05 GROWING DAYS
Chapter 5
GROWING DAYS
NEW HAMPTON is a beautiful little village nestling in the heart of the White Mountains in New Hampshire — the Switzerland of America. It has a Literary School fur young men and women, and a Theological Department for men. Hither came James Phillips, soon after leaving Bowdoin, in order to take a theological course preparatory to undergoing a thorough medical training in New York, with a view to his complete equipment for foreign missionary service. His arrival was marked in a characteristic fashion.
One Thursday evening the little band of students and others, who were in the habit of meeting for prayer, saw a stranger present — a young man who spoke with great earnestness and tenderness. A revival among the students was the absorbing theme of his address, and more than one wayward heart was led to higher things through his earnest pleading. Thus he marked his arrival at New Hampton in the way he would most have wished. On the 17th January 1861, James Phillips attained his majority. We condense the entry in his diary : — " I am twenty-one to-day. I am quite free from parental care. Such are the thoughts young men are prone to cherish on this eventful day of their life. Ever since first they learn the limit of parental superintendence do they look eagerly forward to the day when they shall be free ; and what singular notions enter the mind at this period of life. How many are well-nigh ruined by the course of conduct that such notions suggest. They break wildly aloof from every homely restraint, their restive nature clamours for power and for independence. But how changed is this spirit in the heart of a Christian! In a most emphatic sense he is not his own, but his Lord’s, and increasingly so as the years pass by. I thank God for the assurance on this my twenty-first birthday that my heart, my mind, my education, my life, my all is Christ’s. The past affords only a joyous retrospect when I regard it as devoted to Christ’s service. The present appears happy only when doing my Master’s will, and the future looks hopeful only as fully dedicated to faithful and zealous labour for my Lord." Not many weeks later, one Sunday morning as a crowd of young people filed out of the village church and hastened over the glistening snow-paths, homewards, a girl graduate of New Hampton Seminary, Miss Mary Sayles, of Rhode Island, saw James Phillips just before her, leading a little girl, the daughter of one of the Professors, with whom he was so absorbed in conversation that he apparently heard and saw nothing else. Miss Sayles had acquired some skill in reading character from the hands, and during that short walk homewards from the church she amused herself by studying the hand that so carefully guided the child, little dreaming that in Rhode Island Church, only three years from that time, she would grasp it in her own.
She formed the opinion that it was a broad generous hand, made so by hard service and self-sacrifice for others, and although the fingers were short there was a daintiness and delicacy about them which left their impression on whatever he touched. Thus it was that James Phillips met his future wife, a lady eminently fitted both in heart and mind to stand side by side with her distinguished husband. In after years she was wont to say that the first sight of her future husband was typical of his whole after career, for throughout his entire life he walked before her leading little children heavenwards. When James Phillips came to New Hampton he was looking forward to times devoted to quiet study of God’s Word, free from distraction and interruption from the world outside. But Mrs. Harriet Beecher Stowe’s famous book. Uncle Toms Cabin, had roused the attention of the nation to the curse of slavery, which still lay like a blot on the land. The low mutterings of distant thunder had long been rumbling in the distance, and now suddenly, like a flash of lightning, the execution of John Brown at Harper’s Ferry rent the moral sky. Slavery with all its horrors was laid bare, and the storm burst upon the land in an outbreak of civil war. Never was song more true than that which was sung by marching armies and by cowering slaves in the rice-fields and swamps of the South —
"John Brown’s body lies mouldering in the grave, But his soul is marching on."
Men of every calling, from the fields, from the factories, and from the universities, shouldered their arms and marched to battle, while women and children wept and prayed at home. The missionary student thus describes his feelings in a letter to his mother —
"New Hampton, April 16th, 1861. -- " Fort Sumter is just taken by the rebels. I feel like fighting today. You need not be surprised if you hear that I have joined the volunteers to quell the Southern frenzy. I believe if I had been alone, I would have been shot through before surrendering Fort Sumter. How dreadful it seems that we are now exposed to the miseries of a civil war! Unless the South take conciliatory measures soon, I see no alternative but a most terrible war; and should it come, every Christian must take his part, for truth and right are concerned. I believe under some circumstances it is as much a Christian’s duty to fight as ordinarily it is his duty to cultivate the arts of peace, and I hope to be always on duty whether it be in my study or in the tented field."
It was at this time that the well-known incident occurred which found its way into all the newspapers of the world, and demonstrated as perhaps nothing ever did before the unique influence for good exercised by one of the greatest pulpit orators of this or any other age. One Sunday, in Plymouth Church, Brooklyn, a scene was witnessed which drew tears from all eyes. Mr. Henry Ward Beecher carried into his pulpit a little child. Pausing for a moment to conquer his emotion, he sent a thrill of horror through the congregation by saying, " This child was born a slave, and has just been redeemed from bondage." Then in broken voice he continued, " Look upon this little child. Saw you ever a fairer face ? This loveliness and the beauty of this figure would only make her so much more valuable for the purpose of sin. While your children are brought up in the fear of the Lord, this little one, just as beautiful, would be made through slavery a child of damnation. Look upon her, every young man and maiden, and by the memory of this scene, and for the sake of Christ, let your souls burn with indignation against the system which turns into chattels such fair children of God. May God strike for our armies and the right, that this cursed thing may be utterly destroyed," In sending an account of this incident to his parents, James Phillips observed —
" This child is only one of many hundreds. How can I be justified in quietly studying, while my country calls so loudly ? I wonder I have been enabled to do my theological work as heartily as I have." As a relief from severer studies, James Phillips at this time took up botany as a recreation, and his morning and evening walks and rambles through the woods and marshes afforded him opportunities for collecting a fairly representative set of specimens of the flora of the district. In his letters he expresses with keen regret that he had not earlier given himself the pleasure which this study afforded.
" These flowers," he says, " have been my teachers. Already, as if by an eloquence, silent yet persuasive, they have deeply impressed many a lesson of love and truth upon my mind. They have afforded me higher conceptions of the beautiful, and have given me a clearer insight into the mind of the great Workman, whose ideal of the beautiful is so perfect and sublime.
" I will tell you if you won’t ’ let on,’ as they say in the West, that I heard from a reliable quarter the other day, that ’ Phillips is the best Hebrew scholar in the class.’ However that may be, I think I am making progress. On my next birthday I hope to begin a course of reading in the Greek Testament, and to take up afresh my sadly-neglected phonography. I think that the phonetic system of writing bears an important relation to the Oriental languages. I am learning to take care of myself. I have been well lately, and am inclined to attribute it mainly to dressing more warmly, and avoiding exposure after speaking. I sincerely believe that I have not been properly dressed till this winter. These Yankee boys have colds and coughs, but your humble Hindoo is mercifully spared. My room is a pleasant one in Randall Hall. Through the kindness of my friend, Mrs. Upham, I have been able to furnish it with a neat carpet and some furniture, but only four pictures adorn the walls — Father’s likeness, Ballasore Chapel, a view of Professor Upham’s house, and a lithograph of Bowdoin College."
It is not uncommonly the case with active minds that they alternate in a striking degree between high spirits and mental depression. This was notably so in the case of James Phillips, at any rate during his younger years. We have seen from the reminiscences supplied by Mr. Penney that at times his spirits ran high, and that the impression made upon one of his closest associates was that of a man bubbling over with fun, and impressed quite as much as he should be with the merrier side of life. At the same time, indications have not been lacking in the foregoing quotations from his letters and diaries to show that the deep and strenuous devoutness which lay hidden behind the outward mirth, had a tendency at times to weigh perhaps more heavily upon his youthful mind than it should have done. It may be interesting here to extract a passage from his diary written at a time when he may fairly be said to have been suffering from a fit of the blues.
"May 29th, 1861. — If ever since I first began to study I have had a view of my own perfect ignorance, and also of the vastness and infinity of knowledge, I most certainly have during the past week. This consciousness of my own stupidity and profound ignorance has come mainly through some recent inquiries into the vegetable kingdom. I confess to a sense of shame at not knowing even the most common and frequent herbs and flowers which deck and beautify our hillsides and meadows. Almost every shrub and plant rebukes me when I observe it, which, however, I usually fail to do. In college, we studied botany just long enough to confuse our brains, and there it still remains with me. It is a shame and a sin that such limited facilities are afforded in college for the study of the natural sciences, and I can never reproach myself enough for not better appropriating even the scanty time allotted to them. Thus I might indulge in very nearly a similar train of remarks in regard to every other department of knowledge of which I ever learned anything. How little, infinitely little I know ! What utter ignorance ! And, worst of all, to know it and to feel it. The most depressing feelings I ever experienced have weighed me down, and I have been perfectly miserable. Call it blues or blacks, I know I feel disheartened and sad. There is, I suppose, some discipline to be gained from even these depressing feelings ; but, alas! who looks or cares for discipline when in misery? It would seem enough to bear these painful thoughts, to know and feel oneself a fool, and to see and hear all nature jeering at one’s ignorance. Enough ? Yes, too much for too many. But, after all, the man who would be wiser and better must try to welcome even these depressing feelings as harbingers of hope for the future, and so I must try not to care how poor and ignorant I feel, provided it will only make me wiser, give a gentle impetus to the life-current, and promote my progress in true knowledge. May this sense of humility at the sight of my ignorance serve as a spur to quicken my pace in quest of knowledge ! There are many reasons why I long to be in heaven, and not the least is that I shall understand and know something there." A fortnight later we find in his diary the first intimation of that opening for religious work in the City of New York which enabled him to qualify as a medical man in that city, and thus to complete the all-round equipment which he was anxious to secure before returning as a missionary to India. On July 13th, 1861, he wrote — " I have just been invited to take charge of a Free Baptist Church in New York. Shall I accept the offer ? I have been studying botany by day and astronomy by night, and I have analysed thirty varieties of wild and garden flowers. I hope to have a chance to study medicine, as well as to devote a little time to surgery and dentistry, before I go back to India ; for I conceive that this would enhance in no small degree a man’s influence in the mission field." The stirring events which were taking place in connection with the war between the Northern and Southern States still occupied much of his thoughts. Many entries in his diary and references in his letters prove this. In his diary he says —
" We had a good prayer meeting this morning at five o’clock in the chapel hall. Earnest prayers were offered and stirring remarks were made upon the existing troubles in the country. I told them that we had no right to grumble at the war, for God had only commenced answering our prayers. The slave in the South and the Christian in the North had long been crying to God for redress of the cruel wrongs and for the establishment of national justice. God has heard and is now replying to these petitions. I cannot pray for this rupture to heal up over our national corruption and intestine sin, but only that the nation may be purified and purged of this monstrous iniquity. I wish the war to be as brief as possible, but I pray that it may be cut short only in righteousness."
He alludes to the subject in a letter written from Bowdoin College, where he was paying a visit in order to be present at the graduation of some of his former classmates.
"Brunswick, July 5th, 1861. -- " I am here for Commencement. Only two of my classmates have arrived yet, and I shall expect hardly a dozen of that noble fifty-five. Quite a number of them are now in the army, and all of these were engaged in that sad battle at Manassas, two weeks ago yesterday. None were killed or wounded, but some of them — two at least — were taken prisoners, and are now in all probability musing in Richmond Gaol. I cannot tell you how I sometimes long to go to this terrible war. If it is a temptation from Satan, then I must confess that I have been very seriously tempted. In this conflict one sees such noble and generous principles involved that one cannot summarily dispose of the matter by saying that there are plenty of others to fight our battles. As to the right of war and the duty of Christian men to bear arms, I am perfectly clear, and if it were not for one consideration I should be in the army to-day. That one thing is my call to the Indian mission. I only state the truth when I say that I believe very few have been favoured with so distinct and so forcible a call to any work as I have been to this ; and in every year and day of my literary pursuits, I have been able to keep my future work distinctly in view. Now the question is this — are the claims of this country paramount to those of my native land? Ought the war to keep me from the heathen ? ... If it did, my life’s work would be defeated, and my life’s aim would be frustrated. When I look at all this, and think how God Himself has opened the way for me since I first gave myself to this work of foreign missions, I am satisfied that my duty is not to go to the war. But then again my feelings of patriotism well-nigh drive me mad, when I think that I am not and cannot be in the ranks of those noble soldiers who are defending our highest interests. Our civil and religious institutions and all missionary enterprises are dependent upon the issue of this conflict. If this war continues, it is possible that I may never have the chance to go to India. Oh that God may teach me and direct me!"
’’August 3rd, 1861. — I am still at Brunswick, and have just returned from our college gymnasium. I am very sorry we did not have it when I was in college. I am strongly of the opinion that good muscle can glorify God as well as a clear brain. I am getting to believe with Horace Mann that a dyspeptic stomach is just as great an abomination in the sight of God as a lying heart. Yesterday I visited my parish. How glad those poor old crippled and infirm ones were to see me ! That alms-house was my real theological school, and a better one I never expect to enter. My education there was no unimportant part of my college course." In the meantime arrangements for his removal to New York had been in progress. The chapel of which he became pastor was situated at the corner of Broadway and 28 th Street, and had for some time been in a very depressed condition. It was hoped, however, that his exceptional energy and zeal might succeed in making it a centre of earnest and effective work. On September 21st, 1861, he writes — " I have accepted the call to the New York Church, and am hard at work here. In introducing me to the audience last evening, Mr. Graham said that I was one of the little boys who ten years ago had sung to his Sunday School in my native Oriya." A month later he adds — " Mr. Graham has introduced me finely here. He had a large circle of friends among all denominations, and I feel deeply obliged to him for their acquaintance. Dr. Cheever, Dr. Hague, Dr. Matthews, Dr. Lathrop, and many others are indeed good acquaintances for a boy to make upon going to a strange city. These men are very kind to me. Dr. Matthews is quite an old man. He was first Chancellor of the New York University. He was with me a fortnight ago and assisted in the pulpit. He called my attention to the wonderful way in which the Bible appeals to men’s hearts, and he showed me how strong heads and well-trained brains are usually reached through the heart. ’Study all you like, my young brother,’ he said, ’ and the more the better ; but when you preach, speak to the heart, for God’s Word was sent to mould and manage the human heart.’Mr. Graham was far from being a sectarian, and hence was much liked here. A genial, generous-hearted man always finds worthy friends. The Rev. Mr. James has promised me free tickets to a course of lectures at the Cooper Institute. I have been twice asked to marry parties, but having no license, I have declined. A young fellow and his lady in my audience last Sunday evening wanted me to tie the knot. He looked so meek and supplicating and she so full of mischief, that I could hardly refrain from laughing."
About this time James Phillips seems to have made his first contribution to journalism, and, like most beginners, he got severely handled. Throughout his life, he was a constant and valued contributor to many newspapers, and the books which lie before us containing his carefully tabulated lists of these contributions, indicate an extraordinary industry and a remarkable skill in adapting himself to a wide range of subjects. The adverse criticism which greeted this maiden attempt of his pen wounded him considerably, and the following letter suggests that he took the matter to heart rather more seriously than he need have done : —
’’ December 11th, 1861. -- " My dear Father, — A most ardent desire to help and encourage young men to qualify themselves for their important work prompted me to pen an article which has been most severely criticised. I was writing to young men like myself who are just entering the work. I could not be so cruel as to whittle or carve at the veteran soldiers in God’s work who have failed to enjoy such opportunities for culture as the present day affords. It was not in my heart to write ’ plain things ’ about them. It is not fair, it is not Christian to represent me as an inflated bigot, declaiming for a pompous parade of learning. Upon such a subject, and writing for young men, I could not write a tame and colorless article, but necessarily injected into it something of my natural and spirited style of speaking.
" I can bear to be smitten by all the sarcasms that my opponents care to array against me, but it is surely not my duty to submit to misrepresentations of the grossest kind. After the storm is over, I trust good will come out of this. I have been sometimes tempted to relinquish the ministry for some vocation affording wider scope for worldly fame and the applause of men, but I trust that God has delivered me from this species of temptation. I now rather shun publicity and recoil from demonstrations of approval. I am contented in the mission that our Heavenly Father has planned for me, and each day I ardently long for the time when I shall enter upon my life’s work across the seas."
All this time he was busily occupied in continuing his theological studies and preparing for his approaching college anniversary, and on a paper upon the relation of psychology to preaching. He worked almost night and day, and frequent attacks of toothache deprived him of the little rest which he tried to snatch between three o’clock in the morning and daybreak. The result of this over strain was simply what might have been expected. When the anniversary day came, he found that by no exercise of will-power could he rouse his exhausted energies. He stepped nervously to the platform surrounded by the Professors, looked down upon the sea of faces before him, said a few words upon the subject that had absorbed all his thought so constantly for many weeks past, and then his mind became a perfect blank. Not one word could he recall of the theme that he had so carefully memorized. His head reeled, and he could only bow and leave the platform. The disappointment to a man of his temperament was keen indeed, but he did not brood over it. After a short rest he returned to his work in New York City, and with rare unselfishness devoted himself to assist his father, whose pecuniary affairs at this time had become embarrassed.
" Dear father," he writes, " Abraham Lincoln’s proclamation setting the slaves of the United States free has fired the young men of the country with fresh courage, and John has enlisted — the dear, brave, unselfish fellow! He left school and earned a thousand dollars for our family before he was twenty-one, and now he has left all, and has marched away ready to die in the cause of freedom." His brother came through the war, but not long afterwards a much-loved sister died.
" Our first parting pang has come. This is our first great family sorrow. Our hitherto unbroken circle has sent one to join the holy family in heaven. But God can heal the wound His hand has made. My tears fall as I read father’s account of sister Beebee’s last words, and her calm and peaceful death. May God sanctify this to each one of us. I am glad that you intend to wear no mourning, for I never believed in the practice." The following extracts are taken from his letters written about this period :- —
" Yesterday morning the Lord seemed to take me completely into His own hands, and to pour His simple and mighty truths through my willing lips. Mine is indeed becoming a working church. I believe it takes a whole church to preach the Gospel with power and success, not a minister alone."
" My heart rejoices to hear of dear Nellie’s baptism. Last Sabbath I baptized several, among whom were some of our dear Sunday School children, ranging from twelve to fifteen years of age. I am becoming more and more firmly attached to my people here, and they often speak of the painful parting which some day awaits us." At this time his personal appearance was so youthful, that he was commonly spoken of as " the boy preacher." Yet he received numerous invitations to address missionary societies, Sunday School meetings, chapel anniversaries, and religious gatherings of every kind, even beyond the limits of his own district and denomination.
" Tomorrow evening I have to speak at the Academy of Music to several thousands of people. It is the second anniversary of the Union Home School for the children of our volunteers. Next Sunday I am due at the fifth anniversary of an Independent Methodist church up town, next Wednesday evening at the Magdalen Asylum, and so on. At the late Sunday School anniversary I addressed the largest congregation of children in the city, at Dr. Spring’s church. I am called upon to address a Sunday School very often here in New York, and I am free to acknowledge that I depend largely upon my memories of India to enliven and illustrate my speeches." But the shot and smoke of battle often broke in upon these happy days of earnest work, and both letters and diaries contain many allusions to the troubles of the period.
" I have received a splendid letter from John. I feel confident of Grant’s success at Vicksburg. May Heaven direct him and give him success ! Opening the Mississippi will be the deathblow to the rebellion."
Soon, however, the inhabitants of New York were to have the realities and horrors of bloodshed brought to their very doors. Although the operations of the armies never came within a considerable distance, yet terrible riots broke out, and for a time mob law prevailed in the streets. James Phillips gives us a vivid picture of the rioting in his own district.
"July 15th, 1863. — Mob law has reigned in New York for several days past. The copperheads are burning houses and killing negroes at a furious rate. A black man was killed near us this morning, and his house burned down. A splendid new block of brick buildings diagonally across the Broadway from us, was laid in ashes after a thorough sacking on Monday afternoon, I never saw such a spectacle as that infuriated mob of Irishmen presented. We are still in danger. Our church is spotted as an abolition one, and those of our members who have their residences about here are in serious danger of being burned out. These are awful times. Our militia are all in Pennsylvania, and will be returning today. We are in a state of constant trepidation, and God only knows what awaits us. It is said that the Southern men here have set this mob on foot. I hope you may never see such a spectacle as I have just witnessed. On my own. street, at the corner of 28th Street and 7th Avenue, a negro man was deliberately hanged to a lamp-post, and that in open daylight at 5 o’clock this afternoon. I can hear of no provocation save that he was born with a coloured skin. The fury of the mob seems to be turned chiefly upon the coloured citizens. Many of their dwellings have already been sacked and burned in our vicinity. This is a deliberate plot, and simultaneously with it other plots are in progress in the large towns and cities of the North." In the Morning Star he gave some further particulars.
" Monday night was the scene of several fires among the private residences. Tuesday and Wednesday were not so exciting, but still a general trepidation prevailed. No cars or coaches were running, and the city looked sad enough. On Tuesday evening we held our usual prayer meeting in the lecture-room, not withstanding the remonstrances of neighbours and friends. Our abolitionist church was thought to be peculiarly exposed to danger, but the sanctuary doors were thrown open, and a small company entered them. Never before did it seem so precious to read the 91st Psalm, and to remember the perfect security of those who trust in God. An hour was passed in prayer and praise, and then we went out to face our dangers again. The fury of the rioters is now turned upon the negro. With one exception, every neighbourhood where the blacks reside was visited. Several negroes were openly hanged to lamp-posts. One, a poor sick man, was dragged from his bed by the angry demons, and strung up to the lamp-post at the corner of our street." This reign of terror soon came to an end, and before long he was able to report that all was quiet again.
" The regiments stationed here are quietly slipping away. Business it is said was never better, and the city is swarming with strangers. The first-class hotels are kept full. The churches are again opened, and the people are returning from the country." His autumn vacation was described in an article which he wrote in the Morning Star, a denominational paper to which he was a frequent and valued contributor.
" After a month of rambling in New England, I reached my study last evening. A few weeks of rest and recreation in the country are most welcome to one who works throughout the year in the dust and din of a great city. To toss off care and slip away from the routine of busy life is indeed a luxury ; but a vacation must be short to be profitable. Too long a disuse of books tends sometimes to a distaste for study. Relaxation is all that a healthy mind wants, and all that a tired brain requires. When this is accomplished the desire to get away from work is promptly replaced by a stronger desire to return to it. During August, I chanced to be at Brunswick City, at Bowdoin College. Three years ago fifty-five of us were let loose upon society from this scene of ’ screws ’ and ’ deads.’ Our college class flies to pieces after graduation. Already we are scattered over both hemispheres. Our triennial meeting brought together twelve, although double this number received the small degree. Since we left the alma mater, four brothers have fallen, and rumour adds still another, who is said to have perished at sea. One fell an early victim to consumption, and the missing link broke the chain for ever. Thus our chain has one link in Paradise. Three brave fellows gave their lives to our imperiled country. Two at Antietam and one at Gettysburg, that most gory but most glorious battle of the Republic. We remembered them, and praised God that they fell in such a cause. Twenty of our number are still left in the United States’ Service." On returning to New York he writes in his diary — " I find everything quiet. It is said that from thirty thousand to fifty thousand of the United States troopers are quartered here now. One would sooner fancy himself in Alexandria or New Orleans than in New York, such is the military aspect of the city. The smaller parks are all appropriated by the soldiers." He came back from his vacation strengthened in body and refreshed in mind, and prepared to enter upon yet another course of strenuous study and earnest preparation for the great work to which he had consecrated his life. His position and plans will best be shown by the following quotation from a letter written at this period : —
" My engagement with our church here expired last month. I shall not feel at liberty to renew it as I am invited to do. I have a heavy course ahead in medicine and surgery which will occupy several months. Just at this juncture unusual opportunities are afforded here for study and observation in this department, and I am anxious to make the most of them. It is not yet decided who will be invited to succeed me in this pulpit. A city church needs a faithful pastor no less than a stated preacher, and this church needs in addition a first-class financier in the pastor’s chair. I shall rejoice to see some strong and worthy man devote himself wholly to this important work. May God direct such a one to this earnest band of disciples, who are willing to sacrifice and suffer in the cause." The heavy course in medicine and surgery to which he here alludes was only the top-stone of that intellectual building which he had been steadily raising, in the endeavour to fit himself for foreign missionary work. The goal was now in sight, and the desire of years was about to be satisfied. It was with more joy than mere words could express that he wrote to his parents on November 7th, 1863, from Lowell —
" This afternoon I have been examined by the Foreign Board and accepted as their missionary. The vote was unanimous. We are to go next summer if the money can be raised, and of this I have in my mind no doubt. The Board voted to employ me as their agent after my medical course is completed until my embarkation, with a view to my traveling among the churches. I hope all this is well. Julia has been unanimously appointed missionary teacher. My heart is too full of praise and gratitude to find expression in writing. I never felt happier or so eager to step into the fray. I have worked and prayed long and earnestly, and now I shall most confidently look forward to better days. I beg that our friends will remember us both in prayer and in pocket. We need both Christian sympathy and money."