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 WILLIAM NEWTON CLARKE 
 
BOOKS BY WILLIAM NEWTON CLARKE, D.D. 
 
 PuBUSHED BY CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS 
 
 The Ideal of Jesus. 8vo net $1.50 
 
 Sixty Years with the Bible, izmo, . . . net $ .30 
 
 The Christian Doctrine of God. (International 
 Theological Library.) Cr. 8vo, . ... net $2.50 
 
 The Use of the Scriptures in Theology, izmo, net $i.oo 
 
 A Study of Christian Missions, izmo, . . net $ .50 
 
 Can I Believe in God the Father? izmo, . net $1.00 
 
 What Shall We Think of Christianity ? izmo, net $1.00 
 
 An Outline of Christian Theoloey. Cr. 8vo, nst $3.50 
 
Tl^cZO-c^^ Ti • C^^kVlu . 
 
WILLIAM NEWTON CLARKE 
 
 A BIOGRAPHY 
 
 WITH ADDITIONAL SKETCHES BY HIS FRIENDS 
 AND COLLEAGUES 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
 CHARLES SGRIBNER'S SONS 
 
 1916 
 

 Copyright, 1916, by 
 CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS 
 
 Published August, 1916 
 
 ^\ 
 
 r--r' 
 
PREFACE 
 
 One who was quietly, yet widely, known as preacher, 
 teacher and author, passed lately into the unseen world. 
 
 His books were widely read, not only by students and 
 masters in theology, but by many other thoughtful men and 
 women, for whom he had bridged the chasm between the 
 past and the present, and had made the Christian faith pos- 
 sible in a time of doubt and transition. 
 
 The truth and charm of his first well-known work, An 
 Outline of Christian Theology, was at once recognized, and 
 each succeeding book met a hearty welcome from eager 
 readers. 
 
 These books, quiet and clear in style, were evidently 
 the utterances of one intent on his message and conveying 
 it in the most direct and simple way; yet they seemed some- 
 how alive with the personality of the writer, and many read- 
 ers felt his magnetism so strongly that they wished to draw 
 nearer to the man himself. From every direction letters 
 expressive of keen interest and deep gratitude came to him 
 from persons who knew only his work and his name. 
 
 Before he began to write books he had been a minister 
 of the gospel, a preacher of singular earnestness and power. 
 Later, he had been a teacher of theology. As a preacher he 
 had the art of catching the attention of his auditors at once 
 and of holding it. He saw his congregation as individuals, 
 and the hstener often felt as if he were being directly ad- 
 dressed. Something of this is apparent in his books, and 
 without any effort to do so he established a personal rela- 
 tion with his readers. His beautiful spirit appeared in all 
 
 G92554 
 
vi PREFACE 
 
 that he wrote and awakened a warm response in many hearts. 
 Some who never saw his face felt when he passed away that 
 they had lost a personal friend. 
 
 Doctor Clarke was a quiet, home-loving man. He was 
 never strong, and the most of his energy went into his work. 
 His life was uneventful, and with the exception of seven 
 years in Canada it was spent in country places. He was 
 deeply interested in public affairs, and his opinions on social 
 and political questions were clear and decided and freely 
 expressed. He was in s>Tnpathy with all efforts for the re- 
 moval of unjust and injurious conditions, and worked through- 
 out his life for the uplifting of humanity, yet he was never 
 prominent as the exponent of any movement or cause. In 
 his case no materials existed for a stirring or picturesque 
 biography. From first to last he kept the even tenor of his 
 way, lo\ing the work to which he was called, and doing it 
 easily and with joy. 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Ancestry and Early Life i 
 
 In Keene 24 
 
 Newton Center 33 
 
 In Canada 48 
 
 The Years at Hamilton 62 
 
 The Last Day 99 
 
 Personal Characteristics loi 
 
 Personal Recollections 129 
 
 reverend william o. stearns. 
 
 The Story of a Friendship 136 
 
 professor j. w. a. stewart, d.d. 
 
 William Newton Clarke 157 
 
 reverend edward judson, d.d. 
 
 An Appreciation 170 
 
 reverend henry h. peabody, d.d. 
 
 The "Theology" of William Newton Clarke .... 185 
 professor william adams brown, d.d. 
 
 An American Theologian 201 
 
 professor william adams brown, d.d. 
 
 vii 
 
viii CONTENTS 
 
 FAOE 
 
 In the Classroom ..." 211 
 
 professor f. a. starratt. 
 professor john benjamin anderson, 
 reverend daniel hunt clare, 
 reverend troward h. m.\rsh.\ll. 
 
 As Theologl\.n 228 
 
 professor george cross, d.d. 
 
 Professor Clarke at Yale 257 
 
 professor douglas c. macintosh, d.d, 
 
 Index 261 
 
 ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 William Newton Clarke Frontispiece 
 
 Cazenovia Seminary in 1846 Facing Page 12 
 
WILLIAM NEWTON CLARKE 
 
WILLIAM NEWTON CLARKE 
 
 ANCESTRY AND EARLY LIFE 
 
 The writer of this biography of William Newton Clarke 
 consented, with hesitation and dread, to undertake a difficult 
 task, for the reason that no one else possessed the intimate 
 knowledge requisite for a true account of that gentle and 
 secluded Ufe. This record shows the outward environment 
 and sequence of events. Its account runs parallel with the 
 story of his inner experiences and theological transitions told 
 by himself in Sixty Years with the Bible, a book written, as 
 he says, "in the single character of a student, lover, and user 
 of the Bible," and in which no names of places and persons 
 are given. 
 
 It seems best, at the outset, to correct a misstatement 
 which has been widely published, to the effect that Clarke 
 was of Scotch origin and came in his youth from Edinburgh 
 to the United States. Scotland has given many theologians 
 to the world, but Clarke was not one of them. He was as 
 purely an American as it is possible to be. All of his hereditary 
 lines run back into the early colonial period of New England. 
 His ancestors were devout and heroic men of English birth, 
 who expatriated themselves soon after Laud, with the approval 
 of Charles I, began his efforts to turn back the Church of 
 England toward the fold of Rome. 
 
 These men, severally, arrived at Massachusetts Bay be- 
 fore Winthrop, with him, or a few years later. None of them 
 were Separatists at first, but all became such. Colonial rec- 
 
2 WILLIAM NEWTON CLARKE 
 
 ords show something of their part in the making of New 
 England. 
 
 Clarke was born in a typical American village, there he 
 spent his childhood and youth, and there he received that most 
 important part of his education which determined his career. 
 
 He took his collegiate course and studied theology in the 
 village of Hamilton, New York, and thither he returned in his 
 full maturity to give his ripest work to the church and the 
 theological seminary until the end of his life. 
 
 Whoever would understand American life as it was seventy 
 years ago must know the American village of that time, which 
 was the active centre of those religious and intellectual forces 
 that shaped the lives of all and developed men and women 
 who became leaders in the communities where they dwelt. 
 
 The best element in the life of cities was largely recruited 
 from country places. The foreign element in even the older 
 cities as yet was small. The majority of householders in the 
 United States were tillers of the soil who lived independently 
 upon their own land. For each farming community the cen- 
 tre of interest and of social life was the \'illage, where the 
 churchgoers met together and the voters held their town 
 meetings. The village began its existence, usually, with a 
 church or a schoolhouse, to which all other good and neces- 
 sary things were gradually added. Here and there in some 
 one of the larger villages of a group of townships might be 
 found an academy or a good denominational school, where 
 boys could be fitted for college and any who desired it had 
 opportunity to gain a higher education than the common 
 schools provided. 
 
 The American village was the creation of free, intelligent 
 men and women whose needs and ideals it expressed. Village 
 and villager thus in the New World became honorable words, 
 knowing nothing of villeinage. 
 
 In Oldto-mi Folks Mrs. Stowe has depicted the life of a 
 small New England village and has analyzed and explained 
 
ANCESTRY AND EARLY LIFE 3 
 
 conditions as they were in such places toward the end of the 
 eighteenth century and early in the nineteenth. In the preface 
 she says : 
 
 "My object is to interpret to the world the New England 
 life and character in that particular time of its history which 
 may be called the seminal period. I would endeavor to show 
 you New England in its seed-bed before the hot suns of mod- 
 em progress had developed its sprouting germs into the great 
 trees of to-day. 
 
 "New England has been to these United States what the 
 Dorian hive was to Greece. It has always been a capital coun- 
 try to emigrate from, and North, South, East, and West have 
 been populated largely from New England, so that the seed- 
 bed of New England is the seed-bed of this great republic 
 and of all that is likely to come of it." 
 
 At the beginning of the nineteenth century there was a 
 strong impulse of migration westward. Astute men organ- 
 ized companies and obtained large grants of land which they 
 sold to emigrants from New England. There was much 
 rivalry among these companies and all had agents competing 
 keenly for settlers to buy and occupy their lands. Thus the 
 interior portions of New York and Pennsylvania were swiftly 
 changed from vast wildernesses to prosperous farming regions 
 dotted with villages. 
 
 The foundations of the village of Hamilton, New York, 
 were laid in faith and prayer. The pioneers of the place were 
 Samuel Payne and his wife, who came from New England in 
 1794, and his brother, Elisha Payne, who arrived with his 
 family a year later. They had the distinct purpose of found- 
 ing a village. 
 
 When Samuel Payne had felled the first tree upon the hill- 
 side, in the primeval forest of which his farm was a part, he 
 knelt and consecrated himself and his estate to God. In 
 1827 he and his wife "gave their farm of one hundred and 
 twenty-three acres to the Baptist Education Society to locate 
 
4 WILLIAM NEWTON CLARKE 
 
 there their theological institution. The whole was made over 
 to the society by a warranty deed, they reserving to them- 
 selves the use of one-half of the farm during their lives." 
 
 No one knows the precise point where the first tree was 
 felled, but it was within certain narrow limits near the col- 
 lege building first erected, which, restored and beautified, is 
 still in use. Upon this historic spot a sun-dial, suitably in- 
 scribed, was placed by the graduating class of Colgate Uni- 
 versity in 191 2, as a memorial to Samuel Payne and his wife, 
 of whom it was said: "Her kindness to students in sickness 
 or in need gave her the title of 'The Students' Mother.' " 
 
 No less devout, far-seeing, and steadfast were WUliam 
 Colgate and his wife, who were interested from its beginning 
 in the theological school and in the college which was its 
 necessary and inevitable outgrowth. Mr. James B. Colgate, 
 their son, late in his life, in speaking of his parents, said that 
 at the morning devotions of the family, led either by the 
 father or the mother, there were always words of prayer for 
 the school of sacred learning at Hamilton. 
 
 Elisha Payne, true to the traditions of his forefathers, 
 after building his own log dwelling, proceeded next to build 
 a schoolhouse. This schoolhouse was, no doubt, used also for 
 religious meetings, as the church was not built until 1810. 
 
 Similar in spirit is the history of many an American vil- 
 lage, founded by descendants of the early colonists of New 
 England. 
 
 For a clear understanding of Clarke's ancestral heritage, 
 of those family traditions and innate gifts that made him the 
 man he was, one must revert to early colonial history in 
 New England. 
 
 In the nineteenth century every educated man was truly 
 "the heir of all the ages," but this reconciling teacher, who 
 seemed gifted with a sympathetic comprehension of every 
 one's point of view, was in an especial manner the heir of the 
 
 1 
 
ANCESTRY AND EARLY LIFE 5 
 
 seventeenth century which witnessed the revolution in Eng- 
 land, the colonization of New England, and the fighting over 
 again upon new territory of battle after battle for complete 
 liberty of thought and speech. Perhaps he owed his catho- 
 licity to those diverse and antagonistic ancestors, whose theo- 
 logical and political differences, transmitted and modified from 
 generation to generation, were harmonized in him. 
 
 North Brookfield, a town of Madison County, in the State 
 of New York, received its earliest colonists from New Eng- 
 land in the last decade of the eighteenth century. Among 
 the first settlers was Absalom Miner, a descendant of Thomas 
 ]\Iiner, who came from England with Winthrop on the Ara- 
 bella in 1630. Thomas Miner was the son of Clement Miner, 
 of Chew Magna, Somerset, head of the elder branch of a fam- 
 ily, which had held an honorable place among the gentry 
 of England for well toward three hundred years. Thomas 
 Miner was associated with John Winthrop, Jr., in his early 
 colonizing enterprises, and was a delegate to the general court 
 from each of the several places in which he resided. He 
 finally settled at Stonington, Connecticut, being one of the 
 four original colonists of that place. Much that is interesting 
 is known of Thomas Miner, and a large number of persons 
 useful and honored in their place and time traced their an- 
 cestry to him. Among them the names most widely known 
 are Adoniram Judson and Ulysses S. Grant. 
 
 Somewhat later the Clarke family, who were also of good 
 English lineage, came from Rhode Island to North Brook- 
 field. They were descended from Jeremiah Clarke, one of the 
 nine heads of famihes who founded Newport and helped to 
 create Rhode Island, the first really free commonwealth in 
 the New World. Jeremiah Clarke was the second president 
 of "Rhode Island Plantations" under the charter of 1644, 
 which had been obtained by Roger Williams. The Clarke 
 and the Miner famiUes were of "the Baptist faith and order." 
 
6 WILLIAM NEWTON CLARKE 
 
 They were closely associated in all afTairs of church and com- 
 munity, and there were three marriages between sons and 
 daughters of Seth Miner and John Clarke. 
 
 The first alliance was that of William Clarke and Urania 
 Miner, who were married March 21, 1830, at the homestead 
 in Eaton, near Hamilton, to which the Miner family had re- 
 moved a few years earlier. 
 
 William Clarke was a young man of recognized ability. 
 He had a clear, comprehensive mind and an unusual degree of 
 tact and practical wisdom. When, after a period of inner 
 conflict, he ceased to resist his call to preach, he wished to fit 
 himself for his work by the best education that he could gain. 
 A school of theology had recently been founded at Hamilton, 
 only a few miles distant. His soul thirsted to drink at that 
 fountain, but his father, like many another good man of his 
 day, held an old-fashioned prejudice against a "man-made 
 ministry," and there were other obstacles in his way. So he 
 went on tilling the soil, "improving his gift" meanwhile by 
 preaching as he had opportunity and educating himself as 
 best he could by independent study. He had a good command 
 of English and a natural ease of expression, which under the 
 influence of religious feeling became glowing eloquence. His 
 unfailing good sense and kindly, cheerful nature endeared 
 him to the neighbors who had known him all his life, and when 
 the pastorate of the church in North Brookfield became 
 vacant he was called to fill it. This call was conveyed in a 
 letter of wonderful quahty which reads like a passage from 
 John Woolman. He accepted the call with solemn joy. 
 
 As a spiritual leader in the conamunity of which he and 
 his wife were a part, and which they well understood, he was 
 useful and happy. 
 
 When a few years later a call to the church in Cazenovia 
 came to this quiet, unambitious servant of God, he hesitated, 
 with the self-distrust of a modest man. He and his wife were 
 fully content with their lot and would have chosen to spend 
 
ANCESTRY AND EARLY LIFE 7 
 
 their days in the place which had always been dear to them. 
 Yet an inner monition forbade him to refuse this leading of 
 Providence, as he felt it to be. 
 
 North Brookfield was a bit of New England, transplanted, 
 but Cazenovia was different in its origin. The village hbrary 
 of Cazenovia is housed in an old residence on Albany Street. 
 Its parlor is now the distributing-room of the library. There, 
 above the mantel, hangs a painting that is an interesting re- 
 minder of the history of the town. It is a copy of an original 
 portrait of Theophilus Cazenove (Theophile de Cazenove), 
 which was presented by his grandson, Raoul de Cazenove, of 
 Lyons. It shows a young man of aristocratic appearance 
 with a pleasing face, fair complexion, light-brown hair in a 
 queue, clad in a suit of pale-blue velvet. He does not look 
 like a pioneer or explorer, nor was he such. He was, in his 
 maturer years, the first agent in this country of the Holland 
 Land Company. John Lincklaen (Jan van Lincklaen) was 
 the explorer of the region and the founder of Cazenovia. He 
 was bom in Amsterdam in 1768, received his early education 
 in Switzerland, entered the Dutch navy and attained the rank 
 of lieutenant. In 1792 he emigrated to America. He was em- 
 ployed by the Holland Land Company, explored and sur- 
 veyed some of their lands and was made their agent upon 
 the retirement of Theophilus Cazenove, who became pos- 
 sessed of a tract of land bordering upon the lake, and in 
 honor of whom the town was named. 
 
 A dignified colonial mansion was built in 1807-8 by John 
 Lincklaen upon the upland beyond the foot of the lake, which 
 facing northward, commands a fine view of the lake in its 
 picturesque setting of varied shoreland. In the autumn of 
 1808 this new dwelling was occupied by the owner, his wife 
 and their adopted son, the youngest brother of Mrs. Linck- 
 laen, then about fifteen years of age, Jonathan Denise Led- 
 yard, known in later years as General Ledyard. His son, 
 Ledyard Lincklaen, Esq., a man of studious and literary 
 
8 WELLLVM NEWTOX CLARKE 
 
 tastes, who made valuable contributions to knowledge of 
 the geology of the region, inherited the name and the abode 
 of John Lincklaen, which has always been the home of the 
 daughter of Ledyard Lincklaen, Mrs. Charles S. Fairchild. 
 This house of fine traditions has been kept externally as it 
 was at first and, with its simple, restful lines, is one of the 
 best examples now remaining of the colonial domestic archi- 
 tecture of the period to which it belongs. 
 
 John Lincklaen was a broad-minded, far-seeing, practical 
 man and he began at once to make the site he had selected 
 for a settlement habitable and attractive. "He laid out 
 roads, built bridges, mills, and warehouses," and thus averted 
 the chief privations and hardships of pioneer Hfe. Also, he 
 offered land to young householders upon Hberal terms. Some 
 Dutch names appear in the list of early settlers, although the 
 larger number are of those familiar in the colonial annals of 
 New England. The settlement began with this great advan- 
 tage, that no one class or sect brought thither its own nar- 
 rowness in sufficient strength to stamp its character upon the 
 place. 
 
 The site of the village was well chosen. The beautiful 
 lake of which the Lidian name is Owahgena, forms its west- 
 em boundary. 
 
 Lake Avenue intersects Albany Street, and running north- 
 ward affords views of the lake along its entire length. Parallel, 
 eastward, is Sullivan Street, now a place of pleasant, mod- 
 ern houses. Still farther east is Lincklaen Street, with some- 
 thing of an old-time air and a charm of its own, which like 
 the others slowly ascends from Albany Street, and reaches 
 the open country at the summit of the hill to surprise the 
 newcomer with a fine and extended outlook northward and 
 eastward. 
 
 The water of the lake, welling up from many springs, is 
 clear and pure. Its outlet is a small stream which meets 
 another stream near by. Together they become Chittenango 
 
ANCESTRY AND EARLY LIFE 9 
 
 Creek, which flows rapidly down through a picturesque valley 
 and makes a leap of a hundred and thirty-six feet from its 
 rocky bed, through a gateway of cliffs, into the verdurous 
 gorge below. Not even in the White Mountains is there a 
 more charming cascade than Chittenango Falls. 
 
 The region around Cazenovia has a varied and singular 
 attractiveness which every lover of nature feels but cannot 
 easily define, and it is of unusual geological interest. Perry- 
 ville Falls, not far away, on another stream now greatly dev- 
 astated by the blasting away of limestone rocks filled with 
 ancient marine fossils, was formerly very like Trenton Falls, 
 having a similar approach along a natural gallery of rock, 
 though on a smaller scale. Delphi Falls, a few miles west- 
 ward, with its yellow-brown rocks, golden in the sun, has a 
 unique beauty. 
 
 William Clarke removed to Cazenovia in the summer of 
 1835 3.nd was cordially welcomed by the church, which had 
 among its leaders some of the most truly excellent men and 
 women in the village and upon the farms outside. Among 
 these were the Litchfields, the Mitchells, the Beckwiths, and 
 the Newtons. 
 
 The power of the new pastor as a preacher, his every-day 
 goodness and friendliness, won for him the respect and good- 
 will of the entire community without regard to denomina- 
 tional differences, which were then much emphasized. His 
 "wisdom in counsel" came to be highly valued, and his aid 
 was often sought in settling differences which arose in neigh- 
 boring churches. 
 
 The eldest child had died in North Brookfield. The sec- 
 ond, Mary Eleanor, was born in 1839, and the third, William 
 Newton in 1841 in the parsonage on Nelson Street. The sec- 
 ond daughter, Delia Maria, was born in 1843 '^^ the new par- 
 sonage on Lincklaen Street, which was almost under the 
 shadow of the seminary, and very near the Baptist church. 
 
 The minister's salary was small and irregularly paid. 
 
lo WILLIAM NEWTON CLARKE 
 
 There were steadfast friends and generous givers in the 
 church, but the majority had inherited the idea, which they 
 were only slowly outgrowing, that a minister's service should 
 be freely given without requital. The early preachers of the 
 denomination, like Pardon Tillinghast, an ancestor of Wil- 
 liam Clarke, the early pastor of the First Baptist Church of 
 Providence, Rhode Island, revolting against a state church 
 and a tithe system, had preached the Word like the early 
 apostles, without money and without price, and most of 
 them, like Paul, had lived by the labor of their own hands. 
 A "hireling ministry" was as abhorrent to the early Baptists 
 as to the Quakers. 
 
 When there were three children to be cared for these par- 
 ents felt the pinch of narrow means. Fortunately, both were 
 good economists, and Mrs. Clarke's excellent early training 
 stood her in good stead. The small income was made to suf- 
 fice. "Plain living and high thinking" was their daily, blessed 
 portion. Plain li\dng, however, was not poor living. The 
 things most important and necessary could be had. By wise 
 management the family were well fed, well clad, and in that 
 climate, arctic in winter, well warmed. But the mother had 
 to work early and late while the children were young. The 
 word servant did not exist in the vocabulary of that family, 
 though sometimes, when the need was great, the old-time 
 American "help" came to the mother's aid. 
 
 In Sixty Years with tlie Bible, Doctor Clarke writes thus of 
 his parents: 
 
 "My father, a minister of the Gospel, was constantly in 
 communion with the Book, though he talked little of his work. 
 He was not a highly educated man, but he was a man of 
 sweet reasonableness, and his theories of doctrine were tem- 
 pered in application with a fine practical wisdom. I suppose 
 he must have had some theory of inspiration, but he never 
 made the value of the Bible depend upon it. He had no need 
 of the theory for he was building upon the reality. There 
 
ANCESTRY AND EARLY LIFE ii 
 
 was God's own message and for him and for my mother the 
 Bible was the last word. She, reared in the godhness of an 
 earlier day, carried the Bible in mind and heart. She was not 
 always quoting it, but for guidance of her Hfe and ours it was 
 always with her. 
 
 "It is true that she was in unconscious bondage because 
 the Bible brought her the spirit of Judaism, as well as the 
 Christian faith, and not until old age did she come out into the 
 liberty of the children of God, but with a willing loyalty she 
 held the Bible as her law as well as the Christian faith. Rev- 
 erence for it was learned from both parents. It was never a 
 theme for jests and I grew up with almost a horror of joking 
 on Biblical subjects. About the Bible there was a holy air 
 which to us children was attractive, not repellent. Bible 
 stories we easily learned, and they were true. We did not 
 question as to whether they were easily believed or were 
 worthy of God. 
 
 "I cannot remember when I could not read nor when the 
 Bible was not in my hands for reading. My earliest remem- 
 brance of it brings up the picture of family worship. How 
 clear it is and how calm and beautiful ! " 
 
 The three children were nurtured tenderly and wisely. 
 They had a quietly happy childhood in an atmosphere of 
 family affection and reverent religion. The key-note of the 
 life of the family was reality — everything that was said or 
 done must ring true. One saying of the father has never 
 been forgotten: "If a boy is obedient and truthful at the age 
 of twelve he is half brought up." 
 
 This boy was naturally docile, reverent, and straightfor- 
 ward and responsive to the high ideals held up to him. He 
 was always companionable, but he was not strong and agile 
 enough to succeed in boyish sports. A severe illness when he 
 was two years old left his right side partially paralyzed. For 
 a time he was unable to walk or to use his right hand. Only 
 the devoted, unremitting care of his mother brought him back 
 to a normal physical condition. Naturally, the earliest play- 
 mates of this delicate boy were girls, his sisters and two neigh- 
 
12 WILLL\M NEWTON CLARKE 
 
 bors, Louise and Frances, who were much at home in the 
 parsonage and the garden. 
 
 One of the books in wliich they all took delight was Mary 
 Hewitt's Juvenile Days, in which several of her other stories 
 were included. This had been given to the youngest child 
 as a reward for tr}'ing to be careful and helpful while her 
 mother was seriously ill. After the difficult time was over 
 her father took her to the bookstore and bade her choose 
 whatever book she wished. Jiivenile Days was her choice, 
 and it became a favorite with the family and the neighbor- 
 hood. The original binding had been worn out and the book 
 had been rebound. The neat outside contrasted strangely 
 with the inside. Every page was worn and bore the marks 
 of ha\'ing been read, as Louisa Alcott says of her own early 
 favorites, "to an accompaniment of cookies, gingerbread, 
 and apples." 
 
 In this friendly vicinage a genial interchange of good 
 literature and other good things was kept up. 
 
 Li the autumn of 1852, after fifteen years in Cazenovia, 
 William Clarke accepted a call to a church in Whitesboro. 
 There William, junior, settled down to regular school work, 
 and it was soon evident that he had in him the stufi' that 
 makes a student. The seminary in Cazenovia was a better 
 place for the Clarke children than any school in WTiitesboro; 
 and when the church in Cazenovia sent their former pastor 
 an urgent appeal to return to them, the question was ear- 
 nestly considered. The church in Whitesboro had been loyal 
 and generous. While the pastor had ministered faithfully 
 to them in spiritual things, they had ministered to him liber- 
 ally in temporal things. To return to Cazenovia meant tak- 
 ing up heavy burdens again, but Cazenovia was home and 
 the people were dear, and there was the excellent school for 
 their children, and thither they returned. 
 
 The Oneida Conference Seminary was famous among de- 
 nominational schools, which were then at the highest point 
 
00 
 
 > 
 o 
 
 c 
 
 <v 
 
 N 
 
 U 
 
ANCESTRY AND EARLY LIFE 13 
 
 of their excellence and usefulness. It was one of several 
 which had been established by the Methodist Episcopal 
 Church. From the first, its teachers had been men and 
 women of fine character who had left their impress upon 
 their pupils and upon the community. As it was a coedu- 
 cational school, much attention was given to music and art. 
 In the early days of the seminary a well-trained foreign artist 
 had taught drawing and painting and had so imbued his 
 pupils with his ideals and standards that Cazenovia was 
 rather unusual as to the interest in art diffused among the 
 younger generation. Love of art nourished the love of nature. 
 Artists began to visit Cazenovia, and thus the eyes of the resi- 
 dents were opened to the rarely beautiful scenery close at 
 hand. The isolated little village developed year by year a 
 distinction and attractiveness all its own. 
 
 In very modest homes in Cazenovia were persons of fas- 
 cinating individuality and charm. To an impressionable 
 newcomer who had the good fortune to be welcomed in some 
 of these little white houses under great elms, the village life 
 seemed wonderfully bright and amiable. At almost any social 
 gathering, an impromptu tea or an elaborate entertainment, 
 there might be good music — there was certain to be good con- 
 versation. People lived then in a leisurely fashion, they had 
 time and opportunity to know their neighbors, and friendship, 
 a plant which cannot be forced, could grow in its own natural 
 way. On Lincklaen Street, with its green lawns and tall elm^s, 
 dwelt several of the seminary faculty, and others were not 
 far away. They lived like the ministers of the place on small 
 salaries, and the wives of these men, like their neighbor in the 
 parsonage, had to plan carefully and work untiringly, yet 
 they filled their places with dignity and did their part in 
 making the social life noble and beautiful. 
 
 The Baptist parsonage was a plain frame house with a 
 garden at the back. The dwellings on either side were rather 
 close to the parsonage, which, facing the north, had little sun- 
 
14 WILLL\M NEWTON CLARKE 
 
 shine in the rooms most used. Mrs. Clarke, who had been 
 accustomed through all her early life to a broad outlook over 
 a beautiful landscape, often felt depressed by the lack of 
 space and light. There was, however, from the east windows 
 of an upper room, at the back of the house, a pleasant view, 
 across an interval to the hills beyond, and when the feeUng 
 of depression came over her, she would drop the task in hand 
 for a Uttle while and at one of those windows that looked 
 toward the morning refresh her spirit with the breadth and 
 beauty of meadow and hills. 
 
 Upon the return of the Clarke family to Cazenovia, Mary 
 and William entered the seminary. At that time the most 
 marked character upon the faculty was Ammi Bradford 
 Hyde, a descendant of Elder William Brewster of the May- 
 flower. He was a brilliant man, distinguished especially as 
 a linguist, but versatile in his abiUties. Some stories of his 
 precocity remind one of similar things recorded of Macau- 
 lay. In 1846 he was graduated from Wesleyan University. 
 In the autumn of that year, when he was twenty years old, 
 he entered Cazenovia Seminary as professor of languages. 
 Under this stimulating teacher, Clarke studied Latin, Greek, 
 and German. 
 
 There were other scholarly men and born educators in 
 the seminary, and the atmosphere was full of hope and in- 
 spiration. Though William was chiefly interested in lan- 
 guages, he did not do badly in mathematics and he learned a 
 little of several branches of science. Next, however, to his 
 classical studies, that which aided him most in his develop- 
 ment was his work in the Lyceum. The papers that he wrote 
 and the debates in which he took part, with the habit gained 
 thus early in life of swift, simultaneous thought and expres- 
 sion, made an invaluable part of his training. 
 
 Mrs. Stowe's description of "Cloudland," the scholarship 
 and devotion of its teachers, and the eager responsiveness of 
 its students, was a true picture of the Litchfield Academy in 
 
ANCESTRY AND EARLY LIFE 15 
 
 her very early years. Cazenovia was "Cloudland" on a 
 larger scale. There was a generous freedom as to choice of 
 studies. Most of the students worked pleasurably at what 
 they liked, with little regard to marks and examinations. No 
 question had as yet arisen as to the desirability of coeduca- 
 tion. It had existed from the first in the public schools and 
 in the numerous academies and had been the only possible 
 way to reach and educate the youth of the land. 
 
 The school was avowedly and markedly religious, and its 
 denominational character, while not obtrusive, was in nowise 
 obscured. The warm and demonstrative qualities of Meth- 
 odism characterized the place. Teachers worked fervently 
 for the conversion of students and the upbuilding of all in 
 the Christian life. Students from various denominations, 
 meeting here upon common ground, found that they agreed 
 as to essential points and that their differences were unim- 
 portant; so, insensibly, they grew more Hberal. No one was 
 permitted to be a sheep without a shepherd. All were ex- 
 pected to attend the churches to which they were accustomed, 
 and if they were unattached they were taken into the Meth- 
 odist fold. Leading members of the various churches in the 
 village felt a certain responsibility for the young people who 
 came to them, and exercised over them friendly care. 
 
 Doctor Clarke was invited to give an address at a semicen- 
 tennial celebration of the Cazenovia Seminary in 1908. He 
 was unable to be present, but he sent a letter from which ex- 
 tracts are given. 
 
 "Colgate University, 
 
 "Hamilton, N. Y., June, 1908. 
 
 "My Dear Doctor Blakeslee: 
 
 "I am thankful for the invitation to stand as the repre- 
 sentative of a past age, and recall the memories of fifty years, 
 and only regret that I cannot present my remembrances in 
 person. When I look back my memory goes beyond the half 
 century and sees in 1854 a young boy, not quite thirteen years 
 
i6 WILLIAiM NEWTON CLARKE 
 
 old, living at home in Cazenovia, knocking at the door of the 
 seminary. How puzzled the boy was — and not without rea- 
 son. I had resolved to begin Latin and study arithmetic. 
 But the two classes came at the same hour, and both were 
 too large to be changed, so I was compelled to abandon one 
 of them. The school gave no advice, and I let the arithmetic 
 wait. One thing led to another, and in consequence of this 
 accident the order and succession of my studies for four 
 years went very strangely, and I was trained in a course such 
 as no one else ever pursued since the world began. Perhaps 
 it may have been just as well, but I am glad there is a better 
 way now. 
 
 "That shows how much less regularly organized the 
 school was than it has since become. There was a published 
 course of study; there were two, in fact, a three-years' course 
 and a j5ve-years' course; but the five-years' course did not 
 cut much of a figure outside of the catalogue. The school 
 was larger than now, and was especially large in the winter 
 terms. The chapel was crammed full. I can see the plat- 
 form now. The teachers looked to us very solemn as they 
 faced us. Professors Hyde and White, and Doctor Bannister 
 first, and later Professor Andrews as principal. Professor 
 Jackson sat in front of the organ with his flute and led the 
 singing. During a part of my time I used to play the organ. 
 I was interested in the throng, and knew all the boys by 
 name, and many of the girls in every term. I remembered 
 the changing crowd from term to term, and carried much 
 of the school history in mind. The friendships were short- 
 lived, many of them, but some lived long, and a few survive 
 all these years. 
 
 "The vision of deepest interest to me in connection with 
 school work looks in upon the little room over the principal's 
 office where we met Professor Hyde. Some of the classes 
 packed it full. There I was started in Latin, Greek, and Ger- 
 man. There we had to do with a most fatherly, friendly man, 
 a master of his languages, a teacher of individuals, a wit who 
 brightened up his work, a living guide and an inspiring ex- 
 ample. Much as I enjoyed the hours, I used to wonder that 
 he took the time to tell so many stories and make us laugh so 
 much. But later, when I realized what a killing number of 
 hours he spent with his classes in that room, I judged that 
 
ANCESTRY AND EARLY LIFE 17 
 
 perhaps he let in the wit in order to keep himself aHve, and 
 I did not blame him. After I had been out of his room for 
 almost forty years I went out of my way one day in Colorado 
 to call upon Professor Hyde and tell him what I thought of 
 him, which I had never had an opportunity to do. 
 
 '' The long mathematical rooms at the north end on Linck- 
 laen Street witnessed the equally strong and faithful work 
 of Professor White, continued till the very last days of his 
 life. I know the place, for I did take the arithmetic after a 
 while, and ended with surveying. 
 
 "As there was no fixed course in use, the graduating class 
 was made up by collecting those who had done enough to 
 equal the amount of the course as published. Now and then 
 there was a graduate from the five-years' course, but there 
 was none in our year. In 1858 there were twelve graduates, 
 sLx young men and six young women. My sister IVIary, older 
 than I, who was a teacher in the seminary for a time, was 
 among them. I was the youngest of the twelve. 
 
 "I have two visions of Professor Andrews as we called 
 him then, Bishop Andrews in later years. I see him as he 
 stood addressing us on our graduation day, July 15, 1858, in 
 the old stone Methodist church with the platform between 
 the front doors. Handsome, flashing, eloquent, he gave us 
 wise counsel out of a warm heart, and bade us farewell. I 
 see him again as I saw him for the last time, in New York, 
 after he had lived a long life of high service — handsome still, 
 but far more, a lovely presence, serious, dignified, graceful, 
 beautiful in a ripe old age. 
 
 "I have sweet remembrances of the tender and beautiful 
 religious revival that occurred in the spring of 1858, in my 
 last term. My own religious experience then began, in meet- 
 ings of the young men in the old western building, replaced by 
 the present Callanan Hall. Very delightful are the memories 
 of that time. 
 
 "Even now I can feel the inexpressibly tender solemnity 
 of the Saturday evening class-meetings in the chapel, with 
 Professor Hyde as leader, wise Christian counsellor that he 
 was. Out of that same spring term of 1858 there came a 
 rather formal document that Ues before me now. It bears 
 the signature of twenty-two young men, who have formed 
 sacred ties of friendship while students in the seminary 
 
i8 WILLIAM NEWTON CLARKE 
 
 (Oneida Conference Seminary we called it then), and are 
 desirous of renewing and perpetuating the same. To this 
 end they agree to appear in person at the seminary, in the 
 town of Cazenovia and the State of New York, on the 6th 
 day of July, 1864, and appoint ten of their number to ad- 
 dress them on that day of their reunion. Topics for the ad- 
 dresses are assigned, schoolboy fashion : ' Success,' ' Harmony,' 
 'Government,' 'Object in Life,' etc., besides opening ad- 
 dresses, poem, and valedictory. Six years seemed a long 
 time ahead, but the friendly assembhng of ourselves seemed 
 not too much to be accomplished by the mature men whom 
 we expected then to be. Alas, we could not know that the 
 greatest war of the century would be three-fourths fought 
 through when the day arrived, or how much the appointed 
 expounder of 'Events of the Past Six Years' would have to 
 say. Nor could we foresee our personal destinies. We 
 pledged our word and sacred honor to meet 'if life and 
 health permit;' and yet there was no meeting on July 6, 
 1864. 
 
 "Here I must end. It is a pleasant, wholesome circle into 
 which I look, for our life in the main was sweet and pure and 
 honorable, and the school was a school of right living. The 
 living God was training his children up to hfe. The review 
 has been a pleasure to me, but it does not seem possible that 
 I am gazing through a whole half century, so clearly do I see 
 the scenes and forms and faces, and so freshly does the long- 
 vanished life rise before my sight. As God was with the 
 fathers, so may he be with the children, and may education 
 here still be a healthful training for a faithful work. 
 
 "With the greetings of the past to the present, I am, 
 "Sincerely yours, 
 
 "William N. Clarke." 
 
 At an earlier time Charles Dudley Warner and Robert 
 Ingersoll had been boys in Cazenovia and students in the 
 seminary. Warner, after preparing at Cazenovia, entered 
 Hamilton College at Chnton, New York, where he gradu- 
 ated. He always loved Cazenovia and sometimes came there 
 to visit the friends of his youth. His coming was the signal 
 for a general fete-making. Some of those he valued much 
 
ANCESTRY AND EARLY LIFE 19 
 
 were quiet, unfashionable persons who were seldom seen at 
 large or formal receptions, and those who entertained "Char- 
 lie" Warner used to take especial pains to bring these old 
 friends to meet him. 
 
 Among American men of letters of his day there has been 
 no more lovable example of "the gentle life" than Charles 
 Dudley Warner; and the bright intelligence, the simple, yet 
 exquisite, living in homes with which he was familiar, the 
 devout atmosphere in church and school, the beautiful sur- 
 roundings of the fine old village, where he spent the most 
 impressionable years of his life, made a congenial environ- 
 ment for that charming spirit. Some who know and love his 
 books find in them a flavor of Cazenovia, New Englander 
 though he was by birth, and by residence through all his 
 later years. 
 
 Robert IngersoU was the son of a Cazenovia minister. 
 The father spent only a few years in the village, was a clerical 
 free-lance and was for a time the leader of the Free Church, 
 a nondescript company made up chiefly of seceders from the 
 long-established, steady-going churches of the place. Some 
 of them were excellent persons who had become obsessed by 
 one idea and felt aggrieved because that which seemed to 
 them aU-important was not sufiiciently emphasized in the 
 churches to which they belonged. Some could think of 
 nothing but the evils of the liquor traffic, some believed that 
 the Masonic Order was the most dangerous menace of the 
 time, and some wished to hear of nothing but the sin of slave- 
 holding. Some were merely discontented or erratic. This 
 was the church which represented Christianity to Robert 
 IngersoU in his boyhood. There were benign idealists be- 
 longing to it, but the cranky, censorious elements were in the 
 foreground. His mother, who was remembered as a noble 
 woman, had died early. His father was morose and harsh, 
 and he was one of several motherless children in a cheer- 
 less home. What wonder that his keen, clear mind, rejected 
 
20 WILLIAM NEWTON CLARKE 
 
 the dogmas that were forced upon him, or that, when he had 
 become a popular orator, he held up to scorn and execration 
 a caricature of the religion that he never understood ? 
 
 In tlie autumn of 1858 Clarke entered college at Hamil- 
 ton as a sophomore. He depicted the college life of his day 
 and paid tribute to the men of his class upon its fiftieth anni- 
 versary in a charming address at commencement in June, 
 191 2. His was the class of 1861 and a large proportion of his 
 classmates enlisted in the Union Army at the first call to 
 arms, several of whom laid down their Hves early in the con- 
 flict. His close friend, Arthur Brooks, was one of the first to 
 die. He was a son of the Reverend Walter Brooks, pastor of 
 the Baptist Church in Hamilton, and this personal bereave- 
 ment, for such it was to Clarke, affected him deeply. The 
 Civil War, in which largely perished the flower of American 
 youth, both North and South, was a long agony to every 
 sensitive soul, and the experiences of those four years were 
 the most profound and pervasive element in the education 
 of the young men and young women of the time. Those who 
 lived through it have carried in their iimiost selves something 
 which the younger generation cannot comprehend. 
 
 College life at that period was much the same throughout 
 the land. The curriculum at Harvard and Yale was a trifle 
 more exacting than in small and isolated colleges, but the 
 classic tongues and higher mathematics could be studied any- 
 where, and also the chief modern languages. As to science, 
 in most places students could make only a slight beginning. 
 
 Louis Agassiz and Asa Gray were doing pioneer work at 
 Harvard and showing how to investigate. Of the new chem- 
 istry only vague foregleams had appeared to the most ad- 
 vanced workers. Personality counted for far more at that 
 time than it counts for to-day, and some of the smaller col- 
 leges were blessed with great teachers. At Hamilton, Doctor 
 Alexander Beebee gave his students good training in logic 
 and something of philosophy. That remarkable linguist, 
 
ANCESTRY AND EARLY LIFE 21 
 
 William I. Elnapp, still a very young man, was teaching mod- 
 ern languages. Under him Clarke studied Spanish. 
 
 The good preparation that Clarke had gained at Caze- 
 novia enabled him to carry his college work easily and gave 
 him time for recreation, reading, and good fellowship. The 
 latter he found cliiefly and most keenly enjoyed among his 
 confreres of the D. K. E. society. Secret societies were for- 
 bidden to exist at Madison University, as the college was 
 then named, but the Mu chapter was created there with the 
 aid of some members of that fraternity in Hamilton College 
 at Clinton, not far away. Clarke, social and fun-loving, was 
 one of the early members and entered heartily into the game 
 of keeping up the secret meetings and eluding the college au- 
 thorities, who soon began to suspect what was going on. 
 The story of the early days of the Mu chapter of Delta 
 Kappa Epsilon — its apparent extinction, its resuscitation and 
 precarious life while under the ban of professorial authority, 
 its final triumph and open recognition and acceptance by the 
 college faculty — was a Hvely episode in the student life of the 
 time and made an amusing piece of college history. 
 
 At college Clarke made some lifelong friendships. Among 
 those who entered college upon the same day with him was 
 Newton Lloyd Andrews, who was made professor of Greek 
 immediately after his graduation, and who, after fifty years 
 of service still remains at his post as head of the department 
 of Greek and lecturer on art. To him it fell to pay a beauti- 
 ful tribute to his friend and colleague in an address to the 
 students of Colgate University immediately after the death 
 of Doctor Clarke became known. 
 
 Graduated with his class at the commencement in '61, 
 Clarke entered the Hamilton Theological Seminary in the 
 autumn of the same year and finished his theological course 
 in the summer of '63. He was settled in Keene before he was 
 twenty-two years old, but was not ordained until January 
 14, 1863. 
 
22 WILLIAM NEWTON CLARKE 
 
 Of this period in his life Doctor Clarke writes thus in 
 Sixty Years with the Bible: 
 
 "Very early in the sixties, near the end of my college 
 course, I pledged myself in spirit to the work of the Christian 
 ministry, and before very long I was a student in a theological 
 seminary. 
 
 "I had not been doing much with my Bible during my 
 years in college, but turned to it with new enthusiasm under 
 a new influence. This, happily, was the personal inspiration 
 of a teacher. 
 
 "He was a good scholar, though I do not know that he 
 was an extraordinarily great one. But I do know that he was 
 a man of strong convictions, of a most beautiful devoutness, 
 of absolute sincerity, and of perfectly unconquerable indus- 
 try. His permanent physical condition was such as would 
 have made many men idle and most men easy, but his holy 
 resolution held him to an amount of work that put his stu- 
 dents to perpetual shame. He did not affect every one as he 
 affected me, but to me he was simply irresistible. 
 
 "His Christian character held my love and admiration, 
 his scholarship commanded my respect, and his industry was 
 contagious. What I could do I had to do while I was with 
 him. His influence and example made me a Bible student. 
 Our outfit of helps was pitifully meagre, but with such as we 
 had I set myself to the work. He taught us the right use of 
 commentaries and the like, insisting that whatever helps we 
 might use, our conclusions as to the meaning must be in an 
 honest sense our own. We must not shirk the responsibihty 
 of judging what our Bible means. I learned that lesson early, 
 to my Ufelong advantage. He made it impossible for me to 
 shoulder off upon commentators my duty of understanding 
 the Bible. One of his exhortations abides in memory: 'Let 
 no word of man come between your soul and the pure word 
 of God.' 
 
 " In such an atmosphere it naturally came to pass that I 
 was a firm Biblicist. I remember how my feeling toward the 
 Bible influenced my feeling about systematic theology. My 
 teacher in that department was a man of different mould 
 from my teacher in the Bible. He ranged more widely, he 
 was more mystical in his view, and he was more of a philoso- 
 
ANCESTRY AND EARLY LIFE 23 
 
 pher, thinking for himself and outreaching far and wide. One 
 was searching in the Bible to discover the truth of God; the 
 other was using truth that he had found there or anywhere 
 else in the broad excursions of a reverently exploring spirit. 
 To this speculative work of the theologian I felt deep objec- 
 tion because it was not Biblical enough; it was not built on 
 proof-texts or buttressed by them as I thought it ought to be. 
 It was too speculative, I thought, and grounded elsewhere 
 than in the word of God. In this judgment I was sincere but 
 I was wrong. The theologian was using Scripture as it had 
 been assimilated by his mind and yielded him its teaching, a 
 process that I could not then understand. The Bible in- 
 spired his theology; I thought it ought to dictate it. His 
 method was legitimate and truly Christian, and to his large, 
 uplifting influence I am indebted no less than to the influ- 
 ence that led me at first to be suspicious of it. In my day 
 his teaching power was comparatively undeveloped, but in 
 his later years he became a teacher of magnificent inspira- 
 tion. 
 
 ''Before the sixties were half spent I was settled in a 
 quiet parish and using the Bible in the honest and blundering 
 manner of a beginner in the ministry." 
 
IN KEENE 
 
 In the pleasant old town of Keene, New Hampshire, 
 where he had his first pastorate, Clarke Hved a quiet, labori- 
 ous Hfe for six years. His congregation was made up partly 
 of families living in the town and partly of country people, 
 and he easily entered into a kind of pastoral work already 
 familiar to him. After two years the parsonage became his 
 home and his sister Mary came to be his companion, house- 
 keeper, and parish helper. By her presence his Hfe was en- 
 riched and brightened. He was by nature as far as possible 
 from the self-centred recluse. 
 
 He has described his Hfe, which left him not much time 
 for recreation, in an address entitled, "Some Recent Aspects 
 of the Ministry," given in 1904, in New York, before a min- 
 isterial association. It begins thus: 
 
 "The days come, the years pass, but how much they 
 bring to us we do not know till afterward. I now know that 
 I have lived over from one period, almost from one world 
 into another. The calling of the ministry has not changed, 
 but the relations and work of the ministry have changed im- 
 mensely, far more than later comers upon the stage can know. 
 
 "For the sake of showing what the ministry is to-day, 
 what a world it has to deal with, and what it has to do, I wish 
 to mention some of the great new elements that have come 
 into its field since my father preached my ordination sermon 
 on the 14th of January, 1864. 
 
 "My parish was a small church in a New England county 
 seat of four thousand people. A morning sermon, an afternoon 
 sermon, a prayer-meeting in the evening, one on Wednesday 
 evening, sometimes another in a dwelling on Friday evening, 
 visiting my people, marrying, burying, and incidental service — 
 this was my work. The only burning questions were those 
 of the Civil War which was then upon us. New ideas of 
 
 24 
 
IN KEENE 
 
 25 
 
 church work, theological excitements, social questions in the 
 modern sense — from these we were free. 
 
 *'But I beg my brethren to note what has come to pass 
 since then. Note first what entered into the daily work of the 
 church and so of the minister. For several years I made the 
 list of lessons for my Sunday-school. I have lived through 
 the entire period of uniform Sunday-school lessons and of the 
 development of the Sunday-school which has accompanied 
 them. The importance of the Sunday-school has been mul- 
 tiplied manifold within my time. Of organizations within 
 the church we had none except the Sewing Society and the 
 Social Circle with its fortnightly gathering of people. Mis- 
 sionary societies for women have all come in since then. 
 The earliest Baptist Women's Missionary Society was formed 
 in my second parish, and I had the honor to have a hand in 
 some of its earliest doings. Through these societies and by 
 other means the women of our churches have come into a 
 prominence that was totally unknown when I began. 
 
 "What is true of women is equally true of young people. 
 It was well toward the middle of my forty years when the 
 first Society of Christian Endeavor was formed. That entire 
 movement of Christian Endeavor, denominational unions, 
 junior societies, yes, and primary classes in Sunday-schools 
 has swept into the life of our churches within my period. All 
 institutional features in the church are also new. The insti- 
 tutional church was utterly unknown when I began, and the 
 very conception of the calling of a church out of which it grew 
 was yet in a great measure to be developed. Of course there 
 was nothing akin to settlement work. There were institu- 
 tions like the Five Points Mission and the Homes for Little 
 Wanderers, and there were many good works, but the more 
 recent methods of city work were waiting to be suggested by 
 a set of ideas not yet developed. The modern Christian in- 
 terest in sociology is a growth of my time. The idea of soci- 
 ology as a science was as unknown as the name when J began. 
 The whole conception has swept in upon us as a novelty within 
 a httle time. Equally new is the whole idea of training for 
 lay workers in the church. 
 
 "Suggestions of pedagogical methods had not then struck 
 religious work. As for evangelism, that problem has changed 
 its form more than once within my time. 
 
26 WILLIAM NEWTON CLARKE 
 
 "The Salvation Army was still unknown. When I was 
 ordained Mr. Moody was unknown. I first saw him two 
 years later when he was becoming prominent as a local 
 worker, I remember the change that came in with the Gos- 
 pel H>Tnns. The great sweep of the Moody movement has 
 come and gone, and the first generation of successors have 
 run their course. 
 
 *'The Northfield movement has followed with its kindred 
 establishments scattered through the country. 
 
 "I well remember a conversation with Bishop Vincent 
 when the Chautauqua movement was still young, in which he 
 enthusiastically expounded to me the idea which it embodied. 
 The Students' Volunteer movement in missions and the 
 Students' Christian Associations have also come in since the 
 beginning of my work. 
 
 "Agencies for doing good? A minister has more of them 
 at his disposal over and over again than forty years ago. 
 The list of additions is startling to me, who has seen it grow. 
 But how to use them and how much they are really worth 
 to him, which among them have lived their life and which 
 have hold on the future — these are urgent questions for the 
 minister to-day, and in their present form they are mainly 
 questions new, unknown when my work began. 
 
 "Since I began my work the mental atmosphere in our 
 part of the world has become permeated by the ideas that are 
 represented by the name evolution. I do not refer to any 
 special form of the scientific theory or of the philosophy which 
 that name may suggest. I refer to the insweeping to the 
 popular mind of the ideas and modes of thinking that are 
 characteristic of the system. 
 
 "People are coming to think of things as ancient and yet 
 as ever changing: as having grown to be what they are, one 
 stage out of another, and as growing still. 
 
 "When I was ordained Darwin's Origin of Species had 
 been published only five years, and the ideas that it suggested 
 were scarcely even entering as vital forces into the American 
 religious mind." 
 
 "Do not let your love of fun be a snare to you," was his 
 mother's admonition to this beginner in the ministry, not yet 
 twenty-two years of age, in a letter written soon after his set- 
 
IN KEENE 
 
 27 
 
 tlement in Keene. His time was so filled with study and 
 parish work that very little fun was possible to him except 
 that which bubbled up spontaneously from the well-spring 
 within. If he sometimes missed the sparkhng young life, in 
 the midst of which he had always dwelt, he was aware of 
 having the highest compensations. When in midsummer he 
 took his vacation and was at home with his parents in Water- 
 ville, New York, to which place they had removed in the 
 autumn of 1864, or with his sister and his old friends in Caz- 
 enovia, he was like a boy let out of school, brimming with the 
 brightest and sweetest good-fellowship, ready to keep the ball 
 in the air with any one in a lively game of badinage, and 
 enjoying with the keenest zest the companionship of his 
 friends. 
 
 Much that shows his essential self and foretokens his 
 later development appears in letters to his future wife between 
 the summer of 1866 when they first met in Cazenovia and 
 the time of their marriage in September, 1869. 
 
 He writes without reserve of whatever he is thinking and 
 doing. His love of nature is the background for all else. He 
 gathers arbutus in early spring to send to his "cousin," as 
 he calls her in the earlier letters, and describes the south- 
 ward sloping hillside where it grew. He brings home bits of 
 moss and Uchen, hardy ferns and budding twigs, in late au- 
 tumn and early spring, when there are no flowers, and ar- 
 ranges them in his own way to give a touch of living beauty 
 to his study table. He drives over the shoulder of Monad- 
 nock on a bitter winter's day in obedience to some call of 
 duty and does not fail to note the bleak grandeur of the out- 
 look. Again, in the following summer, he goes over the same 
 route with a party of friends, making an excursion to the sum- 
 mit of the mountain, and writes a charming description and 
 record of impressions while all is fresh in his mind. He did 
 not cease to notice pleasant things because they were familiar. 
 The view from one of his study windows in Keene was an un- 
 
28 WILLIAM NEWTON CLARKE 
 
 failing source of delight to him. Again and again in those 
 letters occur descriptions of this outlook as it appeared under 
 all its changes of light and color as the seasons passed, on 
 rainy or misty days, after a snowfall or when every bush and 
 tree was beautiful with frostwork or sparkling with ice. No 
 landscape painter ever studied a scene with truer or more 
 lo\ang eyes. An artist's journal of the round of the year 
 might have been compiled from these descriptions. 
 
 His interest in all sorts of people comes out in those let- 
 ters in which he tells many incidents of his parish work — 
 pathetic, beautiful, and sometimes amusing. 
 
 Although he is a born student, he is not working for plea- 
 sure or scholarship, but so shapes his studies as to make them 
 constantly serviceable to his people. He tells of his effort to 
 iriduce the whole body of his parishioners to join with him in 
 a course of systematic Scripture reading, while he aids and 
 interests them by going over the same ground in a series of 
 explanatory sermons covering the whole of the Bible. He is 
 working steadily to master the New Testament in Greek, and 
 as a means to that end he is comparing the original with 
 Latin, German, and French translations. The Vulgate he 
 does not find inspiring, but Luther's translation he feels to 
 be a work of genius as well as of scholarship, which often 
 flashes new light upon a passage. The French is useful, be- 
 cause it is modem in spirit and language, though inferior in 
 strength and beauty to the King James version. 
 
 There is no public Ubrary accessible — town and village 
 libraries were almost unheard of then — and he has to buy 
 every book that he needs. Bit by bit he is gathering a Ubrary 
 of excellent quality, books for his work and the more precious 
 of English classics. Each time that he makes one of his in- 
 frequent trips to Boston he brings home a few books. In his 
 letters he describes and exults over each one. A book new to 
 him he reads at once and gives a concise review of it. Thus 
 he tells of Stanley's History of the Jewish Church, which he 
 
IN KEENE 29 
 
 finds startlingly fresh and delightful. His copy of Bacon's 
 Essays was one of these acquisitions and also a beautiful little 
 copy of Milton's poems bound in red morocco and satisfying 
 to the eye in every way, which he always kept in the study. 
 He noticed instinctively the title-page, paper, type, binding 
 — all of the externals of book-making — and was something 
 of a connoisseur, yet he almost never bought an expensive 
 book. 
 
 These letters shed a clear light upon a note-book, dated 
 1868, which contains much that is characteristic. Some pas- 
 sages reveal a deep searching of his own heart, some are sug- 
 gested by his reading, some are reflections jotted down for 
 use in preaching. There is a piece of theological reasoning 
 growing out of the substitutionary theory of the death of 
 Christ so much higher and deeper than that theory that it 
 seems like the bud from which blossomed his latest utter- 
 ances upon that theme. For one, who by feeling and choice 
 was conservative, Clarke was then singularly modern in the 
 attitude of his mind. He did not shrink from looking can- 
 didly at new ideas. 
 
 The writings of Augustine were fascinating and yet irri- 
 tating to him. One of his new books was Augustinianism 
 and Pelagianism, the reading of which evidently suggested 
 a number of notes. At that time, to the ardent Biblical 
 student, almost all theological differences seemed to grow out 
 of exegetical questions. He thinks Augustine's exegesis very 
 faulty and writes: 
 
 "It seems wonderful that such exegesis as he deemed al- 
 lowable should have given him any sound knowledge what- 
 ever of the Scriptures. Some of the strength of his argument 
 was dependent upon his small exegetical knowledge, and es- 
 pecially that which rested on Romans 5 : 12. His inability 
 to enter into the spirit and language of the East also made 
 him draw much more from apparently strong expressions in 
 the Old Testament than was originally in them. 
 
 "The transmission of guilt, as Augustine held it, reduced to 
 
30 WILLIAM NEWTON CLARKE 
 
 a reductio ad absurdum in Emerson's note, 283 seq., or better, 
 it is a reductio ad fiorrible." 
 
 Eleven pages in the note-book are given to Augustine and 
 his polemic methods. Some years later he was similarly af- 
 fected by reading the Life of Jotiathan Edwards. In each case 
 he was attracted by the man and repelled by his theology. 
 
 Doctor John H. Mason of the Theological Seminary in 
 Rochester, New York, has contributed the following remi- 
 niscences : 
 
 "I remember well the young man on that Sunday of his 
 first visit to Keene — tall, well formed, with hair and beard 
 strikingly dark, with an eye which searched you and won you, 
 and with a smile which made one his friend even before he 
 had opened his lips in speech. The voice — that most persis- 
 tent and unchanging gift of nature — was precisely the same 
 voice with which he spoke to me the last time that I saw him, 
 some two or three years ago. 
 
 "Naturally, I cannot pass upon the quality of the sermon, 
 but I well remember the manner of its delivery, read from 
 manuscript, as was the custom in that day. Yet there was a 
 freedom of utterance and a kind of manly, straightforward 
 statement and appeal which I have not forgotten. There 
 was sparse gesticulation, as in later years, and the gestures 
 were forceful rather than graceful. 
 
 "The pastorate began at once and continued for six years 
 until the call to the pastorate of the church at Newton Cen- 
 ter, Massachusetts, took him away from Keene. The hazy 
 reminiscences of boyhood are of small value in the retrospect 
 of time, but the verdict of history has already been rendered 
 upon those years in the Christian mim'stry. No better proof 
 of the quality of the work done in Keene could be cited than 
 in the call to Newton Center. 
 
 "That a church which comprised within its congregation 
 the professors and students of our venerable New England 
 Theological Seminary should venture to call a young man of 
 twenty-seven to its pulpit was an extraordinary circum- 
 stance. It could only mean that Mr. Clarke's ministry at 
 Keene had been one of studious devotion and of high ideals. 
 
IN KEENE ^ 31 
 
 What I best remember is the affection which our pastor 
 awakened among the young people and especially among the 
 children of the parish. He drew us not only to himself but 
 also to his Saviour, and the day which stands out above all 
 others to me was that first Sunday in September, in the first 
 year of his pastorate, when he led a group of four or five of 
 us children down into the shining waters of the Ashuelot and 
 buried us with our Lord in baptism. 
 
 "The old church on Winter Street, now supplanted by a 
 more modern structure, will always be associated in my mind 
 with the ministry of Mr. Clarke. I was fond of watching for 
 his entrance on Sunday morning, and as a boy I especially en- 
 joyed the long, sweeping stride with which he marched past 
 our pew and into the pulpit. In the pulpit there was a pecu- 
 liar gentleness and reverence of manner, and he read the 
 Scripture as if it were the very word of God. 
 
 ''The pastor was an inmate of our house for several 
 months, and it was here that we really came to know him. 
 Those who have known him well in later years have invari- 
 ably remarked upon the charm of his personality; that the 
 members of our household early discovered. In his relations 
 with the parish he maintained a dignity, some might call it a 
 reserve, which retarded the progress of friendship, but in the 
 familiarity of the home life he unbent, and all the rich stores 
 of his mind and heart were ours. 
 
 "I was beginning in a halting way the study of Latin, and 
 I recall the wonder with which I looked upon a man who 
 could take up my Latin books and translate them as if they 
 were written in his own tongue. With Greek it was much the 
 same, for even at that time he had made great progress 
 toward the mastery of the tongue which he used so freely in 
 after years. Some time afterward, when he was no longer a 
 member of the household, he consented to take two of us 
 boys in the high school through some special course in 
 Latin. It was a great privilege to us to be admitted to the 
 sacred precincts of our pastor's study, and there perhaps more 
 than elsewhere was generated that love of books which has 
 followed us down the years. He may have served as a private 
 tutor in his college days, but if not, I dare say this little class 
 was the first which he really taught, so it is good to remember 
 the enthusiasm, the accuracy, the patience, the humor, and 
 
32 WILLIAM NEWTON CLARKE 
 
 the general illumination with which he taught us and which 
 were so marked characteristics of his teaching when his whole 
 life had been surrendered to that high caUing. He set before 
 us noble ideals of scholarship and awakened within us earnest 
 aspirations for the higher intellectual life." 
 
NEWTON CENTER 
 
 In May, 1869, Clarke became pastor of the old pioneer 
 Baptist Church in Newton Center, Massachusetts. On Sep- 
 tember I, the same year, we were married at my home, 
 Waverly, Pennsylvania, by Clarke's father, the Reverend 
 WilUam Clarke, and we were soon established in the Langley 
 cottage. Samuel Langley and Emily Montague Pierpont, his 
 wife, were an original, independent, highly interesting pair if 
 one may judge from the reminiscences regarding them which 
 survived among their neighbors. They had built this cottage 
 and occupied it during their last years. Later it had been 
 the home of their daughter, Mrs. Goodrich. It was a pictur- 
 esque little abode, and she had beautified the place by her 
 artistic arrangement of lawn and drive, rustic work and bor- 
 ders with flowers and shaded walks. The house stood at a 
 pleasant distance from the street and was screened by a tall 
 hedge of arbor vitae which bordered the front of the estate. 
 Along the west side, on Chase Street, ran a low wall of the 
 worn and rounded stones of the region, adorned with Virginia 
 creeper, clematis, and trailing brambles. At the back of the 
 house was a grassy slope with fruit-trees and a long, rustic 
 arbor covered with grape-vines, following the curve of a path 
 which it shaded. The cottage had a pleasant veranda extend- 
 ing along three sides to which French windows gave access 
 from the parlor and from the sitting-room, which had a bay 
 window at the south end. This room became the minister's 
 study. 
 
 This cottage has a special interest on account of its asso- 
 ciation with the brothers, Samuel Pierpont and John W. 
 Langley, who became eminent scientists, known for their far- 
 seeing pioneer work. As boys they spent a part of their sum- 
 
 33 
 
34 WILLIAM NEWTON CLARKE 
 
 mer vacations with their grandparents, and they fitted up a 
 workshop in the bam at the east end of the place, where they 
 exercised their mechanical and scientific aptitudes. In that 
 workshop they made a telescope, and their cousin, Miss 
 Julia Faunce, who became Mrs. Stackpole, remembered being 
 carried one morning by the boys across the dewy grass that 
 she might look through their telescope. 
 
 The old barn, still in use, was upon the verge of the wild, 
 and a clmnp of sassafras of pungent odor and flavor, with other 
 pleasant woodland things, grew in a thicket beside the barn. 
 
 Perhaps the Langley cottage was, in its way, an epitome of 
 Newton Center, which although it had become suburban (it was 
 only eight miles from Boston) with a large number of house- 
 holders, who went and came daily to and from the city, still 
 retained many characteristics of the country village. Side by 
 side stood modern houses, occupied by families from the city, 
 and old-fashioned houses with old-fashioned people in them. 
 
 The narrow highway in front of the Langley cottage, a 
 little farther eastward, resolved itself into a secluded coun- 
 try road, passing along a stretch of rough, wild land on the 
 north, covered with young oaks, blueberry-bushes and other 
 wild things, among which rose here and there a huge granite 
 boulder. On the south side was apiece of marshy lowland 
 full of luxuriant growths, a most fascinating spot for a child 
 or a naturalist, and beyond was a long border of woodland. 
 After passing the corner beyond the cottage there was only 
 one dwelling for nearly a mile and then one suddenly came 
 upon a primitive settlement where a colony of German labor- 
 ers had established themselves in habitations not much larger 
 than the boulders with which they shared the ground. This 
 was Thompsonville, and here was a small brown chapel be- 
 longing to the Baptist Society of Newton Center, where a 
 Sunday-school was kept up for these immigrants and their 
 children, and where preaching services and prayer-meetings 
 were held. 
 
NEWTON CENTER 
 
 35 
 
 The people were very poor and had seized thankfully 
 upon this spot where the waste land was cheap. They were 
 proud to own their little homes for which they had toiled hard, 
 and they came to love the chapel with all that it stood for. 
 The mission had been undertaken and was carried on from 
 purely Christian motives, but it had a social and economic 
 value which appeared later. 
 
 The drives all through the Newtons were delightful. 
 There were a few broad avenues bordered here and there by 
 spacious estates, some of which were triumphs of the land- 
 scape-gardener's art. A few of these estates were so old that 
 the elms and maples had attained their maximum growth, 
 and many were perfect specimens of their kind, set in lawns 
 almost as rich and velvety as one sees in old England. Forty 
 years ago the trees and shrubs showed a health and luxuri- 
 ance that does not appear to-day. At that time the insec- 
 tivorous birds were still numerous and doing their beneficent 
 work. 
 
 No less attractive were the many narrow and ancient 
 roads, leading in every direction and crisscrossing in an ir- 
 regular network. These by-roads were adorned with natural 
 hedges of shrubs and trees growing irregularly on either side 
 of old stone walls or lichen-covered fences, over which trailed 
 clematis and brambles. Here and there stood a slender white 
 birch, and the tangles were all alive with birds. 
 
 It seemed strange to find so much wild land and so many 
 fields once tilled that had reverted to nature, but thus it was, 
 and the few farms still occupied were falling, one by one, into 
 the possession of Irish or German immigrants. The indus- 
 trial and social changes were already well advanced that have 
 now transformed this old colonial region into something that 
 those who knew it forty years ago cannot recognize. 
 
 Newton (Newtown) had been settled very early, and many 
 descendants of the original colonists were to be found bear- 
 ing the names of their ancestors, and in some instances living 
 
36 WILLIAM NEWTON CLARKE 
 
 in houses built more than a century earlier. Plain in dress, 
 homely of speech, hard-working tillers of the soil they loved, 
 steadfast as granite in their conWctions, these old-fashioned 
 men and women were to the minister among the most inter- 
 esting of his parishioners. The Stone neighborhood at Oak 
 Hill was t>^ical. The chief of the clan, good Deacon Stone, 
 dwelling in his old age, loved and honored, among his younger 
 kinsfolk, with his stalwart frame, his fine head, his strong, 
 weather-beaten face, once seen could never be forgotten. He 
 was somewhat stern in manner, but to his frail little wife, 
 sweet-faced and gentle, he was chivalry and tenderness per- 
 sonified. 
 
 The pastor was always welcome in their home. There 
 would be a little talk about the affairs of the church, the state 
 of religion, the persons ill or in trouble, and then all would 
 kneel in earnest prayer. When the pastor took leave he was 
 always dismissed with fatherly words of encouragement and 
 benediction. 
 
 Newton Center was one of the oldest of the eleven \allages 
 in the town of Newton. In order to avoid annexation to Bos- 
 ton the town had recently obtained a city charter. It was a 
 unique, interesting rural city. The people were as nearly a 
 homogeneous community as could be found in the vicinity of 
 a great commercial centre. The majority bore old New Eng- 
 land names and their ideas and ways were decidedly of the 
 New England type. 
 
 Newton Center was high and healthful and near enough 
 to Boston in that day of few and slow trains to be a conve- 
 nient place of residence for professional men and men of busi- 
 ness. Some who had gained wealth and position lived outside 
 the village upon pleasant estates, some were struggling for 
 success, and some were with difficulty making a living. Al- 
 ready there was a sense of feverish haste in the atmosphere, 
 but no one could anticipate the wild rush of to-day in com- 
 mercial and social life. 
 
NEWTON CENTER 37 
 
 The teachers in the school of theology were an important 
 element in the Hfe of the place. The churchgoing people who 
 made a large majority of the inhabitants were about equally 
 divided between the Baptists and the CongregationaUsts, 
 whose church was often mentioned as the ''Orthodox," so 
 fresh was still the memory of the schism in the established 
 church of New England which resulted in the division of con- 
 gregations into Unitarian and Orthodox. 
 
 Very friendly and pleasant relations existed among the 
 members of the two churches. Denominational differences 
 were seldom mentioned, and only a few in either church 
 seemed to regard these differences as important. 
 
 Doctor Furber, the pastor of the Congregational Church, 
 one of the truest and most modest of men, gave the Baptist 
 pastor, at his coming, a cordial welcome and was ever his 
 friend. Doctor Stearns, Clarke's predecessor, who had be- 
 come professor of Old Testament interpretation in Newton 
 Institution, a man of bright, incisive, poetic mind and mag- 
 netic power in the pulpit, was kind and genial toward his 
 successor. 
 
 Doctor S. F. Smith, an earHer pastor, of world-wide fame, 
 the author of glowing hymns other than "America," still 
 had his home in Newton Center. He was a man of scholarly 
 tastes, one of that famous Harvard class of 1829 immortal- 
 ized by OKver Wendell Holmes. At that day he was chiefly 
 interested in linguistic studies and hymnology. Mrs. Smith, 
 with her fair and rosy complexion, her fine, strong face, her 
 white curls touched with pale gold, soft and flossy like those 
 of a httle child, in the harmonious setting of her own home 
 made a beautiful picture and seemed the very genius of hos- 
 pitality. Madame Smith, her mother, bright, alert, active, 
 doing fine needlework when she was past eighty, interested 
 in everybody and everything, was a marvel. Her husband. 
 Doctor Hezekiah Smith, a man of note in his day, had been 
 the friend and classmate at Princeton of Doctor Manning, 
 
38 WILLIAM NEWTON CLARKE 
 
 and had given him efficient aid in the founding of Brown 
 University. He had served as one of Washington's chap- 
 lains and had entertained Washington in his home. Upon 
 special occasions, at Thanksgiving, Christmas, or family anni- 
 versaries, one was ofifered tea or coffee from the same precious 
 cups that had been used upon that great occasion. Every- 
 thing thus associated with the father of his country had been 
 treasured in the family. Mrs. Smith was the child of her 
 father's old age and it seemed to bring the period of the 
 Revolution very near to know that she and her mother were 
 thus closely linked to it. 
 
 Another family with which the friendship was close and 
 lasting was that of George S. Dexter. Mrs. Dexter was a 
 daughter of the Reverend Duncan Dunbar, a Scotch minis- 
 ter who had emigrated with his family to America. He was 
 a noble, large-hearted man and a remarkable preacher. 
 
 Mr. and Mrs. Dexter had taken the new pastor into their 
 home when he first went to Newton, and during the first 
 months of his pastorate he had been their guest. Their affec- 
 tionate interest in him, and his love for them and their fam- 
 ily, never failed. 
 
 In the Dexter home one now and then met other descend- 
 ants of Duncan Dunbar. They were vivid, versatile, warmly 
 magnetic personalities — every one. Mrs. Chaplin was a fre- 
 quent contributor to religious periodicals. Her daughter 
 Christine, afterward Mrs. Brush, was a captivating girl of 
 many gifts and a devoted daughter and sister. Whatever she 
 attempted she did easily and well. Once in a while, in her 
 busy Ufe, she would happen to write a poem or a prose article 
 that was certain to be welcomed by one of the best magazines. 
 One of the most impressive of her poems, which appeared in 
 the Atlantic Monthly, was entitled, "And There Shall Be No 
 More Sea." Perhaps the most widely read of all that she 
 wrote was that witty Uttle tale, "The Colonel's Opera Cloak," 
 published in the "No Name" series. 
 
NEWTON CENTER 39 
 
 There was also a happy intimacy with Doctor and Mrs. 
 Hovey and their children. Portrait sketches of Doctor Hovey 
 and of Professor Gould are given in Sixty Years with the Bible, 
 from which only brief passages can be quoted here: 
 
 "I must not fail to mention certain personal influences 
 that were upon me in those years. Earliest among them, and 
 latest, too, was that of the theologian to whom I looked up, 
 almost as to a father. Older than I by a score of years, he re- 
 ceived me from the first into a warm friendship which re- 
 mained unaltered to the end of his days. As soon as I knew 
 him I was attracted by the sweetness of his spirit and also by 
 his candor, his patience, and his well-balanced judgment. I 
 did not always agree with him, but in all his work I knew him 
 as the truest of men." 
 
 Of Professor Gould he says: 
 
 "The man of my own age who was nearest to me was 
 teacher of New Testament interpretation. He was a man of 
 immense force, keen of intellect, deep-seeing and far-seeing. 
 By patient concentration he developed a rare exegetical 
 sense and became a very remarkable interpreter of the Scrip- 
 tures. Many a single passage and many a large meaning 
 have I worked out with him, and my permanent indebted- 
 ness to him is very great." 
 
 The early associations of Professor Gould and Mrs. Gould 
 had been with Old Cambridge, and he was a Harvard man. 
 He had served his country as an officer of the Union Army 
 in the Civil War. They mingled pleasantly with different 
 social circles and perhaps touched the hfe of the day at points 
 more various than any other family of his parish with which 
 Clarke had an every-day intimacy. The atmosphere of their 
 house was stirring and stimulating, and among their guests 
 one might now and then meet persons awake to the import 
 of certain rehgious and social problems that had already 
 risen above the horizon and which are looming up to-day in 
 astounding magnitude. 
 
40 WILLIAM NEWTON CLARKE 
 
 It was, however, a time of hope and fearless enterprise in 
 every direction, and a spirit of optimism ruled. It cannot be 
 denied that in Newton, side by side with all that springs from 
 real enlightenment and a prosperity in many cases wisely and 
 generously used, there was not a little of that stohd satisfac- 
 tion in material things, that avoidance of the things of the in- 
 tellect and the spirit, and that imperturbable trust in riches 
 which Matthew Arnold summed up in the word Philistinism. 
 Then, as now, Goliath posing as David, fully understood, yet 
 easily tolerated, was no uncommon figure. With this confus- 
 ing and demoraUzing force every teacher of reUgion and 
 ethics had to reckon. 
 
 In the autumn of 1869 William Clarke and his wife made 
 a visit to their son. Upon the second Sunday after their ar- 
 rival the father preached at the morning service and touched 
 the hearts of all who listened. This was his text: "As ye 
 have received Christ Jesus the Lord, so walk ye in him." 
 
 The sermon was as old-fashioned, simple, and beautiful, 
 and as everlastingly true and convincing as a living passage 
 from Bunyan or Jeremy Taylor. 
 
 It was an utterance that belonged to all time and so was 
 felt to be absolutely timely at that hour. He began by de- 
 picting the tenderness and humility of the penitent soul, 
 spoke from a full heart of the new-found peace and chastened 
 joy that comes with a sense of forgiveness and reconciliation 
 to God, and then of the impulse of loving obedience that 
 awakens in the soul that has become aware of its sonship to 
 God and its brotherhood with Christ. He entreated his 
 hearers to recall that early experience if it had been forgotten 
 or had become dim, to consecrate themselves anew to God 
 and to Hve thenceforth in the spirit of Christ. The congrega- 
 tion Hstened in a deep hush, with the sense of a great presence 
 upon them. When the service was over and the preacher 
 stood with his son at the foot of the pulpit stairs, there was a 
 movement toward them, from every side, of one and another 
 
NEWTON CENTER 41 
 
 coming to grasp his hand and to thank him for the blessing 
 that had come to them in his message. Even now, after the 
 lapse of many years, a few faces in the eager group that gath- 
 ered around this true servant of God come clearly to the 
 memory of one who was a deeply interested hstener and 
 looker-on. 
 
 Doctor Ripley's delicate face, which could sometimes be 
 as stern as a Roman mask, was softened and radiant. Dear 
 Madame Dexter's was tremulous with emotion. There was 
 Doctor Warren, the veteran secretary of the Missionary 
 Union, a great man and a great preacher, warmly greeting 
 his brother in the ministry. 
 
 In the congregation were some who recognized in this 
 unveiling of a soul endowed with that simplicity which is 
 eternal wisdom, the same spirit which had attracted them at 
 first to their pastor and were thereafter more closely drawn 
 to him. 
 
 The first visit of William Clarke to Newton Center was 
 also his last. In the spring of 187 1 he was called to his eternal 
 home. 
 
 Clarke hitherto had never questioned the tenets of his 
 denomination. The position he occupied was his by inheri- 
 tance and by acceptance after he was able to judge for him- 
 self. He held to a mitigated form of Calvinism and believed 
 baptism by immersion to have been the method used by the 
 early church, which expressed in its symbohsm a vital truth. 
 Restricted communion was its inevitable corollary. The whole 
 question had been exhaustively discussed by able and learned 
 reasoners, again and again, and he agreed with the conclu- 
 sions which tallied with his own early training. 
 
 Nor did he hesitate over any point in the confession of 
 faith that had been adopted long before by the church in New- 
 ton Center, although he saw that it ought to be revised and 
 modified. This confession was very carefully revised a few 
 years later, during his pastorate, and many changes were made. 
 
 -^-IT-T. I IU ' ■-! ■ J i . 
 
42 WILLIAM NEWTON CLARKE 
 
 From the time that he entered the School of Theology at 
 Hamilton he had been an eager student of the Bible, and espe- 
 cially of New Testament exegesis. Through the six years in 
 Keene he had worked conscientiously and ardently, and in 
 Newton he kept on in the same line under the added stimulus 
 of daily contact with teachers in the seminary. He tried to 
 keep pace with all advances in actual knowledge of the Bible, 
 using always the best texts and the best aids that could be 
 had. He was not much affected by the destructive criticism 
 at that time nearing its culmination in Germany. He was 
 repelled by the spirit of Strauss, then the most prominent 
 scholar and critic of the radical group, and not until after the 
 coming of Hamack did he find himself deeply interested in 
 any of the more modern theologians of Germany. In truth, 
 his theology with its modifications and profound changes as 
 the years passed was always his own, as purely the product 
 of his own experience, study, and reflection as was possible to 
 an open-minded man who read somewhat widely. 
 
 Ever clear in memory is a picture of the study in the Lang- 
 ley cottage. Between windows reaching to the floor stood a 
 desk and bookcase, and there the earnest student used to sit, 
 with his constant companion, the Greek New Testament, 
 open beside him, his cherished Bengel's Gnomon close at hand, 
 Meyer's Commentary, then the latest and best, and other 
 books of reference within easy reach. 
 
 There was in the study a little old-fashioned melodeon 
 of a style long since superseded by larger and noisier instru- 
 ments. This had been his dear companion and friend almost 
 from childhood. He confided to it unutterable things, and it 
 responded with ready sympathy. Often he would leave his 
 writing and sit down at the melodeon. Perhaps he would play 
 some of the many church tunes that he knew, perhaps some 
 tender or lofty passage from an oratorio, perhaps some emo- 
 tion or revelation in the depths of his soul, inexpressible save 
 in music, would utter itself in poignant strains. 
 
NEWTON CENTER 43 
 
 He was as far as possible from being outwardly methodi- 
 cal. He never laid out his time according to any schedule, 
 yet his innate orderliness enabled him to do whatever was to 
 be done without hurry or worry. Two sermons were sure to 
 be ready for the Sunday services, though often one was wholly 
 written on Saturday. On Monday morning he usually went 
 to Boston to attend the weekly ministers' meeting and the 
 monthly meeting of a theological club. He liked to drop in 
 at the missionary rooms at Tremont Temple or at some book- 
 store, so Monday was really Boston day. On Tuesday morn- 
 ing after this bit of a change he started, refreshed, upon the 
 work of the week before him. He worked at his desk during 
 the morning hours, when he was fresh and fit, if he could, yet 
 since a pastor, with innumerable calls upon his time, must 
 work as he can, he was not disturbed even if the morning 
 proved to be a series of interruptions. He turned easily from 
 one thing to another, and as he had great power of concentra- 
 tion he accomplished much without loss of time. 
 
 He had not given much attention to philosophy, but if 
 questioned he would have replied that his philosophy was 
 that of common sense. He had accepted the system of 
 thought regarding the problem of existence generally taught 
 in American colleges — of which Doctor McCosh, at Princeton, 
 was at that time a distinguished exponent. He might well 
 have applied to himself the saying of Joubert: "That part of 
 my head which is made to take in things that are not clear 
 is very narrow." He could not, as yet, sympathize with the 
 exclamation of Edward Irving: "I like to see a great idea 
 looming up through the mist !" 
 
 He had a passion for rectitude of thought and definiteness 
 of statement. There was little in his sermons of that touch 
 and go and general suggestiveness that is delightful to many 
 minds. Each point was clearly and strongly stated, the ser- 
 mon was delivered with a characteristic momentum, and the 
 effect was convincing, although the argument was underlying 
 
44 WILLIAM NEWTON CLARKE 
 
 and implied, never obtrusive. His strength was, however, 
 not chiefly intellectual. A pervasive glow that came from 
 the preacher's inmost self was the secret of his power. That 
 he was essentially a mystic was one of the things that he 
 learned latest about himself. His philosophy, like his the- 
 ology, changed profoundly though very gradually, as he ad- 
 vanced in life. 
 
 In Keene he had been overburdened in every way because, 
 although his people were generous and loyal, there were few 
 in the church who had the ability and the training to take any 
 part of the parish work off his hands. The Newton Center 
 church was rich in men and women accustomed to work 
 with and for the pastor. Also the members of the theological 
 faculty stood ready to help him at any time by preaching. 
 He now had leisure for more reading and broader study, and 
 the library of Newton Institution was close at hand. He re- 
 sumed his studies in the field of church history with a mind ma- 
 ture enough to make such work vital and fruitful. His reading 
 in this line and his sampling of the church fathers, early and 
 late, provided much food for thought at that period and later. 
 
 While in Keene he had become acquainted with The Vica- 
 rious Sacrifice of Horace Bushnell, but in his busy and weary 
 life he had not found opportunity to do it justice. Not long 
 after his settlement at Newton a professor in the seminary 
 came one day into his study and began to talk of what was 
 uppermost in his mind. He had been reading The Vicarious 
 Sacrifice and was about to write a review in which he took 
 issue with the author. He pointed out what he regarded as 
 the fatal error of the book and gave an outline of the argu- 
 ments by which he proposed to refute this heresy. 
 
 A few days later Clarke returned from the seminary li- 
 brary bringing The Vicarious Sacrifice, and went through it 
 with critical and yet sympathetic interest. He looked at the 
 argument candidly from the author's point of view and felt 
 the power of the book without assenting to it. The genius 
 
NEWTON CENTER 45 
 
 and personality of the author impressed him more than his 
 teaching, yet Clarke could never afterward see the doctrine 
 of the atonement in precisely the same light as before. 
 
 The two men were very unlike. Bushnell was sure of him- 
 self, ardent, forceful, actively interested in a great variety 
 of things, secular and religious. Clarke was quiet, contem- 
 plative, distrustful of himself, and so limited by his lack of 
 physical strength that he needed to give the greater part of 
 his energy to his daily work. There was in his nature an out- 
 reaching, wistful tenderness, especially toward older men 
 whom he looked up to and revered, which would have ap- 
 pealed irresistibly to Bushnell. If the two had ever met they 
 must have loved each other, and Clarke might have become 
 the disciple of Bushnell. As it was, he was never the disciple 
 of any man. 
 
 In Representative Modern Preachers, Doctor Lewis C. 
 Brastow says: 
 
 "Doctor Bushnell was a theologian and has left behind 
 him a theology sufficiently distinctive to bear his name. It is 
 a curious turn in the course of events that our theological 
 institutions, as a sort of defense of the Christian faith, should 
 to-day be expounding the theology of a man who spent his 
 Hfe in enlarging theology and who denied that anything like 
 a system of theology is possible." 
 
 Of Clarke throughout his whole career it might have been 
 said, as Brastow said of Bushnell: 
 
 "He had no theology that he could not preach, and he be- 
 lieved in none that could not and should not be translated 
 from the realm of thought into the realm of life." 
 
 In Sixty Years with the Bible, Clarke tells simply and dis- 
 passionately the story of his progress from inherited belief to 
 a faith wholly his own. In chapter IV he says : 
 
 "During the entire decade of the Seventies I was neigh- 
 bor and pastor to a theological seminary. It would naturally 
 
46 WILLIAM NEWTON CLARKE 
 
 be expected that such a period in a young man's life would 
 provide an important chapter in the story of his relations 
 with the Bible, and in my case so it did. Under various in- 
 fluences the story developed very gradually, perhaps more 
 gradually than logically, but it advanced to results for which 
 I am profoundly grateful. I was aware of this period largely 
 as a period of harvest from my earlier Ufe, but afterward I 
 knew it to be more truly a seed time." 
 
 The story of Clarke's life at Newton might be concluded 
 fitly by free quotations from Sixty Years with the Bible if space 
 could be given to them. From page 109 to the end of the 
 Seventies is told the story of the manner in which he was led 
 to make an independent study of the doctrine of the atone- 
 ment, and the results at which he arrived are indicated. Of 
 this experience he says: 
 
 "For months I was held to my task by a power from which 
 there was no escape — from which indeed I had no desire to 
 escape. It was a great experience ; for now, under an impulse 
 that I knew to be from God, my best powers were for the first 
 time grappling with the primal moral facts of existence. I 
 had been handling divine reaHties all my years, but never 
 until now had I been under such strong and joyful constraint 
 in dealing with them. Such labor could not be in vain in the 
 Lord, and to me it was richly fruitful." 
 
 His broader and deeper study of the Bible, as he asserts, 
 was that which brought to him a conception of the meaning 
 of the central doctrine of the Christian faith which was in 
 every sense his own. He had found a satisfactory reality. 
 He had felt since the hour of his conversion that the heart 
 of God was truly the heart of a father, and the goodness and 
 love of God had always glowed in his sermons. His preaching 
 had become less and less doctrinal as years went on, more 
 and more vital and practical. In those later years whatever 
 might be the text — and the preaching did not lack variety — 
 there stood, luminous in the background, the first and great 
 commandment, and the second which is like unto it. 
 
NEWTON CENTER 47 
 
 The new theology had not yet received its name — a mis- 
 leading one — but it was on the way, and in Newton Center it 
 had arrived. It was impossible that all of the older parish- 
 ioners should Usten Sunday after Sunday to Clarke's preach- 
 ing without missing a literaHsm in doctrinal statement that 
 was dear to them or that others should fail to resent the 
 ethical demands that were made so gently yet so insistently. 
 There was dissatisfaction and irritation here and there. 
 Clarke had now spent nearly eleven difficult years at Newton 
 Center. Evidently the time was at hand for a change. Sure 
 of that leading of which he had ever been aware, he waited 
 quietly for a door to open. A request came that he should 
 visit a church in Montreal, Canada. This opportunity for a 
 new work in a field very unlike anything that he had known 
 before was strongly attractive to him. He went to Montreal, 
 became interested in the church and the place, and a few 
 weeks later was installed as pastor of the Olivet Baptist 
 Church. 
 
IN CANADA 
 
 An all-day's journey northward in early spring through 
 a wintry landscape that grew more snowy, hour by hour; 
 then evening and darkness; then a stop at a small station 
 near Montreal, where a merry-faced, eager youth entered, 
 glanced along the car and straightway approached a sur- 
 prised woman, introduced himself, and explained that he was 
 playing a small joke upon Doctor Clarke and a number of 
 friends. They were at the Montreal depot awaiting my ar- 
 rival on the train from Boston, and he wished himself to be 
 the first to meet and greet me. There was a burst of hearty 
 laughter when I appeared escorted by this young knight, 
 and the group of kindly strangers were strangers no more. 
 
 The big sleigh, warm with fur robes, to which we were led, 
 the bright streets, the rows of substantial stone dwellings, the 
 much snow everywhere, the low sleighs, some of them beau- 
 tiful and drawn by spirited horses, suggesting famiUar pic- 
 tures of Russian scenes, and finally the house in Durocher 
 Street where we were guests — all was new and exhilarating. 
 Our Lady of the Snows greeted the newcomer with a radiant 
 smile. This first glimpse of Montreal and of the cordial, im- 
 pulsive, outspoken people who had asked Clarke to become 
 their pastor remained a vivid memory. 
 
 What could he do but enter this door which had opened 
 so widely and so hospitably? Nevertheless, he wished his 
 wife to see something of the place and the people before a 
 question so momentous was decided. Americans in Canada 
 were sometimes misfits. Two months later we were dwelling 
 in our own home at 219 Peel Street, a Uttle below Sherbrooke. 
 
 48 
 
IN CANADA 49 
 
 The house was light, cheerful, and well arranged. A small 
 room at the back of the hall, opening upon a veranda, already 
 generously fitted with shelves, was taken for the library, and 
 one on the second floor, opening upon a balcony over the front 
 porch, was suitable for a study. Opposite was a large field 
 used by a riding-master as a training-school for his pupils 
 and his horses. He was an expert — perhaps a genius — in his 
 line, and there were interesting activities presented upon this 
 field. 
 
 Not far away, upon Sherbrooke Street, was McGill Uni- 
 versity with its pleasant garden, of which we had the free- 
 dom. From Sherbrooke the intersecting streets ran steeply 
 up Mount Royal, where there were shady forest paths and a 
 cherished city park which grew more attractive year by year. 
 Upon Mount Royal several points aflforded beautiful views, 
 especially over the St. Lawrence River and beyond. 
 
 The nucleus of the Olivet Baptist Church was a body of 
 earnest Christian workers, some of whom were persons of 
 superior character and intelHgence who had separated from 
 the First Church a few years before. From the outset they had 
 engaged in work of an evangelistic and missionary type, of 
 which, in this the principal port of Canada, there was abun- 
 dant need. They had gathered a singularly mixed congrega- 
 tion made up of persons from many parts of the world. 
 Among the original members and leaders of the church were 
 Scotch and English elements about equal in numbers and 
 strength, persons of marked individuaHty and decided opin- 
 ions, who differed upon some points and were always keen 
 for an argument; who, however, worked marvellously well 
 together in religious and philanthropic enterprises. Several 
 American families had been added to the church and were 
 among its most efficient workers. Some of the parishioners 
 were well-to-do though none could be called rich, and the 
 majority were of narrow means. They were as a body sur- 
 prisingly liberal and the finances of the church, with which 
 
50 WILLIAM NEWTON CLARKE 
 
 the pastor was never troubled, were, apparently, well man- 
 aged. 
 
 Clarke had been interested from his boyhood in the Grande 
 Ligne Mission founded by Madame Feller, a devout Swiss 
 lady of extraordinary gifts, and he was pleased to find the 
 leaders in the First Church and the Olivet working strongly 
 side by side for this useful mission, to which he at once gave 
 himself ardently. He already knew and honored the Reverend 
 Theodore Lefleur, pastor of the French Baptist Church in 
 Montreal, who was himself one of the finest of the first fruits 
 of the religious and educational work of this mission which has 
 aided much in the higher development of French-Canadian 
 youth. 
 
 A kind welcome was given to the newcomer by the minis- 
 ters of various denominations who stood close together in a 
 city where Protestants were largely outnumbered by French 
 Catholics, the ruling force in religious and civil affairs. Among 
 ministers and laymen throughout the city Clarke found con- 
 genial and stimulating companionship, and made some friend- 
 ships that were permanent. Montreal, a small city, was, nev- 
 ertheless, cosmopolitan, and its social life had much variety 
 and charm. After a time he became a member of a club made 
 up of professional men, men of affairs, of letters, and of science, 
 which had been organized for the promotion of good under- 
 standing and good-fellowship. This opportunity for a broader 
 and more intimate knowledge of men of many minds and 
 pursuits widely diverse, was valued the more because the in- 
 tellectual associations of Clarke had hitherto been almost ex- 
 clusively theological and he keenly enjoyed attending occa- 
 sionally, a§ he was able, meetings of this club, at which good 
 papers upon topics far apart from theology were read and 
 discussed. 
 
 In this interesting city, where one might hear the country 
 folks on the street speaking the old French of their fore- 
 fathers and the educated and elegant using the purest French 
 
IN CANADA 51 
 
 of Paris, and to which drifted representatives of almost every 
 civilized country, were opportunities to learn something of all 
 classes and conditions of men. To a man with open eyes and 
 a sympathetic heart it was a new and enlarging experience. 
 
 Of his life in Montreal Clarke wrote thus in Sixty Years 
 with the Bible: 
 
 "At the very beginning of the eighties a great change 
 came to all my mental operations through a change in the 
 scene of my work. From my pastorate of the seventies I 
 went to another which was as unlike it as possible in the con- 
 ditions of life and thought. I carried myself with me, and 
 all my past, but no man could be the same in two places. 
 Any man would be changed by such a transfer; that is, to 
 speak after the manner of the operation of God, he would 
 be developed, the new atmosphere stimulating in some new 
 manner the growth of his mind. In my case, changes began 
 at once. For one thing, I immediately threw off the practise 
 of reading sermons. That is to say, I threw it off as a regular 
 practise from the very first day in my new field, and my bond- 
 age to it, such as it was, fell away. I wrote and read when I 
 chose, and preached in all ways between that and purely ex- 
 temporaneous work. This emancipation the spirit of the new 
 environment brought me, and evidently this was an exer- 
 cise of freedom that tended to the enlargement of freedom. 
 This in general was the characteristic of the new Ufe upon 
 which I now entered, that I found greater liberty in my men- 
 tal and spiritual movements than before. I stood as a freer 
 man. I can see plainly now that the experience which I have 
 just narrated had been leading me straight out into the 
 larger place in which I found myself; but I did not under- 
 stand it so well then. 
 
 "I was not designing any new methods in the use of the 
 Bible, but expected simply to go on using it as I had done 
 hitherto. At first I was doing no special work with it, except 
 in preaching. But in preaching I felt the new Uberty and 
 exaltation. Utterance was more and more a delight. With 
 this new joy came naturally a fresh enjoyment in the wealth 
 of the Scriptures. Never more than in those days have I en- 
 joyed bringing out of the treasury things new and old, and at 
 
52 WILLIAM NEWTON CLARKE 
 
 no period have I found larger things in the treasury to be 
 brought forth. But though I was not planning new methods 
 with the Bible, I was using them. It was impossible that my 
 experience in searching out the atonement should be without 
 immediate and valuable fruit in my ordinary work. In preach- 
 ing now it was impossible that I should refrain from using the 
 Bible as I had discovered my right to use it then. The by- 
 gone conditions could never be restored. I was handUng the 
 Bible now more personally, more as myself, and more as if I 
 had a right to handle it. I still practised exegesis with un- 
 diminished fidelity, but the process was further removed from 
 my sermonizing than before. My message was not so directly 
 borrowed from the Bible as in former years and was more 
 suggested or inspired by it. Not the sight of my eyes upon 
 the page, so much as the experience of mind and heart with 
 its truths, was placing it at my disposal. Around me were 
 many who seemed to reverence the Bible more for what it was 
 than for what it contained; but for my part I was prizing it 
 now for what it contained, and was using my Christian lib- 
 erty, as manfully as I might, to make its spiritual message 
 clear, unhampered, and effective. 
 
 "It scarcely need be added that my theology was chang- 
 ing meanwhile, for neither the outcome nor the method of 
 my work on the atonement could allow it to stand unaltered, 
 and in the new atmosphere of liberty I was certain to advance, 
 the process of change consisting mainly in this same thing, 
 that I was taking up the great truths of revelation, and using 
 them for myself as truths, and following them to their appli- 
 cation and result in doctrine, and allowing them to assimilate 
 whatever could live with them and expel whatever could not. 
 This I conceive to be the right way to form one's doctrinal 
 conceptions. This revolutionary and reconstructive work, 
 which is the proper work of truth as it is in Jesus, was taking 
 a place in my life that it had not held before. The time was 
 a period of enlargement to me, and of enlargement that I felt 
 to be normal to a child of God. The experience was defec- 
 tive enough through fault and weakness of my own, but it 
 was a genuine experience of growth into more abundant life. 
 And if I were to give it a name, I should call it a passing over 
 from traditionalism to reality. 
 
 "Now it was that the revised New Testament appeared. 
 
IN CANADA 53 
 
 The first copy of it that I saw was sent to me by a religious 
 newspaper, to be read and reported upon. I welcomed it with 
 all my heart, and used it in public worship from the first 
 Sunday. One of my men, seeing it in my hand on that first 
 Sunday morning, said: 'I hate that.' But I was able to con- 
 vince him that he had not hated wisely or understood the 
 book that he hated. How glad I was when it came ! I re- 
 membered back into the days when revision of King James 
 Bible was discussed among American Christians, and recalled 
 the bitterness of opposition — opposition grounded largely in 
 failure to understand the fact that the Bible is a translated 
 book, and still more in that reverence for the familiar words 
 which sprang from belief in verbal inspiration. I had had my 
 hereditary hesitations about revision, but they were long since 
 vanished. And now, when I was barely in middle age, the 
 prejudice against revision had already been so far overcome 
 that the book was actually in my hands, issued with splendid 
 backing on both sides of the Atlantic. Doubtless it was not 
 perfect, and it had still to win its way, but the beginning of 
 improvement had been made, the new conditions had been 
 established, and the good result was sure. Now, I said to 
 myself, those things that I had known to be true about many 
 a passage, but which the people could not know except 
 through explanations which they might deem pedantic, and 
 destructive, too, could be known to all readers. Now, when 
 this book had won its way, the thoughts of the Bible would 
 be more independent of the words: there was some chance 
 that people who hung upon the very words of Scripture might 
 come to glory in the preciousness of the very thoughts and the 
 very truths. Now was doomed that narrow reverence for 
 the very words which gathered around the impossible doc- 
 trine of verbal inspiration. For the coming of this book was 
 only a part of the great movement of the age toward making 
 the Bible and Christ and divine religion more real to people, 
 a movement in which I with joy would bear my little part. 
 When the revised Old Testament appeared, four years later, 
 there was less of thrill and glow in the reception of it, but the 
 welcome was the same in principle. The Bible was now more 
 ready to my hand for the uses to which I was called to put it. 
 I grasped the revision as a better weapon for the warfare of 
 the Lord." 
 
54 WILLIAM NEWTON CLARKE 
 
 He had a very busy life in those days. The Americaa 
 Baptist publication society waS bringing out a Bible Com- 
 vientary to which he was to contribute a volume upon the 
 Gospel of ISIark. For some months the nervous clicking of 
 the typewriter, which he had learned to use when he began 
 work upon the commentary, could be heard during the morn- 
 ing hours. In the afternoon he was usually engaged in parish 
 work. His sermons came largely out of his daily experience 
 and were all the better for that. The commentary was fin- 
 ished in 1 88 1, submitted to the committee of the publication 
 society for examination, approved and published, and the 
 first edition was in use before the responsible heads of the 
 society became aware, through protests from here and there, 
 that a number of conservative persons were finding it to be 
 heretical. A curious correspondence ensued between Clarke 
 and the secretary of the society, with the result that in the 
 next edition, together with the author's interpretation of the 
 eschatological teachings and implications of the thirteenth 
 chapter of Mark, there appeared an alternative view con- 
 tributed by his honored friend. Doctor Hovey. Then and 
 later, the two scholars agreed to disagree in the most amicable 
 spirit. 
 
 Montreal during the colder months was delightful to those 
 who had plenty of food, fuel, and furs, and the fame of its win- 
 ter sports, at that time unique but since widely emulated, was 
 world-wide. Even those who did not indulge in these plea- 
 sures felt the stimulus of the keen clear air and shared sym- 
 pathetically in the gayety around them. But the winters 
 were long and there were many offsets and drawbacks to the 
 gayety. The poor had a hard struggle with the rigorous 
 climate and most persons of moderate means could feelingly 
 re-echo the exclamation of a city pastor with a large family: 
 "We burn up in winter all that we can save in summer !" 
 
 An exploitation on a large scale of the winter attractions 
 of Montreal occurred in 1883. Then the first ice palace was 
 
IN CANADA 
 
 55 
 
 built. It was in the form of a mediaeval castle, and when 
 illmninated from within by white electric lights it seemed as 
 if shapen by invisible agencies from a vast moonstone, and 
 the effect was indescribably channing. 
 
 There were dangers due to the vast accumulations of snow 
 and ice, and there were many steep inclines on the streets 
 where it was difficult for the unaccustomed to keep their 
 footing, and sometimes fatal accidents were caused by the 
 falling of snow and ice from roofs that were seldom cleared. 
 When the snow melted streets and sidewalks were impassable 
 in places. Spring in Montreal was the sad season of sickness 
 and death. Then a Pandora's box of dire diseases flew open. 
 
 Strangely enough the summers were hot, and the lightest 
 clothing was donned, with amusingly languorous airs, by 
 loyal Montrealers, who loved to call attention to the lavish 
 kindness of Mother Nature to favored Canada in respect of 
 climate, and were fain to exploit their heat as well as their 
 cold. 
 
 In the winter of 1883, in descending the stone steps of a 
 house where he had been calUng, Clarke shpped on an icy 
 place, fell, and injured his knee. He was taken home at once 
 and the best surgical aid was given, but the injury was one 
 that could not be perfectly repaired. He was confined to 
 his bed and to his room for many weeks, and when he was at 
 last able, after using crutches, to walk with only a cane it 
 was evident that he must always remain partially crippled 
 and that parish work would thenceforth be difficult. While 
 he was adjusting his thoughts to this new situation the pro- 
 fessorship of New Testament interpretation in the Baptist 
 Theological School in Toronto was offered to him and ac- 
 cepted. This was an instance of the way in which, with- 
 out anxious thought or effort of his own, he was so led at 
 each turning-point in his life that he could not be long in 
 doubt as to the next step. Not without grief to pastor and 
 people was this change made, but all could see that it was 
 
56 WILLIAM NEWTON CLARKE 
 
 necessary and right. The breaking up was swiftly accom- 
 plished, the farewells were said, and after several brief visits 
 at other places and a longer stay at Kennebunkport, Maine, 
 where the Stackpole family were spending vacation, and 
 there were other friends, we spent a fortnight in Cazenovia, 
 and from there went to our new home. 
 
 In a diary used for occasional records of events and re- 
 flections the following entry was made when the packing of 
 household goods for removal was going on and various manu- 
 scripts were being destroyed: 
 
 "July 17, 1883. What to do with old sermons. Feeling 
 runs very strongly against them as against things that have 
 lived their Uttle day and done all that they will ever do. They 
 seem like fossils without the scientific interest that made them 
 worth preserving. 
 
 "But what if you look into old sermons and find them full 
 of new theology? Written, too, when you had no idea of 
 new theology and supposed it to be all as sound and ancient 
 as any theologian could wish. Some of the sermons of 1869, 
 September to December, look like that, and on a sudden 
 there springs up a kind of fondness for them and a desire to 
 save them in a spirit of self- vindication. Not that they de- 
 velop anything fresh or modera, in modern forms, but they 
 innocently enunciate principles that would lead out into the 
 new country. If the lines were projected then, without my 
 knowing it, no wonder that they have been followed since. 
 
 "Some truths are here, too, that I thought I had not been 
 preaching until recently; truths that have lately grown vital 
 and practical, but which I did not know that I had so long 
 ago uttered. It is a peculiar sensation to find the living truth 
 young in the mind already existing in an earlier time. 
 
 "It was then the preaching of youth, simplicity, unso- 
 phisticated thought: it afterward came to be the preaching 
 of maturer and more intelligent thinking, into which the old 
 truth had returned with its place and relations more clearly 
 apprehended. I suppose that meanwhile the truth was never 
 absent: but it was in a kind of retirement, waiting to come 
 forth in forms better suited to usefulness. 
 
IN CANADA 
 
 57 
 
 ''August 8. A pause in the record, but not much in the 
 nature of a pause in fact. The house torn up, the goods 
 packed and sent away, farewell to Montreal and the ending 
 of a pastor's life: all those have intervened. Then four days 
 in the White Mountains and now Kennebunkport. No time 
 for record when the most is going on. 
 
 "Yet this has not been so eventful a time inwardly as 
 outwardly. There has been Httle of agitation in the changes. 
 No heart-burnings, no heart-breakings, little strong strain 
 upon the heart-strings. There was no reason why the change, 
 if it was to be made, should not be made quickly; and so it 
 was. Real regrets, but no rebellion: no such clinging on any 
 one's part as to make it sorely painful: as easy a departure 
 as any one could have. No one speeded, but no one retarded 
 the parting friend. All the deep agitation that did occur was 
 earher, not in the going but in the decision to go, and it was 
 over before this record was begun. 
 
 "August 26. As peaceful a Sabbath morning as ever 
 dawned upon the earth. God speed the coming of Sabbaths 
 to all mankind. The greater part of the human race as yet 
 knows nothing of them, and to many who do know of them 
 they represent denial rather than permission, cessation of the 
 necessary and chosen routine rather than freedom for a 
 necessary and chosen privilege. Sabbaths must come in with 
 the coming more abundantly of the life that Christ brings, 
 for they are the best breathing time of that Hfe. So the 
 prayer for Sabbaths is 'Thy Kjngdom Come.' 
 
 ''This is the last day of the resting time in Kennebunk- 
 port. It has not been the ideal resting time in all respects — 
 the sea has been too far off, not constantly in sight or hear- 
 ing, yet no vacation could have been more graciously pro- 
 vided with what was essential to the purpose of the time. 
 Never was a man partly helpless, really dependent on others 
 for the movements that were necessary for the regaining of 
 normal strength, better provided for. Two friends at hand 
 with boats have kept the means of exercise and pleasure per- 
 petually near. Without any excess of exertion and with af- 
 fectionate help at hand in all that was to be done, it has been 
 possible and easy to do enough, and as much as strength al- 
 lowed, and to obtain a good benefit from the time. 
 
58 WILLIAM NEWTON CLARKE 
 
 " Toronto, September 23. It seems natural to look back 
 on the pause in work, the interval between two lives. 
 
 " Four days in the White Mountains: three weeks in Ken- 
 nebunkport, four days in Boston, four days in Newton Centre. 
 Two weeks in Cazenovia, including two days at Hamilton: 
 that is the outline. 
 
 '' A sweet and most loving reunion at Cazenovia of all of 
 us who remain — a happy season together, whose very happi- 
 ness, more than any words of remembrance that were spoken, 
 revived the memory of a true home in early years." 
 
 A little before the opening of the Theological School we 
 reached Toronto and were guests for a fortnight or more in 
 the home of Doctor John H. Castle, the president, who with 
 Mrs. Castle showed us the utmost kindness at that time and 
 ever afterward. 
 
 After a dreary and futile experience in seeking a suitable 
 boarding-place, and in house-hunting, we took a student's 
 suite of three rooms in MacMaster Hall, furnished them with 
 our own belongings, and there we remained during the first 
 seminary year, which was short, as the Divinity School closed 
 early in order to give the students a long vacation for mis- 
 sionary work and the supplying of churches. 
 
 The following paragraph from a letter dated November 5, 
 1883, shows a woman's view of their new environment: 
 
 "As for the city and the surroundings into which we have 
 fallen — the city is extremely pleasant, looking, as some one 
 has said, like an overgrown village. A large proportion of 
 the houses are detached, with pretty grass plots in front, and 
 some are surrounded with beautiful grounds. It is emphat- 
 ically a city of homes, and although it has not the historical 
 interest or the vivid picturesqueness of Montreal, it is, I be- 
 lieve, a better place in which to dwell." 
 
 After a time we found a newly built house in a good loca- 
 tion, at the corner of Huntley and Selby Streets, a little be- 
 low Bloor and only a short distance from Sherboume, where 
 a street-car line made every part of the city accessible, and 
 
IN CANADA 59 
 
 65 Huntley Street was our home while we remained in To- 
 ronto. It was near Rosedale, an open, park-like region, where 
 as yet there were only a few residences. It was a pleasant walk 
 along Bloor Street to MacMaster Hall, and Castle, who lived 
 on Sherbourne Street, used often to pick up Clarke at his 
 own door, and the two friends had much intimate conversa- 
 tion during their morning walk to the Divinity School. Quite 
 unlike in some respects, both were gifted with the same 
 broad humanity and serenity of spirit, and were apt to view 
 things in the same light. 
 
 "June 15, 1884. Commencement at Hamilton, New 
 York, 20th to Cazenovia, 22nd to Waverly. 27th the fall 
 that has cost me the use of my right elbow. End of August 
 back to Toronto. September 28th, in our own home." 
 
 Much is summed up in the few words which refer to 
 the accident by which Clarke was now doubly disabled. In 
 going down the stairs in the house where we were stay- 
 ing, at Waverly, my old home, he had sHpped and fallen, 
 striking his right elbow, which was shattered. It was before 
 the day of X-ray examinations and the daring and brilliant 
 surgery now possible. The result of such skill and care as 
 could be given was an imperfect flexion of the elbow-joint 
 and a consequent disuse of certain muscles. Some move- 
 ments of the arm were ever afterward less free and some 
 were impossible. He could never again tie his own cravat or 
 even handle his knife and fork as before. Physically ham- 
 pered at every turn, he bore this new limitation of his powers 
 with quiet heroism, well knowing how much it meant, as the 
 fall was without doubt due to his weak and stiffened knee, 
 and this fact was ominous. 
 
 As soon as he had recovered a little from the first shock of 
 the accident he began to write with his left hand, and pathetic 
 indeed seemed the first scrawls which he sent to his friends, 
 although he jested easily about the discreditable appearance 
 
6o WILLIAM NEWTON CLARKE 
 
 of these epistles. One of them came to light recently in a 
 package of letters to his friend Stackpole, which after his 
 death had been returned to the writer, and it recalled with 
 painful sharpness the whole train of accidents distributed 
 through the years that followed that fateful shp in Mon- 
 treal. After that not a single year passed without some mis- 
 hap, slight or serious, due to the lame, uncertain knee. 
 
 The following extracts from a diary and note-book show 
 something of Clarke's thinking during the last months of his 
 stay in Toronto. 
 
 "January i, 1887. Believing the Bible was once held 
 practically as more vital to religion than lo\dng and trusting 
 Christ, it was thought a part of religion to believe that Ruth 
 married Boaz. 
 
 ''January 3. Read on train Lessing's Nathan the Wise. 
 Awkward translation, disappointing. A lesson of religious 
 toleration is the main moral of the play, but it is taught in 
 forms that have only an artificial hold upon the mind and 
 upon the ordinary conscience. 
 
 ''January 9. A life enriched with what our Lord calls life 
 eternal. 
 
 "January 17. Address to young people's association of 
 Bloor Street church on the Glory of God in the Starry 
 Heavens. 
 
 "The vast suggestiveness of the thought of dark worlds. 
 If a God greater than so great a universe is unthinkable, much 
 more so is so great a universe without a greater God. The 
 one is simply too great for us to think ; the latter is absurd. 
 
 "January 18. We think we are suffering with Christ 
 when some one is coming after us with a persecuting spirit. 
 So we may be, but more truly yet are we suffering with 
 Christ when we are going after some one, at all cost, with 
 saving love. 
 
 "January 19. Changes are coming as fast as the age can 
 healthily bear them, and in some things faster. The spirit 
 of change is in the air and there is Uttle need of putting one's 
 strength to the work of change. If we can help to keep the 
 air itself sweet and pure, that will be a better service. 
 
IN CANADA 6i 
 
 " January 23. Two ways of preaching; to talk about great 
 things and to utter them. To tell of the nature of true Chris- 
 tian appeal and to make it. The former is easy, the latter 
 hard. The former may seem to render patience superfluous 
 by going at once to the point. But the point is not really 
 reached and the appearance of swift success is misleading. 
 The latter is the only successful way. 
 
 ^^ March 6. God's gift of heartiness. 
 
 ^^ April I. In morals, religion, theology, nothing that is 
 artificial is true. What is artificial may contain much truth 
 and may approach more or less closely to the truth; but in 
 so far as it is artificial it bears the marks of human labor and 
 invention, the sign of effort in discovering and devising, and 
 lacks the simplicity and naturalness that will finally be found 
 in truth. To God all that is true must be simple and unla- 
 bored, free of invention and special application. To say that 
 something is true is to say that it cannot be otherwise: where- 
 as whatever is artificial can be other than it is and would be 
 better for being simpler." 
 
THE YEARS AT HAMILTON 
 
 "Semper aut discere, aut docere, aut scribere, dulce habui." — Bede. 
 
 In the spring of 1887 Clarke was called to the pastorate 
 of the church in Hamilton, New York, which had been made 
 vacant in the summer of 1886 by the death of his friend, 
 Stephen H. Stackpole. 
 
 His seven years in Montreal and Toronto had been busy 
 and fruitful. His experience in Canada had broadened his 
 outlook and furthered the development of his powers, but 
 he had begun to feel a yearning for his own country, and this 
 call could not be resisted. 
 
 Among the first to meet him with a cordial welcome were 
 some of his old teachers. Dodge was now president of the 
 university. Andrews was at the head of the department of 
 Greek. Taylor, a later friend, was already known among edu- 
 cators as a mathematician. Brooks, a man of deep insight 
 and flashing genius, who had been pastor of the church dur- 
 ing Clarke's student days, was now teaching biology in the 
 university, and a rare teacher he made. 
 
 Beebee and Harvey were still in the theological seminary. 
 Maynard, who had come later, had the chair of church his- 
 tory. In charge of the Semitic department was Burnham, 
 who was a student at Newton when Clarke began his work 
 there. 
 
 Nathaniel Schmidt, a young man of unusual linguistic 
 attainments and acumen as a critic, was soon added to the 
 Semitic department. He remained at Hamilton until 1896, 
 when he was called to take charge of a kindred department 
 in Cornell University. 
 
 Another notable addition to the university faculty was 
 
 62 
 
THE YEARS AT HAMILTON 63 
 
 Albert Perry Brigham, now widely known as a geologist and 
 geographer. 
 
 The village was still charmingly old-fashioned, the typical 
 secluded seat of the country college. Very sweet and peace- 
 ful everything seemed after the seven years of city life. 
 
 This was the outward aspect during the lovely weeks of 
 early summer. It was not long before the inherent tragedy 
 of human existence began to unveil itself. The village, with 
 the region around it, is an epitome of the experiences that 
 rack or rejoice humanity. One does not need to dwell in the 
 city to know life in all its depth and poignancy. Within the 
 boundaries of this new field of labor almost every kind of 
 evil-doing had been enacted, and, on the other hand, every 
 noble trait of human nature had been shown. 
 
 Country people know each other and know of all that is 
 happening, and the tug of S3rmpathy upon one's heart is no 
 less incessant than in the city. The demands upon the pas- 
 tor of this country church and his opportunities for service 
 were unlimited. 
 
 In the church were some of his own kindred and many 
 others whom he already knew. The settlement in Hamilton 
 was indeed a home-coming. Nothing could have been hap- 
 pier for a man of his temperament who clung instinctively to 
 old associations and old ties, and very happy he was, though 
 often heavily burdened through all the time of his pastorate. 
 In those days the people generally, young and old, went to 
 church. His congregation, of which the students made a large 
 part, was stimulating and inspiring. The best and highest 
 that he could give met an eager response. 
 
 The daily life of the people, very like that of his native 
 place, which was only a few miles away, he entered into with 
 understanding and sympathy. There, as elsewhere, he soon 
 won the confidence and love of the young people, and his in- 
 fluence lives on in those who were children and youth at 
 that time. 
 
64 WILLIAM NEWTON CLARKE 
 
 The social life had a distinctive charm. In that small 
 out-of-the-way place were fine minds and delightful person- 
 alities. There were those whom to meet was as the friendly 
 clash of flint and steel, and there were dweUings where one 
 felt at home from the first hour and always. 
 
 His power as a preacher was now fully developed. In his 
 last sermon in Montreal, believing that he was bidding fare- 
 well to the ministry, he had poured out his soul in lofty eu- 
 logium upon his office and the work that he was leaving, and 
 had exclaimed with passion which thrilled the audience: "The 
 pulpit has been to me as a throne ! " 
 
 To that throne he had now returned and he felt an inex- 
 pressible joy in his calling and his work. He loved every 
 part of it. His lameness was a serious limitation upon his 
 ability to do many things required of a settled pastor. He 
 walked a good deal, but he could not take the vigorous exer- 
 cise that he needed. There was driving to visit parishioners 
 upon the hills and in the valleys, and whatever took him out- 
 of-doors was good, yet his study-table held him for too many 
 hours in the day. Youthful always in spirit, he was rapidly 
 growing old in body. At forty-seven years of age he looked 
 long past fifty. Men older than he took him to be their 
 senior. 
 
 Suddenly he was taken out of the pastorate and placed in 
 the chair of theology. The death of Doctor Dodge, January 
 5, 1890, made his place vacant in the seminary, and his col- 
 leagues requested the church to release Clarke from a part 
 of his duties in order that he might finish the year of teach- 
 ing in theology. A sorrowful consent was given, for every 
 one foresaw the result. At the university commencement in 
 June he was urged to accept an election to the professorship 
 in theology, and he consented. 
 
 He had often congratulated himself while he was teach- 
 ing New Testament interpretation that he did not have to 
 teach theology. The great problems with which the theolo- 
 
THE YEARS AT HAMILTON 65 
 
 gian has to deal had long been before him. He had faced 
 them many times in his study and he had not hesitated to 
 give utterance in his sermons to any truth that he plainly 
 saw, but there were doctrinal points upon which he was not 
 decided. He did not need to "preach his doubts," but things 
 held in abeyance while he was seeking fuller light would have 
 to be discussed in a classroom. Why should he, a lover of 
 peace, leave the pastorate to enter upon a lifelong warfare? 
 Every argument seemed in favor of his remaining where he 
 was, but in his inmost self he felt a constraining necessity to 
 enter the door that was set open before him. 
 
 When the autumn term opened he began the work for 
 which the whole tenor and experience of his previous years 
 had been preparing him. In carrying along the unfinished 
 work of the year before he had used the text-book prepared 
 by Doctor Dodge, but the supply of these books had been 
 exhausted, and in any case he must do his work in his own 
 way. So he wrote and manifolded day by day, and gave his 
 students, piece by piece, the course in theology as it took 
 shape in his mind. This he did for several years. 
 
 In February of 1890 in walking along an icy pavement I 
 had fallen and had broken my hip. The injury, too lightly 
 regarded and wrongly diagnosed, was only understood a 
 month later and the expert treatment given then came too 
 late. A long train of painful results followed, with a general 
 physical decline so serious that the physician advised a win- 
 ter in a mild climate. By an exchange of time with a col- 
 league in the seminary, Clarke was enabled to spend three 
 months in 1892 in California. We went to Los Angeles, 
 where we were met by my nephew and my niece, already 
 there in search of health, and together we occupied a house 
 in a pleasant locality. The experiences of the winter were 
 interesting and the climate proved beneficial to all. Dur- 
 ing the following year I was able to remain at home, but a 
 second more alarming failure of health followed, and at the 
 
66 WILLIAM NEWTON CLARKE 
 
 beginning of December, 1893, we were again in California, 
 after spending two months at Colorado Springs. Having 
 heard of Pomona as a good place for quiet people, we tried 
 Pomona and the Palomares Hotel for a week and decided to 
 spend the winter there. It was early in the season and the 
 Palomares was almost empty of guests, so the manager gave 
 these first comers the most delightful room in the house. It 
 had a large window facing the east, a bay window looking 
 upon the lawn and northward, and a fireplace. The east 
 window gave a wonderful view of the valley and the moun- 
 tains. Far away rose San Bernardino and San Jacinto, look- 
 ing like near companions, though each stood solitary and 
 magnificent in its own expanse of desert. San Jacinto with 
 its colossal architectural forms, at morning and evening re- 
 splendent in light and color, seemed like Jerusalem the 
 Golden. Farther north the Cucamonga Range ran in a north- 
 westerly direction, reaching the sea near Santa Barbara. 
 These mountains lay in the sunshine all day long, catching 
 the first rosy tints of morning, changing in light and hue as 
 the hours advanced, and glorious at eventide. For two 
 months the travellers had been watching Pike's Peak, which 
 lies westward from Colorado Springs, and, rich in color early 
 in the day, loses the glory of sunshine and is sombre in the 
 afternoon. 
 
 For comfort was the fireplace, much used morning and 
 evening, and for order an ample closet. Clarke added a type- 
 writer and its table and a small bookcase to the equipments 
 of the room. Some adornments came out of trunks, and there 
 we were in a little home of our own that was always pleasant 
 to remember. 
 
 Clarke settled down happily to the revision of his work 
 in theology and carried it to completion. In Pomona we 
 stayed from the 2d of December to the middle of April. 
 A comfortable buggy and a good horse were found at one of 
 the stables, and long mornings were spent in driving over the 
 
THE YEARS AT HAMILTON 67 
 
 country with little regard to roads, which were mere wheel 
 tracks running every way through the sage-brush, and in ex- 
 ploring the canyons. From a cottage at San Dimas, where 
 we sometimes stopped, was a most entrancing view of the 
 Cucamonga Range. 
 
 There was something new to see each day as the season 
 advanced and vegetation awoke from its brief winter sleep 
 and unfolded leaves and flowers. Many incidents, delight- 
 ful at the time, were treasured in memory. We were driving 
 one day along the entrance of a canyon, where in an open 
 space stood three large, live-oaks with wide-spreading branches 
 that held masses of mistletoe which had grown into great 
 green balls. As we approached we heard a purling and rip- 
 pling music and saw that the trees were alive with larks. 
 Each was piping quite independently of the others, and the 
 effect of this rain of sweet notes was something like the sing- 
 ing of a mountain brook rippling over stones and falling here 
 and there in tiny cascades. 
 
 We sat for a long time listening to this strange music, 
 knowing well that it was a unique episode in our life. We 
 never heard the like again. 
 
 There was a tiny, sparkling mountain stream which we 
 loved and often visited in the steep, shady canyon that was 
 its home. We used to greet it joyously with "Good morning, 
 little stream," as it came singing and dancing to meet us like 
 a friendly mountain sprite. 
 
 *'Carpe diem'''' was our motto, and there were days of 
 glorious sunshine when to be out beneath the open sky of the 
 South, cloudless, deeply, wonderfully blue and far away, was 
 almost too much joy. We came to know some of the ranchers 
 in their rose-covered cottages, set in the green and gold of 
 orange-groves, and sometimes we would stop and sit for a 
 while on a veranda, chatting with our new acquaintances, 
 and thus these days of health-seeking were touched with 
 human interest and sympathy. Most of the families on those 
 
 ijMi'iiinrt i f; 
 
68 WILLIAM NEWTON CLARKE 
 
 small ranches had come from distant homes for the sake of 
 some one's health, and pathetic histories were sometimes told. 
 
 Friendly relations early grew up with the townspeople. 
 After Clarke had preached once, the pastors of one and an- 
 other church asked for his aid, and so it came to pass that 
 during his stay in Pomona he preached to almost every con- 
 gregation in the town. He became interested in Pomona Col- 
 lege, then in its early youth. 
 
 Here are a few extracts from Clarke's diary: 
 
 ^'December 2. (His birthday). Left the train at North 
 Pomona and were brought to the Palomares at Pomona. Let- 
 ter writing by both in the afternoon, sitting bareheaded on 
 the veranda, on the shady side. 
 
 ^^ December 15. Obtained a Remington typewriter on 
 rental after vainly working with a borrowed caligraph a few 
 days. Afternoon drive to Lordsburg and to Mr. Howland's 
 olive orchard where we saw the making of oHve oil. Reading 
 in Lowell's poems. 
 
 *^ December 2,0. One of the finest of days. Drive forenoon 
 to Mr. Firey's ranch, oranges from the trees. Each day at 
 work on my Tlieology. 
 
 ^^ January 26. A fine day at home, afternoon walk, 6 
 pages. Have read this week 'in the Naturalist in La Plata 
 and, aloud, Miss Dougall's What Necessity Knows. Pages 
 finished in Tlieology, 130." 
 
 The book mentioned was the latest of a succession of 
 fine and curiously original novels, which had a double inter- 
 est for us by reason of a valued friendship with the Dougall 
 family in Montreal. 
 
 Clarke's diary of this period, beginning July 17, 1893, 
 and ending May 24, 1894, upon our arrival at home, recalls 
 everything so xividly that it has been difficult to write briefly 
 of those months in California. At the end of the diary is a 
 list of dates and places of preaching by which it appears that 
 he gave eight sermons in Colorado Springs, and twenty-three 
 during the five months and a half in Pomona and also several 
 
THE YEARS AT HAMILTON 69 
 
 addresses. This was work by the way. The real business of 
 the time was rest and health-seeking for two, yet the The- 
 ology was wholly rewritten, sent to the press in sections, cor- 
 rected and finished except the final revision of page proofs, 
 which was done at home. It was printed for the author, not 
 published, by the University Press at Cambridge, Massa- 
 chusetts, and began to be used by the students at the open- 
 ing of the fall term in 1894. Clarke sent copies of it to his 
 most intimate friends and to some others modern in spirit, 
 who, he had reason to believe, would give it a welcome. 
 
 The book made friends for its author of those who had 
 been strangers before, and letters of cordial appreciation came 
 from all who had received it. Through these early readers 
 the book became known to one and another of kindred s>Tn- 
 pathies, and pastors and teachers began to apply to the author 
 for copies. The writer of this memoir has examined a copy of 
 the Outline, which bears significant and touching marks. It 
 was used during that first year by a student who is now a 
 teacher in the Theological Seminary of Colgate University. 
 Upon the title-page, by request, the author had written his 
 name. Upon the blank page opposite is the following quo- 
 tation : 
 
 "The spiritual reality that constitutes the heart of Chris- 
 tianity is a divine, holy life in the soul of man, making him a 
 new creature in holy love and godhness." 
 
 Scattered through the book are sayings of the teacher 
 jotted down upon the margins of the pages under discussion, 
 as they flashed forth in the classroom. Some pages are bor- 
 dered on every side with those quotations of apt, incisive, 
 luininous utterances. Other students marked their copies of 
 the text-book in a similar way. If all those hasty notes were 
 gathered together a volume could be made of rich, epigram- 
 matic expressions upon the highest themes. 
 
 During the winter of 1898 Clarke made a careful revision 
 
 ^MShshsaaiS 
 
70 WILLIAM NEWTON CLARKE 
 
 of the book and it was published by Charles Scribner's Sons. 
 Ofifered now to the public, it at once attracted attention and 
 soon became widely known. 
 
 The following paragraph, from a review by Doctor Mar- 
 cus Dods, seems almost too familiar to be used here, yet it 
 expresses better than any other the surprise and deUght of 
 many readers: 
 
 "Has it ever happened to any of our readers to take up 
 a work on systematic theology with the familiar divisions, 
 God, Man, Christ, the Holy Spirit, the Church, the Last 
 Things, and open it with a sigh of weariness and dread, and 
 find himself fascinated and enthralled and compelled to read 
 on to the last word ? Let any one who craves a new experi- 
 ence of this kind procure Doctor Clarke's Outline." 
 
 The following extracts are from Chapter VIII of the life 
 of Bishop Edward Gayer Andrews, by Francis J. McCon- 
 nell: 
 
 "According to the bishop's own statement, the turning 
 of a new comer in his thinking came with the publication 
 of Professor William Newton Clarke's Outline of Christian 
 Theology, in 1898. Bishop Andrews had had some acquain- 
 tance with Professor Clarke in early days at Cazenovia, and 
 the personal interest in the professor led to the reading of the 
 book. Perhaps a knowledge of the character of the author 
 predisposed the bishop to a favorable attitude. In any case, 
 the book, by the symmetry of its method and the charm of 
 its spirit, influenced the bishop profoundly. The following are 
 extracts from correspondence which passed between the bishop 
 and Professor Clarke: 
 
 "New York, March 27, 1899. 
 "Professor W. N. Clarke, 
 
 "My Dear Brotlier: Though holding through many past 
 years a very pleasant remembrance of yourself and of your 
 most estimable father, mother, and sister, I had in my many 
 movements through the country lost sight of yourself and 
 your work. 
 
 i 
 
THE YEARS AT HAMILTON 71 
 
 ''But last summer, being in the study of a young minis- 
 ter, I found that he had read with great pleasure and profit 
 An Outline of Christian Theology, by Professor W. N. Clarke, 
 of Colgate University. ... I bought the volume and during 
 the summer vacation read and reread it with great interest 
 and with thankfulness for this new and most admirable set- 
 ting of Christian truth. 
 
 "My wife also has read it with equal pleasure and also my 
 daughter, Mrs. Ingraham. . . . And I have often recom- 
 mended it to ministers who seemed to be in a posture and of 
 a quality of mind likely to be profited by it. 
 
 "I may be permitted to say, without fear of suspicion 
 that I attempt flattery, that a nobler combination of freedom 
 and conservatism, of clear intellectual processes with the 
 sweetness and fervor of devoutness, of strength of material 
 with grace of form, has rarely or never come to my hbrary. 
 
 "I am greatly pleased to think that I knew in his early 
 years the author, and among other things to note in this case 
 how the godly home of a pastor has yielded such admirable 
 fruit. 
 
 "Sincerely yours, 
 
 "Edward G. Andrews." 
 
 Professor Clarke replied in a letter largely personal, from 
 which the following excerpts are made: 
 
 "Hamilton, N. Y., March 30, 1899. 
 
 "My dear Bishop Andrews: Your letter was equally sur- 
 prising and delightful. That you should enjoy and approve 
 my book could not fail to gladden me, and that you should 
 take time to tell me of it, and welcome me so warmly to your 
 circle of thought and friendly feeling — how can I fail to thank 
 you lovingly for this? You have always been a fixed point 
 for admiration and approval in my mind, and I have thought 
 with constant pleasure of your strong and honorable service 
 in a laborious office for the good of the church. 
 
 "I have been preaching most of my life, and in 1890, most 
 unexpectedly, I found myself teaching theology — the last 
 thing I had ever looked forward to doing. But it has been a 
 perpetual delight and an unspeakable privilege. The book 
 is tie outcome. I printed it privately in 1894, and in 1898 I 
 
/-' 
 
 WILLL\M NEWTON CLARKE 
 
 revised and published it, as you know. It seems to be doing 
 good, for I am constantly hearing of it in unexpected quar- 
 ters as welcome. Bishop Vincent became interested in it 
 in the earlier form and commended it here and there. . . . 
 I seem to have spoken somehow to the unuttered thoughts 
 of many, and that is the surest way to get a hearing. . . . 
 ''Sincerely yours, 
 
 "William N. Clarke." 
 
 During all the years in Hamilton it was a source of hap- 
 piness to Clarke that he was near Cazeno\da, where his 
 younger sister, Mrs. Goff, had always remained. She was the 
 wife of a self-sacrificing, untiring country physician, whose 
 life she shared with wonderful comprehension and sympathy. 
 
 Mrs. WiUiam Clarke had her home with her daughter. 
 She was a typical gentlewoman of the old school, and such 
 were even then becoming few. She had always at hand some 
 piece ot useful needlework or knitting, and yet she seemed 
 to be at leisure at any time for the casual visitor or for one of 
 the household. She was immaculate in person and attire, 
 wearing old-fashioned caps of snowy muslin or lace and folds 
 of the same soft fabric about her neck. Devout in habit, 
 dignified in mien and speech, she grew more beautiful in her 
 declining years. In 1887, when Clarke went to Hamilton, 
 she was in her eightieth year, very frail in body, yet men- 
 tally strong and bright. She passed away IMay 6, 1888. 
 
 There were two children in the home, Robert Judson 
 and Marian Ruth. Robert Goff entered Colgate University 
 and spent four years in the home of his uncle. He gradu- 
 ated in 1902. Marian became the wife of Theodore Han- 
 ford Pond, son of Theodore S. Pond, missionary in Syria 
 under the American Board, and later in Venezuela. Robert 
 was married March 22, 1904, to Sarah Humphrey Wells, 
 daughter of W. Delos Wells and Sarah Humphrey Torrey, 
 and granddaughter of Doctor David Torrey, a former pastor 
 of the Presbyterian Church in Cazenovia. Their only son 
 
THE YEARS AT HAMILTON 73 
 
 is thus the great grandson of two pastors, settled long over 
 churches in Cazenovia, who were typical of their time and of 
 their respective denominations, and both eminently useful in 
 the community they served. Many old colonial lines of de- 
 scent converge in that quiet home in Cazenovia, where the 
 best traditions of an excellent inheritance are honored and 
 cherished. 
 
 Miss Mary, Clarke's devoted older sister, and good com- 
 rade always, after retiring from her work in Boston as sec- 
 retary-treasurer of the Women's Baptist Foreign Mission- 
 ary Society, spent some time in Hamilton. She was married 
 in September, 1896, to her long-time friend and associate, 
 Doctor J. N. Murdock, foreign secretary of the Baptist Mis- 
 sionary Union, who lived only a few months. After his death 
 she returned to her brother's home and spent there the brief 
 remainder of her life. Her death was on July 3, 1897. 
 
 In the summer of 1899 Clarke was one of the lecturers in 
 the Harvard Summer School of Theology. The work given 
 there was published under the title, Can I Believe in God 
 the Father. Later in the same year he gave the Levering 
 Lectures at Johns Hopkins University, and those lectures 
 made a book called. What Shall We Think of Christianity? 
 In addition to his work in theology, Clarke gave several 
 elective courses to his students. There was one in Chris- 
 tian Missions, one in Comparative Religions, one in Ethics, 
 and one in Apologetics. These courses were given in alter- 
 nation, two in each year. Out of the first grew A Study 
 in Christian Missions, published in 1900, which has been 
 widely read and used as a text-book. Clarke's interest in 
 foreign missions might be said to be an inheritance, yet it 
 was deeply personal, unsectarian, and practical. He had al- 
 ways known missionaries and came early to have mission- 
 aries among his friends. His residence in Newton enlarged 
 the number of these. Hamilton, from the first, had been a 
 training-school and home of missionaries. After he became a 
 
74 WILLIAM NEWTON CLARKE 
 
 teacher of theology, and year by year one or more of his stu- 
 dents joined the army of workers on the foreign field, his 
 knowledge of missions became even more intimate. 
 
 He felt the need of a course in comparative religion for all, 
 and especially for those who were to be missionaries. His 
 work in this department he gathered up for his students in a 
 typewritten and manifolded monograph, entitled "The Great 
 Religions on the Great Questions." He never planned to 
 publish this, yet it has decided value. 
 
 In the summer of 1900 he received the degree of Doctor 
 of Divinity from Yale University. From New Haven he 
 went to Haverford College to give an address at a Friends' 
 Summer School of Theology. 
 
 For me, lameness and lack of strength made journeying 
 difficult and I seldom attended large meetings, but I felt a 
 strong desire to go to this one because I had long been aware 
 that my deepest beliefs and affinities were those of the Friends. 
 I went with Clarke to New York, and while he diverged to 
 New Haven I kept on to Philadelphia. At Haverford I had 
 a new and charming experience among the Friends. 
 
 "What is thy first name?" was asked at once in the gentle 
 voice of one who had kept the plain language and the plain 
 garb, and the newcomer, introduced as Emily Clarke, was 
 addressed thus during her stay in Haverford, and quite fell 
 in love with her own name from hearing it so sweetly spoken. 
 Quite proudly she acted as cicerone for her husband when he 
 appeared among strangers who were already her friends. 
 Among those whom he knew were Doctor J. Rendel Harris 
 and Doctor Barton. Among those met for the first time were 
 J. Wilhelm Rowntree, Miss Irene Ashby, the Cadbury fam- 
 ily, Madame Nitobe, the American wife of that eminent 
 Japanese scholar and educator. Doctor Inazo Nitobe, several 
 of the Garrett family, and also various members of the facul- 
 ties of Haverford and Bryn Mawr. There were earnest men 
 and women from distant parts of the country and from near 
 
THE YEARS AT HAMILTON 75 
 
 by, drawn to Haverford upon a spiritual rather than an intel- 
 lectual quest. Not least among the impressive experiences 
 was a Friends' meeting at the end, a silent waiting with pas- 
 sive minds and receptive hearts for the breath of the Spirit, 
 broken once or twice by a few words or a prayer, and ending 
 with prayer and thanksgiving. 
 
 Clarke's address on "The Work of Christ for Our Salva- 
 tion," simplicity and clearness itself in thought and expres- 
 sion, was a piece of work as noteworthy as anything he 
 ever produced. It was a closely condensed study in church 
 history and theology. The much-mooted question as to his 
 actual belief regarding the atonement is there plainly and 
 briefly answered. For this reason it is to be regretted that it 
 has never been published in this country. It appeared in 
 Present Day Papers, a small periodical, of which J. Wilhelm 
 Rowntree was the editor, circulating chiefly among English 
 Friends. 
 
 This address, given in the chapel of Haverford College, 
 met with a highly intelligent and cordial response from that 
 earnest audience. 
 
 In 1901 he gave, at Oberlin, an address, entitled "Hux- 
 ley and Phillips Brooks," which he repeated a little later 
 before the alumni at the university commencement at Ham- 
 ilton. It was published in the Bihliotheca Sacra and some 
 reprints were distributed here and there, but it was never 
 widely known in the United States, although it made a pro- 
 found impression upon those who heard it or read it. It was 
 published in England by Allenson and made an attractive 
 little book. 
 
 In the summer of 1901 Clarke received the degree of 
 Doctor of Divinity from the University of Chicago. In Au- 
 gust we went abroad for the first and only time. We had 
 both been for years in precarious health, and would not have 
 regarded this year of journeying as possible had not my two 
 nieces been at that time resident abroad. One, Mrs. John- 
 
76 WILLL\M NEWTON CLARKE 
 
 ston, was the wife of a Presbyterian minister in Dublin, the 
 other, Mrs. George, was the wife of a Scotch Canadian, Kv- 
 ing temporarily in England. 
 
 The voyage on the little old Germanic, stanch still, de- 
 spite several almost fatal mishaps in the past, was very pleas- 
 ant. There was a good deal of wind, but the weather was 
 clear most of the time. We were both good sailors and did 
 not mind the tossing and rolling that sent some of the pas- 
 sengers to their staterooms. We were on deck nearly all the 
 time and were much the better for those long days in the 
 bracing sea air. 
 
 Clarke kept a journal during his stay abroad, and this is 
 the first entry. 
 
 "1901, 15 August, 8 P. M. Disembarked from the Ger- 
 manic, Liverpool low-lying, Birkenhead arched, with the 
 glow of a lovely sunset upon it. Off for London at 8.40. Ar- 
 rived at 12.40 A. M. 
 
 "16. Euston Hotel in a room graced with the English 
 air and sense of comfort. To Richmond with Grace (Mrs. 
 George) at midday. Drive across town, first glimpse of West- 
 minster Abbey and the houses of Parliament, St. Paul's cathe- 
 dral, and many lesser places familiar. Placed at Richmond 
 in a typical Enghsh house with characteristic quahty in 
 every part and outlook. 
 
 " ly. Two walks in Richmond, one through the trade 
 streets, and one to the Terrace Gardens which overlook the 
 Thames, and to the entrance of Richmond Park, where we 
 sat long and talked, watching the people. At last a ramble 
 alone through lawns and alleys. Quaint and characteristic 
 scenes all day. English architecture and street making. 
 The ancient parish church at Richmond, part of it four hun- 
 dred years old, beside a lane. Queen EHzabeth's almshouse 
 and Bishop Deppo's almshouse of the seventeenth century. 
 A dissenting chapel, small, obscure. The winding Thames 
 dotted with boats seen afar from the lovely terrace above. 
 
 ^^ Sunday, 18. To London for morning service at St. Paul's. 
 A noble and impressive place with long, unbroken \dstas. 
 The service scarcely audible at all, the music fine. The ser- 
 
 I 
 
THE YEARS AT HAMILTON 77 
 
 mon of Prebendary Tucker heard rather better, though not 
 well — an earnest sermon but in the familiar phrases and re- 
 mote from life. To the audience, largely of strangers, the 
 whole can have meant almost nothing beyond the form. 
 Their faces showed it, they could not hear, and most of them 
 were wholly detached. Home to Richmond by bus, a long 
 and wearisome ride in the heat, yet interesting in many parts, 
 through streets and regions long known by name. 
 
 ^'Monday, August 19. Afternoon at Westminster Abbey. 
 The sense of ancientness, the splendor of architecture, the 
 impression of vastness, the fulness of detail, the building-in 
 of reverence, the feeling of association with the noble army of 
 the great and good and useful, the innumerable reminders 
 of past endeavor and struggle and of vanished forms and 
 practises, the ghostly return of life long faded. The wonder- 
 fulness of the existence of such a building. We saw the 
 greater part of the items that are described, but only in 
 rather hasty fashion, but it was unspeakably uplifting and 
 satisfying. 
 
 "23. At Egham, thirteen miles up the Thames near to 
 Windsor, where the F. family have a house three hundred 
 years old and perhaps older, with a typical English garden, 
 perhaps as old as the house. There the free, cheerful, hos- 
 pitable life of an English household into which we have been 
 welcomed for the day. Afternoon on the Thames — boating 
 — quiet beauty everywhere. We walked across the plain of 
 Runnjrmede, we had tea in the boat against Magna Charta 
 Island. There stood an ancient fir-tree. In the Fordham 
 garden an ancient maple. 
 
 '"An Englishman's house is his castle.' House walled in, 
 the beauty invisible from without, as far from the outside 
 world as if it were miles away." 
 
 Seven weeks were spent in Richmond with Mr. and Mrs. 
 George, and under their guidance very much more was seen 
 in London and in the surrounding region than could possibly 
 have been attempted had we been alone. There were the 
 pleasant house and garden to return to, the summer-house 
 where tea was made in pleasant weather, and the cheerful 
 fireside on cool evenings. 
 
78 WILLIAM NEWTON CLARKE 
 
 On the 2oth of September we bade adieu to Richmond 
 and went to Oxford. 
 
 The reading again of this diary makes it difficult to write 
 briefly of the year abroad. Memory fills these brief daily 
 notes with visions of life and color. How impossible to give 
 a readable outline of the weeks in Oxford, so crowded were 
 they with vivdd impressions! Only very sparingly can one 
 even quote from the diary, so small a space in the memorial 
 can be given to his recreations in the story of Dr. Clarke's 
 life. Yet no one knew better how to play than he, or could 
 be a better playmate. 
 
 The charm of those seven weeks in Oxford can never be 
 told. It may be suggested by a few excerpts from the diary. 
 
 "22. Sunday. A glorious day throughout after the rain. 
 Morning services at the church of St. Mary the Virgin, as- 
 sociated with memories of Cranmer, Newman, and many 
 more. Service and sermon by Mr. Lake, a curate whom I 
 afterward met most pleasantly. Then a walk with E. through 
 the region above the church. Later another walk with E. 
 through the region below High Street as far as Christ church 
 meadows. Beauty beyond expression in the fine light about 
 Merton College chapel and Corpus Christi, especially the 
 view of Merton looking north, from the walk known as the 
 grove. Then alone to the service at five o'clock in the cathe- 
 dral at Christ church. A little time to look about the place 
 which is extremely fine. Evening service with good music, 
 without sermon. A full, great day. 
 
 " 23. Morning. Engaged lodgings at 98 St. Aldate's 
 Street, and afterward moved into them. Two large rooms 
 well furnished, just opposite the north of Christ church 
 buildings and Bishop Randall's garden, with a clear view of 
 St. Mary's spire from the front window. A little ramble 
 afternoon with a look in at Merton, seeing the fijie chapel 
 and the ancient library." 
 
 Life at the hotel had not been such as we preferred, and 
 lodgings in St. Freda's Hall seemed almost homelike. It was 
 near enough for convenience to all of the older colleges and 
 
THE YEARS AT HAMILTON 79 
 
 churches. We went to the market every morning — that won- 
 derful Oxford market — and our meals were neatly served in 
 our own sitting-room. 
 
 Christ church and Christ church meadows were so near 
 that we soon knew them well. We used to walk along the 
 Isis to Magdalen, and in those soft autumnal days the shad- 
 ows and colors were full of alluring mystery. We came to 
 know and love the old colleges and gardens. 
 
 At Oxford, Clarke began work upon The Christian Doc- 
 trine of God in the International Theological Library Series. 
 He went sometimes into Doctor Sanday's classroom and be- 
 came acquainted with a few scholars in the various colleges. 
 
 An entry in the diary notes the coming of Mr. and Mrs. 
 George, who spent a fortnight with us at St. Freda's Hall. 
 They had a tandem-bicycle and did some exploring of the 
 region around Oxford, returning with reports of things really 
 worth making an effort to see. One evening they brought an 
 enthusiastic account of Abingdon, which the uncle and aunt 
 must surely see. Comfortable, four-wheeled vehicles for two 
 persons appear to be almost non-existent in England, but a 
 horse and trap was engaged, with some misgivings, and on 
 the next morning we set forth, with the young folks attending 
 on their tandem. Abingdon was beautiful, interesting, and 
 surely worth seeing, but we never wished to try a trap again. 
 
 There were delightful rambles in and around Oxford 
 which the entries in the diary recall vividly. On the 20th 
 of October the nephew and niece returned to London and 
 were sadly missed. The year was waning, the weather grew 
 dull, there was less of outdoor life for them. It was time to 
 be turning southward. 
 
 Clarke did some work upon the book, but the beauty 
 and inexhaustible interest of Oxford so dominated his mind 
 that writing was difficult, and he gave it up. 
 
 A visit to Cambridge had been planned, but the fogs and 
 the chill led us to defer it. Upon the 7 th of November we 
 
So WILLIAM NEWTON CLARKE 
 
 returned to London, where Mr, and Mrs. George were now 
 established for the winter, and were with them in Kensing- 
 ton. My sister, who had been \asiting our niece in Dublin, 
 was also there, and she was our travelling companion on the 
 Continent. 
 
 On the 1 6th we crossed the Channel to Calais and ar- 
 rived in Paris the same evening, going directly to a pension, 
 not far from the Bois de Boulogne, where rooms had been 
 engaged for us by Richard Atwater, a Quaker cousin of 
 Clarke, who with his family lived near by. The Atwater 
 home was genial and attractive and the young people, who 
 were students at the Sorbonne, were no less kind and helpful 
 than Mr. and Mrs. Atwater to this party of three semi-in- 
 valids, at whose service the whole family placed their knowl- 
 edge of Paris, and thus enabled us to see and do much that 
 would otherwise have been impossible. 
 
 A former college student at Hamilton, Mr. Clarence 
 Butler, an artist then resident in Paris, came at once with 
 his wife to greet us with offers of all possible aid. Mr. and 
 Mrs. George came to Paris for the holiday season, and thus we 
 were surrounded with affectionate care during our entire stay. 
 
 Upon the morning of January 2 our nephew and niece 
 accompanied us to the Gare de Lyon and sped us on our 
 southward way. We had been ambitious as to our itinerary 
 and had meant to stop at Aries and at Carcassonne, but our 
 courage waned under the weariness of a long journey and we 
 saw not Aries nor Carcassonne but kept tamely on to Avi- 
 gnon, which was indeed well worth the seeing. From Avignon 
 we went to Marseilles on the evening of the 4th and upon the 
 5th saw the first inspiring view of the Mediterranean. Upon 
 the 6th we were off for Hyeres. It was a radiant day, and 
 Clarke gives in the diary a page of vivid description to the 
 journey. At Hyeres we settled down for a restful stay at the 
 Hotel des Isles d'Or, in a room looking straight to the sea and 
 the Golden Islands. The repute of Hyeres as having the 
 
THE YEARS AT HAMILTON 8i 
 
 mildest climate of any resort along the Riviera, a melange of 
 romantic history and legendary lore absorbed in early youth 
 by one of the party, together with interest in the recent 
 achievements of the Felibres, had led us to Hyeres, and we 
 were richly repaid. One is tempted to give a page or two 
 from the diary. 
 
 "January 7. Another glorious day after a cool and bril- 
 liant night. A great day for walking for us. Morning through 
 the old town of Hyeres on the steep hillside. A mediaeval 
 town evidently altered not very much for ages: steep, nar- 
 row streets, ancient dark houses now but thinly peopled, 
 but all cleanness itself in comparison with Marseilles and 
 Avignon. Prominent on the slope is the St. Paul church 
 of the twelfth century. It stands high up from the land be- 
 low with a square tower, and on the top is an open, iron frame. 
 Beside it is an open place from which there is a fine outlook. 
 Here, too, is the ancient iron cross, the story of which is given 
 in a book by Anna Mary Howitt — her ancient legend tells, 
 but whether history knows I am not sure. The inscription 
 says it was erected by the magistrates of the first city of the 
 Isles of Gold. Then we climbed a little farther up the hill 
 and came home by another way. After luncheon we went 
 out again. The back ground of Hyeres is a hill, said to rise 
 eight hundred and seventy feet, steep, splendidly rocky, 
 crowned by remains of ancient fortifications. We started 
 without definite purpose, but finally made our way by road 
 and path around the hill, our way near the top skirting the 
 way of the old defenses. Part of the way it was a climb over 
 stony paths. Splendid outlooks all along upon plain and sea 
 and rocky hills, the clear air beautifying all. There is a 
 fine round tower built out of a rock, and there are several 
 square towers, less well-preserved but rising finely. The 
 hill is partly wooded and the lovely foliage contrasts beauti- 
 fully with the rocks. There is a way within the ruins, but 
 we were content with our labors and did not undertake that. 
 It was a charming walk, one of the finest that we have ever 
 made together and the hardest that we have had since the 
 days of our lameness; not so very long in measurement, but 
 a real walk for travellers." 
 
82 WILLIAM NEWTON CLARKE 
 
 In the vicinity of Hyeres we saw for the first time large fields 
 of narcissus, violets, and other spring flowers, grown for the 
 Paris and London flower markets. One day we came upon 
 an old-fashioned pottery where two men were busy, one shap- 
 ing flower-pots rapidly upon a wheel kept in motion by one 
 foot while both hands were busy in modeUing the clay. We 
 fell into conversation with the man at the wheel and he, see- 
 ing that we were genuinely interested, shaped a vase or two 
 in graceful classic forms which showed an innate sense of 
 beauty, together with traditions derived from Greek art. 
 Then we remembered that all along the Riviera there had 
 existed Greek colonies in early times, and that many of the 
 people must be of Greek descent, as indeed, their faces indi- 
 cated. 
 
 Flowers, and oranges, chiefly tangerines, fresh from the 
 trees, were brought to the hotel every morning, and the 
 bright air, the deep blue sky, the sea and the rocky heights 
 were all suggestive of the only other southern climate we 
 knew, California, but how unlike were the associations! 
 Entry in the diary of January lo closes thus: 
 
 "Last night and to-day writing was resumed, first since 
 leaving Oxford. As to the history of Hyeres, it is said that a 
 Roman settlement here bore the name of Castrum Aracarum. 
 Query, whether the name Hyeres is a corruption of this. It 
 looks likely." 
 
 A book of dear remembrances might easily be written 
 about Hyeres, a quiet, gentle, remarkable little town which 
 made one desire to stay on indefinitely and learn to know 
 some of the people met day by day in walking or driving, at 
 the churches and the little public library. In the latter place 
 was shown with pride perhaps the most beautiful collection 
 of butterflies in the world, for, strange to say, Hyeres seems 
 to possess a peculiar attraction for butterflies, which find their 
 way thither from many distant points and are fated to enrich 
 
THE YEARS AT HAMILTON 83 
 
 that rare collection. There was also a collection of birds of 
 Provence. 
 
 Again, more than a page of the diary is given to the ac- 
 count of a second visit of exploration to the alluring ruin on 
 the hill which proved to be as interesting within as without. 
 
 Upon the 21st we regretfully bade adieu to Hyeres and 
 went to St. Raphael by the South of France Railway which 
 follows the coast-line somewhat closely, affording varied and 
 charming views. The journal depicts St. Raphael, Valeriano, 
 and the ruins of Frejus, and a drive along the shore where 
 lines of strong-armed fishermen were drawing in their nets. 
 
 St. Raphael was interesting but not the place for our party 
 to settle down in. On the 29 th we went to Nice, a place too 
 well known to linger upon here. 
 
 From Nice to Genoa, and from Genoa to Pisa. All felt 
 the unique charm of Pisa and would willingly have stayed 
 longer. From Pisa to Rome, and from Rome to Naples, where 
 we settled down placidly at Parker's Hotel resolved to see 
 things in leisurely fashion, even though that should mean 
 seeing comparatively little. After rain and chill in Rome 
 and on the southward journey, the travellers awoke to bright 
 sunshine in Naples and with something of the joyousness 
 they had felt at Hyeres. Seeing a little each day, in the end 
 we had seen much without haste or overexertion. 
 
 Clarke did a good deal of walking alone, and the diary 
 shows how keenly alive to the picturesque, the comic, the 
 pathetic, in the passing show, was this sympathetic looker-on. 
 
 We had planned to go to Sicily, but the time never came 
 when all of the three had courage and enterprise to under- 
 take the journey. We thought we could go to Capri any 
 pleasant day, but we saw Capri only as it appeared, ever al- 
 luring, in the glamour of distance. We went to La Cava in- 
 tending to take the trip to Paestum, but at La Cava we learned 
 how much of effort and fatigue that journey would entail, 
 and so we gave up Paestum. From La Cava we made the 
 
84 WILLIAM NEWTON CLARKE 
 
 carriage journey to Amalfi upon a heavenly day when sky 
 and sea were at their bluest and the mountain cascades, leap- 
 ing down the gorges, were at their fullest and brightest. The 
 glory and the joy of that journey were too wonderful for 
 words. We stayed at the old monastery and felt all the charm 
 of the place, so well known, so often described. We had little 
 rooms that had been cells of monks and sat beneath the star- 
 lit sky in a balcony far above the sea with the white town 
 gleaming dimly in the distance and the sea murmuring softly 
 below. It was like an idyllic dream. 
 
 The drive from Amalfi to Sorrento was beautiful, the stay 
 in Sorrento full of interest, and the drive to Castellammare 
 a new delight. 
 
 After seven weeks in Naples our party turned northward 
 upon a summer-like day when all was beautiful. 
 
 "The mountain scenery, the abbey upon Monte Cassino, 
 Aquino, the home of Thomas, a beautifully placed town on a 
 rounded hill, many other towns picturesquely situated. 
 Ruined castles appeared on the heights here and there. It 
 was a most lovely journey and we grudged the latter part of 
 it to the night. Very different from the going to Naples in 
 the rain." 
 
 We reached Rome on the 13th, and the entries in the diary 
 recall clearly all that filled the days between the 13 th and 
 the 26th. 
 
 Rome is so vast, so varied, so overpowering that the mem- 
 ory of it is chaotic and wearying, but the clear, well-arranged 
 account of each day's doings, given in the diary, is pleasant 
 reading. 
 
 "The most interesting object noted on the way to Flor- 
 ence is *Orvieto, a great natural fortress, picturesque and 
 beautiful.' The first hotel, though it faces the Amo, is not 
 right, but the party soon found out the Villa Trollope which 
 suits better." 
 
THE YEARS AT HAMILTON 85 
 
 From our front window we look out into a walled garden 
 opposite, where nightingales sing, and up the street, to Fie- 
 sole. Florence is restful after Rome, the weather is spring- 
 like and we go about freely. The Villa Trollope was once the 
 home of the Trollope family, and the room is shown in which 
 George EKot wrote Romola. It is a cheerful house in a pleas- 
 ant, airy situation that seems healthful. We take life easily 
 and see a great deal. 
 
 From Florence to Venice and thence to Milan and on to 
 Lucerne, to Heidelberg and down the Rhine, to Brussels and 
 Ostend and across to England, through the fields of Kent, 
 green and blossoming, to London, to Manchester to see 
 Doctor Maclaren, to Cambridge, where we had glimpses of 
 certain colleges and were under the delightful tutelage of 
 Doctor J. Rendel Harris, across the fen country, on a misty, 
 glimmering day, where we seemed to be pursuing the wraith 
 of Hereward, to Ely, which gave us wonderful things to 
 remember! To Dublin, the home of our niece, where we 
 spent a fortnight full of interest and charm, then to Belfast 
 for Glasgow. We had a long-cherished dream of seeing 
 lona, but in Glasgow it rained as if it would rain forever. 
 Columba's Isle remained unvisited, and through the dimness 
 of pouring rain we sped on to Edinburgh, where the sky 
 cleared and we saw much. From Edinburgh, southward 
 through green hills dotted with flocks, to the Lake country, 
 a little stay at Windermere, a few hours at Grasmere, to 
 Chester, to Liverpool, and then the homeward voyage. 
 
 In June, 1902, Clarke was again in his own home on 
 the college hill. The trip abroad, although it had been for 
 the most part without hurry or excessive fatigue, and had 
 been a mentally enriching experience, had not improved his 
 health, and while devoting himself as fully as ever to his work 
 in theology he declined the many invitations that he received 
 to give addresses, to preach, or to aid in summer schools. 
 The seminary, the church, the village which had been the 
 
86 WILLIAM NEWTON CLARKE 
 
 scene of his happiest pastorate — to these he still gave himself 
 freely. The Christian Doctrine oj God, which would require 
 the utmost exercise of his mature powers, was yet to be writ- 
 ten. The beginning made at Oxford, and some further work 
 done at odd times while he was abroad, did not satisfy him. 
 He threw it aside and began anew, using a different method. 
 This book was always in mind and he worked upon it from 
 time to time as he was able. It was a gradual growth. He 
 had little strength and looked so ill that his friends were 
 shocked and alarmed, but he made light of his disabilities, 
 remaining at home through the bitter winters of 1902 and 
 1903. In 1903 he began to rally and to look like his old self. 
 Even during those difficult years no one — not even those 
 nearest to him, ever heard him complain of overwork. His 
 active mind supplied energy for his frail body and kept him 
 up. The only pieces of outside work, of especial interest, 
 dated in 1903, are two addresses, one given before the Mis- 
 sionary Society of Andover Theological Seminary, called 
 **The Young Minister's Outlook," and the Dudleian lecture 
 at Harvard University given in the Phillips Brooks House, 
 of which the subject is always "Revealed Religion." 
 
 The two long winters at home in a severe climate, which 
 kept me a house prisoner, prevented Clarke from taking the 
 open-air exercise that he needed, as his lameness made him 
 Hable to slip and fall whenever the ground was icy. It 
 was certain that we must seek a milder region for the win- 
 ter of 1904. We fixed upon Pinebluflf, a small, quiet place, 
 near Pinehurst, North Carolina, which we already knew. 
 Clarke had engaged to give a course of lectures before the 
 Divinity School of Yale University, in April, 1905, and he 
 wished to be able to work without interruption. My nephew 
 with his wife and little daughter were already there, and 
 Clarke took the cottage next to theirs, so we had beside 
 us young kinsfolk and helpers, and life in both cottages 
 was thus made easier and happier. The winter was excep- 
 
THE YEARS AT HAMILTON 87 
 
 tionally cold, there were several slight snowfalls and one 
 snow-storm followed by rain and freezing which made the 
 streets so icy that for several days Clarke did not venture 
 out. Yet we were in the mild, middle South, and the sandy 
 soil was dry and warm beneath our feet nearly all the time. 
 For the most part we lived wdth open doors and windows, 
 and our cottage had a little porch where we could sit in the 
 sun or in the shade. In and around Pinebluff there were 
 pleasant walks, there were fine, vigorous young pines to look 
 at, and old, gnarled, picturesque ones, and although the cot- 
 tage was primitive and inconvenient and the household ser- 
 vice poor and uncertain, the climate seemed to be good for 
 all and we grew stronger from week to week. 
 
 The lectures for Yale were written easily — spun wholly 
 from inward resources. Clarke had with him almost no 
 books except the Bible and the Greek Testament, and he 
 needed nothing else. These lectures on "The Use of the 
 Scriptures in Theology" made a small book which appeared 
 soon after they were given. In The Modern Pulpit, by Doc- 
 tor Lewis O. Brastow, of the Yale Divinity School, pub- 
 lished in 1906, the author gives his impressions of Doctor 
 Clarke. After commending the Outline of Christian Theology 
 he goes on to say: "His Use of the Scriptures in Theology is 
 even more valuable, if possible, to ministers and laymen 
 alike. It is a greatly needed and most valuable contribution 
 to a difficult and supremely important subject, and in its 
 skill and courage is successful to a degree that seemingly 
 would have been impossible to any other theological teacher 
 in the country." 
 
 Of Clarke as teacher and preacher he says: 
 
 "One of the most successful teachers of doctrinal theol- 
 ogy in this country is the Reverend Professor William N. 
 Clarke, D.D. But the preacher is behind the lecturer. No 
 intelHgent person can have listened to his lectures without 
 recognizing this. Those twenty-three years of pastoral ex- 
 
88 WILLIAM NEWTON CLARKE 
 
 perience, chiefly in exceptionally intelligent communities in 
 the United States, have been richly tributary to his work as 
 teacher of doctrinal theology. On the other hand, it is equally 
 evident to those who have heard him preach as well as lec- 
 ture that his preaching is proportionally tributary to his 
 teaching. His power of lucid statement, his skill in repre- 
 senting occult theologic thought in readily apprehensible 
 terms, and his straightforvvardness and courageous sincerity 
 are qualities that are prominent in this most interesting and 
 convincing of theological teachers in our day. 
 
 "All those qualities that have given him eminence as a 
 teacher he carries into the pulpit, and he is not less inter- 
 esting and successful as a preacher. His discourses are al- 
 ways thoughtful, frequently striking, and fresh in sugges- 
 tiveness, readily apprehended, orderly in method, practical 
 in aim, and pungent and direct in statement. They have the 
 carrying power of the preacher's sincerity, fearlessness, and 
 frankness. In a straightforward, colloquial, unimpassioned, 
 prevailingly reflective, serious, and sincere manner, wholly 
 without oratorical arts or affectations of oratorical style, he 
 speaks straight on." 
 
 Clarke had preached in the university chapel at Yale, 
 and Brastow had no doubt heard him elsewhere, but if he 
 had listened to one of his sermons at Hamilton or to such 
 preaching as he gave in the little church at Pineblufif, or 
 wherever his help was needed, he would have omitted that 
 word "unimpassioned." A constant characteristic of his ser- 
 mons in places where he felt at home and knew his audience 
 was the glow of feeling which pervaded them. His sermons 
 were alive with strong and noble thought and often rushed 
 swiftly forward in "impassioned and passion-moving utter- 
 ance" — to use one of his own rich phrases. He knew the 
 heights and depths of emotion, and sudden raptures of illu- 
 mination, of the great preacher. 
 
 The teacher did not forget his students after they had 
 gone out into the world. He knew where each one was and 
 wished to know what he was doing. In September, 1905, he 
 
THE YEARS AT HAMILTON 89 
 
 sent out the following letter, and few things ever gave him 
 more pleasure than the answers he received from far and near. 
 
 "Dear Pupil and Friend: 
 
 "Forgive me for sending you a printed letter. My excuse 
 is that I am seeking information from my students gener- 
 ally, and have neither strength nor time for the personal 
 letter that I should so gladly write to each. 
 
 "I should be glad to know your judgment as to some of 
 the conditions in which religious work is done at present. 
 Do you find reUgious interest among the people? If so, of 
 what kind is it ? In what parts or aspects of Christian truth 
 are the best people in the church interested ? Is there a high 
 sense of the glory of the Christian faith and Hfe? Are the 
 people outside the churches thinking of reUgious subjects? 
 and if they are, of what? Do you meet many persons, or 
 any, to whom any religious or theological questions are of 
 absorbing interest? Do you find religious consolation sought 
 and welcomed in time of trouble? Do you find the ethical 
 questions of Hfe brought into connection with religion? Are 
 struggles of conscience frequent? Do you see in the young 
 people a religious interest that gives promise of strength in 
 the church hereafter? Is the best and most religious work 
 that you can do reasonably welcome in the church and in the 
 community? Do you discover any new forms of reHgious 
 interest, or manifestations of reHgious activity? Do you 
 observe any growth of Christian principle or Hfe outside of 
 the church ? 
 
 "Not that I wish to catechise you on all these points: 
 these questions indicate the field in which I desire informa- 
 tion, and anything that your experience may lead you to 
 write me, at your convenience, upon any of them will be wel- 
 come to an old friend, who is less in touch than you with the 
 active world. 
 
 "With a greeting as cordial as if it were written with my 
 own hand or uttered face to face, I am, 
 
 "Sincerely yours, 
 
 "Hamilton, N. Y., September, 1905." 
 
 By an exchange of time with a colleague Doctor Clarke 
 was enabled for several years to compress his work in theol- 
 
90 WILLIAM NEWTON CLARKE 
 
 ogy and his electives within the limits of the spring and faU 
 terms. He made few journeys except to and from the South, 
 and was content to spend the summer vacations chiefly at 
 home. His house on the college hill looked out upon a broad 
 view over the valley, of which he never tired. A visit of a 
 few days was made now and then at the home of his sister, 
 in Cazenovia, where some old friends still remained, or at my 
 native place in Pennsylvania, and sometimes we went to 
 Boston, but both were for the most part kept at home by 
 lameness and lack of strength. Our chief recreation, as in 
 youth, so in those years of decline, was found in driving, es- 
 pecially along the less-frequented roads. When we struck 
 into one of the shady bypaths, often Clarke would uncover 
 his head with a joyous abandon, as if surrendering his whole 
 being to earth, air, and sky. No one ever felt a more spon- 
 taneous and full delight in nature. He was not precisely 
 far-sighted, but he had excellent normal vision. Through 
 all his life he had been garnering "the harvest of a quiet eye." 
 The flight of a bobolink over a June meadow and its ecstatic 
 song, the grace of an elm beside a stream, a clump of elder in 
 its milk-white bloom, a tall mullein by the roadside — these 
 familiar things never lost their charm. There were places 
 where we always stopped. One was a bridge over the little 
 river near Poolville, which gave enchanting views, up-stream 
 and down. There was another bridge over the outlet of a 
 clear, spring-fed pond from which comes Hamilton's bountiful 
 supply of water. Upon one side of the way was a remnant 
 of woodland, the refuge of many birds. Upon the other one 
 could look down into the bright stream and follow its course 
 a little way. The chief charm of this stream was its melo- 
 diousness. We could have lingered there for hours to listen. 
 Sometimes we tried to discover which tiny waterfall, or ob- 
 structing stone, or curve in the brook making an eddy gave 
 voice to some distinguishable note among the "little sharps 
 and trebles" or silvery trills against the background of soft 
 
THE YEARS AT HAMILTON 91 
 
 murmuring. After our return from the South each year we 
 would wait and watch for that day in May that was perfect 
 for an "apple-blossom drive" over the hills and among old 
 orchards. There was another much-loved drive in early 
 autumn toward Eaton, past the site of Underbill Cottage the 
 childhood home of Fanny Forrester, whose early writings 
 charmed the grandparents of some of the young folks of to- 
 day. Near that point is a broad, meadowy lowland, with 
 goldenrod, asters, and Joe Pye weed. Our wedding-day, 
 September i, we used to celebrate by a drive if sky and air 
 were propitious. 
 
 About the middle of September the seminary opened, 
 and from that time until the midwinter vacation Clarke 
 was steadily at work and using his strength to its utmost 
 limit. Indoor life and winter cold had told upon the health 
 of both, and we decided to go to a really warm climate. 
 At the beginning of 1906 we were in Florida. In furnished 
 rooms where something of home Ufe was possible, we kept 
 house in a small way. Charmed by the mild and deUghtful 
 climate, we thought it best to end uncertainty and make a 
 winter home in De Land. Without much ado we purchased 
 a lot on the Boulevard, north of the college, and arranged 
 for the building of a small house during the summer. 
 
 We were at home for the opening of the spring term, and 
 the summer and autumn passed in the usual quiet way. Our 
 chief excitement had been directing, from afar, the building 
 of the Florida house, which was yet not ready to be occupied 
 when we reached De Land, about the beginning of 1907. 
 Waiting only for the most necessary rooms to be habitable, 
 we took possession at the earliest day, hoping to hasten the 
 completion of the whole, and this plan proved efifective. The 
 winter was so warm and bright, most of the time, that we 
 might almost have lived in a tent, and our picnicky style of 
 housekeeping during the few weeks that it was necessary 
 was not unpleasant. Stimulated by the presence and over- 
 
92 WILLIAM NEWTON CLARKE 
 
 sight of the owners, the builder spurred his workmen on, and 
 at last we found ourselves in full possession of our little home 
 which we had planned ourselves. It faced the east, and its 
 longest extension was on the south side. It had a double 
 veranda across the front, and the upper one proved the most 
 delightful feature of the house. For the rest, all was con- 
 venient, cheerful, and homelike. When it was time to go 
 North we felt thankful in the prospect of returning, year by 
 year, to our own abode. 
 
 But before our return to the North, Clarke, whose serious 
 lameness had given him many a fall, was injured again by 
 a fall, occasioned by the thoughtlessness of a workman in 
 leaving an obstacle where it was sure to be stumbled over. 
 His already disabled right arm bore the brunt of the blow 
 and was again broken and bruised in such a way as to cause 
 a partial paralysis of the forearm and hand. He rallied he- 
 roically and in a few days was writing cheerful letters with his 
 left hand. A month later we made the homeward journey. 
 Under skilful treatment the injured arm slowly improved, the 
 severed nerve repaired itself, and the paralyzed muscles grad- 
 ually came to Hfe, yet the right arm and hand were never 
 quite as useful as before this second injury. 
 
 Another quiet summer passed with much of happiness in 
 fruitful work, the society of friends, and the never-failing joy 
 in natural things which the home on the hill, with each win- 
 dow looking out upon some beautiful object, made possible 
 at every moment in the day. The most satisfying thing upon 
 which the eyes could rest, except the view up the valley, was 
 a large elm upon the green slope of the president's lawn, just 
 far enough away to show in full perfection against its back- 
 ground of turf and sky. A more graceful tree never grew. It 
 was a joy forever, changing with the changing mood of wind 
 and sky and the round of the year, yet keeping always its in- 
 dividual loveliness. Its serene charm seemed in natural affin- 
 ity with the serene soul that lived in its presence year after 
 
THE YEARS AT HAMILTON 93 
 
 year and who cared now for no more active vacation than his 
 veranda and an occasional drive could give. 
 
 In the autumn Clarke had a sudden and alarming illness 
 and it seemed as if his work had come to an end, but his 
 great reserve of recuperative power brought him up, and he 
 was able to go to Florida when the time came. His sister, 
 Mrs. Goff, always brave and cheerful, accompanied us, and 
 remained during the winter. Life in a mild climate very 
 soon brought Clarke back to sufficient strength to resume 
 his ordinary life except that he was forbidden to preach or 
 speak at all in public. He worked, however, upon The Chris- 
 tian Doctrine of God and upon an elective course which he 
 was to give his students during the spring term, walked each 
 day as usual, and now and then took the family for a drive 
 among the orange-groves and the pines. 
 
 One of his great resources in De Land was the library of 
 Stetson University which he passed daily. It had some of 
 the best periodicals, and its reference department was good. 
 He looked in at the hbrary nearly every day and was always 
 welcome. 
 
 We had neighbors now in a new house a little farther 
 north, which had been built for Mrs. Hyde who lived there 
 with her daughters. Miss Hyde and Mrs. Peek, and her 
 grandson, Medwin Peek. Mrs. Hyde was a sister-in-law of 
 Doctor Ammi Hyde, the loved and revered teacher of Clarke 
 when he was a boy in Cazenovia. This fact had led to a 
 pleasant acquaintance and then to a cordial friendship be- 
 tween the families now living side by side. With Professor 
 Frost, a kind friend, on the south side and the Hyde family 
 on the north, the dwellers in the cottage between felt finely 
 supported. 
 
 There were other neighbors and friends, loyal and dear, 
 at the university and scattered through the town. These 
 friends at the time of direst need sprang with instant sym- 
 pathy and personal grief to the aid of the one who was 
 
94 WILLIAM NEWTON CLARKE 
 
 suddenly left alone, and did everything when she could do 
 nothing. 
 
 The winter of 1907-8 passed very quietly. Upon his re- 
 turn home Clarke found himself stronger and he did his full 
 amount of work during the spring term. Yet he had warn- 
 ings that he must either do less or cease altogether from work, 
 and at the meeting of the trustees of Colgate University at 
 commencement he offered his resignation from the chair of 
 theology. It was accepted and another position was created 
 for him and offered with the understanding that he should 
 attempt only as much work as he felt fully able to do. It 
 was, in effect, a kindly retiring of the veteran upon half pay. 
 
 The summer of 1908 was a trying time, as we were both ill, 
 week after week, until the weeks grew into months. The strug- 
 gle of both at the same time with serious illness would have 
 been utterly depressing but for Clarke's cheerful nature and 
 unfailing trust in God. Eternal things were more real to him 
 than the things of time. Those hard weeks and months were 
 lived through, and in December we were again in De Land. 
 
 There, at last, Clarke finished The Christian Doctrine of 
 God. He sent the work for criticism to the American editor 
 of the series to which it belonged. The International Theo- 
 logical Library, and received a most appreciative letter. 
 "You have written a great and noble book," wrote Doctor 
 Briggs, with other cordial expressions. This book, the ripe 
 fruit of a lifetime of thought and experience, was the cul- 
 mination of Clarke's work in theology. He had feared at 
 times that he should never finish it, nor could he have fin- 
 ished it if he had not resigned the chair of theology and 
 thus become free to give more time and strength to this 
 large work. It was published in May, 1909. 
 
 This book had overshadowed and commanded him for 
 ten years, as any great task does for which one has little 
 time. He began at once upon another book, which he wrote 
 con amore and rapidly. Indeed he had only to put pen to 
 
THE YEARS AT HAMILTON 95 
 
 paper and let the story flow which Hved so clearly in his 
 memory. Sixty Years with the Bible was written in De Land 
 and appeared in September, 1909. 
 
 The year 1908 was saddened for Clarke by the lingering 
 illness and death of his friend of many years, Doctor George 
 E. Merrill, who had been president of Colgate University 
 since 1899. 
 
 The president's house and Clarke's were separated only 
 by a quiet road and two green lawns, and each was wholly 
 at home on the other's domain. The friendship begun at 
 Newton Center, where Merrill took his course in theology, 
 had Uved through all the intervening years, and during the 
 presidency of Doctor Merrill, with their clo^ association, 
 the relation between those two pure, refined, scholarly men 
 grew more intimate and dear. 
 
 During the winter of 1909-10 the quiet round of life in 
 De Land went on as usual. Doctor Clarke had now as actual 
 duties only the work for his classes in ethics and apologetics, 
 but he did not cease to do his utmost and his best. Into these 
 subjects he went more deeply. There was taking form in his 
 mind a book which should embody the results of his lifelong 
 study and practical application of the ethical teachings of 
 Jesus, This book was written a year later. 
 
 The summer of 1910 he spent quietly at home, except for 
 one brief journey. He was called to New York to receive 
 the honorary degree of Doctor of Sacred Theology, conferred 
 upon him by Columbia University. 
 
 He had met with another serious accident in the spring 
 of 19 10, having fallen, in an inexplicable way, close beside 
 his own house in De Land, and his already badly crippled arm 
 was bruised and sprained, though not broken. The shock 
 and discouragement of this injury told upon him, although 
 he soon recovered from the immediate effect. His lameness 
 and his ill-fated right arm limited his activities far more than 
 any one understood except those who knew him intimately. 
 
96 WILLIAM NEWTON CLARKE 
 
 Even to them he did not talk of his disabilities. He was so 
 liable to fall unless he watched his steps very carefully that 
 it was not safe for him to take a journey alone. Hamilton 
 and its environs, and chiefly his own study and veranda, held 
 him with a short tether, yet he was always cheerful. His 
 daily trip to the village, his books, his writing, his piano, 
 the visits of friends, the beautiful environment of his home 
 were enough. From youth to age he never knew what ennui 
 meant. He always felt that his life was rich and full. 
 
 Even the accidents that befell him seemed to make a 
 deeper impression upon his wife than upon himself, though 
 he doubtless had forebodings that he did not express. She 
 came to fear and even to expect that one day a fall would be 
 fatal, and this fear began to seem almost like a presentiment 
 and really cast a shadow upon her life. Also, the long jour- 
 neys to and from Florida were increasingly wearisome to this 
 pair of invalids and we became convinced that it would be 
 wise to change our winter abode to some place easily ac- 
 cessible in the middle South, although the thought of giving 
 up our pleasant little house and leaving our friends in DeLand 
 was painful to us. We had looked in vain at Augusta and 
 Aiken for a suitable place, so we resolved to try Columbia, 
 South CaroUna, where there was a friend in the person of 
 Doctor Mitchell who was then president of the University 
 of South Carolina. Perhaps in Columbia we might find what 
 we needed. 
 
 However, in December, 1910, we went to Florida as usual. 
 During the winter Clarke gained slowly but surely in health 
 and he ventured to preach two or three times. He worked 
 steadily upon his book. The Ideal of Jesus, and so was happily 
 occupied. We planned to make a detour upon the homeward 
 journey and go to Columbia, but Clarke was slightly ill when 
 we nearcd the junction where we should change, so it seemed 
 wise to go through to New York. 
 
 All through the summer of 191 1 Clarke was in somewhat 
 
THE YEARS AT HAMILTON 97 
 
 better health and went about a little more freely. He 
 preached several times in the village churches, and at the 
 university commencement, when the semicentennial of his 
 class occurred, he gave the alumni address, in which he de- 
 picted the college as it was at his entrance, his classmates, 
 the outlook of the Civil War, the men who enhsted, the 
 heroes who gave their lives, and the spirit of college Hfe half 
 a century before. He poured out his heart in that vivid, ten- 
 der, sparkling address, which charmed every listener. During 
 the commencement season he seemed to have renewed his 
 youth. He was inexpressibly happy to be doing things once 
 more. 
 
 He was invited to give an address at the Divinity School 
 of Yale University in November, and did so. The visit at 
 New Haven was a fresh inspiration to him. 
 
 A fortnight was spent with our niece in Nev/ York, which 
 included Thanksgiving and Doctor Clarke's seventieth birth- 
 day, December 2. A little later we started on our journey 
 southward and, according to our plan, stopped at Columbia. 
 
 Doctor Mitchell was our kind helper in the search for a 
 house and put us in the way of finding whatever might pos- 
 sibly serve our purpose, but there was then no small house 
 and no apartment even that suited our needs. We did not 
 despair but promised ourselves to look again at Columbia 
 upon our return in the spring. We seemed destined to spend 
 another winter in De Land, so thither we would go and be 
 content. 
 
 After a slow, exhausting Journey in heat and dust, we 
 reached De Land upon the evening of a summer-like day. 
 The Uttle house had never seemed more homelike and in- 
 viting, and we were thankful and happy to be safely there. 
 
 The next morning, eager to be at work. Doctor Clarke 
 had his typewriter unpacked and placed upon its stand be- 
 side the study table, together with a pile of typewritten 
 papers containing the work in apologetics which he had given 
 
98 WILLIAiVI NEWTON CLARKE 
 
 to his class during the fall term, upon the general topic of 
 belief, beginning with its lowest forms, ascending by suc- 
 cessive steps, and culminating at the highest, wholly in the 
 spiritual realm and self-evidencing. A fruit of this work had 
 been the address, "Immortality a Study of Belief," that he 
 had recently given at Yale. He intended to use this material 
 in a book which should be his final work. He wrote almost 
 every morning, and being at work made him very happy. 
 Several times when his wife entered the study he looked up at 
 her wdth a joyous expression on his face, blended with a half- 
 deprecating amusement at his own boyish delight, and said: 
 "This is going to be a book by and by." Alas! that book 
 was destined never to be. 
 
THE LAST DAY 
 
 Sunday, January 14, was cold and clear. Doctor Clarke 
 did not feel ill but he had not quite his usual strength and he 
 decided to remain at home. He spent the morning quietly 
 alone in the study. 
 
 Mr. and Mrs. Bishop, friends who had lifelong associa- 
 tions with Hamilton, and who were near neighbors for the 
 winter, came to dine. Doctor Clarke was cheerful, as were 
 all the little company of four, at the table and in the study, 
 where they sat afterward. There was no forewarning that a 
 thunderbolt from a clear sky was to shatter that peaceful 
 home before the day was spent. When the guests were gone 
 Clarke and his wife sat together, one by the fireside and one 
 at his writing-table, conversing and reading a Httle. At that 
 serene hour it seemed as if Hfe might flow on in the same way 
 forever, though both were ill and frail and there had been 
 many a warning that the time of parting could not be far 
 away. By and by they heard the whistle of the train, bring- 
 ing the mail from the North, and soon Clarke started for his 
 evening walk to the post-ofl&ce. 
 
 It began to be chilly and the fire was dying, so more wood 
 was added and the room made warm and bright. The wife 
 sat alone in the house, under no shadow of dread, happier 
 than usual, listening to catch the first, faint tapping of a lame 
 man's cane upon the sidewalk and to hear it grow near and 
 more distinct. He came in somewhat tired, but bright, as 
 always, with letters which he read aloud. There was a little 
 talk suggested by the letters and especially by one, which was 
 very characteristic, from Doctor Crane, an old friend. Then 
 he asked: "Would you like to have me read to you?" He 
 took up the Life of Louis Pasteur, a recent Christmas gift. 
 
 99 
 
loo WILLIAM NEWTON CLARKE 
 
 They had been reading the book, bit by bit, and had reached, 
 and read a part of, the seventh chapter, which tells of the 
 crushing of France by Germany in 1870, a chapter packed 
 full of the endurance, anguish, and despair of Pasteur's heroic 
 soul and not to be read without deep feeling. The reader 
 paused from time to time at some great point, or as he was 
 checked by an exclamation from the listener. With Pasteur 
 they lived through that heartrending drama and when the 
 chapter ended the spell was not broken at once. 
 
 Suddenly, a little later, came the stunning blow. While 
 his wife was absent from him briefly, Clarke fell from the 
 back veranda. When she returned and he was not in the 
 house she felt an instant alarm. She found him lying at the 
 foot of the steps. He spoke reassuringly in a clear, strong 
 voice, but the shock, or some injury, proved fatal in a few 
 moments. 
 
 Let the story end with the glorious hope expressed in his 
 own poem, dear to many hearts, in the spirit of which he 
 had long been living: 
 
 "Gone they tell me is youth. 
 Gone is the strength of my life; 
 Nothing remains but decline, 
 Nothing but age and decay. 
 
 Not so: I am God's little child. 
 Only beginning to live. 
 Coming the days of my prime. 
 Coming the strength of my life. 
 Coming the vision of God, 
 Coming my bloom and my power." 
 
 Amen. 
 
PERSONAL CHARACTERISTICS 
 
 All around him Patmos lies 
 Who hath spirit-gifted eyes, 
 Who his happy sight can suit 
 To the great and the minute; 
 Doubt not that he holds in view . 
 A new earth and heavens new; 
 Doubt not but his ear doth catch 
 Strains nor voice nor reed can match. 
 Many a silver, sphery note 
 Shall within his hearing float. 
 
 All around him Patmos lies 
 Who hath spirit-gifted eyes; 
 He need not far remove, 
 He need not the times reprove, 
 Who would hold perpetual lease 
 Of an isle in seas of peace." 
 
 — Edith M. Thomas. 
 
 To those who knew him in the intimacy of his home it 
 seems strange that one so spontaneous, free, and natural 
 could ever need to be explained, yet Doctor Clarke was some- 
 thing of a puzzle to various persons of temperament and 
 training unlike his own. His close friends and those of his 
 own household understood that he was what he was and did 
 what he did by virtue of his innate gifts. He was born not 
 made. 
 
 While he was an industrious worker all his life, he was 
 never an anxious toiler. His mind was habitually alert and 
 active but he could not go beyond his physical limitations. 
 When his day's work was over he slept like a child and awoke 
 in the morning refreshed and ready to begin anew. 
 
 When in sincere humility he spoke of himself as a "plod- 
 der" he was sometimes misunderstood. At the time when he 
 
I02 V/ELLIAM NEWTON CLARKE 
 
 entered the ministry, "a firm Biblicist" and a young man of 
 scholarly tastes and aptitudes with an old-fashioned train- 
 ing in "the humanities," it seemed to him a prime necessity 
 to become a good exegete. He spent so much time over his 
 exegetical studies, as he narrates in Sixty Years With the Bible, 
 that it is not strange if in his later years it seemed to him in 
 looking back that he had spent the best part of his life in 
 close, plodding study of the Bible. To sit at his table pon- 
 dering and judging as to the correct reading and exact mean- 
 ing of single texts and longer passages of Scripture was not 
 the occupation best suited to his naturally constructive, 
 swiftly working mind. Yet he never regretted the time spent 
 in exegetical work. It was important and necessary, and it 
 gave him the best possible preparation for the crowning work 
 of his Ufe — the teaching of theology. 
 
 There was in him a rare and happy blending of the ideal 
 and the practical. He had also a sympathetic understanding 
 of human needs and the breadth and glory of his horizon did 
 not prevent him from taking note of important things in the 
 immediate foreground. It was these qualities which enabled 
 him in his books, as in his teaching, to hit the mark with a 
 sure and easy hand. His aim was to make his work immedi- 
 ately serviceable to the spiritual needs of all whom he could 
 reach by showing in the strongest light the eternal realities 
 which he clearly saw. He spoke with fearless and charming 
 directness to the inherent reason in man and met with an 
 instant and grateful response. 
 
 A Ufelong friend of B^jtor Clarke, Frances, the playmate 
 of his childhood, said recently: "I hope the biography will 
 not be too reserved — that it will contain a good many of the 
 Uttle personal touches that reveal the man. If they are left 
 out his old friends will miss them, for they cared a great deal 
 more about what he was than for all that he ever did." 
 
 This chapter is devoted chiefly to expressions from those 
 who knew Doctor Clarke, made either in letters or in pub- 
 
PERSONAL CHARACTERISTICS 103 
 
 lished notices and articles which appeared soon after his 
 death. A little space may be given, however, to the per- 
 sonal tastes and traits in his life at home and among intimate 
 friends. 
 
 Not long ago the writer looked through a collection of old 
 books, some of which had belonged to the Clarke children 
 during their early years in the Cazenovia parsonage. Among 
 them was a boimd volume of The Yoicth^s Cabinet which 
 looked strangely fresh and unused. Indeed, it proved upon 
 examination to be almost unreadable, made up of dreary 
 didactic essays, uninteresting articles upon natural history, 
 and poor poetry. The editor, however, made much of the puz- 
 zle pages, which were the only interesting part of the book. 
 The explanation was this: The subscription to the magazine 
 had been made for William's benefit, and when a new number 
 arrived he would sit down with it at the table with pencil 
 and paper, turn at once to the puzzle department, crack all 
 the nuts, and then throw it aside. 
 
 His liking for all sorts of puzzles, letter and word games 
 lasted throughout his life. He usually carried a pencil and a 
 small pad of paper, and his wife not seldom found, in going 
 through a coat that was to be put away or given away, pieces 
 of paper covered with combinations of letters and transfor- 
 mations of words, sometimes droll, with which he had occu- 
 pied his spare moments, perhaps on a train or while waiting 
 at a railway- station. Language was fascinating and delight- 
 ful to him. Had he given his life to linguistic studies he 
 might have gone deeply into philology. He had upon his 
 own book-shelves a good deal of philological literature. When 
 absent from home, as in De Land, he would sometimes begin 
 to query as to the derivation of a word and would note it 
 upon that ever-ready pad of paper to be looked up in the 
 college library, which he visited almost every day. He was 
 finely sensitive to the precise value of words, yet without a 
 trace of dilettantism. He was a ready rhymester and now 
 
I04 WILLL\M NEWTON CLARKE 
 
 and then made an ingenious and amusing limerick, under the 
 challenge and stimulus of a word or phrase seemingly impos- 
 sible to mate with a rhyme. ''The Poet to His Cat," an off- 
 hand piece of doggerel which appeared long ago in St. Nicholas, 
 shows how easily and aptly he coined expressions to meet the 
 exigencies of rhyme and rhythm. 
 
 He was quick to see the possibiHties in a word or phrase 
 and once made a series of anagrams from titles of Anthony 
 Trollope's novels, all of which were odd and suggestive and 
 some very funny. The only one of those transformations 
 which now comes to mind is "The Last Chronicle of Barset," 
 which became " Chattlechafe's Iron Lobster." These ana- 
 grams were published somewhere, perhaps in the Youth's Com- 
 panion. 
 
 EUs innate vein of drollery found vent in various small 
 ways. At one time he liked to make "Angular Saxons," fol- 
 lowing out an idea found in the life of Charles Kingsley. He 
 could not draw a picture of anything, but as he sat, pen in 
 hand, at his table, he would rapidly sketch a series of laugh- 
 able little impish figures in the most expressive attitudes. He 
 would drop a little ink upon a slip of paper, fold and press 
 it, and the effect was almost always something droll and 
 suggestive. The results were quite tame whenever his wife 
 tried it, and she used to accuse him of ha\dng a "familiar," 
 a Puck-Hke sprite, who possessed his hand and was the real 
 creator of these follies. 
 
 Naturally, he liked games. During his first year in col- 
 lege he did a little card-playing, but soon abandoned cards 
 forever. He learned something of chess but was too busy to 
 follow it up. In an idle hour he liked to play backgammon 
 if he had an antagonist as rapid as himself. In the sixties 
 everybody played croquet, and he liked to loiter with con- 
 genial companions over a croquet ground, though his right 
 arm was never very sure or strong, and games of skill were 
 not for him. 
 
PERSONAL CHARACTERISTICS 105 
 
 He was interested in the various temperance movements. 
 Some years ago there was a convention of the W. C. T. U. at 
 Cazenovia. At one of the meetings Doctor Clarke's sister 
 and the playmate of their childhood were sitting side by side 
 while a delegate from Hamilton was giving her report. In 
 mentioning the persons who were always ready to help, she 
 spoke of Doctor Clarke and said that he was accustomed to 
 attend the annual picnic of the Prohibitionists and to speak. 
 At this Frances, beaming with mirth and the memory of in- 
 numerable good times alfresco, turned to her companion with 
 the exclamation: "I should like to know what earthly thing 
 could ever keep Will Clarke away from a picnic ! " 
 
 Certainly his love of outdoor life was one of Doctor 
 Clarke's marked characteristics. A veranda was good to sit 
 on, but he liked best of all to be under the open sky. His 
 wife was as truly a child of earth, air, and water as himself. 
 One summer vacation was spent in Franconia, New Hamp- 
 shire, a region of exquisite natural beauty which has since 
 become pitifully marred. We had many drives through the 
 valley toward Mount Lafayette, and to us the most beautiful 
 spot of all was the Flume, which a few years later was ravaged 
 and almost ruined by a freshet and landslide caused by the 
 deforesting of a large area on Mount Lafayette. We visited the 
 Flume again and again, gazed at it, studied it, and carried 
 away a lasting impression of its unique perfection as a piece 
 of nature's patient, age-long artistry. We were in a cottage 
 a little apart from the hotel, and close at hand was a bit of 
 woodland sloping down to the Pemigewasset River, a bright, 
 rapid, melodious stream. There we found a charming spot 
 where we spent memorable hours. This place was the native 
 home of many species of delicate wild growths, now almost 
 exterminated everywhere. One day as we sat among the 
 mosses and creeping plants we noticed a small flat stone 
 that had been split in twain by the action of frost. A fern 
 had germinated in the crevice between the two halves of the 
 
io6 Wn^LIAM NEWTON CLARKE 
 
 stone and by its vigorous growth was forcing them apart to 
 make room for itself. 
 
 There was in this tiny plant a suggestion of purpose and 
 persistent will, almost of personahty, which impressed them 
 \avidly. As we spoke together of this, and thought developed 
 out of thought, a new and revealing light shone upon the visi- 
 ble world. In one of Doctor Clarke's note-books was found 
 recently an allusion to this experience and the thoughts which 
 it awakened regarding the freedom of the human spirit, in 
 opposition to the doctrine of determinism. 
 
 Upon another day, in the same place, the tiny evergreen 
 leaves and snow-white fruit of the creeping snowberry, grow- 
 ing amid mosses and tiny ferns, caught our attention. It is 
 a fairy-like species of wintergreen, possessing the same aro- 
 matic flavor, and this led to a talk about the contrast as 
 to flavor between the snowberry and its insipid neighbor, 
 the bright-red partridgeberry, and the inherent affinities of 
 plants by which they draw, or create, unlike properties from 
 the same soil. We did not then know how potent is the 
 healing virtue of wintergreen. The months in Franconia un- 
 folded, day by day, new gifts of beauty and delight, enough 
 for a lifetime, as it seemed in the retrospect. 
 
 Those who knew him best can hardly think of him apart 
 from his love of music and his rare gift of musical expres- 
 sion. He had no instruction in music until his fourteenth 
 year, but happily his teacher, knowing that he had a bom 
 musician to deal with, began at once to unfold to him the 
 principles of music. As he understood thus the meaning of 
 what he was learning, at every step, he advanced rapidly in 
 his mastery of the keys. He had not only a fine sense of har- 
 mony, but of absolute pitch also, and often surprised musi- 
 cians more highly trained than he by hjs instant recognition 
 of the key in which any piece of music was being rendered. 
 He was suddenly set at playing the organ in his father's 
 church on a Sunday morning when the organist was absent 
 
PERSONAL CHARACTERISTICS 107 
 
 on account of illness. As he did not wish to return to his post, 
 William became his successor and was soon transposing tunes 
 to suit the voices of the choir and otherwise sympathetically- 
 adapting his accompaniments to their needs in ways that 
 they had never supposed to be possible. 
 
 His love of music was, however, never largely indulged. 
 It was to him only a recreation to which he could not give 
 much time. This early acquaintance with church music led 
 to an ever-enlarging interest in hymnology. He made tunes 
 for many of his favorite hymns, but only three of these were 
 ever written down. One day a boy friend, Pierpont Stack- 
 pole, made an appointment and appeared at the parsonage 
 in Hamilton with music-paper and pen, and captured these 
 three tunes, two of which were used in a collection called 
 ^'Sursum Corda." One of these, called "St. Vivian," was 
 set to Faber's hymn, "There's a wideness in God's mercy, 
 like the wideness of the sea." The other, set to the hymn 
 beginning, 
 
 "Dear God and Master mine," 
 
 Doctor Clarke named "Emiha." He never had a piano of 
 his own until he was settled in Hamilton. Then he was per- 
 suaded to indulge himself and his friends thus far. This 
 piano, which he chose very carefully, was a sweet-toned 
 Weber, and it was always a delight in the home. 
 
 His innate sense of the beautiful and the picturesque in 
 nature was developed and fostered by his early environment. 
 Cazenovia has its setting in a region interesting at every sea- 
 son of the year, and charming from May to November. And 
 the boy who rowed with his comrades upon the blue lake, ex- 
 plored the fields and the woods, and drove with his father over 
 the hills and among the valleys, in the verdure of summer 
 and the snows of winter, was unconsciously garnering an in- 
 finite store of impressions which enriched his whole life. He 
 lived in a quietude and unity within himself, which may be 
 
io8 WILLIAM NEWTON CLARKE 
 
 incomprehensible to a young student of the present time. 
 The gentle habitudes of those early years seem to have woven 
 a garment of peace around his soul which could never be 
 torn away. 
 
 The kind of life into which he was bom was truly con- 
 genial to him, although it had its limitations, of which he 
 became aware as he passed from youth to manhood; but he 
 never ceased to be thankful for the "tender grace" of his 
 early experiences. 
 
 Enfolded as he was by the strong and loving care of a 
 devout, broad-minded, wise father, it was easy for him to 
 believe in a heavenly Father and, when the time for decision 
 came, to commit himself wholly and irrevocably to the God 
 in whom he lived and moved and had his being. 
 
 There is a little book in which, many years later. Doctor 
 Clarke noted the dates of a number of important ancestral 
 and personal events. In this list he wrote, under the date of 
 April 21, 1858: "The personal religious experience began in 
 my life." This was a clearly marked epoch in his career. In 
 the act of faith and self-surrender there came to him a \i\nd 
 con\action of the actual presence of God and an inexpressi- 
 ble peace and joy. All things were made new to him. Long 
 afterward, in writing of this profound experience, he says: 
 "I know the year, the day, the hour, and yet it was but the 
 unfolding of what had been begun long before." He deeply 
 felt that he owed everything to that Christian nurture which 
 had been to his inmost self as dew and sunshine to a tender 
 plant. In contrasting the lives of two Cazeno\-ia boys, each 
 of whom was widely influential in spheres far apart and yet 
 akin, one cannot but wonder what Robert Ingersoll might 
 have been if his mother had lived and he had developed in 
 the sunshine of a happy home. He might, perhaps, have 
 preached the faith which he denied and bitterly denounced. 
 
 In the same note-book, a little farther on. appears another 
 entry, December, i860: "I decided to give my life to the work 
 
PERSONAL CHARACTERISTICS 109 
 
 of the ministry." This decision was the reverse of what he 
 had planned to do. Although his parents took their daily 
 Ufe quietly and heroically, their long struggle with an insuffi- 
 cient income, and other trials in their Hfe, had made a deep 
 impression upon the boy, who felt and noted aU, and he was 
 resolved not to repeat their experience. He was always an- 
 noyed when good people who came to the parsonage took it 
 for granted, in their remarks, that he was to foUow in the 
 footsteps of his father. He would Hsten in silence, but when 
 the well-meaning but tactless brother or sister had departed 
 he would relieve his pent-up feelings by exclaiming hotly 
 and vehemently: "I will mver preach!" His tastes natu- 
 raUy led him to think of becoming a teacher of languages, and 
 preferably of the classic tongues, but as his views enlarged 
 he saw the greatness and the glory of the Ufe of a truly de- 
 voted Christian minister and he knew that nothing less could 
 satisfy him. More than this— he heard within his soul a 
 voice that called him to this service, and in the end he yielded, 
 with most filial love and trust. 
 
 He worked untiringly in his first parish, as the record 
 shows, and had Httle time to ponder theological problems; 
 yet a note-book of that period, in which a number of pages 
 are devoted to a close questioning of the determinism of St. 
 Augustine, shows that he had already entered upon a career 
 of independent thought. 
 
 The years at Newton Center were difiicult from first to 
 last, yet they were great in their opportunities and demands, 
 and the heroism which enabled him to hold on, to be his true 
 self always and to utter his message as it came to him, "with- 
 out fear or favor," could only be understood by the few who 
 knew his Hfe intimately. Amid the wilderness of doubts and 
 perplexiries through which he was winding his heavenly clew 
 and threading his way upward to a place of sure footmg and 
 broad outlook, he never lost his cheerfulness and serenity. 
 This cheerful and serene spirit was, perhaps, his most dis- 
 
no WILLIAM NEWTON CLARKE 
 
 tinctive trait. Certainly it was generally recognized. His 
 sunny spirit radiated light and joy within his home and made 
 him welcome wherever he went. 
 
 He knew how to rest in vacation time, and at the seashore 
 or the mountains he always seemed care-free. He entered 
 heartily into whatever was going on and quickly dropped into 
 his own place. He was good sailor and loved the ocean. 
 Happily, his wife also could keep a steady head in a choppy 
 sea. At Nantucket, East Gloucester, or Mount Desert, in 
 the days when those places had their primitive flavor, they 
 liked to go out in a sailboat on a breezy morning, when the 
 waves wore whitecaps, with some careful, experienced, old 
 "sea dog," like Captain Kenney of Nantucket, with his alert, 
 efficient son. Many such hours were spent, here and there, 
 along the New England coast. And the mountains — those 
 glorious White Mountains, not yet despoiled — and later the 
 Adirondacks. 
 
 There were little, unknown places, too, to which we were 
 sometimes led, which we remembered even more lovingly 
 than the famous ones. We once spent a week beside Lake 
 Winola, late in the summer of 1886. There was a small hotel 
 in a remnant of woodland where ferns and wild flowers still 
 lived and birds sang. We were domiciled in a tiny cottage. 
 It had a veranda below and an open balcony above, from 
 which there was a pleasant \dew toward the lake, glimmering, 
 partly hidden, through trees. One afternoon, when the 
 shadows were long, we had been rowing on the lake and were 
 resting near the east shore when a group of cattle came down 
 the wooded slope into the water, stood there and drank, 
 making a picture at which both exclaimed with delight. 
 Some years later we came upon a fine etching, by Moran, of 
 cattle in a stream, which so resembled the picture cherished 
 in memory that it could not be resisted. We made it our 
 own and it was hung over the piano in the house on College 
 Hill, which was our home for seventeen years. 
 
PERSONAL CHARACTERISTICS iii 
 
 From that idyllic spot by Lake Winola Doctor Clarke was 
 hurried away by a telegram announcing the death of his 
 friend Stackpole, and thus a beautiful memory was made sad. 
 
 Doctor Clarke had "a genius for friendship," and it is a 
 matter for regret that no space can be given here for an ac- 
 count of some of the friendships that were a large and precious 
 element in his Ufe. The delightful relations with Mr. and 
 Mrs. Stackpole and their sons were always cherished; and 
 there were others, almost lifelong friends and later friends, 
 who were very dear. His constancy, even to things, which 
 had served him well and had dear associations is illustrated 
 by something which came to notice recently in going through 
 the many books which had accumulated in bookcases and 
 in closets in spite of the occasional gathering out and send- 
 ing away of books disused, to which the owner nerved him- 
 self when space was needed for newer books. He had a Rob- 
 inson's Greek and English Lexicon, in which his name was 
 written, with the date, 1861, the year of his graduation from 
 college and entrance into the theological seminary. He used 
 this lexicon and kept it at hand during all of that period in 
 which his principal study was New Testament exegesis. He 
 had his Clavis and added to his stock of exegetical tools 
 the newest and best as years went on, but this old familiar 
 lexicon was dear to him. The time came when he knew his 
 Greek Testament so well that he needed neither lexicon nor 
 concordance. Meanwhile, the exigent questions of theology 
 had claimed him. The old, worn lexicon, with other books 
 that had been indispensable in their day, he put away in a 
 closet in the attic which gradually became crammed with 
 books. There it was found, against the wall, flanked by 
 Ellicott, Trench, and Stanley, and with a rampart of other 
 books in front running from end to end of the broad shelf. 
 It was as if he had tenderly entombed those old friends, 
 knowdng that he should never look upon them again. Fast- 
 ened upon the blank leaf of the lexicon was a printed me- 
 
112 WILLIAM NEWTON CLARKE 
 
 morial notice of Doctor Clarke's father, who had died, on 
 March 6, 187 1, at the age of sLxty-two years. This char- 
 acterization, written by an old friend and associate in the 
 ministry, Doctor Clarke had accepted as a true estimate of 
 his father and had placed in the book which was in daily use 
 and always at hand. No act could have been more character- 
 istic. Some sentences in this brief article are in tone and 
 in expression almost precisely the same as many which ap- 
 peared lately in reference to himself. "As a man he was 
 gentle and genial as a child in all the relations of life." 
 "Though firm and unyielding in principle, he was governed 
 by a broad charity toward those who differed from h i m ." 
 "Incapable of double-dealing himself, he could not tolerate 
 it in others." "Lucid in thought, clear in expression, and 
 sincere in manner, he always commended himself to every 
 man's conscience in the sight of God." 
 
 Among the books in Doctor Clarke's library which were 
 indeed his book friends, and which he never parted with, 
 while others came, served their purpose, and disappeared, 
 was a copy of Tliortidale, or the Conflict of Opinions, by Wil- 
 liam Smith, an English writer of the mid-Victorian period. 
 This book was republished by Ticknor and Fields in 1859. 
 Both in England and America it found "fit audience though 
 few." 
 
 Upon the fly-leaf Clarke had written his name with the 
 date, Newton Center, 1869. His wife remembers his bring- 
 ing the book home, his reading and remarking upon it, and 
 her own dipping into it here and there. She never saw the 
 book in his hand in later years and probably he never read it 
 more than once, yet he kept it in a prominent place during 
 all the years at Newton Center, in Canada, and through most 
 of the years in Hamilton. In 1889 The Story of William and 
 Lucy Smith appeared. It was read with deep appreciation 
 and given its own place beside Thorndalc. When Thorndale 
 finally vanished from the bookcase it did not go into exile. 
 
PERSONAL CHARACTERISTICS 113 
 
 but into an honorable retirement in the study-closet close 
 at hand. 
 
 There was a certain significance in the way he treated 
 this book which sheds Hght upon his own personality. Thorn- 
 dale is a profoundly earnest, sympathetic, and clear discus- 
 sion of philosophic, religious, and social problems as they ap- 
 peared sixty years ago to a discriminating and noble mind 
 which was at once poetic and practical. 
 
 The plan of the book is most engaging. Through it runs 
 a thread of tender and picturesque narration by means of 
 which various characters appear who take part in the dis- 
 cussions and freely and vividly express their widely differing 
 views. The production as a whole is as charming as it is val- 
 uable, and, read to-day, its prophetic character is startling. 
 
 It was, no doubt, the warm response in Clarke's nature 
 to the personality of the author which led him to keep the 
 book in sight. In WilKam Smith, William Clarke had found 
 a kindred spirit. 
 
 On January i, 1903, Doctor Clarke gave to his wife a book 
 in which he had written a page made up of selections and of 
 thoughts and prayers of his own, for each day in the year. 
 The quotations are chiefly, but not wholly, religious and are 
 of the widest range as to authorship and time. 
 
 The selection from Jeremy Taylor: "It is a great source 
 of calm and repose in our religious life always to turn from 
 small things to great, from things far away to things near at 
 hand, from the foolishness of controversy to the truths which 
 are simple and eternal, from man to God." 
 
 From Augustine: "With that face will he come to the 
 home land, who has not longed for it when absent? " 
 
 A word of his own: "Live in only one world at a time? 
 Impossible. There are but two worlds, the material and the 
 spiritual, and we always live in both. To withdraw into the 
 material alone is beyond our power. It would be the extinc- 
 tion of our highest present life. All love, all education, all 
 
114 WILLIAM NEWTON CLARKE 
 
 thought belong to that spiritual world which is invisible, in- 
 deed, and yet is a part of our native element even now." 
 
 From Margaret Deland: ''The sense of sin in the human 
 soul is the apprehension of Almighty God." 
 
 Last words of John Woolman: "I believe my being here 
 is in the ^^^sdom of God; I do not know as to Hfe or death." 
 
 From George Fox: "And one morning, sitting by the fire, 
 a great cloud came over me and a great temptation beset 
 me. And it was said, 'All things come by fiature': and the 
 elements and the stars came over me. And as I sat still and 
 let it alone, a living hope arose in me, and a true voice which 
 said, 'There is a living God, who made all things J And imme- 
 diately the cloud and the temptation vanished, and life rose 
 over all, and my heart was glad and I praised the living God." 
 
 A page is given to Longfellow's poem on Amalfi, begin- 
 ning 
 
 "Sweet the memory is to me 
 Of a land beyond the sea." 
 
 From Charles Kingsley: *'I don't want to possess a faith; 
 I want a faith that will possess me." 
 
 From John Woolman: "Baptized into a sense of human 
 conditions." 
 
 From Dora Greenwell: "The intellect has many illusions, 
 but the dreams of the heart come true, because the instinct 
 of the heart is prophetic." 
 
 The book contains stanzas from familiar hymns, passages 
 from well-known poets and from Scripture, prayers, and 
 brief sayings, gathered from all ages and all lands. 
 
 This last is Doctor Clarke's own prayer: 
 
 "O Thou the Way, help me to walk in thee to the true end and 
 
 home; 
 O Thou the Truth, help me to see thee, feel thee, think thee, 
 
 have thee, love thee; 
 O Thou the Life, live thou in me and make me live by thee." 
 
PERSONAL CHARACTERISTICS 115 
 
 The following passages are from an article upon Doctor 
 Clarke, published in March, 191 2, in the Colgate Alum?ii 
 Quarterly, by the Reverend Markham W. Stackpole, the son 
 of his friend and predecessor in the pastorate at Hamilton: 
 
 "Doctor Clarke's mind was fresh and alert, and he de- 
 hghted in freshness of thought and form. The very titles of 
 his books reveal this trait of his mind. His intellectual in- 
 terests were varied and he read widely. A student of po- 
 etry and hymnology and lover of music, he was also keenly 
 alive to the scientific and humanitarian interests of the day. 
 It was significant that in his last book he should have dealt 
 with some of the great social questions of our time. 
 
 ** Doctor Clarke loved his work. Whether it was preach- 
 ing, teaching, or writing, he entered into it with zest and he 
 performed it with apparent ease. It was natural, then, that 
 he should be an optimist. Though a fearless progressive in 
 his thinking, he had a sweetness of nature and a devoutness 
 of spirit that forbade the bitterness of controversy. He kept 
 himself above factions. He preserved personal friendships 
 in spite of theological differences, and he was too large of 
 mind and heart to confine his interest or friendships to a 
 single party or denomination. He belonged to the 'Chris- 
 tian Brotherhood.' 
 
 "Few leaders among men are so utterly lacking in self- 
 consciousness as Doctor Clarke was, and no man wore his 
 honors more modestly. Yet with that fine honesty that 
 ruled his mind and his word he acknowledged that the hon- 
 ors were grateful and his work was good. 
 
 "For many years Doctor Clarke had stood in the inner 
 councils of the university. He was interested in every phase 
 of its life. He was a loyal fraternity man and a familiar fig- 
 ure at fraternity gatherings. He was an interested spectator 
 at athletic contests. He enjoyed the merriment of college 
 reunions. He served as chaplain or historian or orator upon 
 notable academic occasions. One generation of students 
 praised him to another, for his presence was a power for 
 good in the life of the university. 
 
 "He was happily a prophet honored in his own country. 
 Hamilton was proud to claim him as her own, and he was 
 her own indeed, a man beloved by his fellow townspeople. 
 
ii6 WILLIAM NEWTON CLARKE 
 
 The people of Hamilton saw that fame could not rob him of 
 his simplicity and friendliness. He knew them by name 
 and he knew about them. He never lost the pastor's feeling. 
 When he came back from his year abroad no welcome was 
 more hearty, or to him more grateful, than that of the busi- 
 ness men of the town. It will be recalled that they arranged 
 a banquet in his honor. One of their leaders remarked that 
 while he himself knew Httle about theology, if the 'new 
 theology' made men like Doctor Clarke, that was argument 
 enough for him. Doctor Clarke loved the place, too — the 
 cool, quiet streets, the lofty trees upon his hillside, the shaded 
 village, and the noble valley sweeping northward between 
 the great hills. 
 
 "But to Doctor Clarke as a friend, one's thoughts turn 
 with special tenderness. As a young boy I sailed with him 
 at the seashore and drove with him among the Vermont 
 hills, and I felt then the charm and heartiness of his nature. 
 He was ever an eagerly welcomed visitor as our dear friend, 
 our pastor, and our fatherly counsellor. 
 
 "His quiet, charming home carried the atmosphere of 
 culture and of friendship. He loved to listen to music, and 
 sometimes we would persuade him to play hymn-tunes of his 
 own composing. Again we would sit in the twiUght of his 
 study or upon his hospitable veranda talking of common 
 friends and interests and of the deep things of life. 
 
 "His youthfulness of spirit, his wit, his candor, his hearti- 
 ness attracted young people to him. Without children of 
 his own, he loved 'his boys' and to them he was indeed a 
 father, always interested, sympathetic, and encouraging. 
 Accident and infirmity could not diminish the cheerfulness 
 of his nature. His talk sparkled with quiet repartee; beloved 
 good stories and 'clean mirth.' Some of his letters were in- 
 imitable. New friends were quickly drawn to this true and 
 kindly man. But he did not forget his old friends scattered 
 far and wide. Hamilton is not quite like Hamilton since he 
 died, and his old boys will sorely miss his friendly look and 
 hearty greeting at the piazza steps." 
 
 From an editorial in The Congregationalist, by Doctor 
 Bridgman, dated January 27, 191 2: 
 
 "The modest Christian scholar who last week passed into 
 the realm where the partial revelation gives way to the clear, 
 
PERSONAL CHARACTERISTICS 117 
 
 full vision of God, had served the Christian church in two 
 continents as only those can serve it who devote many years 
 and rare gifts of insight and persistence to the study and in- 
 terpretation of human life, in the light of God's disclosures 
 of himself, in his work, his word and in his Son. From his 
 classroom in the Theological Seminary at Hamilton, New 
 York, and through his books, which have gone throughout 
 Christendom, Doctor Clarke has exerted a mighty influence 
 upon members of numberless religious bodies, and even upon 
 those outside the church. So quietly has his work been done, 
 so disposed has he been to stand in the background, that few 
 understand to what extent the church as a whole is indebted 
 to him as an expounder and defender of the faith. 
 
 ''A mediating theologian Doctor Clarke has been during 
 these last twenty-five years of uncertainty and transition. 
 His books reveal, as in a glass, his own progress from earlier 
 conceptions into the larger, truer views of God, Christ, the 
 Bible, missions, and the Christian life. This growth is par- 
 ticularly shown in his Sixty Years with the Bible, and so be- 
 cause his writings have reflected not only his thought on the 
 things of God, but his actual personal experience, they have 
 had, to a pre-eminent degree, the note of reality, and have 
 been charged with an uncommon measure of helpfulness on 
 every page. The task which he boldly undertook of relating 
 the old to the new is never an easy one in any age. The effort 
 subjected him to misunderstanding and his way was not al- 
 ways smooth, but he never faltered, and in the end he retained 
 the confidence and grew in the confidence of the conservative 
 wing of the church. 
 
 *'We have had in America few theologians so simple, hu- 
 man, and companionable as William Newton Clarke, a strong 
 preacher, a poet and hjmin- writer, a musician, intimately 
 acquainted with classical and current literature, maintain- 
 ing to the last an eager interest in world happenings and 
 holding stanchly his carefully matured opinions concerning 
 questions of public policy. A dehghtful conversationalist, a 
 stanch friend, he was a man who, in any calling or station, 
 would have won distinction and made the world his debtor." 
 
 From an article by Doctor Harry Emerson Fosdick: 
 
 '^The Examiner has asked me to write briefly my recol- 
 lections of Professor William Newton Clarke in the class- 
 
ii8 WILLIAM NEWTON CLARKE 
 
 room. I give myself readily to the task, for my heart is 
 deepy engaged whenever I recall those wonderful hours on 
 Colgate Hill, presided over by the spiritual genius of the great 
 teacher. There are doubtless many who can say, as I can, 
 that but for Doctor Clarke they would not be to-day in the 
 Christian ministry. When the old theology was clashing \\ith 
 the new, and bitterness was deeply felt upon both sides; 
 when, watching the conflict, the young men of undergraduate 
 years saw clearly that for them it was no longer a question 
 of old or new theology, but of new or no theology. Doctor 
 Clarke stood as the proof to us that it was possible to be a 
 Christian and reasonable, a disciple and a modern man, at 
 once devout and intelligent. How many of us came to look 
 to him as our spiritual godfather ! How many of us are 
 chiefly thankful for this, that he did not leave us to be driven 
 from faith and the church by reactionaries, but made it pos- 
 sible for us to become in the new generation preachers of the 
 Gospel of Christ. 
 
 "The closing paragraph in Doctor Clarke's Outline of 
 Christian Theology interprets beautifully the spirit of the 
 classroom; those who have experienced it will remember and 
 understand. To those who never sat at the feet of this great 
 teacher of religion I can only indicate a few of the charac- 
 teristics of his work. 
 
 "Doctor Clarke was far more a teacher of religion than of 
 theology. He clearly distinguished between the two, to be 
 sure, and set himself with earnest intellectual application to 
 formulate the mental categories of faith, but always the 
 clothes of his thought fitted so closely the vital, moving spirit 
 of his faith that one was aware of that rather than of the gar- 
 ments. Many a time I have gone from his classroom to my 
 couch for a long rest, because I was exhausted, not with 
 intellectual labor, but with the attempt spiritually to catch 
 his vision of God, and sympathetically to enter into his ex- 
 perience of peace in believing. No prayer meeting ever af- 
 fected me so deeply as his talks to his classes on the great 
 themes of faith. He often forgot himself in his personal tes- 
 timony to the meaning of some Christian truth in practical 
 living. The end of every lecture was: 'Come and taste and 
 see.' If a man wanted a thorough history of doctrine, after 
 the fashion of Hamack, Doctor Clarke would have disap- 
 
PERSONAL CHARACTERISTICS 119 
 
 pointed him. If a man were a metaphysician, demanding a 
 well-articulated system, with provision made for every 'if,' 
 'and,' and 'but,' Doctor Clarke never could have satisfied 
 him. If, however, a young man, confused by conflicting 
 theories, jnystified as to the real meaning of rehgion, dubious 
 as to the gospel he was expected to preach, wanted poise 
 and insight, breadth of vision and sanity of thought, and 
 with it all a passionate devotion to the Master, and a clear 
 perception of the world's need of him. Doctor Clarke was 
 pre-eminently the one to fit his case. He was a teacher of the 
 old school — God give us more of them ! — who gave his classes 
 his personality and breathed his spirit into them. 
 
 "As to his practical method, it was as simple as the man 
 himself. In the main it consisted in reading over the text 
 with running comments. The running comments were the 
 best of it. Sometimes they were keen with wit. 'Many a 
 man considers himself a stream of tendency,' he said once. 
 Sometimes they were fiery and indignant, as when a fresh 
 student ventured to question his loyalty to the Master; 
 sometimes they were personal confessions, charmingly made." 
 
 From an article in The Congregationalist, by Reverend 
 Frederick W. Raymond: 
 
 "A friend, who loved and was greatly loved by Doctor 
 Clarke, has written me how he has taken down his copy of 
 Doctor Clarke's Theology and has been going over such utter- 
 ances as he had recorded on the margin of the book in his 
 classroom days. Like him, I have also been moved to review 
 the margins of my copy. Among the many sentences writ- 
 ten there I find no duplicates of those my friend reports. 
 This suggests the great wealth of his unpubHshed but mem- 
 orable utterances. Here are some of these gems from the 
 margin of my book, which I venture to pass on in loving mem- 
 ory of my friend, counsellor, and spiritual father. Though 
 unrelated to each other and stripped of their association on 
 the page, they are suggestive in themselves and worthy to 
 stand alone as herewith printed: 
 
 " ' The New Testament throws more light backward than 
 the Old throws forward.' 
 
 " * If Paul had been told that he would be talked about as 
 
120 WILLIAM NEWTON CLARKE 
 
 being of equal authority with the Lord, he would have burned 
 his letters.' 
 
 " ' If we know God better than Paul did, Paul would have 
 been very glad of it, and so would the Lord.' 
 
 " ' Christian faith has been built largely on the Bible in- 
 stead of on God and Christ.' 
 
 " ' ;Moving in the line of the best that he knows, a man 
 moves toward God.' 
 
 " ' The eflfect of denying the personality of God can be 
 learned only in India.' 
 
 " ' Permanently, you will not hold any doctrine of Chris- 
 tianity that is inconsistent with your conception of God.' 
 
 " ' While there is a soul, there are the possibilities of a soul. 
 Whether God can gather in all the souls is the problem on 
 which we wait.' 
 
 "In one of his last letters to me, written in most genial 
 mood less than a month before his death, he wrote: ' I have 
 had a good autumn, teaching a course in Christian belief, 
 with high enjoyment and aware of really conveying a good 
 deal to my men. Things never went better. On Decem- 
 ber 2 I crossed the line of seventy years, reputed among the 
 young and callous to be the line of old age, but in reality a 
 very innocuous chalk mark, scarcely perceptible when you 
 really arrive. It reverses natural optics by looking larger 
 from a distance than near at hand. As a matter of fact, I 
 have felt younger than usual of late, and am inclined to be 
 a heretic as to the almanac anyhow. My good term of teach- 
 ing has juvenated me somewhat, I think, and I am hoping 
 to have enough in me to put the term's work, which is new, 
 into a book.'" 
 
 Near the end of his life, in speaking of the difficulty 
 which teachers in theological schools find in overcoming the 
 prejudices and false ideas regarding the Bible which many 
 students bring with them to the seminary, Doctor Clarke 
 said: "If I were arranging the work of a theological school, 
 I would put first of all, for beginners, a course in — What the 
 Bible Ts.^' He had spent much time in patient and often 
 futile efforts to convince his students what the Bible is not. 
 
 While at Newton Center he read the sympathetic and 
 
PERSONAL CHARACTERISTICS 121 
 
 beautiful Life of Edward Irving, by Mrs. Oliphant, and was 
 deeply touched by it. Edward Irving was a man of rare per- 
 sonal attractiveness and extraordinary gifts, who had been 
 the fellow student and close friend of Thomas Carlyle and 
 was perhaps the only one of his early associates whom Car- 
 lyle regarded as his own intellectual peer. 
 
 Irving was fervidly devout and gave himself to his work 
 as the minister of a congregation in London with astonishing 
 ardor. His eloquence, his tenderness, his "apostoHc faith," 
 his magnificent personaHty made him for a time the wonder 
 of London. "All the world flocked to hear him." He staked 
 his all upon what he deemed to be a supreme test of faith 
 and seemed at first to win; in the end to lose. He died while 
 still a young man, broken-hearted, in agonies of doubt as to 
 the real meaning of strange phenomena which he had wel- 
 comed at first as answers to prayer and evidences of the pres- 
 ence and favor of God, exclaiming at the last: "Though he 
 slay me yet will I trust in him !" 
 
 Soon after reading the pathetic story of Irving, Clarke 
 was asked to give the alumni address at Hamilton. Irving's 
 failure and the causes of it seemed to him to contain a lesson 
 of deep import for young men, and his address upon that 
 occasion was upon Edward Irving, whose absolute literahsm 
 in interpreting the Bible had led him and many of his congre- 
 gation into things which the more thoughtful and sane in his 
 church and among his friends regarded as wild delusions. 
 
 This presentation of Irving's career made a lasting im- 
 pression. One of the listeners was then a young student at 
 Hamilton, now Doctor Clarke's successor in the chair of 
 ethics, Doctor William M. Lawrence, who tells in the follow- 
 ing letter how it affected him: 
 
 "It is a good many years since Doctor Clarke delivered 
 his address on Edward Irving at Colgate. So many, that I 
 am not sure that I can be just, either to him or myself. I 
 think it was about 1875. At that time, it was the custom of 
 
122 WILLIAM NEWTON CLARKE 
 
 the college to have its baccalaureate on Sunday morning, and 
 sermon Sunday night, and on Monday night an address before 
 the alumni or the Education Society. 
 
 "It was the first time I had ever seen Doctor Clarke, but 
 I had already heard enough about him to make me feel very 
 desirous. I recall distinctly the surprise I had when he an- 
 nounced his subject. It was not named in the formal way. 
 He began in that conversational manner, which is fatal to so 
 many men, but was so attractive in him, and led up to the 
 announcement of his theme by some general remarks, not in 
 any way of apology or explanation, but taking it for granted 
 that every one would be interested in the selection which he 
 had made. 
 
 "His way of dealing with the subject was most intimate. 
 We were not presented to Edward Irving after the manner of 
 biographies or sketches, but we seemed to move in the same 
 atmosphere and to be looking out through Edward Irving's 
 eyes upon the times in which he lived, and to be permeated 
 with sympathy for him and with him and with the way in 
 which he dealt with those times. 
 
 "The manner of Doctor Clarke at this time made a great 
 impression upon me; but while I was so impressed, at the 
 same time I was more so by the wonderful ability which 
 Doctor Clarke displayed in disclosing to us the many-sided 
 character of Irving. I could not help but feel at that time 
 that the impression that Edward Irving had made upon Doc- 
 tor Clarke was to be a vital part of Doctor Clarke's mental 
 and spiritual possession. It is true that he did not hesitate 
 to criticise freely, when and where he differed from Edward 
 Irving, especially with reference to the supposed influences 
 and manifestations that Edward Irving claimed to be real; 
 yet, as I have just said, there was a profound sympathy in 
 Doctor Clarke's address with the spiritual life that Edward 
 Irving stood for. The effect of that address never left me. 
 As I write these words, I can see him as he stood in the church 
 that night, his quick, short sentences, his enunciation rapid 
 at times, his peculiarity, or rather individuality of style, that 
 awakened and sustained interest in what he had said or was 
 saying, and in expectation of what he was about to say. 
 
 "I may be permitted in this connection to say, that years 
 afterward I heard another address by him at the Baptist 
 
PERSONAL CHARACTERISTICS 123 
 
 church, on one Sunday morning, which made ahnost as 
 strong an impression as the one to which I have referred. It 
 was on George Fox, and as I Listened I could not help but 
 recall the one on Edward Irving, nor could I escape connect- 
 ing the two in my mind. As I look back over the years that I 
 have known Doctor Clarke, and consider the work he has 
 done, and reflect upon his writings, I can readily understand 
 how such spiritual forces as those represented in the lives of 
 Edward Irving and George Fox should have had great influ- 
 ence upon him. I should not like to say he was consciously 
 influenced by them, but he recognized and appreciated their 
 religious values." 
 
 The practical value of Doctor Clarke's books was soon 
 recognized by persons engaged in various lines of religious and 
 social work, and each as it appeared was appropriated to use 
 as a text-book. An instance of this is given in the following 
 extract from a letter of Mrs. James C. Park, a daughter of 
 his early friend, Frances: 
 
 "The Reverend Alfred Burr, pastor of the Jefferson Ave- 
 nue Presbyterian Church, came to our Home and Education 
 Department of the Twentieth Century Club, one day, to tell 
 us about the work of his church among the fifteen thousand 
 Italians in Detroit. 
 
 "One feature was the night-school, and the book used as 
 a text-book at that time was Doctor Clarke's Can I Believe in 
 God the Father? One of the pupils was the son of a man for- 
 merly a professor in the University of Padua. This young 
 man had broken with the church and was drifting in atheism 
 when Doctor Clarke's book answered his questions and 
 brought light and courage to his soul. 
 
 "I had the great pleasure of speaking to Doctor Burr 
 after the meeting and telling him I knew Doctor Clarke and 
 would let him know of the work he was doing in Detroit. 
 They used the book partly because of its short words and 
 clear meaning." 
 
 Of Doctor Clarke's last address she wrote: 
 
 "I cannot tell you how rejoicing and helpful the beautiful 
 address on 'Immortality' was and is to me. 
 
124 WILLIAM NEWTON CLARKE 
 
 "When it came I sat down and read it through, and it 
 was the greatest comfort to know that Doctor Clarke believed 
 so thoroughly in immortality. It has made such a differ- 
 ence in my life that I feel as if I must tell everybody I know 
 the good news. 
 
 "W^hen Sophie and I were spending those beautiful days 
 with you and Doctor Clarke in Hamilton, we walked down 
 with him to the post-office. He was on his way to the train, 
 but looking at his watch found he had time to inquire after 
 a sick friend. He threw his travelling-bag at the foot of a 
 tree in the park with the most trustful and nonchalant air in 
 the world, and when we laughingly suggested that it might 
 not be there when he returned, he said he did not think any 
 one in Hamilton would take it." 
 
 From Mrs. Louise Palmer Smith: 
 
 "In the family connection Doctor Clarke, to the young 
 folks, was 'Uncle Will' — true native American, quaint New 
 Englander, alive to the humor that underlies life, able to en- 
 joy it and show it forth in his home circle. Nephews and 
 nieces were rife there, and they loved to linger beside him. 
 A letter from Uncle Will was bright hterature, and every 
 line worth keeping. As a model of quiet good company for 
 all ages he had few equals. 
 
 "Immortality was the theme of Uncle Will's last pub- 
 lished message, but to us of the family nothing written or 
 spoken could convey the certainty of that vast truth like his 
 own presence as he neared the end of his stay. The old 
 house of the soul, worn to the uttermost, showed the spirit 
 within of such strength unabated — so shining that the as- 
 surance rose in all our minds: 'Here is an immortal.' " 
 
 From Doctor Walter Rauschenbusch : 
 
 "Pauline and I have often spoken of you since we learned 
 of the passing of our dear friend. He will be a dear, warm 
 memory all our life, one of the high peaks in our horizon of 
 life. Such a sincere, genuine, beautiful human soul ! I am 
 not aware of thinking of him at all differently than formerly. 
 I can imagine him walking along in heaven with the same 
 
PERSONAL CHARACTERISTICS 125 
 
 smile and the same gentle limp, and an ornament to the place 
 just as he is." 
 
 From a letter from Mr. Charles Scribner: 
 
 "Among all the authors for whom it has been my privi- 
 lege to publish I can remember none who has left a clearer 
 impression, and I think this was due to a certain simplicity 
 of nature and character. He evidently cared little or noth- 
 ing for the material result of his work but did enjoy givmg 
 expression to what he hoped might prove useful and profit- 
 able to others. His noticeable courtesy and consideration 
 also gave distinction to every interview." 
 
 From President John M. Thomas of Middlebury College: 
 
 "One summer in the nineties I took passage on the old 
 White Star Germanic for Liverpool. On the passenger-list I 
 noted the name *W. N. Clarke'— no reverend, doctor, or pro- 
 fessor. I surmised that my fellow passenger might be the Col- 
 gate Seminary professor of theology, whose Outlitie of Christian 
 Theology had won wide approval in the religious world and 
 which had been exerting a much-needed steadying influence 
 on my own thinking and preaching. Not many hours out I 
 verified my suspicion and was met most graciously and gen- 
 erously. We becam^I felt— close friends, and on the roll- 
 ing Httle ship held many hours of real fellowship. He in- 
 creased my confidence in myself and made me feel strong and 
 hopeful. One day we talked of sermon topics, and he said it 
 was a surprise to him that ministers chose so many subjects 
 people did not care anything about, when there were so many 
 religious matters in which they were keenly interested. I 
 got out my pencil, and the result was a series of sermons all 
 through the next winter on 'Questions People Are Inter- 
 ested In ' This proved to be a very stimulating point ot 
 view, and I am sure Doctor Clarke's suggestion did much to 
 give reality and definiteness to my preaching. ^ 
 
 "That was just like him— always helping some beginner 
 with sane and sensible advice. Before that voyage was half 
 over he was chaplain of the ship. I can remember his address 
 Sunday evening, holding on to a column as the old Germanic 
 
126 WILLIAM NEWTON CLARKE 
 
 rolled — we were all on a greater voyage, in a good ship, and 
 would be likely to make port safely if we attended strictly to 
 our work. 
 
 "Our friendship was renewed from time to time — in New 
 York, in Florida. Always he was the same kind, stimulating 
 adviser, never claiming superior u-isdom, getting at the heart 
 of a problem and advancing to the right solution by fair esti- 
 mate of every consideration. I reviewed several of his books 
 for various publications and kept in touch with everything 
 he wrote. He advised me kindly and generously from time 
 to time. 
 
 "Doctor Clarke performed a unique service in American 
 theology in the last decade of the nineteenth century and the 
 first years of the twentieth. On the one hand, he promoted a 
 cordial attitude toward the newer forms of faith, and on the 
 other he exerted a patient, restraining influence on those 
 who were inclined to go too fast and too far. I know of no 
 English-speaking teacher of religion who in this particular 
 field did so much to steady men in the essentials of evangeli- 
 cal faith." 
 
 From a letter of J. Brierly to T. H. Marshall this para- 
 graph is quoted as an illustration of the way in which Doctor 
 Clarke's personality was felt by many of his readers. 
 
 "As to Doctor Clarke one felt the man all over in his 
 books. One might, I should think, say of him: 'In jeder 
 Aeusserung steckt der ganze Mensch.' He must have been 
 entirely lovable." 
 
 The same feeling is expressed in a letter to a missionary 
 from Lieutenant Masuro Kako of the Japanese Imperial Navy. 
 
 "I have already read more than two-thirds of Clarke's 
 Theology, which has proved extremely interesting to me. It 
 is a source of profound satisfaction to me that I could find a 
 genuine friend in Doctor Clarke. He seems to express what 
 I feel and experience, though I am greatly inferior to him in 
 many respects. Sometimes I forget that I am reading that 
 book and feel the direct warm touch of two hearts in the 
 depths of my soul." 
 
PERSONAL CHARACTERISTICS 127 
 
 When the breaking up of the house on College Hill in 
 Hamilton, in October, 19 13, had reached the chaotic stage 
 a box with the cover nailed down came to light. In this box 
 were letters from Doctor Clarke to his wife, before their mar- 
 riage, which had been hastily placed there when closets and 
 drawers were being emptied for the use of temporary occu- 
 pants of the home, and also some letters from Doctor Clarke 
 to his sister Mary, written at various periods in his life. 
 These letters have proven of the utmost value in determin- 
 ing dates and in recalling half-forgotten events. Many let- 
 ters which Doctor Clarke had written to his wife and her 
 letters to him had been destroyed long before. During the 
 years spent in the house on the hill a large and growing accu- 
 mulation of Doctor Clarke's sermons, addresses, published 
 writings scattered through various periodicals, pamphlets, 
 clippings, interesting letters from men engaged in lines of 
 work bearing upon theology, and letters of friendship, lay in 
 a low closet under the attic roof. Now and then this closet 
 was emptied for cleaning and the contents dusted and re- 
 turned to their resting-place. Upon such occasions Doctor 
 Clarke sometimes became aware of what was going on, made 
 his way to the attic, handled and examined things a little, 
 and ended by saying that those old sermons and addresses 
 ought to be burned. 
 
 Doctor Clarke did not intend to leave behind him data 
 of any kind which might one day be exploited as material 
 for a biography, perhaps by some one who never knew him 
 and could not possibly use it understandingly. He had seen 
 in notable instances how false an impression can be made 
 by letters and diaries, even when handled by intimate friends, 
 honestly desiring to present an exact and truthful record. 
 For this reason he had requested his sister to bum all of his 
 letters to her and she had done so. 
 
 There came a day in the summer of 19 10 when it was de- 
 cided that these things ought to be destroyed at once. The 
 
128 WILLIAM NEWTON CLARKE 
 
 closet was emptied and its contents burned. Only a few 
 note-books, brief diaries, and such notes and tjpewritten 
 work as were likely to be of use later, which were kept in the 
 study and the closet adjoining, were retained. All of the 
 unpublished work of his earlier years and of his middle life 
 vanished in an hour. 
 
 This biography is, therefore, of a different character from 
 that which might have been made had the data been kept 
 which showed almost the whole of Doctor Clarke's history as 
 a student and his personal relations with other writers whose 
 spirit and aims were akin to his own. 
 
PERSONAL RECOLLECTIONS 
 
 By Reverend William O. Stearns 
 
 As I look back over the past I realize afresh that my re- 
 lations with Doctor Clarke were almost entirely of a per- 
 sonal nature. Only once did we come into ofi&cial relations. 
 What I would like to record therefore must be necessarily 
 in the realm wherein the personal atmosphere presides. For 
 that reason to some readers, especially those who seek for 
 the origin and growth of his theological behefs, there will be 
 but little of interest in my contribution; while to others, 
 the story of a personal friendship will be the more attractive. 
 
 One of my memories is associated with the closing service 
 of my father's pastorate of the Newton Center Baptist 
 Church. It was held in the old wooden structure long since 
 displaced by the impressive pile of stone in which the con- 
 gregation worships to-day. It must have been in the year 
 1869, and I was in my thirteenth year. A little later, one 
 Saturday afternoon, a tall man came to stay with us over 
 Sunday. He was somewhat spare, bright-cheeked, clear-eyed, 
 with black, wavy hair. To my boyish fancy, his tallness, 
 fresh cheeks, wavy black hair, and clear eyes form that first 
 picture of Doctor Clarke. I do not recall very much about 
 his pulpit presence then, except his personal appearance. 
 What he said, how he preached, and how his pastorate pro- 
 gressed have left only vague impressions. What it really was 
 may be simimed up in one of the statements that have been 
 retained in memory when overhearing Doctor Hovey say to 
 my father: "Mr. Clarke gets out of a text about all the 
 meat there is in it." Those were days when people were sup- 
 
 129 
 
130 WILLIAM NEWTON CLARKE 
 
 posed to do just that if they could. People went to church 
 to hear the gospel preached, as expounded by a text of Scrip- 
 ture. Preachers were judged by their exegetical ability. 
 Exegesis was a sine qua non in efficiency. Men were con- 
 verted according to the exposition of the Scriptures and the 
 obedience rendered to the truth. The discussion of ques- 
 tions of the day, political, social, or moral, was quite foreign 
 to the scope of the preaching. Reading occasionally one of 
 my father's sermons, I am struck by this characteristic of 
 the preaching. 
 
 His pastorate moved quietly and steadily on at Newton 
 Center until the winter of the great revival. This was the 
 crisis in my own life, and brought me with a great many 
 others into the personal relation of shepherd and sheep. It 
 was occasioned by a fatal accident during the midwinter 
 college vacation of 1873. The oldest son of Professor Heman 
 Lincoln was at home from BrowTi University, and the coast- 
 ing on Institution Hill, crowned by the seminary buildings, 
 was exceptionally fine. The narrow coasting track at the 
 side of the road was very hard, and icy in places. The sled 
 slewed while going at Kghtning speed and the boys were 
 hurled off, Allan Lincoln being thrown against a tree and 
 instantly killed. He was the only one of the four young men 
 on the sled who was a Christian, both by profession and life. 
 This fact was so used by the divine Spirit that the whole com- 
 munity was moved as it never had been before nor has since. 
 There was no excitement in the meetings held, nor in the tone 
 of the preaching. There were no sensational efforts to secure 
 conversions, but there was not a home unvisited. Men, 
 women, young men, young women, and children came to 
 Christ. Nearly every one in the village and vicinity not 
 identified with the churches, our own Baptist Church and 
 the Congregationalist, of which the well-loved Doctor D. L. 
 Furber was pastor, found the Lord, and found the way into 
 the fellowship of the church, and a beginning was made for 
 
PERSONAL RECOLLECTIONS 131 
 
 what is now a prosperous Methodist church. Doctor Clarke 
 was indefatigable in his faithful efforts. The quiet, scholarly- 
 life found a new avenue for expression. Those of us who 
 were baptized at that time, the spring and summer of 1873, 
 will never forget what he was to us. We were of all walks 
 of life, of all grades of educational advantages, and I had al- 
 most said, of all ages (and I believe that is true, too), yet our 
 relations, moulded and developed by him, were of an absolute 
 equality in Christ. A young people's meeting was organ- 
 ized, not as a society but as a meeting of young Christian 
 converts, working thus together to gain Christian experience 
 themselves and to help other young people to know and 
 serve the Lord. In all this work of preparation for a growing 
 Christian life. Doctor Clarke's hand was plainly felt, while 
 he quietly kept himself in the background, leaving the young 
 Christians to lead on, while he led himself unknown to them. 
 There are only a few remaining now in the membership of the 
 Newton Center Church, who crowded its gates in those days, 
 but those few have ideals of Christian reality that were sown 
 in the years from '73 to '76 under Doctor Clarke's preaching 
 and leadership. 
 
 It is unnecessary to describe his relations with the faculty 
 of the institution, his acquaintance with brother pastors in 
 the neighboring city of Boston, his delight in the fellowship 
 of all students of the Scriptures, and the effect upon himself, 
 for he has told us of that himself in his Sixty Years Willi the 
 Bible. These relations were brotherly in the truest meaning 
 of the word. My feeling for him was that for a lovable Chris- 
 tian pastor, not far away from me nor yet very near. That 
 closer relationship was still in the future. Our pastor was 
 our pastor — never hail-fellow-well-met, nor one of the boys, 
 as the ideal of to-day demands, but our pastor, our religious 
 teacher and friend toward whom we looked with respect and 
 reverence. We never dreamed of criticising him nor of ques- 
 tioning his opinions. We sat at his feet as learners in the 
 
132 WILLIAM NEWTON CLARKE 
 
 great book of God's love, and he, as the good scribe, brought 
 forth for us ** things new and old" for our ''edification." 
 
 A dozen years later it was my privilege to be ordained to 
 the Christian ministry, and to serve as pastor of the Caze- 
 novia Village Baptist Church at Cazenovia, New York. 
 This was the church which Doctor Clarke's father served as 
 pastor for twenty-five years. It was the church into whose 
 membership he had been baptized by his father; the church 
 in which his own Christian life had begun growing; the 
 church which Hcensed him to exercise his gifts in preaching 
 the gospel; the church from which he had gone to college 
 at Hamilton, New York, then Madison University. Singu- 
 larly enough, I had never heard him mention his home in 
 New York State, and until I went to Cazenovia to supply 
 the pulpit for a few Sundays in July, 1884, 1 did not know that 
 Doctor Clarke had ever seen Cazenovia, nor that there was 
 such a place upon the map. It was not, therefore, through 
 his influence that I became his mother's pastor, for Mrs. 
 Clarke was still living, at a good old age, his father having 
 died a number of years before this. He was wont to refer 
 to this singular relation, he having been my father's pastor 
 and now I had become his mother's pastor. 
 
 He came and spent a good portion of the next summer 
 with his mother, in his sister's home, and often after that, 
 during the nine years of my stay in Cazenovia, he was there 
 for visits of varying length. Of all that period I want to say 
 that the one word, "encourager," covers the full relation. 
 He never imposed his opinions, his views, his decisions upon 
 mine. He always encouraged. Once he said: "I never 
 could have preached a sermon like that you preached this 
 morning when I first went to Newton Center. People were 
 not ready to listen to that view then." Once I had written a 
 sermon on the "Resurrection of the Dead," and he asked me 
 to read it to him. I did so, and his comment was: "Try 
 again ten years from now. It will do to keep and revise." 
 
PERSONAL RECOLLECTIONS 133 
 
 Gradually I came to refer any extra writing in the way of 
 addresses, essays, or expositions of Scripture to him, and sev- 
 eral lectures prepared for the theological students at Ham- 
 ilton were offered for his approval before being read. The 
 reason for it all is plain. He always encouraged, never dis- 
 couraged. The quality of his friendship placed us in the 
 same group of workers. We were together, working out the 
 same problems, possessed of the same spirit. The only dif- 
 ference was length of service. Seeking the same ends, only 
 encouragement was worthy of his delicately tempered spirit. 
 "What is new? What is fresh? " was the first question with 
 him. It mattered but little from what source the informa- 
 tion came. It is God's universe. We are in it with him. 
 Hence news from Him is always first and foremost in impor- 
 tance. To encourage the seeker; to inspire him to seek, and 
 to seek and report his findings — this was the spirit of his 
 friendship. Of what use to tell of one's failures, one's feeble 
 efforts, one's infantile attempts? He knew well that most 
 of them were such; but he never even intimated the fact. 
 He was too great-hearted to do so. The mark of true great- 
 ness is known — to uplift. Doctor Clarke possessed this 
 p)ower in a remarkable degree. His power of encouragement 
 was such that discouragements were lost sight of in the en- 
 couragement with which one left his presence. I can give 
 no better illustration of this dominating characteristic in his 
 personality than this quotation from his last letter to me, 
 dated De Land, Florida, December 31, 191 1. "Your Bible 
 card has come to hand and tells a good story of endeavor on 
 your part. May it prove a great help to all concerned, and 
 may the new year bring you strength to labor and a clear 
 head to see your way, and a brave heart for bright days and 
 dark, and success in your life undertaking that will satisfy 
 your best desires. Isn't that a wish that covers a good share 
 of the ground? " That was the last message, and it covered 
 not only all the future of the year of which he was thinking, 
 
134 WILLIAM NEWTON CLARKE 
 
 but also was typical of his feeling during all the past. He 
 was one of God's own apostles whose benediction abides with 
 one always, and makes appropriate the closing sentence of 
 this last letter — ''Grace be with you and mercy and peace. 
 Amen." 
 
 It has been a privilege unsought, but very much appre- 
 ciated, to have known personally, and through the friend- 
 ship of my father's contemporaries, many of the leading 
 thinkers, preachers, educators, and missionaries of our de- 
 nomination. The home at Newton Center was always open 
 to them, and they failed not to enjoy its hospitahty. The 
 anniversary seasons of the Theological Institution brought 
 them together. Most of them have slept under our roof 
 and have been entertained at our table. There could be 
 seen Martin B. Anderson, George D. Boardman, Rollin H. 
 Neale, Doctor J. G. Warren, and later. Doctor Murdock, 
 Doctor G. D. B. Pepper, Doctor Ebenezer Dodge, Thomas 
 D. Anderson, Doctor J. T. Champlin, and many returning 
 alumni. Our side piazzas furnished splendid opportunity 
 for renewing cherished memories of the old days of New- 
 ton. As I call the roll to-night, in memory I see those 
 men to whom our denomination owes much, and bring to 
 mind their faces, as they came in with one or more of the 
 professors of the institution: Doctor Hovey, Doctor Lin- 
 coln, Doctor Galusha Anderson, Doctor E. P. Gould, or 
 later Doctor S. L. Caldwell. There was a quality in their 
 fellowship which owed its origin to the controlling presence 
 of a great purpose. They were engaged in a great work, the 
 greatest of all endeavor. No one of them had the least doubt 
 that the ministry of the Lord Jesus Christ was the greatest 
 work in the world. No other calling was to be compared with 
 it. It overtopped them all as Mount Washington rises above 
 all surrounding summits. They were idealistic. The blight 
 of materialism had not injured their sensitive appreciation 
 of high and holy purposes. To think high thoughts of God 
 
PERSONAL RECOLLECTIONS 
 
 135 
 
 and of the redemption wrought by God in his Son, Jesus 
 Christ, for the world; to present these thoughts in the clear- 
 est and most finished forms of language, for most preachers 
 read their sermons then; to teach other men to improve on 
 the best they had done, was their life. The preacher was a 
 king. His pulpit was his throne, from which he declared 
 the truths made known to him by the King of Kings, The 
 preachers of that time considered no comparison between 
 themselves in their work and the lawyer, the physician, the 
 officials of the government, not even the President in the 
 White House. It was an atmosphere of idealism, so differ- 
 ent from the atmosphere of the present day that the contrast 
 should be noted. Those days have passed away, and with 
 them the sensitiveness to such great and compelling ideals. 
 The idealism of the present appears in other forms, perhaps 
 more practical, certainly not so upHfting. Doctor Clarke 
 was the finished product of the best of them all. In him 
 their best thoughts came to their more perfect expression. 
 Their experiences of Christian minister and teacher united 
 in his, and he worked them out under the larger life experi- 
 ence possible in a later period. Some one has called him a 
 great mystic — a true description when considered not in the 
 technical sense of the word. He was a great mystic as the 
 apostle John was. The thoughtful mind that studies the 
 face, and catches the meaning in the eyes of the wonderful 
 portrait with which his friends at Hamilton are so familiar, 
 reverently, yet gratefully feels that to know him was to 
 know one who knew God, whom God knew so well that he 
 could make him the mouthpiece of his great message of love. 
 
THE STORY OF A FRIENDSHIP 
 
 By Professor J. W. A. Stewart, D.D. 
 
 In inviting me to contribute to this volume Mrs. Clarke 
 has requested that I tell something of Doctor Clarke's ca- 
 reer in Canada, and still more of what he was to me as friend 
 and helper. Out of the correspondence between Doctor 
 Clarke and myself I preserved twenty-six letters, which are 
 still in my possession. The first of these letters is dated 
 February 28, 1881. Doctor Clarke was at that time pastor 
 of the Olivet Baptist Church, Montreal, Canada. I have 
 read these letters again and I am greatly impressed by them. 
 Probably all of Doctor Clarke's correspondents would agree 
 that he was one of the best letter-writers of this modern 
 time. In his letters he gave himself and the best that was 
 in him without stint. One letter after another of those in 
 my possession might be printed almost as it stands, and 
 many would read it with eagerness. A letter from him was 
 no merely conventional affair. By his letters he made you 
 live and talk with him and read his very heart. The same 
 atmosphere of reality, of high purpose, of unwavering faith 
 which was felt in his preaching and is manifest in his books 
 is here in his letters; and, in addition, there is always the 
 glow of warm personal friendship. I need not speak of his 
 style, for every friend of his and every reader of his books 
 knows the quality and charm of it. Nowhere does that 
 quality appear to better advantage than in his letters, and 
 certainly in his case "the style is the man." 
 
 It is time now to say something about the beginnings of 
 our friendship and the cause of this (to me) so valuable 
 correspondence. Here I must be forgiven for a personal ref- 
 
 136 
 
THE STORY OF A FRIENDSHIP 137 
 
 erence. This reference is necessary to an understanding of 
 what Doctor Clarke was to me. The simple truth is that, 
 like many another young minister, I had gotten into great 
 trouble of mind. As I look back through a little more than 
 thirty years, the causes for this trouble were three in number. 
 For one thing, in the middle seventies, while I was pursuing 
 my course in the University of Toronto the materialistic phi- 
 losophy seemed to dominate the field. Professor Tyndall gave 
 his famous Belfast address in 1874, and one could hardly 
 take up a leading review in those days without coming across 
 an article which cut away the roots of religion. For a young 
 person who read and tried to think, faith had a difficult 
 time. I was held to a theistic belief and the freedom of the 
 will and the eternal reality of moral distinctions by a profes- 
 sor of philosophy of quite unusual power, the late George 
 Paxton Young, but many interrogation-points dotted my 
 field of vision. 
 
 For another thing, I had been reared in a pretty stiff type 
 of Calvinism and a rather narrow type of evangelicalism. 
 As I view it now, the dogmatic interest was paramount all 
 through my early training. The ethical interest, so far as 
 doctrines were concerned, was not denied; it was ignored. 
 Strong doctrines concerning the relations between God and 
 man could be discussed and afl5rmed with little or no refer- 
 ence to the bearing of those doctrines upon the character of 
 God or the actual moral agency of man. I recall discussions 
 about election which simply meant that God was a despot 
 and man a mere tool or thing. A doctrine of future punish- 
 ment was held which was, to say the least, immoral. The 
 doctrine of the atonement was mechanical. The whole 
 scheme of doctrine, so far as my apprehension of it went, was 
 mechanical, external, arbitrary; it lacked reality; it did not 
 appeal to the reason and the conscience. This tremendous 
 moral interest which we feel to-day, this significance of the 
 human personality — these were not in the atmosphere which 
 
I3S WILLIAM NEWTON CLARKE 
 
 surrounded me in my earlier years. I freely admit that this 
 judgment may need some qualification, that it is due in part 
 to my own immaturity at the time to which it refers, my 
 inability to estimate and to appreciate the teachings to which 
 I listened and under whose influence I came. In the later 
 seventies an earnest and wide-spread discussion arose con- 
 cerning future punishment. Farrar's sermons on "Eternal 
 Hope" had been preached; an extensive literature on the 
 subject sprang into being; one might hear learned discus- 
 sions on it an hour, two hours, in length. Meanwhile my 
 o\Mi ethical interest had been awakened. And so I got into 
 trouble. It was the not uncommon experience of a young 
 minister whose training in theological thinking had been 
 limited finding himself unable to make doctrines he was sup- 
 posed to hold harmonize with what he felt to be the ethical 
 demand. And of course the ethical demand is supreme. 
 No doctrine can be held in face of the protest of the moral 
 nature. 
 
 A third factor entered into the situation. I had already 
 been ordained and was pastor of a church. I now supposed 
 that a Baptist minister was in honor bound to stand not only 
 for certain doctrines but also for certain modes of presenta- 
 tion of those doctrines which I felt I could not stand for. 
 No one can complain that there is any excessive restraint of 
 liberty in Baptist pulpits to-day; some one might suggest 
 that there is danger that Hberty may be abused. But thirty 
 years have witnessed a change. At the time to which I refer 
 the roominess was not so manifest. And so I thought that I 
 must leave my church and my pulpit. 
 
 And now it was that my acquaintance and friendship 
 with Doctor Clarke began. A parishioner of his and friend 
 of mine who had learned of my trouble and had recognized 
 something unusual in his pastor asked him to write to me. 
 This he did, and so before we had met we were already in 
 the midst of a lively correspondence. I do not propose to 
 
THE STORY OF A FRIENDSHIP 139 
 
 give here a detailed account of our correspondence, but only 
 to tell how Doctor Clarke helped me, and to quote here and 
 there a seLf-reveaHng sentence from his letters. To this I must 
 add something more about him as friend and companion, 
 and I must tell of his work and influence in Canada. 
 
 Already I had begun to feel that the fundamental ques- 
 tion in all religious thinking is the question as to the char- 
 acter of God. In this feeling Doctor Clarke at once con- 
 firmed me. I never knew a man who seemed more sure of 
 God and of his ethical quality or who rejoiced more in the 
 thought of God. The character of God was dominant in all 
 his thinking; that character could never for a moment be 
 compromised; whatever became of this doctrine or that, at 
 any rate "God is hght, and in him is no darkness at all" ; 
 "God is love." He helped me to beheve these things about 
 God once for all. As it seems to me now, it was my first 
 genuine, vital, intelligent faith in God. I can never forget 
 what it meant to me. The nightmare of a divine despot 
 was gone. The heart of the universe is sound. God can do 
 no wrong. I was emancipated, out of prison, under the Hght 
 of the sun, breathing the pure, open air. Always with the 
 thought of God which I cherish, Doctor Clarke must be 
 closely associated as the one who helped me to that thought. 
 In addition to this he greatly encouraged me in the belief as 
 to the right of the individual mind to do its own thinking. 
 It had appeared to me in my still earlier years that there 
 stood a fixed body of doctrine, and that to bring one's own 
 mind to bear upon it and to hesitate or to call in question any 
 part was a serious, if not dangerous, thing. Indeed, there were 
 those who suggested that it was a sort of calamity for one to 
 get into an inquiring mood. Already, however, besides Pro- 
 fessor Young, I had had at least one friend and teacher who 
 beheved in mental independence. And now Doctor Clarke 
 came to my help, and instead of hinting that the inquiring 
 mood was to be shunned he represented it as a pressing duty 
 
I40 WILLIAM NEWTON CLARKE 
 
 and as the mood that was alone worthy of a man constituted 
 as God has made us. Never for one moment did he lose sight 
 of the serious interest of truth; none could be more reverent 
 than he. But truth could vindicate itself, and the freest in- 
 quiry could only result in clearer apprehension and increased 
 conviction. No individual or set of individuals of the past, 
 much as we owe to them, had ever been commissioned of God 
 to do our thinking for us. The New Testament, instead of 
 closing the door against thought, really opens it. "Come 
 and see" is the Master's summons. In encouraging me to 
 independence of mind, Doctor Clarke did not mean that I 
 should think as he thought; he was too true for that; he really 
 meant that I should think for myself and trust my own work. 
 No man could have a truer conception of personal liberty. 
 Through my acquaintance with him I learned the joy of intel- 
 lectual freedom. To mention one thing more, he helped me 
 to see that the Baptist denomination affords more room for 
 the individual mind than I had supposed, that personal free- 
 dom is of the very genius of the Baptist Churches. Let this 
 not be misinterpreted. There is not a single radical or destruc- 
 tive sentence in all these letters. Edification, clearer apprehen- 
 sion of truth, loyalty to Christ are in every line. This man 
 was in dead earnest. His sweat, his life's blood went into his 
 work. Truth was his queen. With what chivalry and devo- 
 tion he served her ! Had I been an unbeliever he would have 
 told me at once that I was out of place in a Baptist pulpit; 
 but because I believed and was seeking more light and was 
 striving after reality he told me to stay where I was, that 
 the Baptist Church was my proper home. 
 
 And now for the letters themselves. In the first of them 
 that I preserved (February 28, 1881) he writes: "I have been 
 harder at work, I think, than I ever was before in my life." 
 Again: "Your letter was sweet to my soul. Any thought of 
 God as acting out himself, his own right, natural, lovable, 
 eternal self, in the work by which he approaches us, is 
 
THE STORY OF A FRIENDSHIP 141 
 
 precious to me." As to future punishment, he has this to 
 say: "The principle of hyper-Calvinism is the only valid 
 foundation for a doctrine of universal salvation. Calvinism 
 in its extreme form reduces all the action of the universe to 
 action of God himself, and leaves room for only a single will. 
 Now if I could feel that to be true, I could expect that 
 one all-embracing will to sweep all inferior wills along to the 
 voluntary fulfihnent (so far as such fulfihnent could be vol- 
 imtary) of its own restorative purpose. . . . For myself I 
 believe in the freedom of men, and so I see my way clear to 
 the natural possibility of the eternal loss of the soul." He is 
 very emphatic about man's natural constitution as being in 
 the image of God. And here is a guiding principle of his 
 Theology: "True living is imitation of God (Eph. 5 : i). 
 The principle of imitation of God authorizes us to judge of 
 what God is, in part at least from what he has commanded 
 us to be. . . . I conceive that we are entitled to bear this 
 truth as a torch in our searching for the meaning of what God 
 has done for us. It cannot serve as our only light, but it will 
 help us in understanding his saving work." Here follows a 
 paragraph which I must transcribe in full; it is so true a reve- 
 lation of the man. "When I come to that work itself, the 
 work of Christ, I cannot help you as much as I wish I could, 
 but my own thinking on the subject has not been in vain as 
 it seems to me. After having always had an unexplored 
 region in the heart of that great continent, I was most unex- 
 pectedly compelled to go exploring a year or two ago. One 
 day I was sent in, in spite of myself, to find what I could in 
 that great and dimly known region. For months I was at it 
 and could not get away. I was not in a revolutionary mood, 
 most happily. My expedition was not warUke. As I went 
 on, truth after truth seemed to open to me, and mistake 
 after mistake of my previous thinking seemed to be left be- 
 hind. If I had been fighting I might have come out with many 
 a wound; but this was a work of discovery and I saw so much 
 
142 WILLIAM NEWTON CLARKE 
 
 that was glorious that what had to be rejected fell away 
 easily as unworthy to remain beside the newly apprehended 
 truth. Perhaps I have reached wrong conclusions in some 
 things — if I have I pray that I may know it — but as to the 
 general principles and the Hne of thinking I am as well as- 
 sured as I can be in this world that if I am the Lord's I shall 
 go on thinking in the same way forever. I have no complete 
 theory, but that my general view of the work of Christ is 
 grounded in eternal principles I am entirely sure." He then 
 proposes to send me an essay he had written on "The For- 
 giveness of Sin." A little later the essay came, and I took a 
 copy of it. That essay had in it nearly all the roots of his 
 Theology, and his Theology is well known on both sides of 
 the Atlantic. This notable letter ends thus: *' God bless you, 
 dear brother, and enrich your soul with his life-giving truth. 
 If I tell you anything wrong may he forgive me, and keep 
 your soul safe from my errors. Write again and often." In 
 the next letter (April i8, 1881), he is hard at work on the 
 Commentary (Mark). He refers to a letter of F. W. Rob- 
 ertson's in which he (Robertson) said "that without doubt 
 he should make progress in the apprehension of truth and 
 should so alter and correct his views, but he felt sure that all 
 future progress would be in the general direction in which 
 he had already been moving." Doctor Clarke goes on: "I 
 have had the same feeling very strongly about my own 
 thinking, that in obtaining clearer and more inspiring \aews 
 of the nature of God and his relations to men I had gained 
 something of the permanent light and even, as I felt, of the 
 eternal light; and that though I might go on learning for- 
 ever I should never have really to unlearn some of these 
 truths that have been made plain to me. ... I hope to see 
 far more clearly and more truly, but I trust that I see." He 
 tells of a sermon of his on " God is Light." He is anxious not 
 to be regarded as heretical because he wants his people to 
 know the glorious character of God "even in the poor degree 
 
THE STORY OF A FRIENDSHIP 143 
 
 in which it is present to my mind." He fears that a Cana- 
 dian council (he was now in Canada) might refuse to ordain 
 him but he does not know "by what divine oracle or inspired 
 Scripture ' the denomination ' was constituted the infallible 
 guide for your thinking or mine." "About full and minute 
 agreement with other Baptists I do not trouble myself as 
 much as some might think I ought, for I know that any re- 
 ligious body in which any genuine thinking is done will have 
 its divergences and must expect them. ... I do not regard 
 myself as a champion of denominational orthodoxy, but I do 
 regard myself as a Baptist and as a humble champion of my 
 Master's truth." Referring to the doctrine of election, he 
 writes: "Of one thing, however, I am certain — that the 
 truth concerning the character of God, and the relation of 
 that character to man and to redemption, outranks all special 
 interpretations of doctrine. Truth concerning him is fun- 
 damental, and all true doctrine rests upon it." This letter 
 is full of weighty material and ends with these warm words: 
 "Now do not be offended because I have punched this let- 
 ter out on a machine. There is nothing of the machine vari- 
 ety about the interest I feel in your questionings and your 
 progress in the knowledge of truth. . . . My heart is with 
 you, and if any experience of mine can make me of any use 
 to you I am only too glad. Let me know how you fare. I 
 wish I could talk with you. But some day we shall have our 
 opportunity face to face. Meanwhile may our Lord lead us 
 both nearer to himself and further into his own truth. 
 Yours with all my heart." 
 
 Later on a letter comes discussing the question of the 
 existence of evil, immortality, atonement. His \'iews diflfer 
 somewhat from those ordinarily held, and he adds: "I hope 
 I am not intellectually proud in these matters — or at least I 
 pray that I may not be so. I desire to think and learn in the 
 spirit of a little child. But I can see some things in only one 
 way and I am well convinced that in some matters I shall 
 
144 WILLIAM NEWTON CLARKE 
 
 not see differently in another world, excepting more clearly 
 and more truly. Some things that you and I were brought 
 up on are destined to pass away, and are already in the proc- 
 ess, and more rational and profoundly scriptural ideas are 
 coming in their place. The process is inevitable, but I want 
 to hold the right place in it, chnging to all that is true and 
 yielding quickly to truth, as Augustine says {'cede cito veri- 
 tati'), in all matters in which truth is presented to me." His 
 letters show how unsatisfied he is with any presentations of 
 Christian doctrines which are only formal, or external and 
 mechanical, how bent he is on reality, how Christianity must 
 be all personal between God and man, how all must be viewed 
 in the light of God's moral perfection. We had not yet seen 
 each other, but the meeting of the Baptist Convention in 
 Montreal in October, 1881, at last brought us together. 
 
 In subsequent letters Doctor Clarke sometimes tells about 
 his sermons and his enjoyments in preaching, and there is 
 often a suggestive or stimulating sentence in what he writes. 
 There must have been a large amount of freshness and vital- 
 ity in his preaching, a total absence of platitude and of 
 anything stale or hackneyed. For example, he gives a most 
 practical sermon on ''Leaving the Church," showing why in- 
 dividuals should not leave it for insuJ05cient cause. Again: 
 "I am going into some sermons of instruction on less-studied 
 parts of the Scripture — ^Job, Habakkuk, Malachi — and I know 
 not what else. I am also going to preach a sermon or two on 
 some aspects of the question of amusements. I am full now 
 of one on the horribleness of amusing or gratifying oneself 
 at the expense of degradation to one's fellow beings, a sub- 
 ject that carries a wide and searching application." "I had 
 a royal time Sunday night, in the rain, before a handful of 
 people, with a sermon that cost no special expenditure of 
 time whatever. I had got the theme, and then on Saturday 
 I was three-quarters sick and had all I could do to get through 
 my other sermon. So this was ex tempore in the redeeming 
 
THE STORY OF A FRIENDSHIP 145 
 
 sense that it sprang from a long course of time and thinking, 
 and sprang up quickly. Such an experience is not unpleas- 
 ant now and then." His sermon on amusements made a deep 
 impression. A most interesting letter has this paragraph, 
 which reveals the man of God: "I am sending you a wretch- 
 edly poor letter, no line of which, as far as it has to do with 
 our Master's truth, approaches to satisfying me. How far 
 above me does his truth appear when once I endeavor to 
 give it form in word ! . . . The real truth is of a high and 
 comprehensive kind and is to be reached not so much by 
 close analysis and exclusion as by a process indescribable, 
 with which the heart has quite as much to do as the intellect. 
 ... It is an experience of God, and the more fully the whole 
 being of man is involved in that experience . , . the more 
 truly and justly shall we know the truth of God." I preached 
 to my people three or four sermons on the atonement. The 
 manuscript of one of them I sent to Doctor Clarke. This 
 brought from him a letter of four typewritten pages of large 
 letter-paper with a postscript of two pages more. The views 
 he expressed are well known, but I call attention to the sig- 
 nificance of this letter as an evidence of the generosity and 
 brotherHness of Doctor Clarke. How many of one's dearest 
 friends would take the time and trouble to write such a let- 
 ter ! The essay on "The Forgiveness of Sin" already re- 
 ferred to he at last sends. (It had been doing missionary 
 work elsewhere.) "I send you my essay with this condition 
 expressed, that you will show it no mercy. If I thought you 
 had the faintest idea of accepting it as in any sense an author- 
 ity to your mind, or as anything else than an essay, an en- 
 deavor after truth, not complete, and faulty enough, you 
 should never lay hands on it. Criticise it, and cut it to pieces 
 and reject as much of it as you must, and use it as a help to 
 your own thinking." 
 
 In the letters which follow there is material of deep in- 
 terest regarding books, institutions, church work, doctrinal 
 
146 WILLIA^I NEWTON CLARKE 
 
 subjects, men; but it must be passed by. Brief sentences 
 here and there are self-revealing. Referring to another's ex- 
 perience he writes: "This is a queer world, and sometimes it 
 seems as if, in proportion to the space it contains, there was 
 but very little room in it." Again: ''I have come to feel more 
 and more that 'what is true is safe,' and that what I can spir- 
 itually trust as true will not lead me astray." And again: 
 "But it grows upon me that the subject (the work of Christ) 
 is to be more or less obscure to the logical understanding 
 through this life and perhaps forever. ... But of this I am 
 sure — that as soon as we do see with the clearer Hght of a 
 higher realm, we shall see the work of Christ for us as the 
 clearest, simplest, most necessary of things — free from all 
 plans and devices — the thing that God's heart must have 
 done. Then we shall wonder at many of our perplexities 
 about it. Possibly we might even now begin to feel them 
 needless, aside from the point, if we were more deeply spir- 
 itual." And here is a morsel worth throwing in: "I don't 
 think I have been lately in one of my high swinging times, as 
 to preaching, and yet I have lately had some of the best of 
 seasons in the pulpit. It is rarely that I have a really poor 
 time. The pulpit is very dear to me." He is working on the 
 First Epistle of John; it is one of his favorite parts of Scrip- 
 ture. "Be of good cheer, dear brother, for the Lord is lead- 
 ing us with his own hands and putting us through the course 
 of training, sometimes painful and perplexing, by which he 
 will qualify us for eternal service. It is good to be in his 
 hand. Oh, for grace to learn his ways faster !" Another let- 
 ter has this: "It is true that ideas of a new kind are leaven- 
 ing the preachers and the churches. ... I believe in the 
 general principle that what is true is safe. But it has been 
 very truly said that truth may be hurtful if its way has not 
 been prepared and it is received into a mind that is not ready 
 to give it the place due to truth. Such considerations make 
 me anxious to be absolutely faithful both to truth and to 
 
THE STORY OF A FRIENDSHIP 147 
 
 men as the Lord's steward, and to dispense what he has 
 given me with goodly care. I believe I do try to use all pos- 
 sible caution, justice, and discrimination, as far as I have the 
 power. But when I ask myself whether I can take another 
 tone and preach another style of doctrine than that which I 
 have preached I feel Hke Luther at the Diet of Worms and 
 can make his utterance my own. And my faith is full and 
 strong that * the present truth ' will in the end be a boundless 
 blessing to mankind, because I feel that its vital element is a 
 higher and worthier conception of God. There will be misap>- 
 prehensions and misuses, of course, as there are of all other 
 truth, but the final beneficence of a more profoundly ethical 
 and spiritual conception of God is surer than the brightness 
 of noonday when the sun rises." This last extract is from a 
 letter written in bed, where he had already been for four 
 weeks on account of an injured knee, and where he was still 
 to be for a few weeks longer. He bore this affliction like a 
 philosopher and a Christian, and never for a moment lost 
 his cheerfulness or his optimism. His next letter soon fol- 
 lowed, and it was all occupied with an invitation which had 
 come to me to take a chair in a divinity school. It was a let- 
 ter of great wisdom and helpfulness. Referring to the same 
 matter in the letter which followed this one, he writes: "More 
 and more it seems to me that such an office is a spiritual 
 trust, and that without the best spiritual life a man cannot 
 do his work as he ought. But it is a noble trust — an oppor- 
 tunity to sit down with a little child's humihty at the Mas- 
 ter's feet and learn his truth from himself, and then in the 
 confidence that comes of such humble learning to speak it 
 so that others may speak it also." He comments upon the 
 "surprising thing that the disturbed young man whom I met 
 two years and a half ago" should now be invited to take a 
 professorship in a divinity school among the people whom 
 he had almost thought he must leave for conscientious rea- 
 sons. I mention this in order to say that those two or three 
 
148 WILLIAM NEWTON CLARKE 
 
 years were notable years to me, and that my acquaintance 
 and commmiication with Doctor Clarke was one of the most 
 influential factors in making them so. I think now with a 
 sort of wonder at the way he gave himself to me, his affection 
 and sympathy, his faith and hope, his deepest convictions, 
 his best thinking, his highest wisdom. He is still in bed, but 
 the broken limb is progressing favorably. He exclaims: 
 "How I do preach ! Probably it is because I am just getting 
 my hand in. Last week I wrote a sermon and it was read in 
 the pulpit Sunday morning, and I heard it all through my 
 telephone. It is going into the Witness and I will send it 
 to you. It seemed good to preach again even at second- 
 hand." He looks forward eagerly to the time when he can 
 go to church and preach again from his pulpit. He has 
 enough to say and he loves preaching. But there are still 
 some weeks of weary waiting. This is in May, 1883. The 
 following letter tells more of his broken limb and the mend- 
 ing process: "If I have a good leg in a year from the break- 
 ing, it is all that I look for; and I am not so sure that it will 
 ever be perfect, though I think it will be good for most ordi- 
 nary uses." And now the prosposal is made to him that he 
 leave the pastorate and take a chair in what is now the Theo- 
 logical Department of McMaster University, Toronto. Much 
 as he loves his people and his pulpit, he incHnes to the work 
 of teaching. "There are strong reasons against leaving here 
 at present, and they may prevail. But I have always thought 
 it would be hard to decline a fairly promising invitation to 
 work of this kind, and I do not wish to decHne it now if it is 
 right to go." Here is another sentence from this letter: "I 
 haven't been very fond of the address 'Almighty God' in 
 prayer, but I have been thinking lately of spiritual omnip- 
 otence. Isn't that the highest and only true? I don't 
 know but that 'Ahnighty' may yet be a favorite word with 
 me." It need hardly be added, regarding the proposal to 
 take a professorship, that with the one who came to him to 
 
 I 
 
THE STORY OF A FRIENDSHIP 149 
 
 make it he was perfectly frank, "telling him all that is in my 
 heart. He knows my convictions as faithfully as one can 
 who does not altogether share them." 
 
 On July 9, 1883, he writes: "The deed is done and to 
 Toronto I go. . . . So the die is cast and I am to be a theo- 
 logical professor. I had a hard fight last week and spent a 
 few days as blue as any days that ever refused to shine. The 
 people here . . . acted throughout in a rational and Chris- 
 tian way. But the strife was mainly within, partly on ac- 
 count of my love for the pulpit and the pastorate, and partly 
 in view of the outlook here. . . . There was no reason here 
 for a change, and the whole burden of making one came upon 
 me. . . . But although I was at one time strongly inclined 
 to give it all up and settle down to stay, I am now quite sure 
 that I have reached the right conclusion and am quite happy 
 in the result. I expect to enjoy the new work, and I think I 
 may reasonably hope to be useful in it." In reply to a ques- 
 tion he adds: "Don't I know T. Erskine (of Linlathen)? I 
 don't like some of his ways of interpretation, but his letters 
 are great and noble and Christian. Few men have ever 
 written so truly to the Christian purpose." 
 
 The letter from which I have just quoted was the last one 
 I received from Doctor Clarke from Montreal. He now lays 
 down the work of the pastor and, removing to Toronto, takes 
 upon him the work of a professor. This change brought him 
 near to me, my pastorate being in Hamilton, Ontario. Ac- 
 cordingly, in place of correspondence, we now had visits to 
 each other's homes, and frequent meetings in various ways. 
 Doctor Clarke came occasionally to preach for me, and be- 
 fore long he became one of our family institutions — I was going 
 to say, one of our household divinities. Of course I received 
 other letters from him and I add a few more quotations. 
 From Cazenovia, in July, 1884, after he had broken his arm, 
 he writes: "Don't you think I am improving in my Telegu? 
 You wouldn't believe how thoroughly against nature it is to 
 
ISO WILLIAM NEWTON CLARKE 
 
 push the pen from the left. If it were not the age of pads of 
 paper I don't see how I could make the page lie still." In 
 December, 1886, a letter came about my possible removal 
 to Rochester. It was the kind of letter to expect from him, 
 but I shall not quote from it. After four years of teaching 
 in Toronto he was called to the pastorate of the Baptist 
 Church in Hamilton, New York. A letter from Hamilton 
 in October, 1889, tells of his work there, especially of his 
 work in the pulpit. He must have been doing some noble 
 work as a preacher at that time. He anticipated then some 
 of the ideas that are in the rural-church movement of to- 
 day, and he revealed his interest in the great social move- 
 ment which was only just beginning. "I have most grati- 
 fying attention from the young men (of the college), and am 
 glad of the opportunity to hammer away at them with truth 
 that many a man would never think of giving them. Once 
 last spring I chanced to get a mail one day that was extraor- 
 dinarily rich in philanthropic and beneficent matter, and I 
 reported it on Sunday evening, under the title: 'One day's 
 tidings from the new world.' " He did this sort of thing more 
 than once in the pulpit, and he adds: "My people delight in 
 hearing it." He is doing a good deal of most fruitful read- 
 ing, and his observations on some passing events are of inter- 
 est and value. On January i, 1890, he sends a New Year's 
 letter. His idea of friendship and of its survival beyond the 
 confines of time was a beautiful and cheering one. "I am sure 
 that our lives have flowed together in such a way that in 
 spirit they will never be separated in any world." He prizes 
 the opportunity which a preacher has in a college town, and 
 though he sometimes feels dull, it is evident that his mind is 
 constantly alert to an unusual degree. By March 18, 1890, 
 according to a letter of that date, he is teaching again. Doc- 
 tor Dodge had passed away, and Doctor Clarke is drafted in 
 to teach theology in the Theological Seminary. He teaches 
 four mornings in the week as a temporary supply, still re- 
 
THE STORY OF A FRIENDSHIP 151 
 
 taining the pastorate of the church. He devotes a full page 
 of this letter to tell of his enjoyment of the work, of his 
 method of teaching, of his relation to the students, of the 
 freedom of his lecture-room. Already the suggestion has 
 been made that he keep the work of teaching theology, but 
 as to this he is hesitating and cautious, for he is "a more 
 modem theologian than many men — and would not wish to 
 get the institution into trouble." There are still some most 
 interesting things which I might add from subsequent let- 
 ters, regarding his teaching and the preparation of his Outline 
 of Christian Theology and other matters of importance. Let- 
 ters came from him from Hamilton, Waverly, Colorado 
 Springs, Pomona (California), and again from Hamilton. 
 They were for the most part letters of personal friendship. 
 Those whose privilege it was to count him among their dear- 
 est and most intimate friends can readily imagine the char- 
 acter of these letters. Referring to interchange of letters, he 
 says: "Speech and silence are alike, except that speech is de- 
 lightful and silence is delay of delight; and it is certain that 
 nothing will ever interfere with the solid affection which is 
 not grounded in any accidents of time, but in what abides 
 forever." I have hesitated to give this quotation, but the 
 last letter of this series ends with an expression of remem- 
 brance and affection which I must not transcribe but must 
 leave just where he wrote it. 
 
 And now as to Doctor Clarke's work in Canada. He was 
 called from Newton Center, Massachusetts, to the pastorate 
 of the Olivet Baptist Church, Montreal, in May, 1880. He 
 was preceded in this pastorate by Doctor John Gordon, who 
 had laid well the foundations of a new, and what has proved 
 to be, a strong and influential church. Doctor Clarke's min- 
 istry in Montreal was peculiarly fitted to develop and solid- 
 ify the Christian character of those who constituted this 
 church. One of its deacons, Mr. W. K. Grafftey, testifies 
 that "his noble, dignified, and sincere Christian bearing pre- 
 
152 WILLIAM NEWTON CLARKE 
 
 sented a great ideal to many of the best men in his parish. 
 His preaching, so profound in thought yet so lucid in expres- 
 sion, left a deep impression on the minds and lives of many: 
 God became more real and more near in the daily life. His 
 was a ministry of teaching the deepest theological truth in 
 the most practical form." It was here that he met with a 
 serious accident, the breaking of a kneecap. ^Ir. Grafiftey 
 adds: "It was during the time that he was laid aside by this 
 accident that a few of his more intimate friends were called 
 upon to minister to him, and in the night-watches as we sat 
 by his bedside the most potent thoughts entered into our 
 very being and made God's will and God's interest in the 
 common affairs of men very plain to us. His prayers during 
 those nights of pain, as he quieted himself to rest, became a 
 lasting benediction." 
 
 Another of Doctor Clarke's Montreal parishioners and 
 close friends, Mr. John TumbuU, writes: 
 
 "I have never known any man more lovable than Doctor 
 Clarke, and for many years and now this is the thought that 
 exists most deeply in my heart. Had he hved in the days of 
 our Lord he would, as he exists in my thoughts, have been 
 the beloved disciple. He was humble; his humility made 
 him thirst for knowledge of God and he attained that knowl- 
 edge in such measure that I do not hesitate to say that I re- 
 garded him as one of the inspired ones of earth. He aimed 
 to impart, and to ennoble those with whom he had to do and 
 his preaching was of that character always." 
 
 Doctor Clarke's influence in Montreal was not limited to 
 his own congregation. This influence was specially mani- 
 fested in the meetings of the Protestant ministers of the city, 
 where he occasionally read a paper and where he participated 
 freely in the discussions. 
 
 In the autumn of 1883 Doctor Clarke began his work as 
 professor of New Testament interpretation in what was then 
 Toronto Baptist College. Regarding his work while holding 
 
THE STORY OF A FRIENDSHIP 153 
 
 this professorship, I quote at length from two of his students. 
 One of them writes: "To me, Doctor Clarke was, in many 
 respects, the most satisfactory teacher of my student days. 
 His interest in his students was tenderly sympathetic and 
 was calculated to engender in them the utmost desire to do 
 the best possible work. He worked with his students. Any 
 exercise, for example in New Testament exegesis, assigned 
 to his classes, was prepared by himself as carefully as if he 
 were the student instead of the professor. His thought and 
 language were clear, and he was never satisfied until his 
 students could put in their own language and without ob- 
 scurity their exegesis and interpretation of the passage under 
 consideration. Very anxious was he always that his students 
 should love and seek the truth even though the finding of it 
 might be the end of certain prejudices and traditions. As a 
 preacher Doctor Clarke was eminently Biblical, and whether 
 he preached from one verse of Scripture or many his preach- 
 ing was expository. He had the art of putting himself in 
 the other man's place, and, consequently, he made BibHcal 
 pictures and teaching most vivid. His imagination fairly 
 glowed in his preaching, and head and heart and will, on the 
 part of the hearers, were touched and influenced in a pecu- 
 liarly powerful way. Spiritual things were very real to Doc- 
 tor Clarke, and this was never more manifest than when he 
 was in the pulpit. In preaching or in teaching he was so sug- 
 gestive that thoughtful people, especially students, found it 
 impossible to remember all the channels of thought opened 
 in their mmds in the course of a sermon. Though always in 
 demand among the churches, Doctor Clarke was not a leader 
 in the denomination— his bent was not that way, though his 
 interests as a Baptist were undivided. His personal influ- 
 ence was gracious and magnetic. All kinds of men were at 
 home in his presence, and he could easily adapt himself to 
 all conditions of society. No students, m particular, ever 
 came near him without wishing to be more like him and more 
 
154 WILLIAM NEWTON CLARKE 
 
 like his Saviour, whom he so well represented. As one who 
 knew Doctor Clarke pretty intimately I can freely say that 
 he was the most Christlike man I ever knew." The other 
 of his students whom I quote writes: "As a teacher the stu- 
 dents of my time admired and loved him greatly. He was a 
 fine Greek scholar and a thorough, painstaking exegete. 
 Besides, he was apt to teach. His incisive, flexible thought, 
 his perfect lucidity of expression, his keen, joyous interest 
 in the work of the hour awakened responsive interest in the 
 class and ministered unfailing profit. Best of all, there was 
 in him a deep reverence for truth, a joyous readiness to fol- 
 low wherever it might lead, and a contagious consciousness 
 of the reality of spiritual things. His students always re- 
 membered him with a sense of great indebtedness. As a 
 personal influence, he was almost unique among the men I 
 have known. The freshness of his thinking, the Christlike 
 purity of his spirit, his simplicity, his joyousness, his unselfish 
 interest in life and in people near and far — from all of these 
 combined there radiated a powerful and gracious influence 
 of the most potent, far-reaching, and ennobling kind." 
 
 To the testimony of these who were his students little 
 needs to be added regarding this period of his life and work. 
 It goes without saying that in Toronto he soon won to himself 
 many friends who prized his friendship exceedingly. They 
 realized that a rare spirit had come among them. In the case 
 of those from whom he differed most widely in theological 
 thinking, their criticism was almost completely disarmed 
 by the wonderful quality of the man: there was that in him 
 which well-nigh made it impossible for any who knew him 
 to contend with him. To Doctor John H. Castle, president 
 of Toronto Baptist College, his counsel and friendship were 
 invaluable. He took great interest in the affairs of the col- 
 lege and in the home and foreign mission work of Canadian 
 Baptists. He was always ready to help with a sermon, or an 
 address, or in any way that he could; and everywhere he 
 
THE STORY OF A FRIENDSHIP 155 
 
 went he made friends, left some noble truth to think about 
 and commended the cause of his Master. 
 
 Brief reference to a few things which linger in the memory 
 will give a fit ending to this paper. When he came to our 
 home the pleasure of his visits was shared not alone by Mrs. 
 Stewart and myself but by our children as well, and with 
 them he soon became a great favorite. He found time to 
 correspond with at least one of them, a little fellow five or 
 six years old, and that there was nothing merely conventional 
 in the interest he felt in every one of them he soon put beyond 
 all question. As our children were growing up his name was 
 one of the most familiar in our family intercourse, and I am 
 happy to believe that his influence upon those dearest to me 
 abides. In his visits to the home it did not take long to dis- 
 cover his love for music, and especially for sacred music. 
 He was deeply interested in hymns and tunes for congrega- 
 tional use, and his judgment in these matters was unerring. 
 It would be difficult to name a really good hymn or a noble 
 tune that he did not know. He played church tunes with 
 rare skill and with great pleasure to himself and to the lis- 
 tener. His ear for harmony was so sensitive that it was im- 
 possible for him to produce a discord. Coming down in the 
 morning a little before the breakfast hour, he would sit at 
 the piano and play one tune after another, filling the house 
 with the sound, to the delight of all. The morning hymn, 
 "Come, my soul thou must be waking," is known in my 
 home as Doctor Clarke's hymn. He played it to the tune 
 "Edna," and after playing it two or three times in succes- 
 sion he would turn around and say in his cheery way: "Now 
 the day may begin." For hymn and tune lovers it was a 
 rare delight to gather around the piano with him at the key- 
 board. One other thing I recall with distinctness: Twenty- 
 five years ago, when we heard practically nothing of the 
 social movement as we now know it, he was deeply inter- 
 ested in the social question. I remember a visit to his home 
 
156 WILLIAM NEWTON CLARKE 
 
 soon after he settled as pastor in Hamilton, during which 
 there was much earnest talk on this question. His sympa- 
 thies were with the toilers and the unprivileged. Though 
 his life was spent in the schools and in the atmosphere of books 
 and ideas and in the work of the pastorate, he nevertheless 
 carried in his heart somewhat of the burdens and sorrows of 
 mankind. If the lines, 
 
 "Desperate tides of the whole great world's anguish 
 Forced thro' the channels of a single heart" 
 
 seem a little too strong to apply to him, he at least could well 
 understand what those lines mean. He was a genuine fol- 
 lower of the Master and he looked out upon life with eyes 
 trained in the school of Christ. There was in him a deep seri- 
 ousness, a deep sympathy, a warm love for man. 
 
 How shall I conclude this tribute to my friend ? So much 
 of what he was to me has already found expression in what I 
 have written that I shall attempt no final summing-up, but 
 shall content myself with these lines of William Watson's: 
 
 " 'Tis human fortune's happiest height to be 
 A spirit melodious, lucid, poised, and whole; 
 Second in order of felicity 
 I count it to have walked with such a soul." 
 
WILLIAM NEWTON CLARKE 
 
 By Doctor Edward Judson 
 
 Two or three years ago, in the little apartment-hotel, where 
 I make my home in New York, I was standing one day in the 
 elevator, just as it was about to begin its ascent, when I saw 
 Doctor Clarke approaching me, apparently with the inten- 
 tion of going up to my rooms. It was one of those gray days, 
 when, in the middle of the afternoon, a slight touch of depres- 
 sion is apt to rest upon one's spirits, and I was so surprised 
 and dehghted by his sudden appearance, his friendly look, and 
 the tone of his voice, that I seized him by his two arms and 
 drew hun into the elevator with the words: "I would rather 
 see you than any one else in the world." There chanced to 
 be in the elevator at the time a middle-aged lady of intel- 
 lectual cast, rather cold and unemotional, with whom I had 
 but a very sHght acquaintance, though we had Uved for 
 many years under the same roof, who said to me a few days 
 later: "Who was that gentleman whom you said you would 
 rather see than anybody else in the world?" IrepUed: "That 
 was Doctor William Newton Clarke." "WeU," she said, ''he 
 had the most angelic face I have ever seen." Who of us that 
 knew Doctor Clarke could fail to appreciate this casual im- 
 pression which his personality made upon the mind even of 
 a perfect stranger ! 
 
 In a room full of people one would instinctively single him 
 out as a man of mark. He possessed distinction and social 
 charm. The broad brow with its fringe of iron-gray curly 
 hair, the strong mouth, the eyes that always looked you full 
 in the face with a kindly and comprehending gaze, the large, 
 spare frame, the sUghtly halting but vigorous gait, the music 
 of his cane touching the stone sidewalk as he approached 
 
 157 
 
158 WILLIAM XEWTON CLARKE 
 
 your house, the cheery greeting, the large and expressive 
 hands, like those painted by Albrecht Diirer, hands of which 
 he unconsciously made marvellous use in elucidating his 
 thought in conversation or in the lecture-room, the faultless 
 dress exactly suited to his person, the eternal youthfulness 
 of the man, making him, even in his declining years, always 
 the friend and pla>Tnate of the young — all these make up a 
 picture in our minds that will not easily fade away. Indeed I 
 sometimes think that when our friends are parted from us, 
 their influence is even more penetrating and compelling than 
 when they are by our side. Being dead they yet speak with 
 persuasive tones. And yet how profoundly we miss them 
 here ! How impoverished our atmosphere here through the 
 withdrawal of such mighty spirits ! How often since his de- 
 parture have come to my mind Browning's great lines about 
 the Death in the Desert ! 
 
 "We shall not see him any more 
 About the world with his divine regard ! 
 For all was as I say, and now the man 
 Lies, as he lay once, breast to breast with God." 
 
 Some of Doctor Clarke's personal traits were so obvious 
 as to escape notice. Candor was written on his forehead. He 
 had set himself to the task of attempting to readjust Chris- 
 tian theology to the changed conditions of the modern world. 
 He strove to restate the faith so as to bring it into harmony 
 with the best thinking that is done in other realms of knowl- 
 edge. He felt the force of Frederic Harrison's remark, as 
 quoted by Henry Drummond: "When you confront us with 
 hypotheses, however sublime and however affecting, if they 
 cannot be stated in the terms of the rest of our knowledge, if 
 they are disparate to that world of sequence and sensation 
 which to us is the ultimate base of all our real knowledge, 
 then we shake our heads and turn aside." Doctor Clarke be- 
 lieved that the faith could be restated in modem terms. He 
 
WILLIAM NEWTON CLARKE 159 
 
 took no delight in tearing down. His method was always 
 constructive. His attitude was furthest removed from the 
 bellicose. He took no delight in wounding the sensibihties of 
 the conservative. He did not remove from beneath weak 
 human nature the smallest and most crumbling prop, before 
 seekuig to replace it with some enduring reahty. He did not 
 seek to attain a cheap and ephemeral reputation for intel- 
 lectual smartness by denying and deriding errors that have 
 become venerable through age, and upon which longevity 
 has bestowed a pecuHar sanctity. While much was dissolved 
 in the crucible of his powerful and analytical mind, the resid- 
 uum was infinitely precious in his eyes, and shone like re- 
 fined gold. 
 
 Apologists like Doctor Clarke and Lyman Abbott are apt 
 to be misunderstood by their brethren. Such defenders of the 
 faith do not think it wise to carry into battle the impedimenta 
 of Christianity, however useful in camp. It seems futile to 
 them to try to swing Christianity into the mind of the mod- 
 ern man the least reasonable end to. So, venturing far out 
 on the skirmish line, they incur the danger of being shot in 
 the back by their comrades. 
 
 "Friend slew friend, not knowing whom he slew." As 
 Goethe has it: "The few who have really known the human 
 heart, and who could call it by its right name, and foolishly 
 have not kept the secret to themselves but have disclosed 
 to the populace what they saw and felt, have been from time 
 immemorial crucified and burned." The seminal minds out 
 of which all reforms emerge are proverbially cautious and re- 
 served. Like Erasmus, they are apt to say: "Let others 
 affect martyrdom; as for me, I do not consider myself worthy 
 of the honor." Doctor Clarke had little of that caution and 
 diplomacy possessed by his great forebear, Ebenezer Dodge, 
 who seemed to think that, even though he held the whole 
 truth in one hand, he would have the right to open only one 
 finger at a time. 
 
i6o WILLIAM NEWTON CLARKE 
 
 But Doctor Clarke believed that the time had come to 
 speak plainly. You never could mistake Doctor Clarke's 
 position. In cold, frank, and unambiguous phrase, he has a 
 way of bringing into clear perspective his divergence from 
 the current \iew, however offensive it might be to that ele- 
 ment in human nature that not only never has a new idea 
 but hates one when it sees it. The true orthodoxy consists 
 not in trying to hold with limp and trembling hand a whole 
 vast system of tenuously articulated dogmas, but in realizing 
 for oneself in a deep and personal way the few essential truths 
 that lie at the very centre of Christianity, leaving the rest to 
 come along in time as corollary. Faith is not cast; it grows. 
 It was the great vital principles of Christianity that Doctor 
 Clarke strove to grasp and realize in his personal character 
 and to set forth in enduring literary form. The dynamic of 
 his life was due to his intense faith in these ideas. What he 
 believed and reahzed in his own life he stated with clearness 
 and candor. And the same candor that characterized his 
 handUng of religious themes persisted in all practical mat- 
 ters. He never weakened his case by overstatement. In 
 recommending even a friend, his word never went beyond 
 the fact. 
 
 It was the intensity of his own faith as well as the candor 
 of its expression that made him, like Daniel of old, a dissolver 
 of doubts, and gave him control over the troubled spirits of his 
 generation. It was the intensity of his conviction that gave 
 Doctor Clarke something of the influence which Carlyle de- 
 scribes in the words he is said to have spoken to the new rec- 
 tor of the parish in which he lived: "It is my firm belief that 
 if these turbulent people could once be brought to know some 
 one who really believed for himself the eternal veracities, and 
 didn't merely tell them of some one else who in old time was 
 thought to have believed them, they would all be reduced to 
 speedy silence. It is much, no doubt, to have a decent cere- 
 monial of worship, and an educated, polite sort of a person to 
 
WILLIAM NEWTON CLARKE i6i 
 
 administer it. But the main want of the world, as I gather, 
 just now, and of this parish especially, which is that part of 
 the world with which I am altogether best acquainted, is to 
 discover some one who really knows God otherwise than by 
 hearsay, and can tell us what divine work is actually to be 
 done here and now in London streets, and not of a totally dif- 
 ferent work which behooved to be done two thousand years 
 ago in Judea." 
 
 But besides his candor Doctor Clarke possessed the grace 
 of imperturbabihty. All reconstruction requires patience. 
 Reform, they say, goes through three stages: First, it is 
 laughed at; secondly, it is said to be contrary to religion; 
 and thirdly, everybody knows it. 
 
 Doctor Clarke did not deal in splendid negations. He 
 had a positive message, which saved to the Christian church 
 many who had begun to lose faith in the ancient theologies. 
 He was not a prophet of doubt and misgiving. The time had 
 gone by, he thought, for indolent acquiescence in theological 
 statements, however venerable. According to an English 
 publicist: "The world is grown saucy, and expects reasons, 
 and good ones, too, before they give up their own opinions 
 to other men's dictates, though never so magisterially deUv- 
 ered to them." While Doctor Clarke sympathized with the 
 doubter, he did not leave him in his doubts, adding to them 
 his own. He undertook to construct a reasonable theology. 
 It was the constructive note in Doctor Clarke that made 
 him a healing force in a troubled time. He made it possible 
 for many a young preacher to go on preaching. What was 
 said to Martineau, with whom he had much in common, 
 could be truly said to him: "You have given rest to the 
 minds of many." The story is told of an eminent preacher 
 in the decline of life to whom a friend remarked: "What a 
 comfort it must be to you to think of all the good you have 
 done by your gift of eloquence." The old man's eyes filled 
 with tears, and he replied: "You little know; you Uttle 
 
i62 WILLIAM NEWTON CLARKE 
 
 know. If I ever turned a heart from the ways of disobedi- 
 ence to the wisdom of the just, God has withheld the assur- 
 ance from me." The eminent preacher died, and had a 
 splendid funeral. The friend was there to whom he had 
 sadly disclaimed the knowledge that he had ever turned any 
 one to righteousness. By his side stood a stranger, who was 
 so deeply moved that, when all was over, the friend said 
 to him: "You knew him? I suppose." "Knew him?" was 
 the reply. "No, I never spoke to him; but I owe to him my 
 soul." 
 
 It could have been said of Doctor Clarke, as of an emi- 
 nent English clergyman: "He was one of those ministers 
 whose congregations are outside as well as inside chapel 
 walls." Matthew Arnold's "Rugby Chapel," a favorite poem 
 of Doctor Clarke's, is finely expressive of his own sacrificial 
 service and vitalizing influence: 
 
 "But thou wouldst not alone 
 Be saved, my father, alone 
 Conquer and come to thy goal. 
 Leaving the rest in the wild. 
 We were weary, and we 
 Fearful, and we in our march. 
 Fain to drop down and to die. 
 Still thou turnedst, and still 
 Beckonedst the trembler, and still 
 Gavest the weary thy hand. 
 If in the paths of the world. 
 Stone might have wearied thy feet. 
 Toil or dejection have tried 
 Thy spirit, of that we 
 Saw nothing, to us thou wast still 
 Cheerful, and helpful, and firm. 
 Therefore to thee it was given 
 Many to save with thyself; 
 And at the end of thy day, 
 O faithful shepherd ! to come 
 Bringing thy sheep in thy hand." 
 
WILLIAM NEWTON CLARKE 163 
 
 But such a message was bound to incur bitterest oppo- 
 sition from various directions. Many of the friends of Chris- 
 tianity felt that in giving up much that seemed to them 
 vital Doctor Clarke was undermining the faith once deliv- 
 ered to the saints. There is hardly any mental pain so ex- 
 quisite as to feel long-cherished behef slipping out of your 
 grasp. Many Christians could not but think that the sur- 
 render of the outworks behind which they had so long fought 
 carried with it the loss of the fortress itself. This misgiving 
 stiffened down with some into a prejudice that prevented 
 their even trying to comprehend his position. They resem- 
 bled the minister who, glancing at a copy of Darwin's Origin 
 of Species lying on the counter of a bookstore, remarked to 
 a friend: "There's a man to whom I have given many a 
 hard hit in my sermons and, thank God, I have never read a 
 line of him." But it is only by sympathetic comprehension 
 even of what we think erroneous that we become the least 
 bit qualified effectively to oppose it. A friend of mine thought 
 that John 3 : 16 was not one of the great texts of the Bible 
 because it was one of Doctor Clarke's favorite texts. 
 
 On the other hand, the enemies of Christianity have lit- 
 tle use for those who endeavor to harmonize it with the best 
 modern thinking. It causes them chagrin to see ancient dog- 
 mas restated in modern and reasonable terms, and clothing 
 themselves in appealing and engaging forms. Especially pain- 
 ful is the lot of those who, like Doctor Clarke, undertake 
 to translate the phraseology of the schools into language 
 comprehensible by the plain people. It is said that a vote 
 of thanks was given to Lord Macaulay for having written a 
 history that the working man could understand. A pretty 
 story is told of the eminent French naturalist Figuier, who 
 was one of the first of the scientists who tried to popularize 
 science. His books were profusely illustrated, and his facts 
 were stated in such simple terms as to be intelligible even 
 to a child. This method proved unpalatable to some of his 
 
i64 WILLIAM NEWTON CLARKE 
 
 professional brethren, and they nicknamed him Vulgarizer 
 of Science. One day when he was at a reception a Httle girl 
 innocently asked him: "Why do they call thee Vulgarizer 
 of Science?" He was at a loss what to say in reply. But a 
 little later she gathered some roses which she distributed 
 among the guests, her fingers in the meantime being pricked 
 by the thorns. Figuier called her to him and said: "Thou 
 too, my child, art a vulgarizer; for thou givest roses to others, 
 but keepest the thorns to thyself." 
 
 But in all the mental pain of being misunderstood and 
 opposed. Doctor Clarke never seemed to wince. He kept 
 sweet and imperturbable. He 
 
 "Never doubted clouds would break; 
 Never dreamed, though right 
 Were worsted, wrong would 
 Triumph." 
 
 Indeed Doctor Clarke's own serenity of spirit commended 
 his theory of life. Character is the only perfect conductor 
 of truth. 
 
 "The dear Lord's best interpreters 
 Are himible human souls." 
 
 A learned professor of the conservative school, himself 
 one of Doctor Clarke's colleagues, remarked to me once: 
 "There are a good many of us that do not agree with Doctor 
 Clarke's doctrinal views, but we are all of us trying to live 
 up to his level of religious experience." 
 
 The minister is a kind of artist. The plastic stuff used by 
 the minister is the humanity that lies about him. The ideal 
 in his mind is the lovely image of Christ. His task is to con- 
 form human individuals to that ideal. The secret of his 
 method is that he first realizes that ideal in his own charac- 
 ter. Christ must be formed in him the hope of glory. Some- 
 
WILLIAM NEWTON CLARKE 165 
 
 how, without this, his pious homilies seem futile. What you 
 are, as Emerson puts it, thunders so loud that I cannot hear 
 what you say. Doctor Clarke's character gave a carrying 
 quality to his doctrine. 
 
 And yet he was always charmingly devoid of self-con- 
 sciousness. He himself was least aware of his moral great- 
 ness. As with the redeemed in heaven, the Master's name 
 was written on his forehead, where others could see it, but 
 not he. He was furthest possible removed from George 
 Eliot's bitter caricature: "Practically, I find that what is 
 called being apostolic now is impatience of everything in 
 which the parson does not cut the principal figure." The 
 best Christians in the churches are those who do not know 
 it. It is absence of self-consciousness that makes children 
 such agreeable companions. They are self-forgetful. They 
 have the gift of the outward gaze. The quiet charm of trees 
 and flowers is that they are not, like ourselves, self-conscious. 
 The silent and symmetrical unfolding of Doctor Clarke's 
 character proceeded without any painful effort. It is the 
 little things in hfe that we gain by hot chase. The great 
 tilings come to us, as it were, around a corner, while we are 
 looking for something else. There was discoverable in him 
 no ambition to be great. No one was more surprised than 
 he that he achieved a world-wide reputation as a religious 
 thinker. He simply stepped one side from his chosen career 
 as pastor of a little village church, and finding himself in a 
 footpath leading through the fields, he followed it to the 
 treasure at the end of it. I remember his first year of teach- 
 ing theology, when he made use of Doctor Dodge's text- 
 book, at the same time silently building up a system of his 
 own. There could have been no conscious purpose to become 
 great. He was like a tree that bears fruit not by trying, but 
 because it has so much life that it does not know what to 
 do with it and so turns it into fruit. Doctor Clarke lived 
 his silent and crescendo life for the most part in auiet coun- 
 
i66 WILLIAM NEWTON CLARKE 
 
 try places in close contact with nature in her simplest forms. 
 In making an inventory of his Httle world, he could only say: 
 
 "There is best living here loving and serving, 
 And quest of truth, and serene friendships dear." 
 
 Doctor Clarke's studies in theology did not segregate 
 him from a life of sympathy, not perhaps with all sorts and 
 conditions of men, but especially with spirits touched to 
 finer issues. This is why Hamilton seems such a lonely place 
 without him, and why one feels as never before the pathos 
 of Tennyson's lament over Arthur Hallam: 
 
 "For this alone on death I wreak 
 The wrath that garners in my heart, 
 He put our lives so far apart 
 We cannot hear each other speak." 
 
 His sympathy gave a pecuUar charm to his conversation. 
 Like Richard Cory, "He was always human when he talked." 
 He makes one think of Doctor Johnson's friend, who gave 
 up studying philosophy because cheerfulness was always 
 breaking in. He knew the secret of kindling into fruitage 
 the minds of others. He was a good hstener. Like the 
 women of the French salons he had the art of intellectual 
 stimulation. He drew out of you your best thought, like 
 the eminent pedagogue, who said: "I teach not; I awaken." 
 He took the impress of your thought, without urging his 
 own. This sjnnpathy of his was the secret of his success in 
 apologetics. He always felt the full force of an opponent's 
 objection. He could put himself in the place of the doubter. 
 The influence of such men as he and PhilUps Brooks is due 
 not alone to the big, positive truths they project into the 
 mind, but more still to the fact that they sympathize with 
 your profoundcst doubt and yet remain brave and true. 
 
 One of the richest assets in the community Ufe of our 
 little village of Hamilton, where Doctor Clarke spent many 
 
WILLIAM NEWTON CLARKE 167 
 
 of his most fruitful years, is the presence in it of various peo- 
 ple who, having found life somewhat hard and disappoint- 
 ing, have come here as to a refuge for their declining days. 
 They have been attracted perhaps by the village church with 
 its deep religious consciousness, and in it many a heart "at 
 leisure from itself to soothe and sympathize," and partly by 
 the university which naturally yields a cultured social at- 
 mosphere peculiarly congenial to those who are walking in 
 a solitary way. I hardly know any stretch of shore of equal 
 length upon which there have been cast up so many pa- 
 thetic specimens of human flotsam and jetsam. They are like 
 the Persian sage who, when he was asked what his aim in 
 life was, rephed: "I have no aim; I have fired." Many of 
 them are not Uving any longer; they are existing. They 
 remind you of the voiceless about whom Oliver Wendell 
 Holmes so pathetically sings: 
 
 "O hearts that break and give no sign 
 Save whitening lip and fading tresses, 
 Till Death pours out his cordial wine 
 
 Slow-dropped from Misery's crushing presses." 
 
 It may be some old missionary or retired minister with 
 
 "Heart worn out by many wars 
 And eyes grown dim with gazing on the pilot stars" 
 
 or some physician who has retired from practise in a distant 
 city, and himself broken in health has come here to die, or 
 some lady teacher of advanced years with mind eager and 
 alert, but halting step unequal to the quick pace of the mod- 
 em educational procession. Such people remind you of the 
 haunting music of George Eliot's sentence: "The feelings 
 that gather fervor from novelty will be of httle help toward 
 making the world a home for dimmed and faded human 
 beings, and if there is any love of which they are not wid- 
 owed it must be the love that is rooted in memories and 
 
i68 WILLIAM NEWTON CLARKE 
 
 distils perpetually the sweet balm of fidelity and forbearing 
 tenderness." It is easy for us to forget that such people 
 exist at all. They have learned to be very shy and unob- 
 trusive. Now these were the people of whom Doctor Clarke 
 was in search, like a good shepherd. He found his way into 
 their homes. He ministered to them out of the resources of 
 his own rich nature. His sympathy was of the kind that 
 follows up suffering. It seemed never to tire. It made 
 you think of the good Samaritan who, having become once 
 involved in a procedure of kindness, found there was no end 
 to it. I call that story the Parable of the Holy And. The 
 whole of it bristles with that little conjunction. Doctor 
 Clarke's sympathy had no use for the proverb: "Out of sight, 
 out of mind." He followed you with letters which braced you 
 up to go on bearing the struggles of the soul with renewed for- 
 titude. A young minister who after his graduation at Yale 
 University was pastor for four years of the Congregational 
 Church in Hamilton, and while there used faithfully to at- 
 tend Doctor Clarke's lectures, told me that he had a num- 
 ber of letters from Doctor Clarke which he kept bound up 
 in a little volume by themselves for perusal when lonely and 
 perplexed. Who can measure the outreach of such letters, 
 written, many of them, not on the cold t3^ewriter, but with 
 the warmth of his own hand, and the influence they will 
 exert for years to come upon the serious and alert minds of 
 the rising ministry ! 
 
 [The above tribute to his friend, long delayed by the count- 
 less exactions of the Adoniram Judson centennial year, was 
 written by Doctor Judson shortly before the death of his wife, 
 while he was watching over her in anxiety and extreme physical 
 weakness, and keeping up only as his almost exhausted heart 
 was spurred on by the use of a powerful stimulant. In a 
 letter which accompanied the article he said: "I am going 
 about my work with leaden feet!" 
 
 Four weeks after the passing of the brave, true spirit that 
 had been nearest to him from youth to age, a spirit that 
 
WILLIAM NEWTON CLARKE 169 
 
 shone diamond bright to all who really knew her, the door into 
 the unseen was opened to Edward Judson. 
 
 Doctor Judson had almost hfelong associations with Ham- 
 ilton, whither he had been brought as a boy of six years, after 
 the death of his father, the great pioneer missionary of Bur- 
 mah. His place of summer rest, if indeed he ever rested, 
 was the pleasant house in the heart of the village, with its 
 lawn and garden which he never tired of beautifying, and 
 which Mrs. Judson made wonderfully charming within. It 
 seems impossible that the rich and sparkling life of that be- 
 loved home is now only a memory,] 
 
AN APPRECIATION 
 By Reverend Henry H. Peabody, D.D. 
 
 In these days when the creedal path is proving so crumbly 
 to the feet of the pilgrim, now and then a reUgious teacher 
 or preacher dies whose creed has radically changed, yet whose 
 religious followers on being so told are both surprised and 
 indignant. His friends rise in resentment and look wither- 
 ingly upon the accuser as one who would slander the dead. 
 Not that this teacher or preacher, wherever found, has one 
 creed that he gives and another that he withholds, but that 
 as his doubt has deepened into certitude he has inclined 
 less and less to theological preaching, given himself over to 
 the ethical demands of the pulpit, and allowed the assump- 
 tion that he accepts the creed as of yore to hve on undenied. 
 The coming of the light is a flicker to his intellect alone and 
 has never forced him out of the protecting silence into the 
 sunlit spaces. This light has impelled him timidly to the 
 cellar instead of to the housetop. There came a prompting 
 that he did not meet. He declined the guidance and the 
 service of the highest and morally held his will in leash. Un- 
 like Luther, his conscience "would allow him to leave the 
 truth in the lurch." The trees growing in a soil of ashes 
 are wrinkled and gray. The teacher whose symbol is the in- 
 verted bushel, misled by what he calls his Christian policy, 
 leaves a mark dim, blurred, and unworthy. He denies the 
 power of the open life to transfigure us. He dies with the 
 guilt of quietism upon him, apparently unrepented of and 
 certainly unconfessed, and leaving the few who knew him 
 and the many who knew him not with devious and conflict- 
 ing estimates of his character and influence. He deliber- 
 ately declined to enter the good fight. 
 
 170 
 
AN APPRECIATION 171 
 
 Not many months since, the writer sat under the shadow 
 of "Salvation Inn" in the Uttle Devonshire village of Clo- 
 velly and conversed with an old-time parishioner of Charles 
 Kingsley, whose spirit grew hot at my intimation that his 
 pastor had largely broken from the doctrinal standards of 
 the Church of England. He declared that I must be the first 
 to utter the charge. The liberality of the literary Kingsley 
 was too nebulous, his mark too indistinct to be other than 
 quickly rubbed out, leaving him now in things of belief prac- 
 tically an unknown factor. 
 
 Professor William N. Clarke, who has during the past 
 year passed over the "gray ferry," left no such confusion 
 behind him. His mark is too distinct for contradiction. He 
 was the enemy of many false things in religion and has writ- 
 ten a book. He was unmistakably an unorthodox saint and 
 believer. God so greatened to him that many false things 
 in belief just fell away and could no more be retained. He 
 walked out and out in the simplicity of Jesus and sought as 
 persistently to reveal as did many to conceal. He respected 
 too profoundly his own spiritual nature to gain other than 
 an added clinch to duty in his changed convictions. He had 
 an Emersonian self-reliance and could say with the monk 
 of Wittenberg: "In the beginning of my course when I wrote 
 against indulgences and their abuse, I received from heaven 
 the gift of depending upon myself instead of others." Under 
 his clear vision the impulse to Hve the open life strengthened 
 upon him. As Huxley said of his friend may we of ours: 
 "He had intellect to comprehend his highest duty distinctly 
 and force of character to do it." Son of a minister, in turn 
 did he seek to discharge the ministerial function, only to find 
 in the coming on of his first prophetic days that his creedal 
 heritage was faulty, and that he must be about the recon- 
 struction of his house of faith. He saw others in his profes- 
 sion hard floundering in the midst of a like creedal wreckage, 
 to differ from him, however, in that the truer thought made 
 
172 WILLIAM NEWTON CLARKE 
 
 him at once its quiet champion, while with them there was a 
 falling away into the still pool of quietism, where the fear of 
 man became the one directive force. To him, as to Paul, 
 the \dsion was heavenly, to make him more than ever a child 
 of obedience. The glory of our man was not that he came 
 into new light but into new duty that he did not despise. 
 Charles Kingsley, we say, dechned the good fight for nobler 
 human faith, which our professor did not do. Many and most 
 plausible were the argxmients to lead him down the quietis- 
 tic path, so sure and safe, but to him impossible of accep- 
 tance. He could not be made to think that to speak openly 
 was other than the best policy; or if not that, then a law of 
 everlasting life. Silence to him was a poisonous glade charged 
 with moral miasma. The open life could not prove destruc- 
 tive, but to him brought wondrous growth. He said to me 
 once: "I do not think of myself as at all a genius, only a 
 plain man to get on slowly." He was not, perhaps, pro- 
 foundly intuitional — one whose nature, that is, flashed out 
 quickly broadside pictures of truth — but studious, patiently 
 brooding, experimental, a step-by-step student, a rising 
 "pyramid of stone." Not slow, however, but rapid was his 
 unfolding. Whatever the celerity of his progress, the marks 
 of growth were ever multiplying upon him. And this be- 
 cause he was the true man walking a straight Hne. As Ste- 
 venson said, so might this unwearied toiler: "I still see 
 God in the inch and cUng to that." And every inch of gain 
 to him brought more than light to the intellectual side of 
 religion, but added more than an inch to the acre of his ear- 
 nest tillage. So he began to write his books, not from a flam- 
 ing ambition, but feeling that what had come to be his the- 
 ology was a form of humanity, and his plain words were for 
 the healing of sore and aching hearts. The wide fame that 
 came to him made him the most distinguished son of cen- 
 tral New York and the widest read of all American theolo- 
 gians. And this all came from his lowly walk in the light. 
 
AN APPRECIATION 173 
 
 He did not thrust himself above his Master or deem himself 
 too good for human service. This walk freshened his mes- 
 sage, strengthened him at the centre, freed him from the 
 "demon of the commonplace," and made him a preacher 
 and a writer of power. 
 
 How came our friend in the light and not another? Why- 
 Luther and not Tetzel? Why does one man gravitate to 
 the truth and his next-door neighbor just as certainly pass 
 under a delusive spell? In every community there are 
 those who, sooner than others, will become the easy victims 
 of any prevalent superstition or sophism, will be the last to 
 welcome an incoming truth or the last to let go an outgoing 
 error. In every community, too, the herald, the catcher of 
 the foregleam. And who more quick than Jesus to see the 
 light-seeing mind as an outcome of the clarified heart? To 
 the pure in heart life tends to become a voluminous beati- 
 tude, with the darkness ever waning. It is the truth-loving 
 who gravitate this way, not that, to whatever point truth lies. 
 It is the pure in heart, not the weak children of passion whose 
 hearts muddy the stream of their life, whose creeds are clari- 
 fied in the Hght, and to whose lives direction is given. The 
 "inner light" of the Quaker — to follow that is the supremest 
 test to which we can be put, since this it is which grips the 
 will afresh to duty. Doctor Clarke had great purity of 
 heart. The great stumbling rocks in the mental stream- 
 way, the vulgar prejudices and unyielding antipathies that 
 so belittle the common life, were not his, could not gain 
 lodgment in his stream. God made him to love truth with 
 a holy passion, and this he did. No one can interpret this 
 man's life but by taking the measurement of his sympathy. 
 He was so tenderly human that a bad piece of theology 
 seemed to him utterly cruel. He was a profoundly loyal 
 soul and when caught between two loyalties — the cardinal 
 and the superficial — the lower must give way. He had the 
 vision which is ever joined with purity of heart. He was 
 
174 WILLIAM NEWTON CLARKE 
 
 thought to be disloyal to his denomination, yet so loyal to 
 the spirit was he as to be constantly proving its best friend. 
 There is no good fight without loyalty to that which bums 
 deepest within, no loyalty to another when false to oneself. 
 For Doctor Clarke to be loyal to his denomination was just 
 to write his books. The loud-voiced loyalty that deals with 
 life's externalities and satisfies so many fell short in his es- 
 teem. Carlyle's definition of the sectarian, as one who mis- 
 takes the sleazy umbrella over his head for the whole sky's 
 broad canopy, would lead to a grade of loyalty impossible to 
 him. 
 
 His recoil from a theological brawl and his quiet and per- 
 sistent continuance in the good fight into which must enter 
 both the active and the passive elements of courage were 
 equally marked. He was a fine economizer of power and of 
 his opportunities. Among the well-poised men of any large 
 grouping he was well-nigh the most so, and this in mind and 
 heart kept him free from wastefulness. He was careful of 
 what he said, careful, too, that he said it, and that no fog- 
 bank of sophistication eclipsed or abbreviated his message. 
 He caught at once the difference between a patched-up 
 statement, the victory of which is transient, though the con- 
 ceit of the patcher may lead him to think it final, and a con- 
 clusive proof sharing largely in the permanent. Duty came 
 to him and extended the hand of responsibility, and he took 
 it. Here at this Hamilton scholastic shrine he lived the most 
 of his life of protest and fought out the good fight, mellow- 
 ing in his saintliness and coming through at last with soul 
 sweetly beaming. He had no relish for martyrdom and per- 
 haps felt that the word did not belong to this generation, 
 and yet when duty and all kinds of disagreeable experiences 
 intersected, not a shadow of hesitation passed over him. 
 
 This crisis in his spiritual history of which we have spoken 
 brought a deep trial of his faith. The most subtle of all 
 tyrannies and the least pungent, that of friendship — from 
 
AN APPRECIATION 175 
 
 this he felt a strong pressure. Voices — good, mothering 
 voices without number, coming from a kindly though a 
 worldly prudence — bid him be loyal, though back of their 
 warnings was the subconscious fear that he might be, and 
 by their loyalty meaning something quite unlike that of the 
 spirit inly speaking. He was dreaming of a higher service 
 to his church than that his friends would hold him to. What 
 Theodore D. Bacon has recently written, "that of all Prot- 
 estant bodies the Baptists were in the profoundest dog- 
 matic slumber," Doctor Clarke felt to be true, and to awaken 
 his denomination from this slumber became tlie strongest, 
 most central purpose of his Hfe. But more, I believe, may 
 be said, what this author has indeed said in part, that of all 
 Protestant bodies during the last quarter of a century none 
 has come to a more profound spiritual awakening than the 
 Baptists. During this quarter of a century our evangelism 
 has taken on more of what it previously lacked — the pro- 
 phetic spirit and aim. We have come to see that the time is 
 at hand when we shall cease to be known as always fatally 
 conservative in theology. And in the line of this deep stir- 
 ring whose voice has been so potent as that of the Colgate 
 professor? In him theology has had well-nigh a revival of 
 no mean proportions the Christian world over; yes, to thou- 
 sands of readers it has regained its lost charm and interest 
 through the rare persuasion of our friend's personality. To 
 him religion was not a certain fixed quality beyond addi- 
 tion or subtraction, but as truth, beauty, power, was to en- 
 large and deepen, take on and cast off, and the change that 
 had come to his faith was so life-giving as to send him forth 
 as its champion. No policy of silence could be allowed to 
 take the place of open speech. To him the greatest and most 
 subtle of all policies was the policy of perfect truthfulness. 
 To him the opposite, the belief that the cause of religion is 
 well served by trimming down the truth, clipping its fringes, 
 was a heresy, an ethical heresy piercing to the very heart of 
 
176 WILLIAM NEWTON CLARKE 
 
 Christ. The honey of the demagogue is in reality poison. 
 Trimming down the truth may prove a passing comfort to 
 some but brings no abiding paraclete to any. 
 
 The spirit, too, in which he waged his battle made his 
 fight good. There was nothing harsh in his emotional make- 
 up. Over the fields of his personality the harrowing winds 
 never blew. His was not the instinct of the gladiator in 
 which he loved to measure himself with an opponent and 
 glory in his overthrow. It seemed a profanation to those 
 who might attack him and was always done, it seemed to me, 
 in pain or extreme reluctance. In fact, men who under like 
 conditions would have been fierce and violent to others, to 
 him were, as a rule, in their protest gentle, quiet, tmsevere. 
 If our professor was the occasion of a storm, their hearts, 
 not his, were that storm's humming centre. He was so ideal 
 in spirit as to keep within moderation the battle all along 
 the line. He never created the waste of a useless antagonism. 
 The endless agitation of thought with thought in human 
 life was to him normal and desirable; without it there was 
 no getting on and up to the better and truer things of faith. 
 He was tolerance itself to the friends of the old faith and 
 would have defended them valiantly from the hot breath of 
 any liberal's intolerance. He did enjoy a frank interchange 
 of the most interior thought, but when the tongue grew 
 edgy and the heart's waters roiled, unfit for the use of the 
 sheep, he drew into the covert of silence. The proverbial 
 chip so common to the human shoulder was never seen on 
 his. In the theological attitude he had assumed he was too 
 keen in his knowledge of men to be surprised at what came 
 his way, and took willingly, though not gladly, his measure 
 of the heretic's odium. He who criticised him was, to his 
 mind, doing no more than he should — a criticism that gen- 
 erally ended in praise of his Christian character. So gently 
 impersonal was his word that the retort came back shod in 
 the velvet of his own mildness. He was easy to converse with 
 
AN APPRECIATION 177 
 
 but hard to quarrel with, so one-sided must the quarrel be. 
 His nature was so keyed that radicalism was possible with- 
 out the iconoclastic. In Japan, we read, the sword-maker 
 works in priestly garb and eats only of food cooked with holy 
 fire. The sword of the spirit was our friend's; he fought 
 his good fight and won by that aggressive force that, sword- 
 like, flashes in and out from character. Longfellow was pure 
 in spirit, but then he fell further below the prophetic than 
 any other of our leading poets. Carlyle rose into the pro- 
 phetic, but in his rudeness and morbid sensibility lost the 
 grace and serenity of Longfellow. Our professor walked 
 nearer the ideal, walked well the even trail that makes the 
 morally beautiful prophetic and the prophetic radiantly 
 beautiful. ''Walk with a crowd," said Lafcadio Hearn, "and 
 you will never do anything great," yet our friend's heart 
 kept him, which is better, to the great crowd of his denomi- 
 nation — not in bondage to it, but by his freedom seeking to 
 bless all who walk within it, this as a theologian plainly on 
 our level, concerned with questions more practically religious 
 than transcendentally theological. 
 
 I say the light that came to our teacher brought its test. 
 Till its pressure to divide his ways he did not know how 
 strong or weak he was. Then his honesty lost the common- 
 place, became the deepest attitude of his soul and opened out 
 upon the path that led to his cross. Jesus saw no clearer 
 path of pain and sorrow than may the young man of to-day 
 who, " Queed "-like, walks in the light of his ideal. There is 
 an honesty, one with a successful pohcy and joined with no 
 cross. There is, too, an honesty that never yet has led to 
 what men call success, but always to condemnation and loss, 
 and unfailingly injects to the honey of life a bitter tang. Our 
 professor knew what it was to have his heart melt under the 
 stirring romance of the heroic life, and the time came when 
 that Jerusalem cross seemed of value only as it led him to 
 push his shoulder under one of his amid present issues, and 
 
178 WILLIAM NEWTON CLARKE 
 
 to know his own bitterness. And this individual cross was 
 incident to the plain speaking of his message. How much 
 more dishonesty means now under the deepening of duty, as 
 he joined the disciples of old in being the light of the world. 
 The conservative asks: "Am I not, too, an honest man?" 
 "Is the radical the only one to be called honest?" But have 
 you never asked why the truer man suffers what the moral 
 floater does not? A radical zone stretches between them. 
 The morally venturesome goes with one and not with the 
 other. True, the way of the transgressor is hard; that of the 
 idealist also. The difference between the conserver and the 
 bringer in, the daring scout on the field of human advance, 
 is that one walks with the many, the other with the few, the 
 one to retain the spiritual deposits of the past the other to 
 add thereto. The conservative never stands for a truth that 
 has not already won its way out of the zone of danger, its 
 day of cross, into the peaceful clover-field of blooming secur- 
 ity. We live in a life in which truth is in perpetual flux, 
 with enough coming to every generation to focalize its aims 
 into earnest issue and divide thinking minds into what we 
 call conservative and radical the world over. Unless a man 
 enters into this ceaseless contest in furtherance of the truth 
 of God, he remains untested and knows not whether he be 
 honest or not in any radical meaning of the word, and we 
 know not with what alacrity or lack of the same he would 
 decUne the prophet's call or rise to its demand. 
 
 Doctor Clarke was a tested prophet of the soul. The 
 message that had come to him was so strong as to sweep 
 him without disguise to its utterance. Like his Master, he 
 overcame the world. He helped men in that he would speak 
 out. There was a small multitude of those who in a measure 
 had the light to the one who made it an open word. With- 
 out prating of sincerity he simply was sincere. God was the 
 guest in his own breast and he would not dismiss him. He, 
 in the household of faith, was a great servant of the truth. 
 
AN APPRECIATION 179 
 
 He was a friend in the spirit, the religious helper always 
 needed, and in his inreach profoundest of all. His feet were 
 clear of the clay that sticks to the shoes of the clumsy politic, 
 and his break from us was not merely a slight perfume of 
 unorthodoxy on the one hand nor a pretentious and extrava- 
 gant heterodoxy on the other, but a quiet message void of 
 extremes, spoken in a style that betrayed the moral realism 
 of his nature, such as came from out the deeps of old Hugh 
 Latimer, who at thirty years of age began " to smell the word 
 of God." Yet, unlike the priest's manner of speech, our 
 friend's was far removed from the rough and uncouth and 
 always touched with a gentle spirit and a simple beauty. 
 
 We have called our prophet mild of spirit. Yet he who 
 conceives of htm as gentled out of all capacity for anger 
 would seriously mistake. He had at times a Pauline wrath, 
 or that high grade of anger quickly here and gone that we 
 associate with the apostle. It was royal in its type, such as 
 a high moral nature would discharge in its most explosive 
 mood. He had an effectual gift for reproof, not always used 
 and when at all with reluctance, yet crushingly effective be- 
 cause so pure in quality and so free from any inconsistency 
 to dull its edge. Many men make easy ventures in this line, 
 whose reproof carries no sting, so entangled are they in this 
 inconsistency and that; for them to attempt the language 
 of rebuke is to fail. But the saintly Clarke — to him we in- 
 stinctively yielded the right to discharge this function, and 
 once hearing it administered, would shrink from a possible 
 application to ourselves. It was wrath pontifical indeed, yet 
 rising from such pure depths as to appear what it was, but 
 a form of friendly ministration. This teacher of ours sought 
 to cultivate reverence in his students. He would impress 
 upon them the centrality of reverence to the pulpit function. 
 He himself was profoundly reverent even in his most humor- 
 ous moods, and when in this story- telling generation the 
 young pulpiteer cut the fine thread that runs between the 
 
i8o WILLIAM NEWTON CLARKE 
 
 reverent and the humorous, our professor would cringe for 
 him and in tones of loving severity call him to his better self. 
 It was quickly done, never degenerating into what we call 
 the nagging. It was so easy for many to pass this line. Yet 
 so finely attuned was he himself to the key of the reverent 
 as never to break through it. He saw nothing irreverent in 
 the merriest mood, yet too sudden a transition from the one 
 to the other betrayed the latent defect and his reproof was 
 likely to flame out. I never knew him to say the laughter- 
 provoking thing in the pulpit, simply for the reason that to 
 one of his nature the worshipful impulse and the fun-loving 
 could not so quickly blend. He could never translate his gos- 
 pel into the terms of the comic almanac. To him the humor- 
 ous and the prayerful could not dominate the heart at the 
 same moment, but must for the time exclude each other. 
 He was that rare thing, a reverent humorist. 
 
 The English essayist Christopher Benson, writes of a 
 lack of great men in our time and claims that the passing age 
 is unfavorable to greatness. Surely the type our professor 
 stands for is large, wondrously so, in its adaptation to these 
 religious times. He dominated men intellectually his supe- 
 riors. As we stood before him his fine gifts gave way in our 
 attention to the finer glow of his character. He was not a 
 great metaphysician, simply one transcendental in his radi- 
 ant common sense, with his theology so largely the simple 
 history of his own heart. What a broad nature was his, tested 
 by growth which continued to the end. If, as has been said, 
 "all minds of the first quality move and grow and cannot 
 remain in a stone fixity," then indeed we dare pronounce him 
 great. How great he was in what he had not as in what he 
 had ! If he nurtured any personal aim, it was most success- 
 fully hidden away and had no unconscious escapes. Ambi- 
 tion with him was so gentle as to elude detection. As far as 
 appeared, his marked measure of success left uninflamed his 
 approbativeness, with his spirit unmarred. How blessedly 
 
AN APPRECIATION i8i 
 
 simple he was, like a spreading tree both lowly and lofty, and 
 meeting to a finish the great Scotchman's definition of sin- 
 cerity: "to be free from all manner of affectation." Who 
 could detect in his moral temperature in his controversial 
 days — occasional only with him — any malign heat, or in his 
 stream of endeavor any muddy sediment? How gloriously 
 he improved his time, bringing book after book out of those 
 invalid years ! How fair he was in debate, how kindly patient 
 and wilhng to go as far as he could with an opponent, holding 
 himself in, not sensitive to contradiction, unshowy of power, 
 appreciative of every glint of wisdom in that opponent's 
 argument, never seeking to gain an adherent by the pressure 
 of any dogmatic authority, but only by a legitimate persua- 
 sion ! How tactful he was, with no impression from him of 
 the merely shrewd and of the serpent's cunning ! Too sane 
 was he for any wild extremes, with fanaticism as impossible, 
 intellectually lowly and mellow as a golden leaf, with no dis- 
 position to compromise, yet blending with you to his utmost, 
 self-insisting and self-asserting, with an unsophisticated heart 
 in his breast, chivalrous, sweetly cheerful, joyful of spirit, 
 with a heart full to the brimming of the companionable, and, 
 last of all and most fundamental of all, with a transmissive 
 purpose vigorous enough to secure the giving of his message 
 and the taking back into his own breast whatever of pain 
 and sorrow must be his portion. Surely here is greatness the 
 world has ever lacked and is lacking. Rare as he was in his 
 endowment, still rarer in that lofty character from which 
 arise our inspirations and renewals to keep us steady to our 
 duties on the dusty highways of Hfe. 
 
 This great character of Doctor Clarke came to be grounded 
 more and more in the greatness of his God. To worship the 
 Httle God was impossible for him. Were I asked as to the 
 point where he helped most his spiritual friends, I should say 
 that of God. I link this great nature with his great God. 
 This would harmonize with what has come to us from out 
 
i82 WILLIAM NEWTON CLARKE 
 
 this generation as a whole. Wherein did Jesus and the Jews 
 most differ but in the varying Gods worshipped? In the 
 thoughts of God in Jesus the whole world over was to greaten 
 away from Yahweh. In most of defective religious educa- 
 tion, the chief or central defect, that which sustains and 
 keeps from falling away much of the creedal fictitiousness, is 
 that the God and the creed accepted are in agreement to sus- 
 tain each other. Reconstruct your defective thoughts of the 
 power that rules over us — the false bottom in all your re- 
 ligious thinking — and the creed as you have carried it begins 
 to slacken in its hold. The better God cannot enter if the 
 old-time worship be retained. It was so with Professor 
 Clarke himself, that to retain his olden faith after the beam- 
 ing out upon him of his newly greatened Father was impos- 
 sible. Luther claimed at one time, because of the Reforma- 
 tion light, that the quality of worship in Germany had im- 
 proved. This monk as the friend of G^d won the people to 
 a less crude worship. Fresh joy, hope, and cheer came in 
 the light of God's now glorified features, the hold of the ritual 
 lessened, God tended to become the burning centre of the 
 people's praise. Let us once admit the progress in the idea of 
 God and there is an inevitable lifting up all along the devo- 
 tional line. In this greatening of God come all strengthening 
 impulses of our faith. To change in this high altitude tells 
 in every movement on the human level. Half-paganized con- 
 ceptions of God come up to us out of the early ages and lodge 
 in our creeds and Uturgies, and to remove them means long 
 and earnest battle. Theology is in the main a matter of God, 
 and there is no progress in one save as we ascend in the other. 
 Much of the atonement philosophy of the past has now fallen 
 away before the rounded conception of the Infinite nature, 
 till, with Browning, we can see Christ in God, or, with Heine, 
 we can speak of him not as delighting in costly ceremonies 
 but as "a God of the people, a citizen God." In our absent 
 teacher the deep, true showing of the Father blossoms in 
 
AN APPRECIATION 183 
 
 theology Into an added mercy and beauty, renders our wor- 
 ship less crude and reluctant, and more spontaneous and 
 free. " Poor, poor, pitiable, pitiable are his low- toned thoughts 
 of God," he would say in tremulous tones, speaking of some 
 writer under discussion. 
 
 Death bore him home to the hearts of many. In the day 
 of his passing, wherever two or three of his friends had gath- 
 ered, there was this professor in their midst. The event of 
 his death fell silently but thoughtfully. Those who spoke of 
 him were few to those who quietly took in again the measure 
 of his life and called it good. Those who had differed could 
 not by force of this event become praiseful, yet felt sure that 
 a character of large and beauteous proportions had passed 
 on. The number of those who loved him and are thankful 
 for the simple moral splendor of his manhood are very many. 
 We are grateful that when the Hght came and his orthodox 
 days had passed, he did not say, "No creed," and so turn 
 away from theology, the common mistake of the liberal, but 
 "A better creed," with years of devotion to its reconstruc- 
 tion. In him we feel anew the power and immortal charm 
 of the Christian Hfe, as in him it fell away so completely 
 from the weariedly commonplace in rehgion. In him many 
 of his students gained the first sweet taste of the open Ufe 
 and still feel the friendly fascination of his spirit. He was a 
 friend of God and came to his defense, and through him a 
 multitude found the Father afresh. I am glad of heart that 
 this man went through the gateway of death not under the 
 cloud of the self-hidden life and with Hps stoutly sealed. He 
 gave the world what it wofully needed, an open word in re- 
 ligion, and we are thankful for it. No devotee of the clod 
 was he; to him "duty was twin to adoration." In the things 
 in which he broke from us he drew nearer to us, was in the 
 line of advance, yet in certain elements of his nature he was 
 simply great, whether true or mistaken in his cleavage. So 
 the silence of many, which must be, shall not trouble us or 
 
i84 WILLIAM NEWTON CLARKE 
 
 make us impatient for the coming of the more general ac- 
 claim. Bunyan says, writing of "Mr. Valiant for Truth," 
 as he merged into the shadow of the celestial city: "So he 
 passed over, and all the trumpets sounded on the other side." 
 On this side, with our friend, not all the trumpets sounded; 
 in many cases not even an oaten straw was blown. Here, 
 single voices, but there, we must believe, the full orchestra 
 of praise. The memory of this helper in the spiritual Ufe will 
 grow great with years; there is nothing fictitious in his fame 
 to fade, while much to broaden into lasting appreciation. 
 And as he passed over, however quiet the instruments of 
 praise here, I will think like Bunyan with the hero of his 
 allegory, that on "the other side" there was a great out- 
 burst of glad acclaim that our St. William with heart ever 
 valiant for truth had at last come to his eternal home to 
 receive his lasting citizenship in the city of God. 
 
 ► >' "-^"-^--^ ^-^r- -r.^-^^ 
 
THE "THEOLOGY" OF WH^LIAM NEWTON CLARKE^ 
 By William Adams Brown, Union Theological Seminary 
 
 Fifteen years ago there appeared a volume of some four 
 hundred pages, which bore the modest title, An Outline of 
 Christian Theology. It had originally been prepared by the 
 author, a professor in Hamilton Theological Seminary, for 
 the use of his seminary classes, and, after circulating for 
 some time in the form of typewritten notes, was privately 
 printed for the greater convenience of the users. No at- 
 tempt was made to advertise the book, but in due time it 
 found its way into the hands of one and another who was 
 interested in theological questions, and when in 1898 it was 
 issued by the author through the ordinary channels, it re- 
 ceived from the pubUc an instant and hearty welcome. 
 
 Three quaUties explain the success of Doctor Clarke's 
 Theology. In the first place, it was written in a clear and 
 simple style. Technical theological terms were as far as 
 possible avoided. While it gave evidence of wide and care- 
 ful reading, there was no parade of learning. The author 
 was evidently concerned to tell his story in the most direct 
 fashion possible, and content to rely for his appeal upon the 
 inherent interest of his subject-matter. 
 
 The spirit in which the book was written was moreover 
 one of singular serenity. The author approached the vexed 
 questions of theology with a quiet confidence which at once 
 disarmed criticism and allayed fear. He contemplated the 
 changes wrought in our view of the world by modern science 
 with calmness, as if they were a matter of course. He was 
 untroubled by Biblical criticism. The theory of evolution 
 was accepted without question; the traditional eschatology 
 
 'Reprinted from The Harvard Theological Review, vol. HI, April, 1910. 
 
 185 
 
i86 WILLIAM NEWTON CLARKE 
 
 so courteously dismissed that one scarcely realized that it 
 was gone. Where many writers, like the chief captain in 
 Acts, had obtained their freedom with a great price, Doctor 
 Clarke wrote as one free born. He seemed as much at home 
 spiritually in the modern world as he had been when a boy 
 in his father's house. 
 
 And yet he was none the less Christian. Indeed, the 
 striking thing about the book was its militant and aggressive 
 Christianity. The author was evidently one who had com- 
 muned deeply with Jesus, and had drawn from his commu- 
 nion convictions which had so laid hold upon his spirit as to 
 demand utterance. He believed that the gospel of Christ 
 was a message which the world had not yet outgrowTi, and 
 it was his endeavor to justify this faith by showing its adap- 
 tation to the present needs and problems of men. 
 
 A book wliich presents a positive message in a form 
 which is at once lucid and convincing is sure to find readers, 
 but these quaUties alone would not have explained the suc- 
 cess of Doctor Clarke's Theology. It appeared at an oppor- 
 tune time and met a want which was widely felt by laymen 
 as well as by ministers. Many who had broken intellectually 
 with the doctrinal statements of the past still felt themselves 
 at home emotionally in the religious values which they sought 
 to express, and they welcomed this new statement of old 
 truths because it made it possible for them to preserve their 
 continuity with the Christian past, without the sacrifice of 
 intellectual consistency. This fact gave the book a repre- 
 sentative character. It was an index registering the pres- 
 ence of deep currents in the religious life of our time, and, as 
 such, it deserves the attention of all who are interested in 
 the study of contemporary religion. 
 
 In the present article we propose to review Doctor Clarke's 
 theology with a view to discovering wherein its representa- 
 tive character consists. We shall take for the basis of our 
 discussion his most recent book, the Christian Doctrine of God. 
 
THE "THEOLOGY" OF DOCTOR CLARKE 187 
 
 In this closely printed octavo of some four hundred and 
 seventy-five pages, he gives a systematic exposition of the 
 fundamental principles of his theology. The same quaUties 
 which we noted in his earlier work reappear here. The book 
 is at once lucid, modern, and Christian, but the treatment 
 is fuller, and the reasoning more rigorous. Much that the 
 earlier discussion implied is here fully developed. More than 
 one untenable position has been abandoned. No recent book 
 by an English-speaking theologian reveals more clearly the 
 prevailing tendency and controlling spirit of modern theo- 
 logical thought. 
 
 The aim which the author sets himself can be stated very 
 simply. It is to present a conception of God which shall be 
 at once Christian and credible. This is indeed no new thing; 
 it is what Christian theology has always been attempting. 
 The originality of Doctor Clarke's treatment consists in the 
 way in which he solves his problem in detail. 
 
 In the first place, then, the idea of God which- he presents 
 is Christian. By this he means that it is consistent with the 
 spirit and teaching of Jesus, the founder of Christianity. It 
 is not an idea of God which we gain through modern science 
 primarily and then baptize with the name Christian for the 
 purpose of convenience. It is an idea which in its essenrial 
 features grows out of the historic revelation recorded in the 
 Bible and which, as such, can be scientifically defined and 
 tested. A considerable part of Doctor Clarke's introduction 
 is devoted to the study of the historic sources of the Chris- 
 tian doctrine, as they are found in Jesus' life and teaching. 
 This does not mean that our author undertakes to reproduce 
 Jesus' teaching concerning God in detail. Such an attempt, 
 even if successful, would not accomplish the purpose which 
 he has in mind, which is to present an idea of God which 
 shall be intelligible to modern men. The language in which 
 Jesus expressed his faith in God is very different from that of 
 Doctor Clarke's Theology. - It is the language of popular re- 
 
i88 WILLIAM NEWTON CLARKE 
 
 ligion, not of scientific thought. It has for its background 
 the world-view of the older Judaism, a view in which the 
 earth was regarded as the centre of the universe; where the 
 existence of spirits, good and evil, was everywhere assumed; 
 where human history was compressed within a few thousand 
 years, and the final catastrophe with which it was to close 
 was believed to be imminent. This view of the world neces- 
 sarily affected Jesus' method of stating his doctrine; but it 
 must not be identified with it. Jesus does not give us a meta- 
 physical theory of God which stands or falls with a particu- 
 lar philosophy of the universe. He describes him in moral 
 and religious terms, capable of appHcation to very different 
 intellectual surroundings and needing to be constantly rein- 
 terpreted, in view of the changes in contemporary science 
 and philosophy. Such an interpretation Doctor Clarke un- 
 dertakes to give. "By the Christian doctrine of God," he 
 tells us, "is meant, in the present discussion, the conception 
 of God which Christian faith and thought propose for the 
 present time, in view of the Bible and of history, and of all 
 sound knowledge and experience, interpreted in the light of 
 Jesus Christ, the revealer. It is a doctrine concerning which 
 we can say at the point at which we now stand, that it is true 
 if Jesus Christ does reveal God truly" (p. 4). 
 
 The position here assigned to Jesus illustrates a prevailing 
 tendency in contemporary religious thought. In a sense far 
 higher and truer than was the case with the older theology 
 modern theology makes the person of Jesus normative for 
 its thought of God. The old theology constructed its doctrine 
 of Christ's person in the light of a preconceived conception 
 of God. Jesus was two persons in one nature, a God who 
 for the time had assumed the form of man, but whose real 
 nature was unaffected thereby. Modern theology thinks 
 of Jesus as a man, but a man through whom God's spirit has 
 found such complete expression that it is possible to see in 
 his character the perfect revelation of the heart of God. To 
 
THE "THEOLOGY" OF DOCTOR CLARKE 189 
 
 believe in God, as modem theology conceives of him, means 
 to extend throughout the range of universal experience that 
 same gracious purpose and consistent character which Jesus 
 has revealed within the conditions of a human hfe. 
 
 Two consequences follow from this principle. The first 
 is, that theology must take its departure from the character 
 of God rather than from those metaphysical attributes which 
 express his relation to the universe, and which are therefore 
 necessarily affected by changes in contemporary thought. 
 The second is, that it must seek to conceive this character 
 in a way that is consistent with the moral and religious 
 teaching of Jesus. 
 
 Both these conclusions Doctor Clarke draws. Unlike 
 the older theologians, he begins his exposition of the idea of 
 God by a description of his character, and then goes on to 
 develop God's relation to men and to the universe. In his 
 picture of the divine character he gives the central place to 
 the qualities which Jesus himself made central in his own 
 thought of God. Like Jesus, he emphasizes the outgoing 
 love of God, the Father who is ever ready to receive the 
 prodigal, and whose gracious purpose anticipates the need 
 of his children. Like Jesus, he emphasizes the extent of 
 God's mercy, a mercy which reaches the outcasts whom the 
 law has rejected, and finds more joy in the repentance of one 
 sinner than in ninety and nine just persons who need no re- 
 pentance. Like Jesus, finally, he emphasizes the consis- 
 tency of God's character, the God who maketh his sun to rise 
 on the evil and on the good, and sendeth rain on the unjust 
 and the just. 
 
 I say, he emphasizes the consistency of God's character. 
 It is at this point that his departure from the older theology 
 appears most clearly. The terms which Doctor Clarke uses 
 are those familiar to historic Christian theology, holiness, 
 wisdom, and love, but the meaning which our author puts 
 into them is in many respects new, and the relations which 
 
I90 WILLIAM NEWTON CLARKE 
 
 they sustain one to another have undergone significant 
 change. To the older theology holiness and love represented 
 independent elements in the divine nature, each requiring 
 its own appropriate gratification. The former expressed tlie 
 opposition of the righteous God to sinful man, an opposition 
 which required the punishment of all unrepented sin; the 
 latter expressed his gracious purpose to redeem his elect 
 through the forgiveness of their sins. Here we have to do 
 with two apparently inconsistent, if not contradictory, im- 
 pulses, and the chief problem of the theologian was to dis- 
 cover the way in which this inconsistency could be overcome, 
 and the love of God gratified, consistently with his holiness. 
 This, as we all know, was accomplished through the atone- 
 ment of Christ. 
 
 Doctor Clarke is conscious of no such problem. To him 
 holiness denotes simply the moral excellence of God, and love 
 is the method in which this moral excellence comes to its 
 completest expression. There is no inconsistency between 
 them, for there is no independent end which the holiness of 
 God sets for itself, as distinct from his love. God is not holy 
 when he punishes and loving when he forgives, as in the older 
 Calvinism. God is holy in his love, and loving in his holiness. 
 He is not gracious to some men and just to others, but always 
 and everywhere both just and gracious. His attitude toward 
 every man is that of the father in Jesus' parable of the prodi- 
 gal. As man's father, truly akin to him in spirit, it is his 
 supreme desire to conform his child to himself, and this de- 
 sire is the explanation of all that he does. Whether he pun- 
 ish or forgive, it is but a step in his supreme purpose of re- 
 demption. 
 
 This conception of God's character gives unity to Doctor 
 Clarke's theology. It frees it from the inconsistency and ex- 
 ceptions which meet us so frequently in the theology of the 
 past. The dualism which was so characteristic a feature of 
 the older Calvinism, and which expressed itself in the con- 
 
THE "THEOLOGY" OF DOCTOR CLARKE 191 
 
 trast between reason and revelation, nature and the super- 
 natural, law and grace, has disappeared for Doctor Clarke. 
 To him revelation is not the disclosure of an aspect of God's 
 character, otherwise unknowable, but only the clearer mani- 
 festation of that which God has always been and of which, 
 from the first, men have had more or less clear anticipations. 
 As a spiritual being, man is fitted by nature to receive the 
 divine revelation. Revelation is not the impartation by 
 supernatural process of mysteries transcending the reason of 
 man; it is the manifestation of spirit to spirit, and the recip- 
 ient recognizes in the disclosure which comes to him from 
 God not simply the revelation of the divine nature, but also 
 the complete satisfaction of ideals of which he has long been 
 conscious within himself. As the book which gives us the 
 revelation of Jesus, the ideal man, God's complete self-mani- 
 festation in humanity, the Bible is indeed a unique book. 
 But it is not God's first or only revelation, even on the side 
 of God's love. From the beginning God has written his 
 gracious purpose in the heart of man, and the disclosure 
 which he has made of himself in Christ is recognized by 
 those to whom it comes as the fulfilment of their own inner 
 prophecy. 
 
 Redemption, in like manner, is not to be conceived as an 
 exception to God's ordinary working, but rather as the nor- 
 mal method of his activity. It is not confined to a group, 
 larger or smaller, whom God has arbitrarily chosen from the 
 rest, that he may make them the subjects of his redemptive 
 activity, but concerns all mankind alike, though in different 
 order and degree. All history is part of a single process, in 
 which God is training men for membership in his kingdom. 
 In other words, all history is the history of redemption. 
 Doctor Clarke does not indeed explicitly state that all in- 
 dividuals will be saved, but that is the natural implication 
 of his discussion. If any one is lost, it will be because of his 
 own free choice. But the fiber tarian fimitation which alone 
 
192 WILLIAM NEWTON CLARKE 
 
 can avoid the conclusion of universalism is unacceptable to 
 the author. Hard as it may be for us to understand, man's 
 freedom must somehow be consistent with the divine deter- 
 mination. By moral means, to be sure, yet in the end, God 
 must control, and we may be certain that he will have his 
 way with every child of man. 
 
 This desire for ethical consistency appears instructively 
 in Doctor Clarke's treatment of the trinity. To the older 
 Protestantism, as is well knowTi, the trinity had to do with 
 inner distinctions in the nature of God himself, distinctions 
 rendered necessary in order to overcome the fundamental 
 ethical dualism to which we have already referred. Accord- 
 ing to Calvin, God is able to harmonize the conflict of the 
 claims of justice and mercy in his own character, because as 
 the second person of the trinity, the representative of mercy, 
 he is able to bear the penalty inflicted by himself as the first 
 person, the representative of justice. These ontological dis- 
 tinctions have lost their meaning for our author. The trinity 
 is a truth of the Christian experience. The distinctions with 
 which it deals concern man rather than Gk)d. They express 
 different aspects in which God manifests himself to us as we 
 contemplate the diff'erent phases of his redemptive activity. 
 He manifests himself in the order of nature, the natural proc- 
 esses which are the necessary presuppositions of the re- 
 ligious experience. He manifests himself in historical reve- 
 lation and supremely in Jthe person of Jesus Christ, our Lord. 
 He manifests himself, finally, in that personal experience 
 through which we apprehend Jesus as the revelation of the 
 God of all the world. Here we have three types of religion 
 which correspond in a measure to the three historic doc- 
 trines: natural religion, "or the religion of God as he is known 
 in the order of the world; historical religion, or religion which 
 finds its support in the historical manifestations of God in 
 events of time; personal religion, spiritual, experimental, 
 mystical, that knows God in the soul" (p. 247). In all three 
 
THE "THEOLOGY" OF DOCTOR CLARKE 193 
 
 aspects, it is the same gracious God who is revealed. The 
 tragic contrast between the demand of justice and the appeal 
 of mercy, which gives dramatic interest to the older doctrine, 
 has completely disappeared. 
 
 Such, then, is Doctor Clarke's God, a God ethically con- 
 sistent in all that he does, committed with all the intensity 
 of his moral nature to the redemptive purpose which Jesus 
 has revealed, and strong enough and wise enough to insure 
 the realization of this purpose in spite of every obstacle. 
 
 I say strong enough to insure the reahzation of his pur- 
 pose in spite of every obstacle. With this we touch a second 
 aspect of Doctor Clarke's view, which needs emphasis, namely, 
 the fact that he attributes to this idea of God universal va- 
 lidity. According to our author Jesus' God is the God of the 
 universe. When we raise philosophy's ancient question as 
 to the ultimate explanation of the varied phenomena of the 
 world, we find the only satisfying answer in the Christian 
 idea of God. The so-called metaphysical attributes of God 
 — infinity, eternity, omnipresence, and the like — are only so 
 many different ways of asserting this simple truth. 
 
 Doctor Clarke's proof of this thesis occupies the last two 
 sections of his book. The first, which treats of God and the 
 universe, is expository in nature. It explains in detail what 
 is the relation between God and the world which Christian 
 faith assumes. The second gives the reason for believing that 
 this faith is justified in fact. 
 
 It is not possible for us to follow the argument in detail. 
 In substance, it reduces to this, that the quaUties which we 
 find essential in the Christian idea of God are so inwrought 
 into the structure of the universe that it is natural to assume 
 that it has the Christian God for its author. The universe 
 is not something alien to man with which he connects him- 
 self, as if it were an existence of a different kind. "The 
 human race is part and parcel of the universe, for it has grown 
 up out of the life which was before it on the earth. . . . We 
 
194 WILLL\M NEWTON CLARKE 
 
 have to do not with a late-born race planted from the out- 
 side in a Httle world, but an ancient race which is of one sub- 
 stance with the universe, while its true life is in the powers 
 of the spirit which reach out to that which is above" (p. 371). 
 "It is plain that if this conception of the relation between 
 man and the world be true, no partial idea of God can satisfy 
 humanity. We cannot think of him except as universal in 
 his relations. He must be one God equally related to all 
 souls and to all existences" (ibid.). Clearly, then, if the 
 Christian idea of God be true, we should expect to find evi- 
 dence for it not only in the spiritual nature of man, but in 
 the universe, which is at once its home and its school. 
 
 Such e\'idence Doctor Clarke beHeves that we find. It is 
 of two kinds, rational and spiritual. The former consists in 
 the response which the universe makes to our efforts at ra- 
 tional explanation. The second, in the satisfaction which it 
 yields to the demands of our moral and religious nature. 
 
 These arguments have a familiar sound. They seem to be 
 only the well-known teleological and moral arguments in a 
 new dress. But closer examination shows that this is only in 
 part true. The older theologians used the evidence from de- 
 sign and the argument from conscience to estabhsh the exis- 
 tence of a rational and a moral God, but they were persuaded 
 that these arguments alone were inadequate to establish 
 faith in a God of love; hence they supplemented the rational 
 arguments by supernatural revelation. The dualism al- 
 ready referred to in connection with the idea of God reap- 
 pears in the proof of his existence. Doctor Clarke, as we 
 have seen, is unwilling to accept this limitation. Since the 
 God in whom he believes is everywhere loving as well as holy, 
 we should expect to find evidence of his love wherever his 
 activity extends, and this Doctor Clarke believes to be the 
 case. The argument from reason does not lead us to the 
 door of Christianity and then stop; it is valid all along the 
 line. The demand which we find within ourselves for a ra- 
 
THE "THEOLOGY" OF DOCTOR CLARKE 195 
 
 tional explanation of things finds its satisfaction only in the 
 kind of God that Jesus Christ reveals. When we have come 
 to think of God as Jesus did, and turn back to the universe, 
 we find that all its elements fall into place as parts of the 
 consistent plan, and mysteries which would otherwise baffle 
 our reason find in him their solution. 
 
 The uniformity of nature, with its results in undeserved 
 suffering becomes the means which the Father uses for the 
 training of his children in courage and faith. The spiritual 
 aspirations of man which seem so often in irreconcilable con- 
 flict with reality are to the Christian evidences of a divine 
 sonship which finds in God, and in God alone, its complete 
 satisfaction. So the Christian idea of God proves every- 
 where a unifying conception. It harmonizes all the unre- 
 lated elements in our thinking and in our feeling. It gives 
 us, for the first time, a consistent universe, and there is no 
 other idea which does this with the same success. 
 
 Here, too, the position taken by Doctor Clarke is typical. 
 In rejecting the dualism of the older apology, and relying 
 for his proof of the Christian God upon evidence similar in 
 kind to that of which we make use in other fields of experi- 
 ence, he is in touch with the prevailing spirit in contempo- 
 rary theology. 
 
 But at this point our author is confronted with the fact 
 of evil, that bafi3ing and mysterious experience which has 
 made shipwreck of so many philosophies. The test of every 
 theology is its treatment of this problem, and Doctor Clarke's 
 method is characteristic of the man. There are three possi- 
 ble attitudes which one may take to the problem of evil, no 
 one of which satisfies our author. One may minimize its im- 
 portance, question the account which it gives of itself, explain 
 away its apparent harshness and cruelty, cloak its seeming 
 vice in the garb of an unsuspected virtue, and thus by a proc- 
 ess of ingenious reinterpretation bow it politely out of the 
 world. Or one may recognize evil for what it seems to be, 
 
196 WILLIAM NEWTON CLARKE 
 
 something real and terrible, and account for its existence 
 through the hypothesis of a rival power, limiting and — to a 
 greater or less degree — thwarting the purpose of a good God. 
 Or, finally, still taking it at its face value, one may yet sub- 
 ject it to God's power and find place for it within his pur- 
 pose. This was the method taken by the older Calvinism. 
 Calvinism, as is well known, saw in sin the means through 
 which God's justice found an expression possible in no other 
 way, and because the manifestation of justice was inherently 
 excellent, whatever was necessary to make this manifesta- 
 tion possible could be ethically justified. This is the phi- 
 losophy of Jonathan Edwards's famous sermon on "Sinners 
 in the Hands of an Angry God." 
 
 No one of these solutions satisfies our author. Evil in 
 each one of its three great forms, pain, sin, and death, is to 
 him something real and terrible, something to be shunned 
 and fought and ultimately overcome, but it is not indepen- 
 dent of God, nor an intruder in the universe which he has made. 
 Ev-il is a part of the structure of the world. It is inwrought 
 into the nature of things. It will have its place in the life to 
 come, as well as the life here, for it is here with a purpose, 
 and, as the older Calvinism rightly affirms, it ministers to the 
 glory of God. But the purpose, as Doctor Clarke conceives 
 it, is very different from that discovered by Jonathan Ed- 
 wards. It is a purpose of redemption. Evil is here because 
 without it man cannot be trained in the highest moral excel- 
 lence. A world in which evil had intruded against the will of 
 God would be intolerable to Christian faith, but a world in 
 which God uses evil for his wise and beneficent purpose is a 
 world in which the Christian can feel at home. Our diffi- 
 culty consists in the fact that the training is so incomplete. 
 There is so much evil which seems to yield no outcome in 
 character. If every cross were a Calvary, the burden would 
 be lightened, for we should see then what we only suspect 
 now, the end which it is designed to serve. "If we could 
 
THE "THEOLOGY" OF DOCTOR CLARKE 197 
 
 confidently include the vast movement of sin between a God- 
 worthy origin and a Godworthy outcome we might still sadly 
 wonder on the way, but we could rest in hope" (p. 461). 
 
 It is at this point that Doctor Clarke's position is most 
 certain to be attacked. Most readers will be ready to admit 
 that the idea of God which our author presents is Christian 
 in the sense in which he makes the claim. The difficulty 
 arises when we attempt to reconcile the idea of such a God 
 with the facts of fife as we find them. Those who demand 
 logical demonstration before they are ready to beUeve will 
 naturally find the evidence for Doctor Clarke's thesis uncon- 
 vincing. Calvin's doctrine of God was easy by comparison. 
 He saw all things in the worid tending to a double issue, and 
 he affirmed what he saw to be final truth. But to believe that 
 our entire universe, filled as it is with countless miseries, 
 with ruthless cruelties, with diabolical perversities, is really 
 under the control of a being in character Hke Jesus; that this 
 supreme power will some day guide it to an end which is good; 
 that some day all mankind shall be organized into one great 
 brotherhood; that service shall be the universal law and 
 ministry the test of greatness— this is indeed to make an 
 heroic venture of faith. "Doctor Clarke," caustically re- 
 marks a recent reviewer, "has succeeded in drawing a picture 
 of God to which we feel no moral repugnance. But there is 
 one most important attribute which he has omitted from the 
 sketch, and that is the attribute of non-existence. Experi- 
 ence of the worid does not lend the slightest plausibility to 
 the theistic hypothesis as to its origin." 
 
 Such an objection altogether misconceives the kind of 
 evidence upon which religion relies for its proof. Religion is 
 the child of faith, and faith is never confined to the present. 
 It reaches out for that which is not yet, and affirms that it 
 shall yet be true. Heroism is its native atmosphere, adven- 
 ture its vital breath. To believe in God means ever>'^vhere 
 and always to identify one's own highest ideal with ultimate 
 
198 WILLIAM NEWTON CLARKE 
 
 reality. It means to rise above sense to the spirit, which is 
 only in part revealed through it, and to be persuaded that this 
 partial revelation shall some day be complete. Every man 
 who has really believed in God has made such a venture. He 
 has assumed the reaUty of the ideal and lived in anticipation 
 of a future only in part revealed. He has dared to believe 
 that the world that now presents only the raw material of 
 goodness and truth shall become a fit habitation for reason- 
 able and moral beings. He has done it because he could not 
 help it, because without such an assumption life would not 
 have seemed worth living, and because, when it was made, 
 facts otherwise inexplicable fitted into place and the world 
 became unified and consistent. 
 
 Is it reasonable to do this? From the individual point of 
 view it is certainly most reasonable. Those who, like our 
 author, hold the Christian idea of God because it satisfies 
 the deepest needs of their own souls have no option but to 
 assert its ultimate validity. Such a faith brings harmony 
 into life where it would otherwise be discordant by promising 
 ultimate victory to those ideals which seem supremely worth- 
 ful. It assures those who are giving their lives to minister 
 to human need in all its various forms that their labors will 
 not be wasted or their energies misspent. If the Calvinistic 
 idea of God satisfied those who held it, it was because the age 
 in which they lived was an age of battle, when men were on 
 trial for their lives and for that which they held dearer than 
 life, the truth of God. If this idea no longer satisfies us, it is 
 because other virtues hold a more prominent place in our 
 horizon. Our ideal is one of peace, not of war. We are less 
 concerned to conserve than to impart, and the God who cares 
 for the downcast and oppressed of every race and tribe is the 
 only God who can satisfy an age which has witnessed the 
 birth of modern philanthropy and of modern missions. 
 
 Are we, then, shut up to purely subjective e\adence? 
 Can nothing be said for this idea of God but that it satisfies 
 
THE "THEOLOGY" OF DOCTOR CLARKE 199 
 
 the individual need? Is there no objective standard by 
 which it can be judged, no social argument in favor of its 
 vahdity? 
 
 The missionary activity of the Christian church is the 
 best answer to this question. It is the expression of the con- 
 viction held by every sincere Christian that the response 
 which the Christian idea of God calls forth in his own soul 
 is not a purely individual matter, but is the answer to com- 
 mon social needs which can find their satisfaction in no other 
 way. To the extent to which this faith shall prove justified 
 in fact, the weight of the argument for the Christian God will 
 be transferred from the experience of the individual to that 
 of the race. 
 
 For those who look at the subject from this point of view 
 there is much in the outlook that is encouraging. In spite 
 of all that is dark and selfish in human life, it is yet a fact that 
 the altruistic virtues are being more and more developed, 
 and the ideals of war yielding place to those of peace. The 
 Christian message of brotherhood and service is, as a mat- 
 ter of fact, finding response in the hearts of men. The very 
 dissatisfaction that we feel at our shortcomings, the serious- 
 ness of the criticism to which our social order is being sub- 
 jected, is the best evidence of the fact that the old selfish and 
 particularistic ideals of an earlier age no longer satisfy us. 
 The subjective response which the Christian idea of God 
 calls forth in individuals is itself the result and evidence of 
 a far-reaching social change which constitutes no small argu- 
 ment for its objective vahdity. It is, of course, always possi- 
 ble that this faith may prove mistaken. It is possible that 
 Calvinism is right in its conception of a divided universe, 
 and that we may be obliged to renounce as an idle dream our 
 faith in the good God whose love embraces every child of 
 man. But, if this be true, it will introduce an irreconcilable 
 discord into our inner hfe. If our ideals are to be justified 
 in the real world, it can only be through the Christian idea 
 
200 WILLIAM NEWTON CLARKE 
 
 of God. It is reasonable, therefore, in default of convincing 
 evidence to the contrary, to act as if it were true. 
 
 And when we decide so to act, we find that reality answers 
 our expectation. It is not simply that we ourselves find satis- 
 faction in our faith, although that is true, but that the action 
 which results from that faith changes the social en\droimient 
 for the better. Every man who believes in the Christlike 
 God and who acts out his conviction is increasing the amount 
 of altruism in the world and making faith in such a God 
 easier to those who have not yet believed. In other words, 
 he is increasing the sum total of evidence in favor of the 
 truth of the Christian view. 
 
AN AMERICAN THEOLOGIAN ^ 
 By Professor William Adams Brown, D.D. 
 
 My acquaintance with Doctor Clarke began in 1893, the 
 year in which my own work as a teacher of theology began. 
 He was then fifty-two years old and had been teaching at 
 Hamilton Theological Seminary for three years. I was a 
 yomig man of twenty-seven, fresh from Germany, where I 
 had been studying under Harnack. 
 
 Our acquaintance, began through the loan of a volume of 
 typewritten notes which he generously placed at my dis- 
 posal, soon ripened into friendship which continued without 
 interruption and with increasing intimacy until Doctor 
 Clarke's death. For more than fifteen years we carried on a 
 regular, and at times, a lengthy correspondence. During 
 his visits to New York — less frequent than his friends would 
 have wished — he was often at my home, and many a day 
 lives in my memory that was consecrated to high debate 
 about the great themes of theology, or rendered notable by 
 some fresh revelation of a character as winning as it was 
 \drile and commanding. 
 
 There are men into whose intimacy one penetrates slowly 
 and only after surmounting barrier after barrier of reserve. 
 Doctor Clarke was so transparent and generous in his gift of 
 
 * Five years ago I contributed to the Harvard Theological Review an article 
 on the theology of Doctor Clarke, in which I tried to sum up the leading points 
 of his teaching and to estimate their significance for the religious life and think- 
 ing of his time. His thought was at that time so mature, and his expression of 
 it so ripe and balanced that little remains to add to the judgment then ex- 
 pressed, and I have therefore willingly given my consent to the request of Mrs. 
 Clarke that the essay should be reproduced here. But Doctor Clarke was 
 more than a theologian. He was a character of singular originality and fresh- 
 ness, and one who was privileged during many years to be admitted to his 
 intimacy may be pardoned for wishing to add to the theologian's estimate 
 of a colleague a few words of personal reminiscence. 
 
202 WILLIAM NEWTON CLARKE 
 
 self that from the first one felt oneself at home in his pres- 
 ence. "I cannot tell you," he writes in the first letter that 
 came to me from his pen,^ "how glad I am that you have 
 found my notes suggestive and helpful, or how free you are 
 to make all the use of them that you may desire. I hereby 
 place at your service all the good there may be in my pages. 
 It would be a pity if one teacher could not help another." 
 
 This note of generosity was characteristic of all his rela- 
 tionships. With a mind constantly open to new truth, he was 
 ever eager to share what he received. "Moral copyright in 
 theology," he once wrote,^ "is a hard thing to get hold of, and 
 I make small claim to it." 
 
 He had the friend's gift for receiving as well as for giving. 
 He was never too busy to be accessible to your interest. 
 Even when you did not hear from him you knew that you 
 were in his thoughts. Apologizing for a letter which he had 
 failed to write, he adds: ' "But I did welcome you home in 
 my heart." And again referring to a friendly impulse unex- 
 pressed:^ "You may as well forgive me first as last. I am 
 sure I don't know," he adds plaintively,^ "why I do not learn 
 wisdom. I am quite familiar with the fact that the past is 
 farther off than I then thought it was, but why I am so slow 
 to perceive that any right deed of mine in the future is far- 
 ther away than it seems is beyond my understanding." 
 
 Much of our correspondence deals with matters of techni- 
 cal interest. The early loan was the first of an exchange of 
 manuscripts which continued for many years and led to de- 
 tailed and often voluminous correspondence. Long before 
 my own books found their way into print the rough drafts 
 which were their predecessors had the benefit of his sympa- 
 thetic and highly intelligent criticism. Nothing could be 
 kinder or wiser than the advice which came to me from his 
 more experienced pen, and no father could have rejoiced 
 
 •December 21, 1893. * September 26, 1896. 'February 19, 1905. 
 
 • February 3, 1906. » April 9, 1897. 
 
AN AMERICAN THEOLOGIAN 203 
 
 more whole-heartedly in the progress of his son than he in 
 any evidence of deepening insight and maturing judgment 
 on the part of his younger colleague. 
 
 When he did not like a thing he told you so frankly, sof- 
 tening his dissent with a saving touch of humor. Of a defini- 
 tion of inspiration he wrote:* "It shows traces of medita- 
 tion. It did not grow up in a night like Jonah's gourd." 
 And again: ^ "You tend to put too much into a sentence — 
 a tendency that specially appears in sentences beginning with 
 'while' — where you sometimes pack in two philosophies." 
 
 Frank in his criticism of others, he was unsparing with 
 himself. All his work was a report of progress. In a letter 
 asking for suggestions while his Theology was passing through 
 the press, he said: ^ "They will come too late to benefit the 
 book, but the book is not the end but only the beginning." 
 To all criticism he turned a hospitable mind, but he weighed 
 each suggestion well before he adopted it. He was not too 
 proud to learn from men younger and less experienced than 
 himself. Indeed there was a buoyancy in his nature which 
 rendered him peculiarly at home in their company. He 
 liked their optimism, their self-confidence, the forward look. 
 
 From vanity, in the conventional sense, and indeed from 
 self-consciousness in any form he was of all men I have ever 
 known the most free. He knew his limitations and was not 
 ashamed to confess them. One of his last letters^ speaks 
 with a certain wistful regret of a training to which he was a 
 stranger, the lack of which made many things impossible to 
 him. But withal he was too truthful to depreciate himself. 
 He felt that he had a contribution to make to the thought of 
 his generation, a message given him to speak. "I am sure," 
 he writes,^ "that you will find enough to dissent from in 
 the first draft of the Theology, and you will find much that I 
 intend to make better before I use the matter again. But I 
 
 'March 14, 1899. ^ ^pril 22, 1897. » May i, 1894. 
 
 ♦November 18, 1906. ' December 21, 1893. 
 
204 WILLIAIM NEWTON CLARKE 
 
 know that the work in its present form, with all its defects, 
 is the fruit of honest thinking, in view of some at least of the 
 present conditions." The consciousness never failed him. 
 Rather it intensified with the ripening years. Speaking of 
 his Christian Doctrine of God, he says:' "It has lately 
 seemed to me that I have something to say on the great 
 theme, and sometimes I have said to myself that if I could 
 successfully work out what I have in mind I could make an 
 epoch-marking book. Note that I put the *r' in that word, 
 not leave it out." 
 
 He was a slow worker. He preferred to let his thought 
 ripen naturally under the enriching and fertihzing influence 
 of the years. Hurry he abhorred as a deadly sin. "I have 
 no very rigid plan," he writes on one occasion,^ "but intend 
 to let the work develop as it goes." And again: "I am in- 
 cKned to approve your point. Still I cannot hurry to find 
 the connection." Often he had to wait long before the assur- 
 ance came. This was due in part to the bodily infirmity 
 from which he suffered increasingly in later life. "So much, 
 which is quite enough, about myself regarded as mortal," he 
 writes.^ "My immortal powers are not idle, for I am bend- 
 ing as best I may to the theme that is worthiest of them, the 
 Christian Doctrine of God.'" After referring to the difficulty 
 he had found in coming to the place where he could work 
 with ease and fluency, he speaks of his joy in the renewed 
 freedom which had recently come to him. "Somehow," he 
 goes on,'' "I have not felt Hke talking it over much or dis- 
 cussing it with any one, but have felt that I must work it out 
 myself." 
 
 This independence was eminently characteristic. Like 
 Paul, he was not comfortable on another man's foundation. 
 Speaking of his book on God, he said:^ "It will be a dif- 
 ferent book from what any one else would make." Like Paul, 
 
 ' February 3, 1906. ' September 21, tSgy. ' February 3, 1906. 
 * February 3, 1906. * November 18, 1906. 
 
AN AMERICAN THEOLOGIAN 205 
 
 too, he felt little need of, and little taste for, letters of com- 
 mendation. "I was a little ashamed and sorry," he writes 
 apropos of the publication of his Theology,'^ ''that the Scrib- 
 ners put into the initial announcement the names of some 
 good men, including your own, as a kind of sponsors or guard- 
 ian angels to the enterprise. It looked a little like roping 
 you all in, in the presence of the public, in support of the ven- 
 ture. After a little, no doubt, they will find other matter to 
 insert and will set you free." 
 
 This independence had its roots in a religious experience 
 of singular freshness and originality. He was a man who 
 walked with God consciously and easily as a man might walk 
 with a familiar friend. He had the prophet's gift of vision 
 married to the mystic's sense of certainty. If he had wished 
 to define God in a sentence, he would have said: "God is 
 light, and in him is no darkness at all." 
 
 This immediate consciousness of God, carrjdng with it its 
 own certitude, was the alpha and omega of his Theology. It 
 explains some features of it which perplexed his students and 
 were the frequent subject of criticism by his friends. It ex- 
 plained, for instance, his indifference to the critical apparatus 
 which fills so much space in most current text-books. This 
 indifference was not due to failure to recognize the impor- 
 tance of wide reading and accurate scholarship: still less to 
 the absence of these qualifications on his own part, but 
 rather to a deliberate conviction that his own gift lay in 
 another direction. He conceived it as his message to his 
 generation to cultivate in them by every means in his power 
 the gift of sight. "If I can make them see what I see," he 
 used to say, "they will have the main thing; the rest they 
 can work out for themselves." External authority he rated 
 so lightly that in his book on the Ideal of Jesus he would not 
 even print chapter and verse of the passages which he quoted 
 in the text. 
 
 1 May 13, 1898. 
 
2o6 WILLIAM NEWTON CLARKE 
 
 This explains his attitude toward history. While he 
 was interested in the past and followed with attention the 
 researches of the critics, he made Httle use of their results in 
 his teaching. He did not feel it incumbent upon him to 
 mediate in detail between the present and the past. God 
 is here to-day, at work in the world and in our lives. Why 
 take a roundabout way into his presence, when we have only 
 to open the door and enter in? 
 
 This explains, too, his attitude to the Bible. The Bible 
 was to him the book of books because it speaks to us of God 
 to-day, but as a record of God's dealings in the past, it was 
 a book Kke other books, to be tested by the same methods 
 and judged by the same canons. Early in his teaching he 
 proposed this theme for his students:^ "What would be the 
 consequences if the books of the Bible regarded as writings 
 should be proved to possess only such qualities as belong to 
 other books generally?" Everywhere he sought simphcity, 
 immediacy, the direct contact between the soul and God. Of 
 the means of grace he wrote i^ "The word is simply vital 
 truth which the Spirit helps to exert its proper influence upon 
 the human powers. The sacraments are of another kind." 
 Of a creed submitted to him for criticism, he wrote i^ "I hardly 
 think any denomination would take it just as it stands as a 
 complete s3mibol, for they all want to add something to the 
 gospel of the good Lord, which seems not quite complete 
 after all. But the additions detract rather than improve the 
 original blessing, and we are better off without them in our 
 creeds." 
 
 He was a bom teacher, and he loved his work to the end. 
 Passage after passage in the correspondence deals with his 
 experiences in the classroom. In 1898 he writes:^ "I have 
 begun my work this year with unspeakable gladness. I have 
 never had so joyful a sense of liberty in uttering what I think. 
 
 ' September, 21, 1897. ' December 30, 1901. 
 
 ' December 30, 1901. * October 9, 1898. 
 
AN AMERICAN THEOLOGIAN 207 
 
 My heart has gone out to you and to all the men who are en- 
 gaged in the teaching of theology with a warm sense of fel- 
 lowship and affection, and I have most sincerely invoked 
 upon the whole group the abundant blessing of God in the 
 year's work." And again a year later: ^ "I have done one 
 week's teaching and find the old fulness and flavor unchanged. 
 The freedom is all there, and the luxury of utterance and 
 influence is undiminished. . . . May you find the same 
 good experience when you get your classes before you. How 
 good it is to have the great things grow in our minds even 
 while we are uttering them, so that one would be glad to 
 begin again at once and say it over on a larger scale." 
 
 Like most teachers, he had his discouraging experiences, 
 but he was helped over them partly by his sense of humor, 
 partly by the pastoral spirit which saw in the dullest pupil a 
 character to be trained and an immortal spirit to be enfran- 
 chised. After one particularly trying experience in which a 
 student had shown evidence of a precocity in misunder- 
 standing which amounted almost to virtuosity, he writes r^ 
 " Sometimes I think theology should be written in words of 
 one syllable. If you can hit the dullest man, I would like 
 you to shoot up this way." 
 
 Insincerity was his bete noir. To command his respect 
 there must be an idea for every word. In its simplicity, its 
 clarity, its sincerity his style was the reflection of the man. 
 As you read him you had the impression of a transparent 
 truthfulness and withal of a catholicity possible only to one 
 who had entered sympathetically into Kfe in all its phases. 
 It was the style of a seer who had learned to be a comrade. 
 To the man in quest of reality, it was like a draft of cold 
 water on a sultry day. It is more than twenty years since I 
 first received the manuscript of the Theology, but the im- 
 pression is as vivid as if it were yesterday. 
 
 This mastery of expression did not come of itself. A long 
 
 » September 24, 1899. ' April 22, 1897. 
 
2o8 WILLIAM NEWTON CLARKE 
 
 discipline lay back of it. To some of its elements I have 
 already had occasion to refer. Fundamental was the dis- 
 cipline of thought which was the result of the unceasing 
 quest of reahty. Scarcely less important in its contribution 
 to his style was the necessity of impartation. A teacher of 
 the highest themes to men of imperfect training and limited 
 experience, he was obliged constantly to simpHfy. He worked, 
 as he expressed it himself, at least he tried to work, in words 
 of one syllable. But his thought found its way the more 
 surely to the hearts for which it was designed. 
 
 Back of all lay the discipline of character that came from 
 the acceptance of a task not chosen, and the surrender of 
 plans that would have led him into other work. He did not 
 often refer to the past, but when he did, it was with a clear 
 insight that he had been led, in ways he could not have fore- 
 seen, to the place God had planned for him from the first. 
 One of his first letters lifts the curtain, ''You do not know," 
 he writes,^ ''how welcome is your appreciation of my pages. 
 I have taught before in the New Testament department, 
 but from that work I was drawn back to the pastorate and 
 was settled in Hamilton. Of teaching in theology I had abso- 
 lutely no thought, except that no one would ever want me 
 to do it, and that I was very glad, because never in any cir- 
 cumstances would I be willing to do it. I knew that I was a 
 heretic, and was thankful that other men were to have the 
 burden of framing theological thought for the schools. But 
 Doctor Dodge, my predecessor, died suddenly at the open- 
 ing of the second term of the year, and I found myself in his 
 chair to carry his class to the year's end, and the result was 
 that I remained there. I have done what I could. Only by 
 you among teachers has my work been tested, or even seen, 
 and you can well understand how glad I am that you see good 
 in it and find it useful." - 
 
 But for the most part his face was turned forward. The 
 
 1 May I, 1894. ^Ibid. 
 
AN AMERICAN THEOLOGIAN 209 
 
 word already quoted was characteristic. "It is not the end, 
 but the beginning." Hope was his native breath, immortal- 
 ity his assured and joyful conviction. That God would have 
 all souls at last he dared to believe. One of the first sentences 
 he wrote expresses a conviction which he cherished with in- 
 creasing confidence as the years went on. "The tendency 
 of all our theologizing is toward larger hopes. To ground sal- 
 vation in the character of God is to see that he is eternally a 
 saviour. There is no escape from it, if one desired escape 
 from so glorious a reality." 
 
 The final impression is of a certain massiveness, a strong 
 man with the serenity of strength; a man four-square in his 
 thinking as in his living; seeing things in the large. His the- 
 ology could be summed up in a few simple principles, but 
 they had reach and breadth ample enough to span the uni- 
 verse of God. "I agree with you," he writes,^ "that the 
 Christian conception of God has its only adequate support 
 in the Christian experience. I love to think, however, that 
 that experience presupposes, utilizes, combines, and glorifies 
 all the other evidences of the existence of God, so that nature 
 and fife in all their forms find their places in the system of 
 proof that is distinctively Christian, and support for a Chris- 
 tian a higher conclusion than by themselves they would ever 
 attain to. So, for that matter, does philosophy. All good 
 thoughts of what God is, and all that helps to prove his exis- 
 tence come to maturity and glory in the Christian argument." 
 
 Among my letters I find this greeting ^ which came to 
 me on the first day of the new century: "Here I greet you, 
 theologian to theologian, for the birthday of the twentieth 
 century. May your head be clear and your heart be strong 
 and your grasp be vigorous all the days of the new century 
 that you live among the mortals, and may your best force 
 move forth graciously to help the life that is to be. It is a 
 great time, a hard time, and a noble time to be at work, and 
 
 * May I, 1894. * December 30, 1900. 
 
2IO WILLIAM NEWTON CLARKE 
 
 I hope you are to have a long and useful time of service to 
 the holy faith. A good New Year to you, and good years 
 many." 
 
 A different note is struck by the following, the last letter 
 I ever received from him,^ but one no less characteristic. It 
 is from the Southern home in De Land, Florida, where Mrs. 
 Clarke and he had gone to escape the rigors of a Northern 
 winter: "The active world seems a long way off, as I sit 
 here and hear the wind in the pines, but I know it is going 
 right on — the spirit moving on the face of the waters, and 
 men responding. You are in the midst of it, and I am glad." 
 
 "You are in the midst of it, and I am glad." It is the 
 epitome of a life that had mastered the secret of universal 
 sympathy, because the man who lived it dared to take with- 
 out qualification or reserve the most audacious words that 
 ever fell from the lips of man: "God is love." 
 
 » January 19, 1908. 
 
DOCTOR CLARKE IN THE CLASSROOM 
 
 By Reverend Doctor F. A. Starratt, Professor of Theology 
 IN Colgate University 
 
 The unique influence of Doctor Clarke in the classroom 
 can only be appreciated as one realizes clearly the peculiar 
 demands of the situation which confronted him there. We 
 need to remind ourselves that the years of his activity as a 
 teacher were years of great disturbance in the field of the- 
 ology. A new world-view was breaking upon the minds of 
 men, and its acceptance demanded a reconstruction in all 
 departments of human learning. No field of thought was 
 more directly affected by this new world-view than that of 
 theology. 
 
 Historical criticism had laid its hand upon the Bible and 
 raised the whole question of authority in religion. The evolu- 
 tionary theory offered a new account of the origin of man, as 
 well as a reconstruction of the doctrine of sin as found in his- 
 torical theology. Because the new view demanded such a radi- 
 cal reconstruction of theological views it was met with em- 
 phatic and violent opposition. To many it seemed as though 
 the new view had arisen outside of the religious field, and to 
 be making its way as a foreign element into the realm of 
 things made sacred by memories of the past and by their inti- 
 mate relations with the deepest things in human life; and 
 so it was met as an intruder, to yield to which would be dis- 
 loyalty to truth verified in experience. On the other hand, 
 there were those who felt that the new world-view was so 
 strongly supported by evidence, furnished from many fields 
 of research, that it must be reckoned with. They also felt 
 that truth was one, and that some way could be found to 
 harmonize the truth of religion with that which was found 
 
212 WILLIAM NEWTON CLARKE 
 
 to be true in other parts of God's universe; and they set 
 themselves to this task. 
 
 Now the classroom of theology is a little world in itself. 
 In it are found representatives of the various types of thought 
 in the world outside. The various influences that operate 
 in the outside world to confuse the issue and to prejudice 
 the judgment are at work here with even more intensity 
 just because the attention is concentrated upon these prob- 
 lems. Doctor Clarke, as he faced this situation, had two 
 definite things to do. He must construct his theology in 
 such a way as to harmonize religious truth with the new 
 world-view which he had frankly accepted. His contribu- 
 tion to the task of the reconstruction of theology has been 
 given to the world and has been recognized as of distinct 
 value. He had also to deal with the men before him in such 
 a way as to be helpful to all, whatever their attitude toward 
 their problems might be. There were those whose minds 
 were sensitive to the "new-thought movements" of the world, 
 but who were filled with doubt and perplexity as they tried 
 to relate these to their religious conceptions. There were 
 also those to whom the new point of view made little or no 
 appeal, and whose theology in its general outlines was fixed. 
 To both types of men the questions discussed were not aca- 
 demic ones, but were questions touching matters of vital per- 
 sonal concern. To them the cause to which they had dedi- 
 cated their lives was intimately and fundamentally involved 
 with the settlement of these problems. On the one side were 
 men who could not pursue their calling as Christian minis- 
 ters unless a way could be found to harmonize what seemed 
 to be two mutually contradictory ways of conceiving the 
 world. To others the future of Christianity depended upon 
 the success of the effort to keep these two world- views apart, 
 to defend Christianity from contact with a conception which 
 seemed to them to be wholly foreign to its spirit and destruc- 
 tive of its most cherished beliefs. Furthermore, Doctor 
 
DOCTOR CLARKE IN THE CLASSROOM 213 
 
 Clarke's general position was well known. Many among 
 those who knew him and loved him believed that he was ad- 
 vocating views which, if they prevailed, would transform 
 Christianity in such a way that it would lose its distinctive 
 features and its vital saving power. Many a young man, be- 
 fore he entered the classroom, had been solemnly warned 
 by his pastor or by some godly and Christian man, against 
 what were honestly conceived to be the pernicious views of 
 the teacher whom he would meet there. 
 
 This was the situation which Doctor Clarke met day 
 after day in his work — this world in miniature that reflected 
 in detail passing religious thoughts of the great world out- 
 side, the whole pervaded with an earnestness born of close 
 personal interest. The future careers of many young men 
 were to be decided in that classroom. Would the teacher 
 be able to lead some of them through to the place where the 
 conflicting views of science and religion could be reconciled, 
 and at the same time do something for the faith and the en- 
 lightenment of those to whom such a solution was impossi- 
 ble? How could he be helpful at the same time to two types 
 of men who were destined from the first to go out from the 
 classroom with differing and, in large measure, opposing con- 
 ceptions of God, man, and the world? 
 
 Li that Doctor Clarke was able to do this difficult and 
 delicate thing, and to do it so well, consisted his pecuHar great- 
 ness as a teacher and as a Christian man. If one asks how 
 he did it, how he was able to be so helpful to students in this 
 period of transition, the answer is to be found in the man as 
 man, not merely the teacher. It was his sincerity, open- 
 mindedness, frankness, sweetness. Christlike personahty. He 
 was true to himself in the classroom as elsewhere. In his 
 transparent life men with all kinds of views could see the 
 spirit of Christianity reflected. There was a common bond 
 of sympathy between himself and men of the most differing 
 theological views. Each one could see in his teacher that 
 
214 WILLIAM NEWTON CLARKE 
 
 after which his own soul longed — a sure grasp of unseen 
 things. The man beset by doubt suggested by the findings 
 of science and philosophy could see in one who frankly ac- 
 cepted these findings the same certitude concerning spiritu- 
 alities that has been the sure possession of great Christian 
 souls of all times. Thus he was assured that for him, also, it 
 was possible to be true to what he was compelled to believe 
 as to the world as known by science, and at the same time 
 retain his faith in God and in the verities of the Christian 
 religion. The man whose interest lay in another direction, 
 who was anxious above all else to keep Christian doctrine 
 uncontaminated by what was conceived foreign to it, also 
 saw in the teacher before him a high type of the Christian 
 man whose soul was nourished by communion with God and 
 whose spirit was held in loyal subjection to the spirit of Christ. 
 And thus there was felt to be a distinction between the life 
 of Christianity and the forms in which that Christianity 
 might be doctrinally conceived at any particular time or 
 under the influence of any particular world-view. In this 
 manner a way was opened for the teacher to help both types 
 of men as he pointed out to them the significance of the 
 great life experiences of the Christian. 
 
 That which Doctor Clarke was able to accomplish in the 
 classroom as a teacher among his students illustrates the 
 place which he occupies in the larger world of Protestant 
 Christianity, in which he was so well known. It is my own 
 con\action that when more years shall have passed and we 
 look back over this bit of history which is now in the making, 
 he will appear as one of the men who, perhaps in a larger 
 degree than any other, have been able to help men of the most 
 divergent views theologically to maintain their hold on re- 
 ligion and their faith in each other through this period of 
 transition. 
 
 At the close of his Outline of Christian Theology, a book 
 which grew up in the classroom, there is added a personal 
 
DOCTOR CLARKE IN THE CLASSROOM 215 
 
 word to the student, which so fully expresses the spirit and 
 method of the teacher that I quote it in full, 
 
 "Of the many things that ought to be said about theology 
 but are not said in this book, some, I trust, may be spoken 
 in the discussions of our pleasant classroom on the dear old 
 hill. There, with our windows open to the morning light, 
 teacher and pupils all students together, we talk without 
 reserve of all things in earth and heaven that bear upon our 
 high theme. It is always the light of the present day that 
 shines in through our windows; past suns have set, and the 
 suns of future days have yet to rise. But all days are the 
 Lord's, and we are as sure that God is with us in our work 
 as that he was with our fathers, or that he will enlighten 
 those who shall come after us. Indeed, his spirit has often 
 refreshed our hearts there while we have talked together of 
 him and gazed upon his glory in the face of Jesus Christ, and 
 our quiet room has been to us the house of God. We do not 
 find all the questions that were present to our father's press- 
 ing upon us, their children, nor do we feel ourselves required 
 to settle all the questions that we see rising, to engage the 
 thoughts of future students. We are willing that our suc- 
 cessors shall leave our perplexities and our solutions of them 
 and answer their own questions in the clearer light of coming 
 time. Sufficient unto the day are its own magnitudes and 
 mysteries. It may well suffice us if we can justify to mind 
 and heart the vital faith, the ardent love, and the sustaining 
 hope that our generation needs; and this, through the grace 
 of him who is the same yesterday and to-day and forever, we 
 beHeve it is given us to do. If all men knew the God whose 
 light shines through our windows, and knew him not only 
 in study, but in life and love, the murmurs of the world would 
 surely sink into silence, and the troubled heart of man find 
 peace. To know and love such a being as the God and Father 
 of our Lord Jesus Christ is to find our questions answered 
 and our strength renewed. His eager and unsatisfied world 
 needs a thousand applications of the good tidings of him to 
 its manifold Hfe and activity, and it needs a faith clear 
 and simple, a faith that heals doubt, and awakens love, and 
 breathes wisdom, and imparts spiritual power. The work of 
 our classroom will have accomplished its purpose if young 
 
2i6 WILLIAM NEWTON CLARKE 
 
 men go out from it with the true secret of the Lord in their 
 hearts, with a faith that cannot be perplexed, a love that 
 burns in fellowship with him who gave himself for men, and a 
 hope unquenchable. This is much to ask and seek; but for 
 what lower end than this has our Lord given us our seminary, 
 our time, and our Bibles? May he always be the teacher 
 whose presence glorifies the room !" 
 
DOCTOR CLARKE IN THE CLASSROOM 
 
 By Professor John Benjamin Anderson 
 
 If indirect contact with Doctor Clarke through reading 
 his writings had been prized by thousands as a help to Chris- 
 tian thinking and an inspiration to holy living, surely thrice 
 fortunate were we who came in daily personal contact with 
 the great teacher in his classroom. To sit at his feet and re- 
 ceive instruction in some of the profoundest themes of hu- 
 man thought was a privilege and an opportunity rare indeed. 
 What Doctor Clarke was in the classroom is largely incom- 
 municable to others. We saw the shining of a great light, 
 and no analysis or description in cold type can do more than 
 hint at the reality. 
 
 Doctor Clarke's physical presence, at once pleasing and 
 impressive, counted for much toward his success as a teacher. 
 It was a joy just to behold the man. As long as life shall 
 last will abide the memory of the familiar and beloved figure 
 seated behind the desk. Doctor Clarke was of rather large 
 frame. His noble head with its length and breadth and with 
 its height of brow seemed the fitting seat and symbol of a 
 great mind. His fine features and his sensitive hands were 
 in keeping with the aesthetic quality of the man and were 
 expressive of the refinement and spirituality of his nature. 
 And who could ever forget the light radiant in those wonder- 
 ful eyes ! It was at times as if his glorious soul were shining 
 out upon you. He always sat to teach. He never raised his 
 pleasant voice to a shout or to the high pitch of heated em- 
 phasis, although he could on occasion speak emphatically 
 and effectively in strong, firm tones. The young men felt 
 that he was their mentor, friend, and father; they loved to 
 
 217 
 
2i8 WILLL\M NEWTON CLARKE 
 
 be near him, and the hours spent in his presence were golden 
 hours, not alone of profit, but equally of happiness. 
 
 Doctor Clarke was a prophetic teacher. He spoke "as an 
 oracle of God." At the close of a class hour I asked him how 
 he knew that a certain momentous statement he had just 
 made was true. He looked me straight in the eye, as if to see 
 whether I was able to bear his answer or not, and said: "Be- 
 cause I know God." Consonant with this was his epigram: 
 "The only safe way to walk without crutches is to be able 
 to walk; the only safe way to get along without external 
 authority is to live with God." This was the atmosphere 
 which came with him into the classroom, and to most of us 
 it was a highly rarefied atmosphere. Students who had been 
 brought up to live and move only within the boundaries of 
 Biblical and ecclesiastical authority in religious belief could 
 not accompany the teacher in his free ranging over the realm 
 of religious thought, but could only follow him with their 
 eyes, now fascinated at his boldness, now shocked at his dis- 
 regard of their cherished limitations, now wondering if, after 
 aU, he was not enjoying the legitimate freedom of the sons 
 of God. 
 
 Under such leadership the student learned to think for 
 himself, to examine his traditional stock of ideas, and to 
 criticise freely the views of his teacher also. "Don't take 
 any idea until the idea takes you," he said to us in his char- 
 acteristically epigrammatic way. Again, "No doctrine has 
 a good chance so long as people are afraid of it," and, "If 
 you can reject any idea of mine, I want you to reject it." I 
 never knew a man who seemed to be more open-minded. He 
 desired to do justice to ideas from every source, even the 
 most alien to himself. He tried to see things through the eyes 
 of other people as well as through his own. This general 
 habit and temper of mind made him patient and sympa- 
 thetic with us all. He seemed to be able to divine the con- 
 sciousness of the student and often to understand better than 
 
DOCTOR CLARKE IN THE CLASSROOM 219 
 
 the man himself what the difficulty was, and would restate the 
 student's bungling question so clearly that the sense of relief 
 and the expectancy of hope lit up the face of the learner. 
 
 Doctor Clarke was what might be called an overflowing 
 teacher. His text at the writer's ordination was, "Out of 
 the abundance of the heart the mouth speaketh," and his 
 theme, "Full soul, full utterance." The preacher himself was 
 a fine exemplification of his text and theme. He nourished 
 his mind and kept it strong and supple by the reading of 
 numberless books of the highest quality and of the greatest 
 variety. In a remarkable measure he kept up with the best 
 periodical literature. He was profoundly interested in con- 
 temporaneous thought and life on many sides. His mind 
 was brimming over with the results of all his thoughtful and 
 discriminating reading and also of his contact with an unusu- 
 ally wide circle of acquaintance, to say notliing of the intel- 
 lectual resources coming from many years of experience in 
 the pastorate, and the full mind and heart overflowed day 
 by day into the lives of his students. 
 
 Marvellously rich as he was in his resources, our teacher 
 nevertheless used self-control in their employment. He did 
 not crowd his treatment with endless details. He observed 
 perspective and proportion in the selection of materials for 
 classroom use. It was the habit of his mind to put first 
 things first, to dwell upon great principles and their chief 
 applications. "Anything," he said, "that is not necessarily 
 and eternally true is only a side issue. The eternal verities 
 are the heart of Christianity. If not, Christianity will not 
 do for the fortieth century," Another day he said to us, 
 "Your idea of God will sweep everything before it," a say- 
 ing of cardinal significance for the understanding of the work 
 of Doctor Clarke as a teacher and as a theologian. The im- 
 pression of the student as he recalls the teaching process of 
 Doctor Clarke is that of a deep, broad, shining river moving 
 onward through the mighty continent of theology. 
 
2 20 WILLIAM NEWTON CLARKE 
 
 Doctor Clarke was pre-eminently a religious man. There 
 was an atmosphere of spirituality about him. One felt that 
 he was at home among the eternal realities. To him God was 
 a real presence, and in him he lived and moved and had his 
 being. Fortunate were the men who lived in the effulgence 
 of his radiant life. Many have been their testimonies to a 
 new vision of God and a closer walk, with him. The religious 
 influence of Doctor Clarke in the classroom streamed forth 
 from his personality in an unde&nable way. It came also 
 through what he said, but above all the prayers with which 
 the class hours were begun brought us very close to God. It 
 sometimes seemed as if God were breathing his holy spirit 
 upon us. What a beginning each day for the study of theol- 
 ogy! We commenced our study about God each day by 
 being led into his presence, by being made sure of him anew, 
 and by a real outgoing of our souls to him. 
 
 Let me give one more illustration of this religious influ- 
 ence. In all our classrooms the freest and frankest discus- 
 sions are not only permitted to the students but are encour- 
 aged, and this was true nowhere more than with Doctor 
 Clarke. The result was that the sessions in his room were 
 often very animated and sometimes (though rarely) almost 
 stormy. One day stands out with sharp distinctness in my 
 memory. Some of the students were objecting strongly and 
 excitedly to certain views of their teacher. The situation 
 became tense and even painful, and he manifestly felt the 
 strain. The bell closing the hour rang out, and we expected 
 to leave the room immediately. Doctor Clarke, however, 
 beckoned us to remain, and his great heart poured itself out 
 in an act of communion with God, and we were borne on the 
 tide of his prayer far out beyond our controversial atmos- 
 phere into the presence and the greatness of the Infinite. We 
 quietly left the room, hushed and reverent, and with some 
 eyes wet with tears. Such was the religious spirit and power 
 of our great teacher in his classroom. How true to his own 
 
DOCTOR CLARKE IN THE CLASSROOM 221 
 
 experience were the words he uttered one day in our class: 
 "The spiritual reality that constitutes the heart of Chris- 
 tianity is a divine, holy Ufe in the soul of man, making him a 
 new creature in holy love and godliness." 
 
 Alert, witty yet gentle in repartee, gifted with a keen 
 sense of humor, smiling and laughing with us at his not in- 
 frequent salUes of purest fun, the sparkling scintillations of a 
 diamond intellect, having a wonderful power of extempo- 
 raneous epigram, ready with illustrative anecdote, quick to 
 take the student's standpoint and to put the latter's case 
 fairly and often more cogently than he himself could, speak- 
 ing always the pure, Umpid English so well known to his 
 readers, unconventional yet dignified, genial, kindly, pater- 
 nal, possessed of the rarest charm of personaUty, and in and 
 through all revealing the man who walked with God, is it 
 any wonder that his students thought of Doctor Clarke as 
 one of God's supreme gifts to them, and that the hours spent 
 in his classroom are among the happiest and brightest mem- 
 ories which any students could ever cherish of any teacher! 
 
DOCTOR CLARKE IN THE CLASSROOM 
 
 By Reverend Daniel Hunt Clare 
 
 "Otjr pleasant classroom on the dear old hill." The at- 
 mosphere of the room is revealed in the exquisitely beautiful 
 conclusion of the Theology. This spirit of companionship 
 gave to the room its unfailing attraction. We felt we were 
 not there to receive instruction in theology, but to talk with 
 a gracious and inspiring personality, to share with him the 
 results of his meditation and study and spiritual experience 
 in order that we might be able to shape our own thoughts 
 and convictions concerning the great realities which were to 
 be the substance of our preaching. 
 
 With his characteristic habit of leisurely punctuahty, he 
 was always in his place at the desk when we entered, greeting 
 us with his smiling eyes, while with one hand he toyed with 
 the small clock which stood there. Exactly upon the sound 
 of the gong in the hall a hush would fall over the room as he 
 read a few words from Scripture, a choice bit of verse or an 
 apt prose quotation bearing on the thought of the hour. He 
 then closed his eyes and in a brief prayer lifted us into the 
 presence of Him whose character and purposes we were seek- 
 ing to understand. There was always an air of expectancy 
 in the room. We gathered like hungry men around a well- 
 filled table. Little time was spent in reciting the assigned 
 lesson. He desired to see if the student had acquired the sub- 
 stance of the thought. The text-book was then read sen- 
 tence by sentence, and quiet comments were made upon the 
 portions which needed special elucidation. He rose to his 
 greatest heights as a teacher when the stream of questions 
 poured forth. His intellectual and spiritual resources were 
 
DOCTOR CLARKE IN THE CLASSROOM 223 
 
 marvellous. He had no stereotyped expressions; his utter- 
 ances were always freshly coined. He spoke with transpar- 
 ent sincerity and he kept back nothing. His face glowed as 
 if inwardly illumined. He did not argue. He did not raise 
 his voice. He conversed with us. We were not afraid to ask 
 him anything. We were so sure of his insight and sympathy 
 we knew he would understand. There was no haste, but 
 not a moment was wasted. He kept us close to the great 
 themes. "Learn to give principal stress on principal things," 
 he said. He tried to get to the heart of our difficulties. When 
 answering our questions his thoughts fell at times like a 
 shower of pearls. Crystal-clear sentences, equal to any in 
 the printed page, fell from his lips with the opulence of a great 
 soul. The margins of our text-books are covered with notes, 
 making the volumes doubly precious. We never doubted 
 his sympathy with us in our perplexities, but we were led to 
 feel that we were passing through a wholesome experience. 
 "I should feel I had done a good year's work," he said, "if I 
 could make every one of you believe that you can trust 
 your own thinking when you seek to do the will of God." He 
 felt that the classroom was the place for doubt, that the pul- 
 pit might become the place for conviction. "If I give you 
 anything in my career," he said, "I shall try to give you 
 something that cannot be taken away from you." He wanted 
 no self-delusion. He would not have us make our Judgment 
 blind. If a man complained that he did not know what to 
 preach because his former views were failing him, the answer 
 was: "Let it drive you to your verities." In our spiritual dis- 
 tress, when struggling to readjust our vision as we passed 
 through the clouds toward the high table-lands to which he 
 was leading us, a glance at the teacher's radiant face told us 
 that light and peace awaited us on the upward side. 
 
 He made no attempt to formulate conclusions for us. 
 He wanted us to know the truth by feeling its authority in 
 our own souls. He disliked unthinking assent to his state- 
 
224 WILLIAM NEWTON CLARKE 
 
 ments, and it appeared to invigorate him when men pre- 
 sented other views which were reaUties to them. *'I want 
 you to reject anything of mine you can," he said, *'but, of 
 course," he added with a smile, "I want to fix it so that you 
 can't." He ahvays made us feel we were fellow seekers after 
 truth. He was a marvel of patience when what appeared to 
 some of us as wilful obtuseness was manifested by any mem- 
 bers of the class who resented any disturbance of their be- 
 liefs. His serenity was never dimmed; he rarely uttered a 
 rebuke. We knew, of course, of the storm of criticism through 
 which he was passing. It was hard for us to realize that our 
 beloved teacher with his benignant face, his quiet manner, 
 and with the heart of a little child could be the cause of such 
 violent controversy. We never heard him make a single ref- 
 erence in the classroom to the trial through which he was 
 passing. Amid all the reconstruction taking place in the 
 thoughts of the men of the class, the note of faith was domi- 
 nant. Our rehgion was even greater than we thought. The 
 message we had to deliver was more glorious than we had 
 believed. Each day we were led to feel that we were better 
 acquainted with God. "Indeed, his spirit has often refreshed 
 our hearts there while we have talked together of him and 
 gazed upon his glory in the face of Jesus Christ, and our 
 quiet room has been to us the house of God." The hour in- 
 variably passed too quickly, and the bell always sounded 
 upon reluctant ears. Many times we came forth as from a 
 service of worship. We felt that the "teacher whose presence 
 always glorified the room" was seen in the eyes of him who 
 talked with us. 
 
 A member of the seminary class of '96 was fatally stricken 
 with typhoid fever just as he was about to assume his first 
 pastorate. A few days before the end he asked his sister for 
 paper and pencil, and amid great weakness he wrote: "To 
 have studied theology under Doctor Clarke is to lose all fear 
 of death." 
 
DOCTOR CLARKE IN THE CLASSROOM 225 
 
 Not only did it mean to lose all fear of death, but it meant 
 to go forth from the pleasant classroom, as our great teacher 
 has expressed his hope and aim, "with the true secret of the 
 Lord in their hearts, with a faith that cannot be perplexed, 
 a love that burns in fellowship with Him who gave Himself 
 for men, and a hope unquenchable." 
 
DOCTOR CLARKE IN THE CLASSROOM 
 
 By Reverend Troward H. Marshall 
 
 Perhaps nothing went further to win the student's rev- 
 erence for Doctor Clarke than the prayers which we heard 
 from day to day in the classroom, and, occasionally, in the 
 chapel. To me they were the highest source of my spiritual 
 joy during the days of seminary life. When the classroom 
 door was closed, Doctor Clarke would read some few words of 
 spiritual import from among the gems of truth he had learned 
 to make his own. One that I have before me now is on the 
 slip of paper which Doctor Clarke gave me after class one 
 morning. It is from Lucy Larcom, and reads: "I awoke 
 with a strange joy as of some new revelation, that seemed 
 sounding through my soul, with the words, 'Lift up your 
 heads, O ye gates, and be ye lift up, ye everlasting doors, and 
 the King of Glory shall come in ! ' Is it a new entering in of 
 life and love at all the doors of my nature? Doors that I 
 have left closed and overgrown, perhaps? Come in, O Life, 
 O Truth, O Love, by whatever gate thou wilt, in whatever 
 form thou wilt. Only make me ready to receive thee, and 
 to go with thee through the gates into the freedom of thy 
 universe." 
 
 Having read these words (they might be from Tennyson 
 or Augustine or Isaiah), he would move over, with hardly a 
 change of tone, into the realm of prayer. Many of us tried 
 to write the prayers as they were spoken. I never knew of 
 any one succeeding in doing so. They made writing impos- 
 sible, so much did they lift the spirit out of time into the 
 timeless. These prayers were the expression of the passion 
 for "all good" to which Emerson refers as the criterion for 
 
 226 
 
DOCTOR CLARKE IN THE CLASSROOM 227 
 
 true prayer. The specific, the accidental, the local — these 
 were left behind. We heard such words as these: "O Spirit 
 of Truth," . . . but the best efforts of memory will not 
 bring them back. They were not in the so-called "grand 
 style," but were the hushed breathings of a passionate and 
 intimate converse with God. They shamed us, they in- 
 spired us, they urged us on. Of all the memories of this holy 
 man of God, these are inestimably the most precious. 
 
AS THEOLOGIAN 
 By Professor George Cross, D.D. 
 
 The mention of the name of William Newton Clarke 
 arouses in the mind of one who has known him for many 
 years not so much at first the idea of the theologian as the 
 image of the man. When we do think of him as theologian 
 it is, nevertheless, the man in the theologian — the great, keen- 
 witted, broad-minded, warm-hearted, wholesome man — that 
 permeates his theology for us with its most distinctive char- 
 acteristics. When his works are read this impression con- 
 tinues uppermost. The man never disappears in the theory. 
 For theology to him was less a vocation than a mode of self- 
 expression. The inimitable charm which his books have for 
 all readers, whether experts or laymen, is owing to some- 
 thing more than the smooth and well-rounded style or even 
 the mellowTiess of the thought, for these are simply the reflex 
 of his personality. It is owing to the richness of the spiritual 
 life that is revealed there. It is because a spirit that pos- 
 sessed great individuality held at the same time in its inner 
 chamber the wealth that was gathered from a universalistic 
 S}Tnpathy. The reader feels as if his own deepest ex-periences 
 were finding utterance in the words before him and he finds 
 himself embraced in a larger life. 
 
 This is entirely in keeping with Doctor Clarke's concep- 
 tion of the nature of theology. His watchword is: Theology 
 is made in life. It is an expression of the experiences of the 
 human spirit, and were it not so it would be empty and pro- 
 fane. A man's theology is a transcript of his personal activi- 
 ties in their highest interpretation. The factors that enter 
 into the formation of it are the complex relations, inner and 
 
 228 
 
AS THEOLOGIAN 229 
 
 outer, into which he has been brought as a self-conscious 
 being. If his theology is natural to him — as it must be if it 
 is his own — then it gathers up into itself his whole personal 
 history. He is making it every day. Not only so, it also 
 arises as a formulation of the meaning of the life he hves in 
 the presence of the imperative necessity of living still. A 
 man must theologize because he must live. 
 
 The Approach to the Problems of Theology is herewith given. 
 It is guided by the view that these problems arise less from 
 the intellectual demand for a formal system of given truth 
 than from the practical demand for direction in our activi- 
 ties. The authoritative approach is set aside. Supposing 
 there were a sum of truths objectively given and to be re- 
 ceived submissively, the system of these "truths" which one 
 might organize would not be his theology, for it would still 
 remain alien to his Hfe, something still external to those 
 activities of the soul by which its own truth is made for it. 
 The speculative approach is also set aside. The dialectical 
 development of a system of abstract conceptions from some 
 given universal concept, no matter what name is given to 
 these concepts, is something different from the interpreta- 
 tion of the actual past experiences as a guide to those coming 
 experiences which grow out of them. In the long and in- 
 volved course of human experience great spiritual reali- 
 ties have come into being. These are the most precious pos- 
 sessions men have. The experience of them we call our re- 
 hgion. If they are to be preserved in their full value and to 
 be also enhanced in value in the future activities into which 
 we are to enter, it is necessary that we learn the attitude we 
 are to assume toward our own personal existence and all 
 other existences in order that the issues of Hfe may be solved 
 and that we may live it more fully. 
 
 There must be a Christian theology because there is a dis- 
 tinctively Christian religious life. It has come down from the 
 past through many generations as a spiritual force of ever- 
 
230 WILLIAM NEWTON CLARKE 
 
 increasing magnitude. It is in the world as a great present 
 fact. If it is to continue here it is necessary that we know 
 its nature. The circumstances under which it came into dis- 
 tinct existence, the course by which it has been perpetuated, 
 the influences that have affected its course, it is the business 
 of history to describe. But the meaning of this distinctive 
 kind of life, the relations into which it brings those who pos- 
 sess it with the unseen Being whom they worship, it is the task 
 of theology to expound. 
 
 Great assumptions are here admittedly made. It is as- 
 sumed that the human spirit is capable of distinguishing, 
 ^\^thout outer determining information, those experiences 
 which are of the greatest value to it. It is assumed that it is 
 capable of supplying from within itself, by using whatever 
 material it may have to hand, the solution of the problems 
 which these experiences raise. It is assumed also that the solu- 
 tions arrived at are of temporary vaHdity and partake of 
 progressiveness. For the religious life is never static. It is 
 continually developing into greater fulness. Hence theology, 
 to be true to life, must be equally progressive. The theology of 
 yesterday cannot be the theology of to-day, nor the theology 
 of to-day the theology of to-morrow. Let there be no expec- 
 tations of finality in the doctrines of theology, because we 
 never reach finality in life. 
 
 Theology so viewed becomes extremely hospitable. The 
 religious life is natural. It is the normal human life. Chris- 
 tianity as the highest type of religion is the Ufe that is normal 
 to humanity. If the life of men here can be normal, then 
 the religious man is not an alien to the universe, but finds 
 all its forces contributing factors to his life. Hence the wide 
 range of interest which Doctor Clarke's theology takes. The 
 Christian religious life is placed in a positive relation to the 
 religious life of men in all ages. The universal religious life be- 
 comes a contributing influence in the formation of the Chris- 
 tian life and finds in the latter its fulfilment and its tempo- 
 
AS THEOLOGIAN 231 
 
 rary justification. The religious life stands in positive relation 
 to all the other elements that constitute our human Hfe in 
 its entirety. It becomes necessary for theology to exhibit 
 the unity of the life of men in their religious experiences. 
 Similarly the whole material universe becomes a sustaining 
 power in the religious life, and the most friendly view possible 
 is taken of the processes and methods of scientific and philo- 
 sophic investigation. Thus the Christian thinker, commenc- 
 ing with the consciousness of those worthful experiences we 
 call "religious" within himself, reaches out to the inner life 
 of other men and finds his own enlarged thereby, then goes 
 out to the remotest ages and races to discover the underlying 
 unity of his hfe with theirs, and finally discovers himself at 
 home in the universe, and both reads the meaning of his ex- 
 perience in the Hght it offers and at the same time reads its 
 meaning in the light of those experiences which have come to 
 him. This is the range and order of the theological process. 
 
 The Materials of Theology and the use of them are hereby 
 discovered. To the question, Where shall Christian theology 
 find its materials? the sweeping answer is forthwith given: 
 "Anywhere. ... Its field for materials is as wide as God's 
 creation." It does not follow, however, that this boundless 
 material is to be used without discrimination. For the car- 
 dinal principle is that God's truth for men "is made in life 
 and action." Hence the various sources may be distinguished 
 and estimated according to the immediacy of their relation to 
 the human Hfe. 
 
 First of all to be named is what we have become accus- 
 tomed to call the religious experience. The psychical Hfe, the 
 reHgious self-consciousness, has the first and last word. 
 VvTiether men have come into possession of the better way, 
 whether they have entered upon the higher Hfe, whether they 
 have apprehended the heavenly, spiritual world, whether 
 they have come to know God, can be decided in the final 
 analysis by no other way than by interrogating their personal 
 
232 WILLIAM NEWTON CLARKE 
 
 consciousness. As a religious man the theologian finds his 
 first-hand material within his own spirit. If he does not find 
 it there he cannot take the first step in theology. Theology 
 is necessarily individualistic. An almost infinite variety of 
 theological views is to be admitted as a possibility. This 
 does not mean, however, that a man's theology is to be only 
 his own subjective interpretation of a merely subjective ex- 
 perience. For his fellowship with his fellow men brings him 
 into a communion of spirit with them and thereby opens to 
 him the vast field of the whole inner life of religion as far as 
 men have been able to give expression to it. He will turn at 
 once to that portion of the field which is most akin to his 
 o^vn and most excites his own. The Christian instinct may 
 be trusted to find its way here. 
 
 This estimate of the religious experience leads at once to 
 the Christian Scriptures. The high estimate to be placed on 
 them as sources of theological material does not repose pri- 
 marily on a knowledge of the circumstances of their composi- 
 tion or of their authors, or upon a knowledge of some unique 
 manner in which the thoughts expressed in them were given 
 to men. Much less does it arise from the fact that they were 
 collected into an ''authoritative" canon. It does arise from 
 the supremely important fact that the spiritual life into 
 which the theologian has entered has derived its character 
 and obtained its chief nourishment from the impression which 
 the utterances of the Scriptures have made upon him and 
 those whose spiritual life is akin to his. He draws his ma- 
 terials from the Bible because he is in a holy fellowship with 
 the men whose life experiences have made it what it is. Lay- 
 ing aside the vague and confusing term inspiration, which 
 tends to clothe the Scriptures with mystery and shut us out 
 of their secret, we are brought to the fact that "The authority 
 of the Scriptures is the authority of the truth they convey," 
 and the truth is constituted by the quality of the life in 
 them. It is the peculiar quality of the Scriptures as utterances 
 
AS THEOLOGIAN 233 
 
 of the spiritual life, and not the "proofs" of their extrahuman 
 origin through the attestations of miracle and prediction, 
 that gives to them their distinctive place. This peculiar 
 quality is not of an indefinite character but consists ulti- 
 mately in the power of the personality of Christ as he is set 
 forth there to bring the heart into a higher and purer moral 
 realm. He is the secret of the Book, and every part of it that 
 participates, in the character of Christ has to a corresponding 
 extent power over the souls of Christian men. Thus every- 
 thing in the Scriptures that can be viewed as participation, 
 before his personal advent, in his holy character, and every- 
 thing in them that can be viewed as the product of his per- 
 sonal influence on men, is material for Christian theology. It 
 is this and this alone that makes the Bible the Book of books. 
 It is evident that this material can be gathered from the 
 Scriptures only by a discriminating choice. Our material 
 for theology must be gathered by means of a critical process. 
 Doctor Clarke fully accepted and advocated the right and 
 the necessity, on the one hand, of the hterary and historical 
 criticism, and on the other hand, of the religious criticism 
 of the Scriptures. The stern methods of criticism had no 
 terrors for him. The far-reaching effects of their methods 
 on the common view of the historicity of many of the narra- 
 tives of the Bible were clearly perceived by him at an early 
 date and the consequences accepted without hesitation. The 
 reason is plain: it cleared the way for a better view of the 
 significance of the career of Jesus Christ and enabled the 
 theologian the better to apprehend the true character of his 
 personaHty. This was the greatest positive outcome. Nega- 
 tively, it enabled the theologian to set aside some doctrines 
 that were based on a view of the equal authority of all parts 
 of the Bible, such as the legalistic view of salvation, fatalis- 
 tic predestinationism, millenarianism, the Catholic-Protes- 
 tant doctrine of original sin, and the doctrine of atonement 
 by a sacrifice to the divine wrath. 
 
234 WILLIAM NEWTON CLARKE 
 
 The religious criticism of the Scriptures proceeds by an 
 equal right with the literary and historical criticism. We 
 have a right to use and to trust what he finely calls "the 
 Christian selective sense" in discerning those elements of 
 both the Old Testament and the New Testament which are 
 truly Christian. For the men who have come under the 
 transforming power of the personality of Jesus Christ have 
 obtained "a living gift that [for them] transfigured all their 
 dealings with God, and transformed even God himself." 
 Christ as he impresses himself on the spirit of the believer 
 becomes the principle by which we distinguish the Christian 
 material from the non-Christian materials, no matter where 
 it may be found. To the "obvious criticism upon this pro- 
 posal that it leaves much to the judgment of him who under- 
 takes to construct the doctrine," the answer is made: "This 
 is true, and one could easily wish for a less exacting method. 
 But this seems to be God's way with the free spirits whom 
 he has gifted with the powers of hfe — he bids each and all of 
 them turn their faces toward him, and report to one another 
 what they see." In their communion with one another in the 
 spiritual Hfe and in their inner relation with the course of this 
 life as it has developed in history is found the corrective of 
 mere subjectivism. Christ as he reveals God to the soul 
 must be the supreme standard by which to test all that pro- 
 fesses to be Christian. 
 
 Doctor Clarke's confidence that the truth of Christian- 
 ity would be by no means detrimentally affected by the proc- 
 esses of criticism did not spring from the mystic's view that 
 the spiritual and eternal so completely transcend the physi- 
 cal and temporal that the former may be separated from the 
 latter and go its way independently. In the distinctive sense 
 of the term he was no mystic. The earthly, the temporal, 
 and the physical were of profound interest to him because 
 they bore in their bosom the presence of the heavenly and 
 eternal. His free and confident attitude toward the work of 
 
AS THEOLOGIAN 235 
 
 the higher criticism rested on his trust in the worth of the 
 historical. Christianity was to him a historical faith — not 
 in the sense that its truth depends on the historicity of cer- 
 tain presumed events, but that it lies at the heart of all his- 
 tory, is one with the historical progress of humanity and dis- 
 plays the true meaning of this process. This faith becomes 
 to him who receives it the revelation of the one purpose of 
 all human life. The critical discovery of the actual facts 
 connected with the origin of Christian faith is of great im- 
 portance, because in them the peculiar genius of the new 
 faith was embodied, but the supremely important facts in 
 this connection were not the external occurrences as such 
 but the spiritual events that came to light in the accounts 
 of the occurrences. Similarly the equally inevitable relig- 
 ious criticism of the Scriptures cannot be wanton or ulti- 
 mately destructive, since it proceeds from no scepticism but 
 from the conviction of the irrefragable worth of the individ- 
 ual's religious experience. The Christian's religious experi- 
 ence flows from the influence of the figure of the Christ as 
 he is set forth primarily in the Scriptures of the New Testa- 
 ment. Thus the Christian Scriptures themselves supply the 
 principle of their own religious criticism. 
 
 It follows from what has been said that Doctor Clarke 
 emphasized the contribution which the science of history 
 makes to the material of theology. All history is interpret- 
 able as the history of religion, for it brings to light the way 
 in which the spirit of men has come to find its higher ends; 
 or, which is the same thing, history, culminating in the his- 
 tory of religion, exhibits the manner in which God has put 
 men in ever-growing possession of his own blessed life of 
 holy love. For a similar reason the natural sciences and phi- 
 losophy are treated with profound respect as regards both 
 their methods and their results. 
 
 The Theological Method which results from this use of 
 materials is simple. There is nowhere in his writings a la- 
 
236 WILLIAM NEWTON CLARKE 
 
 bored exposition of the technic of theology, while yet there 
 is care taken to be faithful to the full demands of a scien- 
 tific treatment of the subject-matter of theology. It is plain 
 to every reader that his aim throughout was consciously 
 practical — to enable the thoughtful believer to live out his 
 life of faith in the whole realm of possible experience and to 
 propagate this life in others. Theology was to him the 
 science of the religious life. 
 
 The method might be called the psychological-historical. 
 Setting aside the traditional method of collating and organ- 
 izing the great "authoritative" declarations of doctrine sup- 
 posedly given by inspiration, certified by supernatural events, 
 and built up by logical inference into an unalterable system 
 of abstract truth, he lays down as the basis of all rehgious 
 doctrine the fact of a conscious, experiential religious Hfe in 
 the heart of the theologian himself. The story of the course 
 of this life as experienced to-day and yesterday by all those 
 in whom we can trace it suppUes the material for an induc- 
 tive study of its character. The qualities and convictions 
 of the faith that permeates this life are thereby disclosed. 
 The exposition of these convictions or possessions of faith 
 presents the meaning of the faith in relation to history and 
 the nature of the universe, and thus precedes and grounds 
 the attempt to justify them as truth. Dogmatics precedes 
 apologetics. 
 
 The exposition of the nature of the Christian faith as ex- 
 hibited in its history leads to its fountainhead in the teach- 
 ings and career and character of Jesus Christ as these ap- 
 pear in the Gospels and the Epistles of the New Testament. 
 It is the firm conviction of the present writer that the chief 
 secret of the power and beauty of Doctor Clarke's exposi- 
 tions is to be found in his prolonged, thorough, and devout 
 study of the New Testament. His free attitude toward it 
 enabled him to imbibe its spirit without suffering from the 
 fettering influence of an inherited cast-iron system. 
 
AS THEOLOGIAN 237 
 
 The special themes that come in for discussion are se- 
 lected more or less by reference to the historical course of 
 theology and the forms of the historic creeds. These are 
 treated with reverence as formulations of the character of 
 the evolving Christian spirit. Portions of their language are 
 retained and other portions are quietly set aside. In his 
 earlier writings considerable attention is paid to their ter- 
 minology, and speculation is resorted to in support of it. A 
 notable instance is the attempt to interpret the doctrine of 
 the incarnation by speculations respecting the nature of 
 deity and the nature of humanity. In his later writings the 
 influence of metaphysical speculation is a diminishing quan- 
 tity. Much more attention is given to the movements of 
 the human spirit to-day as it seeks to explore all realms of 
 fact and to discover the course of personal activity and com- 
 munity life which they disclose to the inquirer. The ethical 
 overshadows the metaphysical. It is from this point of view 
 that the results of historical investigation and scientific re- 
 search in the physical realm are appropriated and inter- 
 preted in their ethical-religious bearings. 
 
 Thus, then, it appears that the theological method of 
 Doctor Clarke is determined finally, not by the necessity of 
 arriving at a knowledge of static truth, but by the impera- 
 tiveness of obtaining guidance in the way to the perfect 
 active life, which is the way to God. While, therefore, his 
 theology necessarily became systematic in its method it did 
 not pretend to arrive at a final system of truth. He was as 
 suspicious of wrought-out systems as he was of disorder, say- 
 ing: "A theology too systematic is sure to be distrusted for 
 that very quality and with good reason." "Incompleteness 
 is far better than a misleading appearance of perfect sys- 
 tem." The reason for this attitude is plain. It flows from 
 that view of existence, and of human existence in particu- 
 lar, which interprets it as in course of evolution toward per- 
 fection. No doctrine can be a perfectly true expression of 
 
238 WILLIAM NEWTON CLARKE 
 
 the supreme realities known to us, because these realities are 
 in incomplete evolution and because our apprehension of them 
 is also in process. The method is deeply dependent on the 
 aim. The aim is to produce such an interpretation of the 
 Christian life in the whole sphere of its existence as will serve 
 to forward our spiritual progress. As the lower stages of 
 life are transcended the doctrines that grew out of them are 
 transcended also. We carmot rest content with the doc- 
 trines of our fathers because we cannot live our lives within 
 the limits of theirs, and in their turn our doctrines will be 
 transcended by our sons who will live a larger life than ours. 
 
 This characterization of Doctor Clarke's theology would 
 be unsatisfactory did we not illuminate it by references to 
 his interpretation of some of the great commonplaces of 
 theology. Of course, nothing beyond mere suggestions of 
 his full views on the points touched can be attempted here. 
 I select the following: 
 
 I. Revelation. One misses in Doctor Clarke that whole 
 view of things which represents heaven and earth, God and 
 man, as unlike in ultimate nature, separated by a gulf so 
 deep that we may simply say heaven is not earth and God 
 is not man, and then add that the gulf has been bridged at 
 points for a time by an activity from the higher world mak- 
 ing itself manifest here and giving us ghmpses of that other 
 world, or that communications have been delivered across 
 the gulf informing us of the higher world and our relation 
 to it. This dualism disappears. Instead, the relation of 
 heaven to earth and of God to man is immanent and as such 
 normal to our existence here. God is forever uttering him- 
 self to our spirit and we are forever apprehending his self- 
 expression. For revelation is just self-expression. This 
 revelation is not to be identified with the dictation of a for- 
 mula but with the impartation of a higher self-conscious life. 
 In the Scriptures the expression Word of God, "always de- 
 notes a living communication from God to men." God re- 
 
AS THEOLOGIAN 239 
 
 veals himself "Immediately in the communion that holy 
 souls have with him," in their inner experience, not before 
 this experience or as a prior condition of it, but in it. This 
 experience is uplifting and purifying, and nothing that comes 
 short of that can be called revelation. 
 
 As Christians we believe that, "In Jesus we have true 
 revealing of God. This does not mean something technical, 
 as if in Christ we had received a formula concerning the 
 divine nature. It means that Jesus and his life and work con- 
 stitute a great expression of God and exhibition of his char- 
 acter." Where he says, "The direct revelation of God in 
 human hfe was made once for all in Christ completed," we 
 are not to understand the words "once for all" in a merely 
 empirical sense; for Christ's gift to the world is filling the 
 hfe of men more and more and putting constantly a new 
 meaning into the discoveries made by human research. 
 "When the entire conception of God has been unified, and 
 harmonized with the thought of Jesus as its centre and key- 
 note, God will be known as he is. The character that Jesus 
 opened to us is the real character of God, not to be trans- 
 formed for us by any future discoveries or experience." 
 "This character is the same in his relations with all beings, 
 because the same in himself the eternal God." Thus the 
 course of human history and the laws of the universe as dis- 
 closed to us by science and philosophy become to us a Chris- 
 tian revelation, even though these discoveries may have had 
 no historical connection with Christianity, because they help 
 to make plain to us the sphere and the manner in which the 
 Christian spirit is to fulfil its destiny. 
 
 We are to beware of limiting the revelation of God to the 
 portion of the human race connected with the formation of 
 our Bible. "God has always been in communication with 
 all spirits of the human race." "It is he who brought it to 
 pass that man advances from the life of the beast to the life 
 of the spirit. The life that moves from the animal to the 
 
240 WILLIAM NEWTON CLARKE 
 
 spiritual realm is of his giv'ing and of his designing. The soul 
 da^vning in man is his self-impartation." Thus, then, "that 
 which he has done in Christ can be nothing else than the 
 culmination of a work of God as God upon man as man." 
 This can mean nothing less than that revelation is continu- 
 ous with the growing spiritual Hfe of men and that it is just 
 God's gracious saving will experienced in the life of self-con- 
 sciousness. 
 
 2. Salvation. In this subject, no less than in the ques- 
 tion of revelation, one misses much to which he has been 
 accustomed. In the first place, he misses the systematic ar- 
 rangement of a body of concepts, each one of which is sup- 
 posed to have a distinct connotation and to correspond with 
 a distinct spiritual fact, the whole presenting the appearance 
 of a wrought-out science, and representing stages and sepa- 
 rate processes in the work of salvation. Thus we have had, on 
 the one side, such concepts as illumination, regeneration, 
 justification, adoption, sanctification, glorification, as de- 
 scriptions of distinguishable acts of God in salvation; and, 
 on the other side, repentance, faith, conversion, consecra- 
 tion, as different acts of man in the process of receiving sal- 
 vation. The whole represents, then, a spiritual programme 
 followed in the saving work of God and experience of men. 
 These terms are not discarded as useless, but the scheme as a 
 whole is discarded and in place of it appears the account of 
 the inception and growth of the new moral life in the Chris- 
 tian, to be regarded from one point of view as God's one 
 continuous saving act, and from another point of view as 
 man's inner progress from the lower to the higher life of the 
 spirit. 
 
 Similarly we miss the representation of the work of sal- 
 vation that endeavors to make it harmonize with the Catho- 
 lic theory of the godhead by assigning different parts of the 
 work to the different persons of the Deity, as, for example, 
 condemnation and justification to the Father, atonement to 
 
AS THEOLOGIAN 241 
 
 the Son, and the application of the atonement to men by the 
 Spirit, or, again, the provision of salvation by the Father, 
 the securing of it by the Son, and the impartation of it by the 
 Spirit. Instead, with a reverent acceptance of the triunity 
 in God (of which more will be said presently) there is the sim- 
 pler and more natural view that the saving activity of Christ 
 the Son is the very act of the Father himself, who does not 
 stand over against the Christ in his redemptive act, but is 
 wholly one with him. Similarly the renewing and purify- 
 ing activity of the gracious Spirit is the eternal activity of 
 the lixdng Christ. In like manner the distinctions between 
 the different portions of Christ's work, as his teaching, his 
 penal sufferings, his intercession, his gift of the Spirit, his 
 government of his people, while recognized as having value 
 for the sake of fulness of conception, are nevertheless re- 
 stored to their proper informal use as complementary figura- 
 tive representations of the one saving act of Christ in his 
 infinite Hfe. Here scholasticism disappears. 
 
 With the pseudoscientific construction of the subject dis- 
 appears also the pseudohistorical view that conceives it as 
 a "plan of salvation" according to which events occur in an 
 order and relation preordained. Reposing on the "divine 
 decrees" there occurred the events of the creation, the fall, 
 the selection of a portion of the race to be the exclusive recip- 
 ients of a definitely given law, the definite event of the in- 
 carnation, the atonement, the end of the world, and the judg- 
 ment day. Doctor Clarke is far from belittling the use of 
 these terms as efforts of the human mind to construe the his- 
 torical process of salvation, but the mechanical character of 
 the view repels him. Instead, he turns to a much less pre- 
 tentious attempt to see in the progress of human history as 
 an immanent process the unfoldings of a gracious redemp- 
 tive purpose that runs through all the ages and is destined to 
 fulfil itself in eternity. Salvation ceases to be viewed as ulti- 
 mately a securing of a safe transition from earth to heaven, 
 
242 WILLIAM NEWTON CLARKE 
 
 but the fitting of the earthly life with a heavenly goodness 
 and power. 
 
 It is not surprising, therefore, to find that the legalistic 
 view of the atonement is not acceptable to him. Its depen- 
 dence on a body of juridical ideas mostly outgrown in the life 
 of the nations is seen, and with this is seen also the impera- 
 tiveness of recognizing that this representation of the matter 
 must fail to appeal to the enlightened to-.day. Instead, it is 
 attempted to replace this defective view with one that cor- 
 responds with the deepening moral consciousness of the 
 times, the progress of the aim and methods of social better- 
 ment, and the broader and more humane views of the nature 
 and means of government. The atonement becomes a living 
 experience definitely related to the personality and career of 
 Jesus Christ and a hberating and purifying process in the 
 individual and social consciousness. 
 
 It need scarcely be added that since Doctor Clarke pre- 
 serves the fully ethical character of salvation as against the 
 metaphysical interpretation, there is no place in his theology 
 for the saving effect of sacraments or any other view of it 
 that finds its locus anywhere but in the living, conscious 
 spirit of the man. 
 
 A little more positively and very briefly — salvation is a 
 fact of the personal experience and a fact of history know- 
 able to any one who gives himself to the study of the course 
 of men in the world. A doctrine of salvation depends on 
 this fact and attempts to expound it. Salvation is a relig- 
 ious experience — the pious mind sees its origin in God. It is 
 a moral experience — it is a deliverance from sin unto right- 
 eousness, or rightness. The Christian salvation is a historical 
 fact — the Christian traces it to Jesus Christ. It is a reality 
 of the spiritual realm unfolding itself progressively in the 
 course of time and, so we believe, destined to come to perfect 
 achievement in eternity. 
 
 The glory of Christianity is salvation. It is not merely 
 
AS THEOLOGIAN 243 
 
 something secured by Christianity but, truly understood, 
 it is Christianity. That is to say, a new order of life personal, 
 social, racial, and, in its intent, universal, has come into being 
 among men through Jesus Christ. Many accounts of it have 
 been given but none of them has yet become the one account 
 of the matter or is likely to be, because the fact is so unut- 
 terably rich in meaning. But this we can say: "Straight 
 out from Jesus Christ, as a normal and congenial outcome 
 from his work, came that ethical and religious order of life 
 which we call the kingdom of God." Now "the central 
 truth of Christianity" is that which can be truly called the 
 kingdom of God is "a reign of mutual service and help with 
 an unselfish devotion to others for its indwelling power." 
 To produce this new order of life, to bring men into the fel- 
 lowship of it, to impart to them the experience of the graces 
 which flourish in it, such as trust in the Infinite Goodness, 
 humiHty, meekness, and gentleness of spirit, graciousness 
 and mercy to men, purity and unselfishness of heart, undy- 
 ing confidence and courage in the presence of the universe, 
 is to save them. "For about two thousand years Jesus Christ 
 has been the living source of this experience" and this order 
 of Hfe among men. How great this fact may yet turn out to 
 be and how Jesus Christ has brought it into being we may 
 never altogether succeed in telling. Meanwhile we can say 
 that it does consist in the increasing penetration of the hearts 
 of men and the Hfe of humanity with his personal conscious- 
 ness in its attitude toward God and men and the world. 
 Historically and actually Jesus is saving the world. 
 
 The salvation is ethical. It comes through the appeal 
 to the moral consciousness. The whole of Jesus' teaching 
 is permeated with the ethical ideal as his life is permeated 
 with the ethical motive. He never distrusted the supreme 
 value of the moral judgment as a court of appeal. He never 
 forgot that men are made or marred by moral action. He 
 never sought to withdraw his followers from the mass of man- 
 
244 WILLIAM NEWTON CLARKE 
 
 kind or from the challenge of the universe, but sought to en- 
 able them to fulfil the Kfe of the highest fellowship with all 
 within this natural world. His power over them through 
 the centuries has been working in the same direction, the 
 establishment of a right order of life among men. It is ethical 
 in a broader sense than that it concerns itself with the indi- 
 vidual conscience. While the question of the well-being of 
 the individual is of abiding importance, the inquiry, Are 
 there many saved ? loses itself in the larger question of the 
 coming of a universal reign of the heavenly Father. Hence 
 also the apocalyptical view of a world-assize by which each 
 is assigned to his final abode has, in accordance with the aim 
 of Jesus, been displaced by the hope of a time when the whole 
 creation shall be the home of the love of God. 
 
 The ethical is carried up into the religious. Unrightness 
 is sin, and sin is not to be understood according to the terms 
 of a given law, but according to the character of the supreme 
 and infinitely holy Person. It is the love of this holy Being 
 and not the terms of a law that gives to sin its unworthiness 
 and damnable character. With this interpretation the whole 
 legalistic interpretation of the means of salvation drops 
 away. Not that the juridical language in which the Chris- 
 tian salvation has been set forth is without value, but that 
 value is temporary and this formal interpretation must yield 
 to the conception of salvation as effected by one's being 
 brought into right personal relations. The salvation of 
 Christ is no part of a legal arrangement. No difficulty is felt 
 to be in the way of saying: "It is righteous to forgive those 
 who confess." There is no impediment to forgiveness in God. 
 
 Hence Doctor Clarke feels that of all the scriptural and 
 theological terms that have been used to express the great 
 fact of salvation as the bringing of men into a better rela- 
 tion with God the term "reconciliation" is the best. For 
 the baseness of sin, its abnormality for men, its violation 
 of the standard of duty, its selfishness, its opposition to the 
 
AS THEOLOGIAN 245 
 
 moral government of the world — all these are comprehended 
 in the rejection of a God who is love. It is "not a matter of 
 relation to law or to government," but a personal relation. 
 The relations of men to one another and to the universe are 
 all comprehended in their relation to God. 
 
 3. Christ. It is not to be doubted that the doctrine of 
 the person of Christ one may hold will depend in some mea- 
 sure on his doctrine of salvation, for if Jesus is to him in any 
 sense Saviour the effect of such an experience or estimate 
 of his significance is sure to be manifest in the interpretation 
 of his career. It has always been so and is likely to con- 
 tinue. Doctor Clarke's doctrine of salvation prepares us 
 for his doctrine of Christ. This does not hinder that his 
 method of approach be of great importance or detract from 
 the value of his views. 
 
 At the outset we are struck by the absence of those meta- 
 physical premises that play so large a part in the most widely 
 known christologies at the very opening of the discussion. 
 There are no a priori assumptions as to the essence of deity 
 and of humanity or of the necessary relations between them 
 as a foundation of his interpretation of Christ, and, accord- 
 ingly, there is an absence of the effort to fit the historical 
 Jesus into the speculative scheme, which has been such a 
 great obstacle to the traditional christologies. 
 
 The historical consideration occupies the first place. The 
 facts of Jesus' career are to be ascertained by the strictest 
 application of the critical methods. The facts are what they 
 are, no matter how our preferences may affect our appre- 
 hension of them. Some portions of the accounts are of such 
 a character as to leave some alleged events in doubt, but the 
 general representation of the facts is reliable and the outcome 
 of the critical study is to clarify the picture and allow the 
 actual living personality to stand out in his uniqueness and 
 grandeur. Such a one as the Jesus set forth in the Gospels, 
 especially the synoptics, actually lived. Such a person actu- 
 
246 WILLIAM NEWTON CLARKE 
 
 ally made his advent into the movement of human hfe on 
 earth and became a distinctive spiritual force in it. There he 
 stands before us — just, pure, sinless, loving, gracious, lowly, 
 courageous, faithful, commanding, and moving upon men 
 with a marvellous attraction. The expositions liis first fol- 
 lowers offered of the character of his life and even the addi- 
 tions that they were led to make to his real sa}dngs become 
 an important part of the testimony to his actual achieve- 
 ment. They are included in the means by which he has been 
 able to perpetuate the power of his life through the ages. 
 Here, then, and not in an assumption of the nature of sin 
 and salvation supplied by a moral philosophy or by the 
 Mosaic legislation, is the basis of the doctrine of his saviour- 
 hood. The salvation he brought is to be described by refer- 
 ence to the actual fruits of his career in human lives, includ- 
 ing the life of the theologian himself. 
 
 What was it that Jesus gave to the world? He gave an 
 ideal of life, an ideal that he was in his own personality. It 
 was not merely a picture of the perfect life, but he sowed 
 that life in the earth in the career that culminated in the su- 
 preme act of self-sacrifice in death and thereby he was able to 
 communicate to men the spirit of his life in such a degree that 
 it became their very life also. Thus he became their sal- 
 vation. 
 
 The place that Jesus has gained in the hearts of men is 
 not due to any demonstration ah extra of the truth of the 
 claims h*e may have made or of the authority he possessed. 
 It flows from the actual power he has exercised to bring them 
 into the fellowship of his spirit with the conviction that they 
 are thereby brought into fellowship with God. The ques- 
 tion of the reliability of the accounts of miracles performed 
 by him as sensible matters of fact, the question of the reality 
 of the virgin birth, or the question of the reality of the 
 physical resurrection (Doctor Clarke points out that the idea 
 of the resurrection became greatly carnalized in the early 
 
AS THEOLOGIAN 247 
 
 centuries) has no decisive place in the determination of the 
 greater question, Who was he ? These accounts, on the other 
 hand, are of great value as showing what men were able to 
 believe of him through what they had found him to be to them, 
 but they drive us back to the more fundamental question of 
 the quality of the power he exercised on men in the experi- 
 ences of religion. The response to this question is clear: The 
 "simple faith and straightforward love" of the early Chris- 
 tians and of multitudes since those days "found him more 
 than human, and it came to pass that they adored him as God, 
 and God by means of him." "The New Testament does not 
 connect this divine honor to Jesus with belief in his supernat- 
 ural birth. It sprang, rather, from the recognition of divine 
 qualities in him, and from a sense of his living and reigning as a 
 Saviour." Without previous theories of divinity and human- 
 ity men have felt the spiritual power that came forth from 
 him, and identifying this with the action of God upon them 
 they have spontaneously affirmed that God must be as he is if 
 v/e are to love and obey and worship God, and he must be as 
 God since he has such power over men. "We behold in him 
 a relation to God that we find nowhere else. . . . God was 
 in him as never was or will be in any other man." While 
 many still affirm that the divinity of Christ as an article of 
 faith is dependent on the belief in the historicity of the virgin 
 birth and the physical resurrection of Jesus, Doctor Clarke 
 places these in the reverse order, saying: "It is his divinity 
 alone that justifies belief in his miraculous conception. If 
 we follow the example of the apostles and early Christians 
 we shall not build a doctrine of his person upon this event, 
 but upon the character and personality that became mani- 
 fest in his life and his saviourhood." 
 
 With regard to the question of the incarnation, or how 
 God became man, so far as Doctor Clarke permitted him- 
 self to speculate on this question in the Outline, he favored 
 the kenotic theory — "voluntary self-limitation" — but in the 
 
248 WILLIAM NEWTON CLARKE 
 
 Ideal of Jesus he seems content to say that the sum and 
 substance of Jesus' career is that he revealed God, in his suf- 
 ferings reveahng the God who suffers for our sins. Reflect- 
 ing on the attempted explanations of the person of Christ, 
 he says: "Theology has its metaphysical doctrines of the 
 person of Christ to account for the sonship of Jesus to God; 
 but doctrine, after all, is only the expression of fact, and no 
 analysis of his person can ever afford such proof and illus- 
 tration of his sonship as resides in the life that he lived and 
 the death that he died." 
 
 We leave this great subject here. One thing is certain, 
 that while Doctor Clarke was profoundly interested in the 
 theological problem, he was much less interested in present- 
 ing a fully formed and satisfactory doctrine of the person 
 of Christ than in securing his reader's interest in the effort 
 to become ChristHke. 
 
 4. God. On taking up the author's volume. The Chris- 
 tian Doctrine of God, the present writer involuntarily asked 
 himself. Can anything be found here that has not been al- 
 ready written by others? and then proceeded to read the 
 book through, for there was no stopping. It is the ripe fruit 
 of Doctor Clarke's finest thought and quite beyond the pos- 
 sibility of being characterized in a few paragraphs. How- 
 ever, a few statements may be made in the hope that read- 
 ers may be stimulated to read the book for themselves. 
 
 One notices the wide range that is covered in the search 
 for material for the formulation of the doctrine of God, and 
 also the point of departure. It is not sufficient to collect 
 and construe the biblical material, "for the Christian doc- 
 trine does not inherit solely from the Bible," inasmuch as 
 the Christian life is greater than the Bible and in a large 
 sense the source of it. Nor are we to rest with the historic 
 creeds or their terminology, for the process of forming a 
 Christian doctrine of God is not yet completed, nor will it 
 ever be, since the Christian life must ceaselessly expand. 
 
AS THEOLOGIAN 249 
 
 Nor shall we be satisfied to discover the element common 
 to all Christians and persistent through all the Christian 
 ages, for this has been subject to the limitations of our im- 
 perfect experience. The present Christian doctrine of God 
 must be the expression — and cannot be more — of such Chris- 
 tian Ufe and knowledge as surround us now. "An unchanging 
 deposit of truth is an impossibility." There can be no final 
 orthodox doctrine of God. An evolving divine fife in men 
 must ever broaden and deepen the doctrine. This remains 
 true, not in spite of the fact that the personality of Jesus 
 Christ will always supply the inner spirit of the Christian 
 doctrine, but because of that fact. For the God he gave us 
 is a " God of reality and of spiritual life," and for this reason 
 the Christian experience since the days of the historical 
 Jesus has contributed an indispensable factor of the doc- 
 trine. For we live in him. This does not eliminate the need 
 of employing the speculative factor in the formulation of the 
 doctrine. The speculative activity is itself an essential part 
 of our spiritual life and inevitably the metaphysical element 
 in our doctrine of God will appear. This latter phase of 
 the doctrine naturally develops in the apologetical treatment 
 of the subject where he treats the question whether the 
 Christian view of God derived from the influence of Christ 
 upon our own personality and growing out of our religious 
 life is tenable in view of the nature of the world in which 
 our lives are necessarily lived. The Christian doctrine of 
 God does not begin with a proof but with an assumption. 
 
 We are not surprised, therefore, when we read the words, 
 "Christianity does not approach God first as Creator, or as 
 the great First Cause, or as the Almighty," but as ethical 
 personality with whom we have fellowship in spirit. We 
 see how unhesitatingly the author accepts the human self- 
 consciousness as that which determines fundamentally the 
 form in which the existence of God shall be construed. "Spir- 
 itual anthropomorphism is the true key to right knowledge 
 
250 WILLIAM NEWTON CLARKE 
 
 of God." God is spirit, that is, God is a person, "A person 
 is a being in relation with others, who is aware of himself 
 and has power of directing his own action." This is not 
 ofifered as a final definition. Such definition may be impos- 
 sible for us because our personality is incomplete. There 
 is a diflSculty, of course, in ascribing personality to God. 
 The true source of the difficulty lies not in the limitations 
 which may seem implied in the term but in the fact that we 
 are not ourselves perfectly person. We do not perfectly 
 know ourselves or direct our action. True personality is 
 found in God. God is a person. This is the basis of our 
 estimate of our human personality. 
 
 We find, as we should consequently expect to find, that 
 instead of the "attributes" of God standing in the forefront 
 of the doctrine, goodness, personal goodness, is said to be 
 the fundamental character of God. Goodness in God must 
 be the same in nature as goodness in men, or we use words 
 without meaning. "Goodness means the same in all moral 
 beings." "It is the normal fulfilling of one's relations." 
 The theology that lays its basis in faith in the divine good- 
 ness must work out very differently from the theology that 
 reposes on the abstract idea of justice. The whole view of 
 man and the world must be a hopeful one when the theolo- 
 gian can say: "Goodness lies back of all existence." The 
 goodness is moral goodness, positive, personal love. Holi- 
 ness and retribution cannot be the opposite of love, but are 
 embraced within it. The atonement cannot be a way of 
 reconciling God with himself. "Holiness and love do not 
 need to be brought together and reconciled before they can 
 kiss each other. They are of one spiritual kindred." We 
 know now how it is that Doctor Clarke's theological discus- 
 sions move onward with such a confident tread and are so 
 heartening to many who have been tempted to shun all 
 theological works. 
 
 The secret of this view of God is his estimate of Jesus. 
 
AS THEOLOGIAN 251 
 
 Ignoring the common distinction between the person and the 
 work of Jesus Christ, Doctor Clarke sees in the personality 
 of Jesus a revelation of the moral nature of God. The dis- 
 tinction between God in Christ and God out of Christ as re- 
 gards salvation is a false distinction and misrepresents God. 
 ''The God who is in Christ is the only God there is." "What 
 he does God is doing, and such as he is God is." "What is 
 manifested in Christ goes on eternally in God." Saviour- 
 hood pertains to the essence of God. He must be creator 
 because he is saviour and the creatorship gets its charac- 
 ter from saviourhood. No other kind of God could the 
 Christian worship. Hence "the divine saviourhood is a 
 necessary part of the true doctrine of monotheism." That 
 there are difficulties for this \dew when we approach the 
 question of the judgment for sin is not denied, but these 
 must not be acknowledged to subvert the doctrine. What- 
 ever judgment may work it must be such judgment as pro- 
 ceeds from saviourhood. 
 
 A hopeful view of the world is an outcome. "Since he 
 is saviour there is redemptive significance in the Hfe of the 
 world." The common theological doctrine of God's relations 
 to the world come in for modification. From the transcen- 
 dence of personality in relation to the physical we proceed 
 to the affirmation of God's transcendence over the world. 
 This transcendence is not separation. Immanence is af- 
 firmed—not, however, as a counterpoise (which is the com- 
 mon representation), but as the fulfihnent of transcendence. 
 It is in transcendence that immanence gets its meaning and 
 its reality too. The interest in this matter does not arise 
 from the necessity of speculation in our apprehension of the 
 nature of the universe. The interest is religious. If both 
 science and philosophy lead to the view that the world is 
 controlled from within, by affirming the immanence of the 
 Christian's God in the worid, it is affirmed that the ultimate 
 significance of the immanent law of the universe is found in 
 
252 WILLIAM NEWTON CLARKE 
 
 the supremacy of the principle of holy personal love. The 
 world is being made a habitation of personalities whose 
 inner life is governed by this love. Love has made it, love 
 constitutes it, love can be fulfilled in it. 
 
 The so-called natural attributes of God come to have a 
 new meaning. Their character is moral and our interest 
 in them is moral. Omnipresence, omniscience, omnipotence 
 become unipresence, uniscience, unipotence, and what we 
 mean by these terms is that in all places and conditions, in 
 all knowledge, in all activity, it is open to us to believe that 
 we are in the presence of, enjoying spiritual communion 
 with, and being ever upheld by the one holy Being, whose 
 love is revealed to the hearts of men by Jesus Christ. This 
 great faith surely is the explanation of the fact that in all 
 Doctor Clarke's writings we find no pessimistic note, no for- 
 bidding word, and it is the secret of the revival he has helped 
 to produce in the interest in theology in the minds of thou- 
 sands of young men. 
 
 It would be scarcely proper to close this discussion with- 
 out some reference to Doctor Clarke's attitude toward the 
 traditional doctrine of the trinity. For that doctrine he 
 had profound respect. He even indorses it, but only with 
 the understanding that it needs reconstruction according to 
 the wider experience and peculiar needs of the present day. 
 Full value is given to the religious and intellectual considera- 
 tions that first led to the formulation of it. Beginning with 
 the informal but profoundly expressive utterances of New 
 Testament writers as they sought to set forth the richness 
 of the religious life into which they were brought through 
 Christ, it was later developed in a formal way in an endeavor 
 of the church "to understand and justify her Christian ex- 
 perience," particularly, "to justify her adoration of her 
 Saviour and to ground his salvation in the eternal reality of 
 God." There was an attempt to retain a true monotheism 
 while maintaining the full significance of the redemption of 
 
AS THEOLOGIAN 253 
 
 Christ and the consciousness of participation in the sancti- 
 fying power of the Spirit he gave. The presuppositions 
 under which they defended it, namely — that the personality 
 of Jesus is to be understood by analysis of his being and the 
 discovery of its ultimate essence (about which after all we 
 know nothing) and that the human nature and the divine 
 nature are essentially unlike — are no longer tenable and make 
 no appeal to our faith. Yet the doctrine in its true intent is 
 thoroughly and gloriously Christian. 
 
 The significant thing about our theologian's approach to 
 the subject is that he treats it under the relations of God 
 with men, and not as a statement of relations within Deity 
 communicated to men by authority. The reason for this ap- 
 proach is "that it is a doctrine of religion." It can be held 
 by any man only in so far as it ministers to his spiritual life 
 and expresses it. The relations which it describes are not 
 abstract but practical. The adjective "holy" applied to the 
 Spirit indicates this. "The Spirit existing in the eternal 
 Godhead no one would ever dream of calling holy: that 
 epithet requires the atmosphere of an unholy world to be 
 born in." To hold the doctrine as if it were a statement of 
 truth settled for us apart, or in advance of, our religious ex- 
 perience is to place us in a relation to it altogether different 
 from that of those from whom it emanated. 
 
 The traditional form of the doctrine comes short of the 
 Christian monotheistic faith. The terms of the doctrine have 
 largely lost their original meaning. "Person," for example, 
 means something quite different now. The term "trinity" 
 is also defective. It affirms the Christian recognition of the 
 threeness of God in relation to his children and the universe, 
 but it obscures the unity. In consequence it has frequently 
 led to a tritheism that confuses faith, Father, Son, and Spirit 
 being separated and assigned separate activities. It must 
 not be forgotten that God is personal in the modern sense 
 of the term. There is one God. He is threefold in his self- 
 
1 
 
 254 WILLIAM NEWTON CLARKE 
 
 revelation to his people. Hence in order to maintain the one- 
 ness of God and at the same time to express his threeness of 
 redemptive acti\dty, it would be better in place of the term 
 "trinity" to use the term "triunity." In any case and at all 
 costs, God must be to us the living God. 
 
 This characterization of Doctor Clarke's theology may 
 fitly conclude with a brief statement of the service he has 
 rendered as theologian to the rising ministry and students of | 
 
 theology of the present day: First, he has helped to deliver | 
 
 theology from the benumbing effect of bearing the yoke of a | 
 
 stiff traditional terminology and enabled it to speak the Ian- f 
 
 guage of living men. Second, he has permeated theological 
 discussion with the spirit of a living faith and kept it in its 4 
 
 true sphere as a servant to this faith. Third, he has con- 
 tributed to the establishment of the historical rather than 
 the authoritative or speculative method of approach to re- 
 ligious questions, and encouraged men to believe in the pos- i^ 
 sibility of being absolutely true to fact and fearless in the | 
 discovery of it without departing from the soul of faith. ,| 
 Fourth, he has succeeded in awakening in the minds of mul- \ 
 titudes of serious and intelligent laymen a new interest in 
 the questions of theology as a matter of personal concern 
 and edification. Fifth, he has thus helped remarkably in j 
 preparing the way for a richer rehgious life and a revival of 
 theology as a handmaid of faith. 
 
 The following quotations from a letter to the writer, under 
 date of April, 1913, by Professor Thomas Trotter of Toronto, 
 Canada, a former pupil of Doctor Clarke's, will illustrate 
 the statement as to our theologian's influence on intelligent 
 laymen : 
 
 "I had an engagement to preach in a distant city for 
 three successive Sundays. On the first Sunday, at the eve- 
 ning service, there came into the congregation, without 
 knowing that I was the preacher of the day, a former friend 
 who, thirty-seven years before, had been my chum and 
 
AS THEOLOGIAN 255 
 
 student-rival at Woodstock College. He passed on to To- 
 ronto University years before domestic circumstances per- 
 mitted me to go to that institution. He took a brilliant 
 university course, then a course in law, and became a promi- 
 nent barrister. For a number of years past he has occupied 
 a responsible legal position in the employ of the Dominion 
 Government. Until I met him on the Sunday in question I 
 had not seen him for thirty years. It was with unfeigned 
 delight that we met again and greeted each other at the close 
 of the service. 
 
 ''Learning that I was to return to the city for the two fol- 
 lowing Sundays, he and his wife insisted that I must make 
 my billet with them. This was richly to my liking. What 
 a time we did have reviewing the charm of the days of long 
 ago and opening to each other the pages of our subsequent 
 years ! 
 
 "I found him a highly intellectual, broadly cultured man, 
 the author of a list of important legal books, widely read in 
 general literature, and an authority on Roman antiquities, 
 a man also of great social warmth and charm. Naturally, 
 in opening my life to him, I talked freely of my religious ideals 
 and activities, and we got into open intimate talk about 
 the supreme things. He had confessed Christ at Woodstock 
 College when we were quite young men together, and he had 
 maintained at least nominal relations with the church ever 
 since. It was manifest, however, that religion was not a 
 first-class interest with him, and that he was intellectually 
 in revolt against conventional conceptions. There were no 
 representative religious books in his Hbrary, nor did he seem 
 to have any acquaintance with Christian thought intellec- 
 tually conceived and stated. I gathered that he had nu- 
 merous friends of the intellectual breed, in all sorts of high 
 positions, who were virtually in his own attitude toward 
 reUgion — regarding it as unreal and finding no living interest 
 or satisfaction in it. 
 
 "When we had got on to terms of perfect freedom and 
 comradeship I rallied him that he should have devoted so 
 much time and travel to the study of Roman antiquities, 
 and should never have turned his attention and his intellect 
 onto Christianity. I hinted that there was no finer intellec- 
 tual output in the literature of our day than that represented 
 
256 WILLIAM NEWTON CLARKE 
 
 by the characteristic religious books of the times — books 
 written by men fully aware of the time of day and abreast 
 of the most recent findings in every department of knowl- 
 edge. I assured him that his intellectual best would find a 
 challenge in scores of books that I could name. 
 
 ''It happened that, without the thought of making use 
 of it in my relations with my friend, I had slipped into my 
 grip for reading on the train Doctor Clarke's Ca?i I Believe 
 in God tJie Father? I had never read it, though I had 
 bought it some time before. I was greatly blessed and stimu- 
 lated in the reading of it. It seems to me that Doctor Clarke 
 never did anything finer or more effective. 
 
 "On the Sunday, having had the talk just narrated about 
 Christian books, and having to withdraw to make my prepa- 
 ration for public service, I fetched from my vahse the little 
 book and, throwing it down, said lightly: *If you want to 
 taste the kind of thing I've been talking about, dip into that 
 while I'm away at my sermon.' 
 
 "I returned an hour and a half later to find my friend all 
 aglow. The book had uttered an effective challenge to his 
 slumbering faith. The sympathetic spirit of its approach, 
 with the intellectual sincerity and thoroughness of the argu- 
 ment, had deeply moved him and introduced him to a new 
 religious atmosphere. We had some more interesting talk 
 at night, and on the Monday morning I left the book with 
 him that he might finish it before the next Sunday. 
 
 "Returning for the next Lord's Day, I found him eager 
 for talk about religious things and full of praise for the book 
 which had so stirred him. He asked me, as soon as I should 
 return to Toronto, to select and purchase for him a dozen 
 or twenty books of like intelligence and spirit. These he 
 purposed to put into a library where professional men like 
 himself would find them available and discover a new world 
 of interest. I gladly executed my friend's commission and, 
 among the books, I sent him four of Doctor Clarke's. 
 
 "I have not had the pleasure of seeing my friend since. 
 A few weeks after the books reached him I got a warm letter 
 telling me that he was working through them and that he 
 found them 'immensely illuminating and stimulating.'" 
 
PROFESSOR CLARKE AT YALE 
 By Professor Douglas C. Macintosh, D.D. 
 
 Very vividly does the writer remember the impression 
 made upon him during his undergraduate days by his first 
 acquaintance with the works of our most humane theologian, 
 William Newton Clarke. It was during that "storm and 
 stress" period of the college course, the sophomore year, with 
 its logical and psychological studies and its revolutionary 
 displacement of dogmatism by the empirical method, that 
 he chanced to discover in the college Hbrary that unassum- 
 ing little book. What Shall We Think of Christianity ? It 
 was to the reader a never-to-be-forgotten message that he 
 found there — that the validity of the Christian religion rests 
 fundamentally upon the fact that the experiences of which 
 it speaks are actually experienced and experienceable to- 
 day. The way was logically open for a Christian empiricism; 
 the reader was conscious that he had found a friend indeed. 
 Forthwith he secured a copy of the fascinating Outline of 
 Christian Theology, and eagerly devoured its contents dur- 
 ing the ensuing summer vacation. 
 
 When afterward that same student found himself teaching 
 theology in an Eastern school, he was very glad indeed of 
 the opportunity given him of entering into an occasional 
 correspondence, personal and theological, with his senior 
 fellow worker in the field of Christian doctrine. Finally he 
 ventured to suggest the satisfaction it would give not only 
 himself but the faculty and students of the school (Yale 
 Dix-inity School), if Doctor Clarke could find it convenient, 
 on his way from Hamilton to his winter home in Florida, 
 to visit Yale and address the George B. Stevens Theological 
 
 257 
 
258 WILLIAM NEWTON CLARKE 
 
 Club on some theological topic. The reply was immediate 
 and to the effect that it would be a great pleasure to revisit 
 Yale and to renew old friendships and form new ones. Ar- 
 rangements were accordingly made for a meeting on the 
 29th of November, 191 1, and on Doctor Clarke's arrival at 
 New Haven he was taken to the home of Dean Charles R. 
 Brown, where he was entertained during his stay in the city. 
 
 During this visit, among many other topics, Professor 
 Clarke's conversation was on such subjects as the measure 
 of individual responsibility, the assurance of immortality, 
 theological method, the relation of theology to philosophy, 
 and the relation of his own theological system to the work 
 of the Ritschlian school. On this last point it was interesting 
 to learn that, while admitting the extensive similarity be- 
 tween his own point of view and conclusions and those of 
 the Ritschlians, he was not conscious of having been greatly 
 influenced by German theological thought; his own final 
 position was reached by largely independent processes, as 
 described in his little book, Sixty Years with the Bible. 
 
 What he had to say as to his own assured consciousness 
 of immortality, of being in possession of an eternal Hfe, was 
 of special interest in connection with the topic which he 
 chose for discussion before the Theological Club, viz., "Im- 
 mortality: A Study of Belief." Throughout the evening of 
 the meeting there was a heavy rainfall, so that comparatively 
 few from outside the school were able to be present; but 
 there was a practically full attendance of the professors and 
 students in Marquand Chapel, and it was generally felt that 
 the meeting was by all odds the best that had been held in 
 the history of the club. Most lucidly and with character- 
 istic catholicity of spirit he showed how there are more ways 
 of arriving at beUef in immortality than one. Sometimes 
 the belief comes chiefly through ancestral influence; some- 
 times it is made to rest upon a word of authority, or upon 
 testimony of the senses, or upon philosophic reasoning; or 
 
PROFESSOR CLARKE AT YALE 259 
 
 finally and most safely, it is with many grounded mainly 
 upon spiritual insight and moral conviction. So energetic 
 of body and alert of mind did the speaker appear, so youth- 
 ful of spirit and so ready and incisive throughout the discus- 
 sion, that it was very far indeed from our minds that within 
 a very few weeks he who was able to speak so assuredly of 
 the Hfe beyond would himself be called to enter upon the 
 exploration of its secrets. When the news of his passing 
 reached us, it was with renewed impressiveness that the 
 words of this, his last public address, came to us: "Man 
 aspiring to immortality is aspiring into the bosom of his 
 Father, and his Father is there to receive him. God taking 
 hold upon man to bring him to his true self and service is 
 undertaking a task unlimited. But for the task he has un- 
 limited room and opportunity, for man is a being whose 
 range runs on through all the duration that God can need. 
 ... In immortality God will bring man to the end for which 
 he first designed him, and will use him for all the high pur- 
 poses to which his nature is adapated." ^ 
 
 The revered teacher's so early demise was not anticipated 
 either by himself or by us; but we may well believe that, 
 even had it been, he would have been glad to come to us as 
 he did, with his message of faith and inspiration. His rela- 
 tion to the Yale Divinity School had been at times intimate, 
 and was at all times most cordial. The late Professor Stevens 
 had been one of his closest and most understanding friends. 
 From the time of their appearance constant use had been 
 made of his books, especially the Theology, by successive classes 
 in systematic theology. In 1905 he had delivered, as a much- 
 appreciated course on the Nathaniel W. Taylor foundation, 
 the lectures afterward published under the title. The Use 
 of the Scriptures in Theology. Moreover, in 1900 the uni- 
 versity had honored itself as well as the recipient by confer- 
 
 ' The address was published entire in the Yale Divinity Qttarterly for Janu- 
 ary, 19 1 2. 
 
26o WILLIAM NEWTON CLARKE 
 
 ring upon him the degree of Doctor of Divinity. His thought 
 will long continue to deeply influence the students for the 
 Christian ministry at Yale, as in many other places, and 
 through them to shape the religious convictions of ever- 
 widening circles of the Christian people of this and other 
 lands. 
 
INDEX 
 
 Agassiz, Louis, 20. 
 
 American village, 2. 
 
 Ancestors, 1,4. 
 
 Andrews, Edw. Gayer, 17, 70, 71 
 
 Andrews, Newton Lloyd, 21. 
 
 Avignon, 80. 
 
 Baptist Education Society, 3. 
 
 Baptist parsonage, 13. 
 
 Baptist Theological School in To- 
 ronto, 55. 
 
 Baptist Women's Missionary Soci- 
 ety, 25. 
 
 Beebe, Doctor Alexander, 20, 62. 
 
 Birth, 2, 9. 
 
 Bridgman editorial, 116. 
 
 Brigham, Albert Perry, 63 
 
 Brooks, Reverend Walter, 62. 
 
 Bumham, Professor S., 62. 
 
 Bushnell, Horace, 44. 
 
 California, winters in, 65. 
 
 Cazenovia, 6-9, 12, 13, 56, 132. 
 
 Chautauqua movement, 26. 
 
 Childhood, 11. 
 
 Chittenango Falls, 9. 
 
 Christian Doctrine of God, The, 79, 
 
 86, 93, 94, 186, 204, 248. 
 Christian Endeavor, 25. 
 Clarke, Jeremiah, 5. 
 Clarke, William, 6. 
 Colgate, James B., 4. 
 Colgate University, 4. 
 Colgate, WilUam, 4. 
 College days, 20, 21. 
 Colorado Springs, 66-68. 
 
 Death, 99-100, 183, 258. 
 
 Death of father, 41. 
 
 Death of mother, 72. 
 
 De Land (Fla.), 91. 
 
 D. K. E. Society, 21. 
 
 Doctor of Divinity conferred by Yale 
 
 University, 74; by University of 
 
 Chicago, 75. 
 Doctor of Sacred Theology conferred 
 
 by Columbia University, 95. 
 Dodge, President Ebenezer, 62, 64, 
 
 65, 150. 
 Dublin, 85 
 Dudleian Lecture, 86. 
 Dunbar, Duncan, 38. 
 
 Edinburgh, 85. 
 Ely, 85. 
 
 Father's visit to Newton Center, 1869, 
 40. _ 
 
 Favorite books, 12, 112, 113. 
 
 Florida, 91-94, 96. 
 
 Fosdick article, 117. 
 
 Franconia, 105. 
 
 Friendships, 1 11, 150; in Cazenovia, 
 18, 19; in Florida, 93; in Hamil- 
 ton, 20, 21, 62; in Haverford, 74; 
 in Newton Center, 37-39. 
 
 Gould, Professor E. P., 39. 
 Grant, Ulysses S., 5. 
 Gray, Asa, 20. 
 
 Hamilton, 2, 3, 20, 62-98, 150, 208. 
 Hamilton congregation, 63. 
 Hamilton Theological Seminary, 21, 
 
 42, 201. 
 Harris, J. Rendel, 85 
 Harvard Summer School of Theology, 
 
 73- 
 Harvey, Hezekiah, 62. 
 Haverford, 74. 
 
 Huxley and Philip Brooks, 75. 
 Hyde, Professor Ammi, Bradford, 17, 
 
 93- 
 Hydres, 80 
 
 Ideal of Jesus, The, 96. 
 
 261 
 
262 INDEX 
 
 Imperturbability, i6i, 174, 224. 
 Immortality, 98. 
 Independence, 204. 
 Ingersoll, Robert, 18, 19. 
 Irving, Edward, 121. 
 
 Judson, Adoniram, 5. 
 Judson, Edward, 157. 
 
 Keene, 21, 24, 30, 44. 
 Kennebunkport, 51. 
 Knapp, W. I., 21. 
 
 Langley cottage, 33, 34. 42. 
 Lefleur, Reverend Theodore, 50. 
 Lincklaen, John, 7, 8. 
 Love of music, 106, 107. 155. 
 Love of nature, 26, 67, 107. 
 Loyalty, 173, i74- 
 
 Madison University, 21. 
 McGill University, 49. 
 Merrill, George E., 95 
 Method as teacher, 215, 216. 
 Miner, Absalom, 4. 
 Miner, Thomas, 5. 
 Miner, Urania, 6, 
 Montreal, 47, 48. 
 
 Naples, 83 
 
 Newton Center, 30, 33, 35, 36, 44, 47, 
 
 109, 120, 131, 134- 
 North Brookfield, 5, 6, 7. 
 
 Oberlin, 75. 
 
 Oldtoum Folks, 2. 
 
 Olivet Baptist Church, 47, 49, 136. 
 
 Oneida Conference Seminary, 12. 
 
 Optimism, 59, 92, 252. 
 
 Ordination, 21, 24. 
 
 Outline of Christian Theology, The, 68- 
 
 71, 118, 126, 141, 142, 151, 185, 205, 
 
 207, 257. 
 Oxford, 78 
 
 Pasteur, Louis, 99. 
 
 Pastorate, first, 24; second, 33; third, 
 
 62-64. 
 Payiie, Elisha, 3, 4. 
 Payne, Samuel, 3. 
 Philology, interest in, 103. 
 Pinebluff, N. C, 86. 
 Prayers, 220, 226. 
 
 Raymond article, 119. 
 Richmond, 76. 
 Rowntree, J. Wilhelm, 75. 
 
 Schmidt, Nathaniel, 62. 
 
 School-days, 14-18. 
 
 Self-forgetfubess, 165, 203. 
 
 Separatists, i. 
 
 Sincerity, 171, 181, 207. 
 
 Sisters, 9, 172, i73- 
 
 Sixty Years With tJte Bible, i, 10, 22, 
 
 45,51,53,95,102,117,131- 
 Smith, Samuel Francis, 37- 
 Some Recent Aspects of tlie Ministry, 24. 
 Stackpole article, 115. 
 Stetson University, 93. 
 Sunday-school work, 25. 
 
 Thomas, President John M., 125. 
 Thomdale, 112. 
 
 University of Chicago confers degree 
 
 of Doctor of Divinity, 75. 
 Use of the Scriptures in Theology, The, 
 
 87. 
 
 Value of Doctor Clarke's books, 123, 
 124, 185, 228, 259. 
 
 Warner, Charles Dudley, 18, 19. 
 
 Waterville, N. Y., 27. 
 
 White, Professor Aaron, 16, 17 
 
 Whitesboro, 12. 
 
 Work of Christ for Our Salvation, 75. 
 
 Yale University confers degree of Doc- 
 tor of Divinity, 74; lectures in, 86, 
 87, 97. 98- 
 
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