an index of the mere exuberance of an extraordinarily warm
heart, and fervid imagination. It is true, that wherever a real
worker exists, there is a spring of lively poetic feeling, somewhere
near the spring of action, which occasionally wells up in spite of
all eftbrts to repress it. But in this country, generally, earnest
workers are apt to be grave workers. The weight of responsibility
is laid upon our shoulders at so early a period, and the wear and
tear of life is so continuously going on, that men in serious em-
ployments are liable to have their cares written upon their faces ;
or, if in any case it chances to be otherwise, something of the sort
is at least expected of them. We have a great dread of " fancy
men : " but, in a wholesome dread of " fancy," we are apt to
separate the poetic temperament from the working temperament,
to conceive of strength and beauty as mutually antagonistic, to
attribute grace and buoyancy to mere want of solidity and
strength. It is no discredit to Bishop Doane's memory, though
doubtless it was a source of no little inconvenience to him in life,
that he was peculiarly liable to misapprehension on this score. He
was a Bisho}), and a Poet : two characters, wide as the poles asun-
der in popular imagination, and both of them frequently mis-
understood by contemporaneous judgment. It may be said, that


lie was naturallij a Bishop and a Poet ; intensely both. \Yhatever
prejudices exist against either of those characters he had to bear
in their full brunt. Those who were drawn toward the Bishop
found the way to him entangled with poetic " extravagances " — as
they deemed them : those who would have admired the Poet
found the mitre and the crook staring them in the face. It was
only on more intimate acquaintance, to those wdio saw him at
Riverside, in the centre of his innumerable and fruitful labours?
that the seeming antagonism was fully reconciled ; and it was seen,
that for his two great vocations, feeding the sheep of Christ and
feeding His lambs, the peculiar heartfulness of the Bishop, his
playful and ready fancy, his buoyancy of spirits, his promptness to
, see good in everything and in everybody, his versatihty of mind,
and variety of accomplishments, and, pervading all this, his tremen-
dous power of work, strong will, and indomitable perseverance,
were not in the slightest degree redundant or superfluous, but
were all needed for the burden which divine Providence had given
him to bear.

It has been the writer's privilege, without any more intimate con-
nection wdth the subject of these memoirs than w^ould naturally
arise from sympathy with his work and respect for his character, to
have had many opportunities of observing him in that genial centre
of his labours and home pleasures. The reader will pardon a remi-
niscence, which, trivial as it seems, may serve perhaps better than
more elaborate description, to give an idea of the spirit that reigned
there. The scene is Riverside : the time, the first morning of a
visit to that place. To this the reader may add, in imagination, a
late arrival the night before ; an unceremonious reception ; an even-
ing elongated into morning — as w^as usual in a house which seemed
never to go to bed ; a short interval of repose ; and an awakening
before sunrise : the prayer-bell of St. Mary's and innumerable
singing birds having conspired to murder sleep. It is a dewy
spring morning. Neither the bell nor the birds are disposed to be
quiet yet awhile. We make a virtue therefore of necessity, and
start out of the house for an early glance at its surroundings. The


door is barely reacliecl, when the Bishop, pen in hand, and in full
Avorking gear of study-gown and slippers, sallies out from the
library, and joins us in our excursion. He has evidently just
risen from work, but as cheery and full of spirits as if hearing the
birds sing were the sole business of his life. He does not linger
long, however, in the open air. With a pleasant word or two, and
with an appreciative glance at river, trees, and sky, he plunges
into the library again, from which about breakfast-time he emerges
with a bundle of letters and other papers, that show plainly enough
how the time has been spent there. In this simple outline the
reader has the germ of a day at Riverside. He has the secret of
that wonderful amount of leisure that the Bishop had always at
his disposal, for friends, for casual droppers-in, for social calls, for
parochial visits, for church-going to an extent quite unparalleled
among men of active habits ; for a life, in short, divided and sub-
divided into so many engagements, that it seemed impossible for
any man to do justice to them all. But it was only his time that
was thus divided and subdivided. The man himself was a unit,
never divided or distracted. Whatever he did, whether for
a moment, or for an hour, he did it wholly, with full attention and
full might. For many years past it has been a matter of con-
stantly recurring amusement to the large dinner parties gathered
around the Bishop during the short interval between the morning
and evening sessions of Convention, to be suddenly aroused to a
sense of the lapse of time by seeing his chair at table vacant.
Whenever this appeared, no one was at a loss to know where to
meet him. Repairing to the church, as rapidly as possible, the
company always found him there, in full robes, seated in his place,
and witli the Convention organized, however few might be present,
and going on with business. This promptness, and close attention
to each matter in its time and place, marked all the Bishop did.
The same spirit pervaded the whole of life at Riverside. A visit
there always recalled the meaning of those old salutations " The
Church in thy House " — for Riverside was eminently a church in
a house. To spend a week there was a moral and spiritual tonic.


One left tlie place with renewed faith and hope of the good time
coming, when the kingdom of God and His righteousness shall be
more an object of daily care, and of more engrossing interest, than
the now absorbing business of the mart or the exchange.

These things were most striking, when the home at Riverside
was all sunshine ; when, to add a charm to cheerful and well-
ordered industry, the unceasing labour of love, there was the in-
spiring presence of one now but recently departed to her rest,
whose childlike simplicity of character, buoyancy of spirits, un-
bounded benevolence, and uncalculating self-devotion, made her a
fit companion for Bishop Doane. It pleased God to bring a
shadow over the house, by which half of its hght was eclipsed.
Mrs. Doane, a prey to a malady, which required constant travel
to alleviate her sufferings, was obliged to leave the home she had
so long graced, and finally received the tidings of her husband's
death, and not long after her own summons to meet him, in a for-
eign land. In connection with this subject it deserves to be re-
corded, though it touches on sacred ground, that in the latter
years of his life one of the few things that annoyed the Bishop,
and about which he seemed a little unreasonable, was the custom
in Church papers of prmting *' Episcopal Acts " in small type.
And why ? The reason of his annoyance once partially escaped
him in his remonstrances wdth an editor : it was because the imper
went abroad: namely, it came under the eyes of one, to whom
that little paragraph, ""Episcopal Acts of New Jersey," was the
first and chief object of attraction. Trifles of this kind — if they
can be called trifles — reveal glimpses of that element in the
Bishop's character, which made him in his own family, and to
those who knew him best, not an object of admiration only, but
of the most tender and uuAvavering devotion. To return, how-
ever, to the subject of the opening of this paragraph : though
Riverside suffered one great eclipse, and other • shadows fell
heavily upon it in the latter years of the Bishop's life, its bright-
ness and cheerfulness suffered little apparent diminution. It had
lost much that once enhanced, and seemed almost to constitute, its


light. But with every apparent or real loss, it was seen the more
clearly, that Faith, and Hope, and Charity remained.

Matters of this kind bear chiefly upon the Bishop as a man.
The memoirs that follow, taken in great part from his own innu-
merable writings, have a broader and deeper interest as the life of
a public man : a life, wdiich as if instinctively conscious of its inter-
est to posterity, recorded itself from earliest childhood, and left at
every step its own memorials. It is rare to find a life so thorough-
ly consistent, so true to its own instincts. But to enlarge on sub-
jects of this kind is to go beyond the limits of a mere introduc-
tion : it is to forestall, in some measure, the judgment of the
reader — a thing the less necessary, in this case, as the materials
for forming a correct judgment are so plentifully provided.

M. M.

General Theological Seminary, January 2, 1860.


The history of an age finds often its best record, in tlie life
of one man. In Chnrcli and State, in Csesar and Alfred and
Washington, as well as in Cranmer and Land and Seabmy ;
the living, thinking, working spirit of a generation, stands in-
carnate, before our eyes. They are the foci, in which divergent
rays nnite ; and while we best see, in them, the combined results
of all events of their time ; their characters are the best stand-
point, from which to note the varied means, by which God works
out the orderings of His minute and manifold Providence.
That my father was one of such men, a man whose life is the
history of a most eventful period of the American Church,
larger heads and less loving hearts than mine, have readily
acknowledged, even in his life. First Seabury, and then
Hobart, and then he ; the asserter, the definer, the defender of
the faith ; surely these three names, all in one century, the
representatives of its three generations, are even to our eyes,
and must be more and more plainly, through the receding
vista of years yet to come, the living, thinking, working spirits
of the age ; the incarnations, of God's making, into which He
has breathed the life of this period of the American Church.
To a certain degree, these pages must be looked at in this light.
Yet they do not venture to undertake such a work. The
writer would shrink from it, even more, than from the easier
effort, to portray, with the pencil of intimate and reverential
love, the character of the Individual, the Bishop, Pastor, Teacher,
Poet, Man. And biography, in this historical view of it, must


not be contemporaneous. Another generation must climb,
from our footsteps, still farther heights of time, to get the nn-
confused extent of the great panorama of the past. We, for
onr very nearness, cannot grasp it in our limited horizon. Its
actors, we cannot fairly distinguish, in the dust of the busy
present, and in the inextricable maze of mingled interests, and
combined instruments. Neither of the two great Bishops of
the American Church, who preceded my Father, have risen to
their historic level, or found yet their historian biographer.
Xor does he, in these pages — only they may be the material,
out of which that history can be wrought. Unequal utterly,
they must be. None ever was readier or truer, or more ap-
preciative of other men, than he, in the many notices, he wrote
of their lives and deaths. Who is there, that can do it for him ;
could he have done it, equally, for himself?



George Washington Doane was born in Trenton, 'New
Jersey, May 27 A. D. 1Y99. His father, Jonathan Doane,
was a man of mark in his day, as a master bnilder and con-
tractor. He died in the same year, that his son gradnated,
leaving the homestead miiinished, and most of his hard-earned
livelihood, in an nnsecnred debt, which was never realized.
He was a man of singnlar perseverance and high principle,
commanding and handsome in his appearance, most loving and
devoted in all his home relations, and very proud of his son.
But my Father's strongest points of character are his, through
his Mother. She was a noble woman, heroic, and self-denying ;
full of the wise instincts and great impulses of her nature ;
earnestly religious ; and most careful and affectionate in the
training of her children. Over her deathbed, as his hand lav
upon her breast, and life's last pulse died out, he said to himself,
'' great heart." It was her best description. And his unvary-
ing love, and admiring appreciation of her, have their record
on the grave-cross which he put at her head, " The Bishop of
New Jersey to the best of Mothers." In days when the Church
in America was weak and small, she had a brave woman's loy-
alty to its distinctive features, which moulded, in no small
degree, from early boyhood, the earnest promptness, and the
bold uncompromising energy of character, that made him a
" defensor fidei " in liTe and death. She was one of the women
of the revolution, no whit less heroes, than its men. And she
had with it all, a maiden's modesty, which is the true back-
ground of real courage ; on which it may fall back from the
snares of self-consciousness, or cruelty. This rare union of
modesty and bravery, her son derived from her. Men saw most
of the latter, for modesty becomes immodest by public gazing.
But those who knew him well, remember the quick and ready

12 MEM 01 II.

blush ; * the ahnost humility, with which he undertook a new
gul.)ject, before an untried audience; the unconsciousness with
which he welcomed approval ; and his disavowal of any praise,
for what he thought accidentally successful, in what he did ; his
gestiu-e or his voice. I remember so well, asking him. at din-
ner, on last Washington's birthday, whether his oration before
the Ladies' Mount Yernon Association, which he that moment,
had finished, was " line." He said " that is for you to say."
And when I asked him if he were satisfied with it, his answer
was " I never was, with any thing of my own." And in that
noble oration, in which orator and subject were equally met,
he proved this feature of his own character, by the quick accu-
racy, with which he detected, f and the earnest admiration, with
which he regarded, it, in George A¥ashington. Through his
Mother's blood, and in his Mother's milk, God adorned his soul,
with the glory of courage, and the grace of modesty. It was
the great boulder, carved into a column, with its chapiter of
leaves. And none owned more gratefully and constantly, than
he, the debt he owed to her. I have beside me now, the Bible
and the Prayer Book, w^hich she gave him when he went to
College. Carefully he treasured them, and when she had gone,
touched them with almost veneration. How they are doubly
consecrated now. The Bible is an old and worn book, " hoary
with time." And on the fly-leaf, he had kept these lines, copied
in his boyish hand.


He who the ravens' wants supplies
For all his creatures will provide ;
To Him, I raise my ardent eyes,
hi Him, my trembling lips confide ;
And He, if all my friends were dead,
Would give my boy, his daily bread.

How beautiful the faith of the Mother's love.

His home with her was the house of all home pleasure and
delight. And when he left it at his marriage, his care and devo-
tion to her were unintermitted. His Mother and sisters lived
always near him. He was, every day, in her house. The first
copy of his pamphlets, that went out of his own home, was hers.
The flowers, that they loved so together, and the vegetables of
his garden, must be shared with her. His daily care was, that
the newspaper went to her regularly. And while his energetic

* His great diffidence and modesty, in college, which always raised a blush upon
his cheek, every time that he recited, and prevented him from finishing a single de-
clamation which was required of him, alone gave him the second, instead of the first,

Online LibraryGeorge Washington DoaneThe life and writings of George Washington Doane .. → online text (page 1 of 80)