Project Canterbury

William Croswell Doane, First Bishop of Albany
By George Lynde Richardson

Hartford, Connecticut; Church Missions Publishing, 1933. 43 pp.

"The Christian workman, on the other hand, gives himself, and his life enters into and makes part of what he does. The master-builders build themselves in, as the Apostles and Prophets are the foundation on the Cornerstone. Only God's eye can see the place or measure the prominence of the life built in. But it is there, and it will be revealed. Meanwhile it serves a larger and a better end, when the hands that toiled, the heads that planned, the hearts that loved are at rest and still, to look back on the growing beauty of the work, and honour so the workmen who had part in its upbuilding."

From the Sermon preached by Bp. Wm. Croswell Doane, in St. Paul's Chapel, Trinity Parish, New York, the 21st Sunday after Trinity, 1882, commemorating the Jubilee of the Consecration of his Father as Bishop of New Jersey.

First Bishop of Albany

On Quinquagesima Sunday, March 3, 1832, the Rector of Trinity Church, Boston, the Rev. George W. Doane, wrote in his journal, "Primum post natum W. C. Deo maxima laus." His second son, who was thus welcomed with thanksgiving, was born March 2nd in what his father later called by far the most eventful year of his life. It was a time of trial and difficulty in the Church at large and in Trinity Parish. Before the year was over, in October, he was elected by the Diocese of New Jersey as its Bishop, to succeed the venerable Dr. Croes. Things moved rapidly, for on the 19th of October he had accepted the election and on the 31st of the same month he was consecrated Bishop during the meeting of the General Convention in St. Paul's Chapel, New York City. This was a notable Convention, for the House of Bishops, which numbered only thirteen when the session opened, had four new Bishops added to it before it closed: Bishop Doane, Bishop John Henry Hopkins of Vermont, Bishop Benjamin B. Smith of Kentucky, and Bishop Charles P. McIlvaine of Ohio.

New England, the place of his birth, had as a consequence, no part in the early life of William Croswell Doane. The family removed to New Jersey in the spring of 1833 and made its home at Burlington in the old house "Riverside," which still stands on the bank of the Delaware adjoining St. Mary's School. One could wish that in his first literary work, the memoir of his father, undertaken in 1860 when he was but twenty-eight years of age, the younger Bishop Doane had been less self-effacing. The home life and the intimate details of family relationship are barely touched upon. His mother [Eliza Callahan (Perkins) Doane] from the time of his birth was greatly handicapped by ill health for the rest of her life. A very vivid but far too scanty a picture is given by the Reverend Dr. Mahan in the introduction to The Life.

"The reader will pardon a reminiscence, which, trivial as it seems, may serve perhaps better than more elaborate description, to give an idea of the spirit that reigned there. The scene is Riverside: the time, the first morning of a visit to that place. To this the reader may add, in imagination, a late arrival the night before; an unceremonious reception; an evening elongated into morning--as was usual in a house which seemed never to go to bed; a short interval of repose; and an awakening before sunrise: the prayer-bell of St. Mary's and innumerable singing birds having conspired to murder sleep. It is a dewy spring morning. Neither the bell nor the birds are disposed to be quiet yet awhile. We make a virtue therefore of necessity, and start out of the house for an early glance at its surroundings. The door is barely reached, when the Bishop, pen in hand, and in full working gear of study-gown and slippers, sallies out from the library, and joins us in our excursion. He has evidently just risen from work, but as cheery and full of spirits as if hearing the birds sing were the sole business of his life. He does not linger long, however, in the open air. With a pleasant word or two, and with an appreciative glance at river, trees, and sky, he plunges into the library again, from which about breakfast-time he emerges with a bundle of letters and other papers, that show plainly enough how the time has been spent there. In this simple outline the reader has the germ of a day at Riverside. He has the secret of that wonderful amount of leisure that the Bishop had always at his disposal, for friends, for casual droppers-in, for social calls, for parochial visits, for church-going to an extent quite unparalleled among men of active habits; for a life, in short, divided and subdivided into so many engagements, that it seemed impossible for any man to do justice to them all. But it was only his time that that thus divided and subdivided. The man himself was a unit, never divided or distracted. Whatever he did, whether for a moment, or for an hour, he did it wholly, with full attention and full might. For many years past it has been a matter of constantly recurring amusement to the large dinner parties gathered around the Bishop during the short interval between the morning and evening sessions of Convention, to be suddenly aroused to a sense of the lapse of time by seeing his chair at table vacant. Whenever this appeared, no one was at a loss to know where to meet him. Repairing to the church, as rapidly as possible, the company always found him there, in full robes, seated in his place, and with the Convention organized, however few might be present, and going on with business. This promptness, and close attention to each matter in its time and place, marked all the Bishop did. The same spirit pervaded the whole of life at Riverside. A visit there always recalled the meaning of those old salutations 'The Church in thy House'--for Riverside was eminently a church in a house. To spend a week there was a moral and spiritual tonic. One left the place with renewed faith and hope of the good time coming, when the kingdom of God and His righteousness shall be more an object of daily care, and of more engrossing interest, than the now absorbing business of the mart of the exchange.

"These things were most striking, when the home at Riverside was all sunshine; when, to add a charm to cheerful and well-ordered industry, the unceasing labour of love, there was the inspiring presence of one now but recently departed to her rest, whose childlike simplicity of character, buoyancy of spirits, unbounded benevolence, and uncalculating self-devotion, made her a fit companion for Bishop Doane. It pleased God to bring a shadow over the house, by which half of its light was eclipsed. Mrs. Doane, a prey to a malady which required constant travel to alleviate her sufferings, was obliged to leave the home she had so long graced, and finally received the tidings of her husband's death, and not long after her own summons to meet him, in a foreign land."

William Croswell Doane was the second son of Bishop George W. Doane, and the name that he bore was that of Bishop Doane's closest friend, the Rev. William Croswell. The two men were associated first in the publication of the Episcopal Watchman, and later in Boston where Dr. Croswell was successively the Rector of Christ Church (the old North Church) and then the first rector of the Church of the Advent. Both he and the Bishop were ardent disciples of Bishop Hobart, and in strong sympathy with the Oxford Movement which began in the very year that the elder Doane became the Bishop of New Jersey. They were friends and correspondents of the leaders of that movement, Hugh James Rose, John Keble and Dr. Pusey, and on the occasion of the Bishop of New Jersey's visit to England in 1841 where he went to deliver the sermon at the dedication of the great parish church at Leeds, he was entertained by Pusey at Oxford, and by Keble at Hursley. It was in the atmosphere of a strong and devout churchmanship that young William Croswell Doane was reared. He often referred to the catechizing which his father carried on in St. Mary's, Burlington, and the firm grounding in the teaching of the Church which the children there received. In 1846 Bishop Doane founded Burlington College for the training of men, as he had nine years previously established St. Mary's School for Girls, and it was -here that his sons were educated. It was always a small college, and the singular indifference to its own schools of higher education which has characterized the Episcopal Church in this country resulted in lack of support and of endowment, so that its life was a brief one. But in its time its academic standing was good and its atmosphere is thus suggested by his son in a description of the commencement exercises.

"A Commencement at Burlington College, and a graduation at St. Mary's Hall, were sights worth seeing, and never to be forgotten; never to be repeated in their fulness, now that 'Hamlet* must be left out. In both, one rule prevailed, which gave great decency and dignity to them. There was always a religious service, and the literary exercises. But there was a place for each. No platform, boarded over the Holy Altar, dishonoured it, and there were no sights and signs, of flags and bands, to interrupt the devotion and the sacredness, of his blessing and our prayers. The literary exercises were in the largest halls in each Institution; and the religious services, in the one case, in the Chapel of the Holy Innocents; in the other, in St. Mary's Church. This was one half the beauty of the thing. Who cannot feel now, that ever did, the change, from the flags and stirring music and martial tread, of the Commencement procession, to the solemnity and stilling organ and silent prayer, of the entrance, into the West door of St. Mary's Church. Let us take one at a time.

"My Father was a man, who always looked his office. At home, overflowing with love and tenderness--what was he not?--in Church and in his robes, every inch a Bishop in his academic dress, the perfect 'Praeses reverendissimus.' Seated on the temporary stage in the College Hall, with flags above him and behind, he was the object, of a picture worth seeing. His silken robes, and Oxford cap, and scarlet hood became him nobly, and he, them. And all he said there was in Latin, said with such grace, and dignity, and fluent emphasis, as silvered even Latin. Doctors and Masters and Bachelors, and under-graduates, with their distinctive gowns and hoods, were about him. And the first thing was to kneel in silent prayer. Then, when the music stopped, he stood erect, and bowed. 'Auditores docti ac benevoli, hi juvenes nostri, primam lauream ambientes, vos, per Oratorem, salutare cupiunt: quod, illis a vobis concessum fidunt.' And then taking his seat, with a bow to the Salutatorian: 'Orator Salutatorius, in linguâ Latinâ ascendat.' This was the signal for each, 'Orator, in linguâ Gallicâ, Orator in linguâ Vernaculâ; Orator Valedictorius.' When all was done, the sixth form stood before him; and turning to the audience, cap in hand, he said 'Hosce, pueros, olim, de nostrâ Formâ sextâ, hodie in classem nostram, junior dictum, admittere proponimus, eosque induere togâ virili, Academiae Nostrae.' And they knelt for his favorite blessing, his last, that lingers in our ears, and lies upon our hearts, and must last out our lives, 'unto God's gracious mercy, we commit you.' After this, the procession went directly to the Church. Seated in his Episcopal Chair drawn out to the Choir steps, still in Academic dress, with the Rector and Senior Professor on either side, and the Candidates for degrees before him; after the Bidding Prayer and Litany, he delivered his Baccalaureate, with a tone that mingled the love and authority of a Father, the dignity and office of a Bishop, the earnestness and experience of an old Teacher; in a way that brought out, in relief, the severe and exquisite figures of his speech, and melted boys' hearts, and young men's, to tears. This done, the conferring of degrees began. Standing up, he addressed the Trustees, the very pattern of graceful dignity, in look, and voice, and gesture; 'Curatores honorandi, ac reverendi; juvenes, quos coram vobis, videtis, publico examini, secundum hujus academiae leges, subject!; habiti fuerunt omnino digni, honoribus academicis exornari; vobis igitur compro-bantibus, illos ad gradum petitum, toto animo admittam.' And when the answer came from the President, 'Compro-bamus;' he took his seat, put on his Oxford cap, and one by one, as the boys knelt before him, he gave them their degree. 'Ad honorem Domini nostri Jesu Christi; ad profectum Ecclesiae Sacrosanctae, et omnium studiorum bonorum; do tibi (putting a Greek Testament in their hands) licentiam legendi, docendi, disputandi, et caetera omnia faciendi; quae ad gradum *Baccalaurei in Artibus, pertinent; cujus hocce diploma sit testimonium, in Nomine, Patris et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti. Amen.' And each time, as he said it, with the deepest feeling, he lifted his cap at the mention of the Triune name; and God's glory rested on his magnificent head. The Service ended, always, with the celebration of the Holy Eucharist."

The description no doubt is a vivid memory of his own graduation in 1850, ten years before the words were written. He was a good student, and if the reminiscences of some of his fellows, released to the author many years after, are worthy of credence, he was a leader in other things than the work of the class-room, the fun and frolic of college life in every age.

From the first William Croswell Doane seems to have been destined for the ministry. He was ordained Deacon on the 6th of March, 1853, by his father in St. Mary's Church, Burlington, New Jersey, and served as assistant in that parish. He was made priest in 1856 in the same church, and under his father's direction established St. Barnabas Free Church in the northern part of the town, of which he had charge from 1856 to 1860. He has left behind little record of his ministry there, but there is a touching reference in the memoir to his privilege of administering the Holy Communion to his father on his death-bed in April, 1859. [One memory that lingers is of his keeping bees. He used to say that they always decided to swarm on Sunday, and described his dashing through Burlington streets, with kilted cassock, to mark the swarming place and then scurrying back to St. Barnabas to begin the service.] The Bishop during his whole episcopate had been Rector of St. Mary's Church, which was practically though unofficially the cathedral of the Diocese. In 1860 his son succeeded him in the rectorship of the Parish and remained there for three years. He always referred to this ministry in Burlington as a fruitful and happy period in his life. During the six years from 1854 to 1860, in addition to his parochial duties, he taught English Literature in Burlington College.

Shortly after his ordination in 1853 he was married to Miss Sarah Katharine Condit, daughter of Joel W. and Margaret Harrison Condit of Newark, New Jersey, and his two children were born in Burlington,--the elder, Eliza Greene, in 1854, and Margaret Harrison in 1858.

His reputation both as preacher and pastor was growing also, and led to his being called, in 1863, to St. John's Church, Hartford, Conn. The call was accepted, and the ties with the Diocese of New Jersey, close and intimate as they had been, had to be broken.


Hartford was not wholly unknown to the young priest, because his father had been professor at Trinity (then Washington) College just before his removal to Boston, and there had been close ties uniting the family with that place from that time forward. St. John's Parish, to which he was called, was then twenty-two years old, and had had as previous rectors two men of brilliant ability and distinction--the Rev. Arthur Cleveland Coxe, afterward Bishop of Western New York, and the Rev. Edward A. Washburn, long rector of Calvary Church in New York City. St. John's was then located on Main Street in what is now the business center of the city. In the year 1905 the property was sold and is the present site of the stately Morgan Memorial. The parish now occupies the new and beautiful stone church erected on Farmington Avenue in West Hartford.

Young Mr. Doane came to his task at a difficult period--in the darkest time of the Civil War. He entered upon it with characteristic vigor and thoroughness and soon became known as a preacher and pastor of ability. Memories still linger in the minds of some of those who were children during his rectorship of the public catechizing which he held, following his father's example, and the mingling of strictness with personal charm which characterized his care of the children. No one was allowed to omit or transpose a word, but such was the genuine affection that he had for the children that they felt this to be no hardship, but vied with each other in making perfect answers. Among the young people he was equally popular, but some of the older and more conservative members of the parish were suspicious of what they considered his Puseyite leanings. He was outspoken in his emphasis upon Church and Sacraments, and once when he was invited to address a meeting and was warned that it was strictly an undenominational affair and that he must be careful what he said, he replied with a smile, "If I go, I must preach the Gospel 'as this Church hath received the same.' I have no other to give." The expanding work brought to his aid a congenial assistant in the Rev. Henry W. Nelson, who was instrumental in founding the Church of the Good Shepherd in the southern part of the city, and who later became its first rector. Mr. Nelson was fond of telling the story of the exciting scene at the time when the news arrived of the surrender of Lee's army at Appomattox. He was sitting in his room when the Rector rushed in with the tidings and said, "Come, Harry, let us ring the church bell." They ran all the way to the Church in the dark and pealed out the good news to the city. When a crowd gathered, he jumped on a box and led them singing the Doxology. Mr. Nelson thus records it in his diary: "Sunday before Easter. April 9, 1865. Early Communion. The Rector preached all day. The Music quite poor. A very good attendance at the Sunday School, where we practised the Easter carols, and a large congregation at the evening service. ... At about 10, news came that Lee and his army had surrendered. It threw the city into the greatest excitement. Mr. Doane and I rang St. John's bells. There were bonfires, processions, illuminations and speeches. I did not get to bed until after one. Read at the telegraph office the original despatches from Stanton."

The year 1867 brought a call to the venerable parish of St. Peter's, Albany, which was at that time the most important center of church life north of New York City, and traced its history back to the days of the little trading post of Fort Orange on the hillside above the Hudson.

The brief period of rectorship at St. Peter's, Albany--only two years--gave scarcely time for constructive effort, but began a new set of friendships and associations which had a marked influence upon his life.

The change moreover was far more significant than could have been imagined. It came at the moment when the rapidly expanding work of the Church in the state of New York called for more episcopal supervision than was possible with one bishop living in New York and another in Buffalo. The General Convention of 1868 met in New York City and among the proposals which were approved at that time was one to set off from the diocese of New York two new dioceses,--Long Island and Albany--and to divide Western New York, creating the jurisdiction of Central New York. A convention was called for the organization of the diocese of Albany in St. Peter's Church, and after a long and ardent session in which many ballots were taken, the rector of St. Peter's was chosen as its first bishop. The Convention was for the most part an enthusiastic one in favor of the young rector, but there was a strong opposition on the part of the evangelical element who looked upon Mr. Doane as a high churchman, and who*even went the length of circulating a pamphlet in which his ritualistic practices were vehemently denounced. No sooner was the new bishop elected, however, than all groups in the diocese united behind him and it was not long before he gained the full confidence both of clergy and lay people by his candid, impartial and affectionate administration. He was consecrated as a bishop in the Church of God in his own parish church, St. Peter's, on the Feast of the Purification, February 2, 1869. He wrote in his diary: "My dear friends and brothers, Dr. Payne and Dr. Tucker, are on either side of me. The services were reverent, simple, earnest and most impressive. Woe is me if I forget the memory of that day. My robes have been presented to me by the ladies of St. Peter's and the Episcopal seal by the parishioners of the Church of the Advent. I wore my dear father's rochet. Would God his mantle might descend. Henceforth fearless, yet full of trembling I go forth to this tremendous responsibility. May God help and guide me. May the Great Bishop make me a pastor after his own heart and hold me as a star in his right hand." The Bishop of New York, the Rt. Rev. Horatio Potter, D. D., was the consecrator, assisted by Bishop Odenheimer of New Jersey, who was the preacher, and by Bishop Neely of Maine. Bishop Robertson of Missouri and Bishop Littlejohn of Long Island, who had himself been consecrated only a week previous, were the presenters.

The new diocese to the care of which the young Bishop addressed himself with the utmost energy was a difficult one. Its strong parishes were concentrated in the cities of Albany and Troy but a great part of the north, the section of the Adirondacks, was missionary territory, although at that time it had not become so widely used as a summer resort, as it is now, nor had the work for the relief of tuberculosis sufferers been started. Southwest of Albany there was a similar though smaller section among the Catskill mountains. In the extreme northwest there were some strong centers in Franklin County, but this portion of the diocese was so far removed from Albany that in order to reach it by train, the Bishop was obliged to invade the jurisdiction of his neighbor of Central New York, going as far as Utica and then northward to Potsdam and Ogdenburg and the other parishes and missions along the St. Lawrence. This of courfe, more than sixty years ago, was before the days of the automobile and railroad connections were by no means so good as they later became. The electric trolley, which simplified the task of getting about, had not yet been invented. So when the Bishop started out on the 15th of February to make his first series of visitations, he faced not only the rigors of a northern winter but also many difficulties in transportation from place to place. By the first of May he could report that he had travelled 880 miles, of which 353 had been by driving over country roads, and had confirmed 380 persons.

His first actual visitation was at the little church of St. John's at the Copake Iron Works in Columbia County. He writes as he starts out: "I began my first tour of visitation leaving home with a sad sense of loneliness but with good heart and hope." On the 11th of March he reports that after having held a visitation in Christ Church, Cooperstown, "starting early I drove sixteen miles to Cherry Valley through very heavy snowdrifts." On the 2nd of March he records: "My birthday--thirty-seven years old. The first away from home. Lonely enough. Started early in morning (from Springfield) and drove over drifts through a beating snow sixteen miles to Westford." Nor did he confine himself in this first exploration of his diocese to established missions. He reports that at Worcester he held services by invitation of the Presbyterian minister in "the Presbyterian house of worship and preached to a full congregation." Again in Schenevus he gathered a small group of Church people in the Baptist Meeting House. He drove from Zion Church, Morris, on the 23rd of March, 12 miles to Laurens, through "drifts almost impassable," and there in "the Methodist house of worship" he preached, and confirmed one person. So the story goes 6ri. As the roads began to break up, the travelling was worse. From Richfield Springs to Little Falls meant a drive of "19 miles over the worst road imaginable; 5 hours driving, the pitch holes incessant and the weather rainy. Reached Little Falls too late. The Rector had already begun the service. I reached the Church door just as the Psalm was singing with just time for a short prayer and a rush into the pulpit." And again a few days later: "A really exposed and difficult drive with Stanley through the deepest snowdrifts yet, over fences and once over a whole cemetery, brought us to Fairfield in a high wind and hard snow." At the end of this tour, he makes a brief memorandum which is characteristic. "Loneliness of missionaries--hard work--excellent congregations--new places to be worked up: Springfield, Garretsville, Oneonta, Schenevus, Laurens. Old places: Westford, Exeter, Richfield (Portlandville Mission ought to be divided), Unadilla, Otego, Middleville, Ilion, Newport." He adds, possibly as matters to which he intends to allude in his first Episcopal address: "Music--postures."

Soon after the first series of visitations the Bishop called on the Bishop of New York, the Rt. Rev. Dr. Horatio Potter, from whose jurisdiction the new diocese of Albany had been taken.

"I hope, my Brother," said Bishop Potter, "that you find your diocese in good condition."

"In one respect," replied the younger Bishop, "I find the people very badly trained."

Bishop Potter stiffened slightly. "In what respect?"

"In this:" said Bishop Doane, unabashed, "they have been taught that a Bishop does not smoke, so that no one dared offer me a cigar, and that a Bishop likes pie, which I never eat!"

Bishop Potter was no smoker, but was not averse to pastry. The people of the diocese soon learned, however, that all bishops are not alike.

It would be entirely outside the scope of this brief appreciation to go into the details of visitations and missionary activities during Bishop Doane's long episcopate. So long as strength permitted he was indefatigable in following every avenue of opportunity for spreading the Church. And wherever he went, the touch of his own vigorous life and definite and comprehensive churchmanship left its impression. Particularly memorable was his wonderful memory for individuals. He came to know thousands of people and to be known by them, and his friendly and democratic approach made his Episcopal visitations something much more than official duties. Even in travelling, he made it a point to know and to be known and not infrequently would make part of his journey in the baggage car sitting on a trunk while he smoked and chatted with the trainmen. Those were days in which many parts of the Adirondacks were reached by long stage rides and the stage drivers knew him well. He used to tell with characteristic enjoyment of the drive that he took on top of a tally-ho coach from Westport on Lake Champlain up to Elizabethtown and the Keene Valley. The driver invited him to sit alongside him on the front seat, and just behind them on the top of the coach a party of young ladies from New York were exclaiming in ecstasy over the scenery and the air of the mountain country. "Do you smell the balsam?" one of them cried to the others. "Isn't that invigorating and delicious?" At which the driver leaned over and remarked in an undertone, "Hear that, Bishop? There ain't a balsam tree within ten miles. That's the liniment on my sore knee she smells."

At the Diocesan Convention the Bishop was not only a capable and sometimes rigid presiding officer, but at the noon recesses he moved about among the delegates calling the laymen by name, inquiring about their families and the details of parochial life in a way that made him a friend of all. The writer of this memoir recalls vividly the day of his confirmation in the spring of 1880. It was before the days of automobiles and the Bishop came by local train from Albany to Troy and walked from the station to the Church, accompanied by the Rector, the Rev. Thaddeus A. Snively. A boy of thirteen on his way to the service heard himself called by name and looked up to see the Rector beckoning him across the street. "The Bishop wants to speak to you, George. I have told him that you are to be confirmed today." The Bishop leaned forward with his compelling smile and gracious manner and said, "I am truly glad to meet you, my dear boy. God bless you in what you are about to do." The boy was quite sure that he meant it. It was the beginning of a long and happy association.


The young Bishop had clearly in his mind at the beginning of his episcopate the idea of a strong center in Albany, from which the work of the Diocese should be carried forward. This idea was one which came, at least in suggestion, from his father, for he also was a founder of institutions; and in a letter written to his son from England in 1841 he expresses himself strongly on the advisability of a cathedral system for the American Church. But Bishop Doane had a far more ambitious plan in mind than could possibly have been in the thought of his father. His was a far-seeing and statesmanlike mind. He was not satisfied to do as the Bishops of Iowa and Chicago did about the same time,--that is, take over a small parish church and give it the status of a cathedral. His imagination pictured something on a grander scale--a building of such proportions, dignity and richness as did not then exist in the American Church, and one which could be compared creditably with the great foundations of the Church of England.

At the primary convention of the Diocese, a committee was appointed to select a residence for the Bishop and chose the house at 29 Elk Street, which became his home and the home of succeeding bishops of Albany. Only one city block to the westward, at the top of the hill, there was a site which seemed to him strategic. The newly built state capitol was only a short distance away and the wide highways of State Street and Washington Avenue gave ready access from all parts of the city. The Bishop interested Mr. Erastus Corning in this enterprise and the property was bought by him and deeded to a corporation chartered under the name "The Corning Foundation for Christian Work in the City and Diocese of Albany."

Within less than two years after his consecration, the Bishop had opened a church school for girls, to which he gave the name of St. Agnes. He threw himself with great energy into the task of raising money for building a school-house and with such success that on the 19th of June, 1872, the cornerstone was laid and by the first of the following November the large brick building was finished and in use. On that very day, the feast of All Saints, a temporary cathedral was opened. Architecturally it had not much to boast of, for it was simply an abandoned machine shop on Hawk Street, which had been cleaned and put in repair at as small expense as possible. The Rev. James Haughton was called to take charge of this small beginning and there the girls of the school and people of the neighborhood were gathered for services. From the beginning the idea of a free and open church was maintained, and so far as was possible with such limited quarters, the services were given the dignity suitable to a cathedral.

Early in the following year, 1873, the Legislature passed an act incorporating the cathedral and the chapter was organized. Thus Albany became the pioneer in the organization of a cathedral along true cathedral lines and with statutes modelled upon those of the ancient and historic cathedrals of England. It would require far more space than is available here to tell the long story of the rise of the Cathedral of All Saints, its dedication, and its wide and beneficent influence.

Since Bishop Doane's pioneer attempt, the great structures on Morningside Heights in New York and Mount St. Albans in Washington have been begun and brought partly to completion. But All Saints, Albany, still remains by reason of its size and architectural beauty, even though incomplete, one of the great achievements of the American Church. Ten years went by before the actual cathedral building was begun, during which time the Bishop was indefatigable in arousing interest and securing aid. Few large subscriptions were made but an extraordinarily widespread support came from the people of the Diocese. There still remains in the Cathedral Library the little account book in which the Bishop entered with his own hand the names of subscribers and the amounts of their donations. They come from the remotest corners of the Diocese and range from fifty cents upward in amount.

On a bright summer day in 1884, Whitsun Tuesday (June 3), the Bishop laid the cornerstone with impressive ceremony. The writer of this memoir, then a college freshman, was present and remembers the interested crowds, the procession of clergy and invited guests, and with extraordinary vividness the picturesque figure of Bishop Doane standing outlined against the sky as he raised his hand in the act of declaring the stone well and truly laid. Rev. Frank L. Norton was the Dean from 1883 to 1885. In 1888 the Rev. Wilford Lash Robbins was installed and it was to his constructive efforts and brilliant leadership that much of the spiritual fabric of the cathedral work was due. The nave and crossing with the temporary chancel were first covered over and used in the autumn of 1888. In 1892 a gift long described as from an unknown donor but now known to have been presented by the late J. Pierpont Morgan, made possible the completion of the present glorious choir.

From early life there was a close friendship between these two very dissimilar men. The Bishop was frequently Mr. Morgan's guest, both in this country and abroad, and the great financier interested himself warmly in the Cathedral and the other far-reaching plans of the Bishop of Albany. When, some years later, an effort was made to clear the Cathedral from the $40,000 of debt which still remained on it, Mr. Morgan agreed to give one-third of the sum if the other two-thirds could be raised in the Diocese. The task was accomplished and his contribution paid. The Bishop in jest sent him two-thirds of a bright new penny and had the rest of the coin imbedded in the arch of the Benefactors' Door in the North Transept. Always facile in rhyme, he dashed off some rough verses to go with his gift, and in accordance with their suggestion, Mr. Morgan wore the part of a cent as a charm on his watch guard for years to come.

Perhaps you will wonder what charm there can be
In two thirds of a cent, which I'm sending to thee,
Which takes first the shape of the crescent so fair
With the "lone star" that speaks of the dear boat Corsair.

So I rise to explain that, some few weeks ago
A dearly loved friend, whose name some of us know,
Made a promise and kept it, to give a queer sum,
That was chiefly in threes, and a fraction would come.

Thirteen thousand three hundred and still thirty-three
And then thirty-three cents and a tail, don't you see,
Of a fractional third of a cent, to complete
The round sum he gave all our troubles to meet.

Well, this third of a cent the Bank found hard to pay.
So to ease them I thought this the very best way,
To divide a bright penny all shiny and new
With the mint's date upon it 1892.

And the third that is paid is embedded in stone
In the doorway which in the Cathedral is known
As the door of the Benefactors by whose gift
The debt on the building we're able to lift.

And the other two thirds, quite a cresent in form
Goes to the Benefactor, to be worn as a charm,
With the prayer and the blessing that free from all harm
By land and by sea, in his work and his home,
Today and for many long years yet to come,
God will keep him and bless him in basket and store,
Reward him with love that grows more and more,
Crown his days upon earth with life's richest grace,
And grant him at last the ineffable Peace.

The Bishop was not interested to have merely the external fabric of a Cathedral. From the first he planned not only a cathedral organization which held up the ideal of the central church as the meeting place of the parishes, but its altar as the heart of the diocesan life. The Holy Eucharist was offered frequently and the daily offices of Morning and Evening Prayer said. At Evensong the girls from St. Agnes' School across the street formed the choir and the service was sung for many years. The Bishop never failed to be in his place in the Cathedral for the daily services when he was in the city and at liberty, and when he grew too feeble to walk up the hill, he was wheeled in an invalid's chair to his place in the choir and took his part with deep devotion and comfort in the familiar office.

Beside the School and the Cathedral his far-seeing mind and driving energy built up a hospital for children and a sisterhood to care for it. The story of this undertaking deserves a volume by itself. In April 1870 he wrote to Miss Helen Dunham who had been a very faithful communicant and worker in Trinity Church, West Troy, (now Watervliet) to suggest that she should give herself to the task of establishing such an enterprise. He wrote:

"I am very anxious to establish in Albany, a home for the sick, part hospital and part home for incurables. I have no faith and not much interest in such a work unless it be undertaken for the love of God. And I am very anxious to secure two or three Christian Women who will be willing to come and take the care and control of the House, with the simple security of their support, in clothing and every way, all their lives long.

"I write to ask whether you and your aunt, Miss Sage, would be inclined to come to me, and give yourselves to such a work, which in God's good time will grow into a duly organized Sisterhood."

Miss Dunham accepted the call and in 1873 she was set apart by the Bishop on the Feast of the Conversion of St. Paul. Three others--her aunt, Miss Amelia Sage, Miss Edith Case and Miss Ellen Perry--came with her, but the last two remained but a short time. In March 1875 the Child's Hospital was opened in a small house on Lafayette Street with two patients. The numbers increased so rapidly that it was necessary to move into a larger house on Elk Street. In 1877 a hospital building was erected and this was replaced by the present building in 1891. The Sisterhood grew rapidly until there were as many as thirty professed sisters. The work was expanded to Saratoga, where through the generosity of Mr. Spencer Trask, an industrial school for girls, which served also as the summer home for the Child's Hospital, was opened under the name of St. Christina's School in memory of Christina Trask. And in 1915 the orphanage at Cooperstown which owed its origin to the daughter of Fenimore Cooper, the novelist, was included in the work of the Sisterhood. In recognition of the special purpose for which the order was established, the Bishop chose the name, The Sisterhood of the Holy Child Jesus. His interest was constant and he seldom passed up or down the street without turning in to walk through the wards of the Hospital or to consult with the Reverend Mother about the work.

As an outgrowth from the Child's Hospital there arose somewhat later another institution of kindred purpose,--St. Margaret's House for Babies. It originated in 1883 and like the Child's Hospital was at first carried on in a rented house, first in Lafayette Street and then in Columbia Place. But after more than twelve years of increasing usefulness, a building adjoining the Child's Hospital was erected and occupied in May, 1896. A training school for infants' nurses was established in connection with St. Margaret's, and the house was carried on partly as a hospital and partly as a place of refuge for children under two years of age needing care. Hundreds of babies have benefitted by this beneficent work.

It is a remarkable record that Bishop Doane has thus left behind him as a founder of institutions, especially when it is remembered that he was at the same time administering with vigorous vitality a large and exhausting diocese much of which was missionary territory, and that he was speedily drawn also into wider and responsible duties in the General Church.

Bishop Doane's interest, however, was not primarily in the material fabric of the group of buildings which his energy and determination erected. He discerned and constantly tried to impress upon his Diocese the value of a strong spiritual center which he hoped might extend its influence to the farthest reaches of his jurisdiction. As he put it tersely in one of his convention addresses, referring to the Cathedral and its surrounding institutions and the missionary impulse which he hoped would extend from it, "A sound and vigorous heart is a better remedy for cold feet than a hot water bottle." His conception of the function and relation of the Cathedral is admirably expressed in the sermon which he preached on the first Sunday in October, 1876, when the offices of Precentor, Chancellor and Treasurer were filled.

"These are the points of difference between the officers installed here today and the rector instituted into a parish. I think it only right to add, what is not perhaps at first sight clear, wherein the difference consists, between this charge which is committed to them and the congregation of a parish church. And it is first and fundamentally here: The elective body of a cathedral is not its congregation. Ordinarily and necessarily, and in the main wisely, the gathered laymen of a congregation elect their vestry, who elect the rector and the assistant and the deputies to the convention, and who vote upon all questions of temporality besides. Here it is otherwise. Really the Diocese elects here. The General Chapter, composed of the Bishop, the Archdeacons, the Standing Committee, the Board of Missions, and the deputies to the General Convention, these are, so to speak, the cathedral vestry; and the diocese is the congregation, which elects them and they elect the clerical and lay members of the chapter; so that the officers to be installed today are representative of the Diocese, in the diocesan church; and the congregation worshipping here is but a part of the congregation which belongs here. For this cathedral, in building, services, ministers, belongs to every Churchman in the Diocese, and every Churchman belongs, that is, by right is at home, here. The regular worshippers enrolled in our register, or cared for in all their religious needs and life, are of course the chief care of the clergy, and just now, until endowments can come in, are the dependence for the support of the services. But these services are part of the heritage of every Churchman. When he comes here, now and then, he is not wandering away from home, but at home, because here." * * * *

"I have no accurate arithmetical computation of the disproportion between the church buildings here and the population of the city. But I know it is very large. And we shall far better than by the loudest claims vindicate, before God and to a world impatient of assumptions based only upon arguments; we shall far better vindicate our apostolic lineage by lives and labors based upon their models who set to work not to convert one city or a single nation, not to collect a congregation and minister to it, but to evangelize the world. We have rung changes in our appeal for laymens' alms, upon the text, 'The field is the world,' and pointed to remote and romantic regions of the unevangelized earth. God speed the work that cares for such as these. But let us not forget the mass of people here at our doors, who live and die without guidance we are sent to give, the grace we are commissioned to convey. Beyond this, a city like Albany especially needs, I think, some large, central, free church, open often. Our schools of Law and Medicine, the Normal Schools, the Business Colleges, the Academies, the Courts, the Public Offices, the Legislative gatherings, bring here a floating population that cannot be drawn into pewed churches that are full, or into the small free churches that are crowded and remote beside. We have no right to lose the opportunity of impressing such as these; of sowing a chance seed of Churchly principle and practice, that may take root and spring up into developed religious conviction and attachment, perhaps elsewhere. We have no right not to try to throw the protection of our holy influences about the strangers here, surrounded by the temptations that beset young people first away from home, or older people in the tremendous temptations of political excitement and turmoil. And the definite spiritual charge of the Cathedral clergy is thus over all Church people, resident or non-resident, who are not members of established parishes here, and over all people who have no spiritual home. Free seats are an incorporated feature in the Constitution of a Cathedral. And so are frequent services. I should be sorry to be understood as saying that morning and evening prayer, and, at least, the WEEKLY Eucharist, are features that distinguish the Cathedral from the Parish Church. On the contrary, as they have ever been so are they now, the rule of God's Kingdom on earth; and I believe the spirituality alike of priests and people is largely nurtured by the rule in the English Prayer Book, that these daily offices are to be said, if not in public, at least in private, by every clergyman. But the fact is, in Albany, for instance, that the only daily service in the city is maintained here. Between the discouragement of St. Chrysostom's 'two or three,' and the great difficulty of a rector, with all the various duties that devolve upon him, finding time to maintain the daily service in his parish, only few houses of God are opened daily in America. The larger numbers of a Cathedral staff, now with its two resident priests and one deacon, make simple and easy the maintenance of frequent Eucharists and the daily public worship of the church. And for whom are they? Surely for all. This open door bids every passerby, morning and evening, to come in and get the grace or give the glory, for the day's duties and the day's gifts of grace. One day, please God, when this has gone on long enough, it will come to pass, I believe, that this divinely ordered and ancient model of religious life shall mould the lives of people, till they will say, not 'I cannot come, because I am otherwise hindered'--but 'I will order and rule my secular duties by the standard of God's daily public worship.' Till then, at any rate, here in this church, the common home of all Churchmen, no one need lack the opportunity of expressing his own heart's desire, of prayer in any special want, of confession of any recent sin, of thanksgiving for any new mercy. And here, whether present or absent, the daily intercession rises up, for all conditions of men."

It would not be too much to say that at any rate while the Bishop was in the full vigor of physical and intellectual power, the driving force of his personality and the unceasing diligence with which he gave personal attention to the minutest details of administration did much to realize this ideal not only in the Cathedral, but in the School, the Child's Hospital and the Sisterhood. A host of the older graduates of St. Agnes' still recall with grateful affection his individual care for the girls, his affection for them and the pleasure and inspiration that came from his almost daily visits. One of these graduates has left a pleasant picture in an article on the life of the School, which is typical of this relationship.


"A late autumn afternoon, a few girls reading in the library, one or two by the fire light in the community room, watching the daylight fade, three quick, sharp bells ring through the house, a signal that the Bishop has come; sounds of opening doors and hastening feet; presently the Bishop seated in the community room with girls all about him, sitting on chairs, tables, floor, anywhere to be near him, all eyes fixed on his face, listening to his short, suggestive talk about the day's thought, from Lesson, Gospel or Epistle. 'Good night, Bishop,' echoes through the hall, each eye brightening that has the good chance to meet his, as he includes all in his rare smile."

Matters of discipline also he often took into his own hands, and there lingers in the memory of many a former St. Agnes' girl the experience of an interview with the Bishop in the library, and his searching, kind and fatherly admonition. With each class that was graduated, the Bishop maintained as close a touch as possible and his addresses given at the Commencement Exercises always with the class motto as his theme are among the most beautiful and impressive of his writings.


Among the many ventures for the promotion of religious education in which Bishop Doane was interested, one of the most successful was the Society for the Home Study of Holy Scripture and Church History. The plan was suggested by Miss Sarah F. Smiley of New York, and she laid it before the Bishop, as she writes in one of the annual reports "in his study at Mt. Desert" on St. Matthew's Eve, 1886. It was in effect a correspondence school, with a lending library, courses of study, examinations and certificates of merit. Bishop Doane was the first president and took an active and useful part in the work. Summer classes were carried on at Saratoga (a forerunner of the widespread summer conferences today) and in the very first year 210 students from 40 dioceses were enrolled. By 1913, the library numbered over 5000 carefully selected books. It is now housed at the Washington Cathedral, from which the work of the Society is at present carried on.


The Bishop of Albany first took his seat in the House of Bishops at the General Convention of 1871 in Baltimore, Maryland. This Convention was notable in that no less than ten new Bishops were added to the House during the triennium, making a total of 53, as contrasted with the 13 that assembled when his father was consecrated less than forty years before. The period was one of vigorous life and growth in the American Church and as almost always happens when the Church is growing, there was vigorous controversy as well. This was the Convention in which a Committee of Five Bishops submitted a long report on ritual. It reads strangely enough now. They recommended the prohibition of the use of incense, of placing a crucifix in any part of the Church, of carrying the Cross in Processions, of the use of lights on or about the Holy Table, and of a number of other practices which are now so common as to pass unnoticed even in parishes of moderate ceremonial. They added a recommendation that no surpliced choir should be employed except with the consent of the Bishop and when such choirs are employed "the only addition to their ordinary attire shall be a surplice reaching to the ankles." Ministers were to be allowed only the use of a surplice and a black or white stole. After endless debate in which a vast amount of rhetoric was employed, the movement to bind the Church came to nothing.

Another matter by which intense feeling was aroused was the question of the meaning of the word "regenerate" in the Office for the Ministration of the Baptism of Infants. The Bishops in council declared that the word is not there so used as to determine that a moral change in the subject is wrought in the Sacrament, and Bishop Doane was one of those who signed the statement. But the controversy continued to rage with the result of a schism led by Dr. Cummins, the Assistant Bishop of Kentucky, and the formation of the Reformed Episcopal sect. The first proposals concerning a provincial system made their appearance and action was taken concerning the use by congregations of foreigners of formularies in their vernacular tongue at the discretion of each diocesan bishop. Bishop Doane is on record as having introduced a resolution of sympathy with the Old Catholics of Germany. His interest in missionary work led to his appointment three years later on the Committee on Domestic Missions, a connection which was continued for many years during a large portion of which time he served as an officer of the Board. It will be recalled that his latest effort on behalf of the Church was to be present at a meeting of the Board of Missions in New York the day before his death. As a member of the House of Bishops, Bishop Doane's influence and standing grew rapidly. His voice carried weight and his judgment was trusted with a confidence that led in time to his election as Chairman of the House. In fact so great was the deference paid to his leadership that there were murmurs of complaint in some quarters that nothing could be carried through the House of Bishops unless Bishop Doane and Bishop Henry Potter of New York favored it.

At the time when the revision of the Prayer Book was completed in 1892, the Rev. Dr. William R. Huntington of Grace Church, New York, in a sermon preached in that Church soon after the adjournment of the General Convention, said in speaking of the Revision:

"I cannot leave this subject without paying a personal tribute to a prelate but for whose aid in the House of which he is a distinguished ornament, liturgical revision would, humanly speaking, have long ago come to nought. To the fearlessness, the patience, the kindly temper, and the resolute purpose of William Croswell Doane, Bishop of Albany, this Church for these results stands deeply and lastingly indebted. When others' courage failed them, he stood firm; when friends and colleagues were counselling retreat, and under their breath were whispering 'Fiasco!' and 'Collapse!' his spirit never faltered. He has been true to a great purpose, at the cost of obloquy sometimes, and to the detriment even of old friendships. Separated from him by a dozen shades of theological opinion and by as many degrees of ecclesiastical bias, I render him here and now that homage of grateful appreciation which every Churchman owes him."

Bishop Doane had been a member of the joint commission on revision for twelve years. His own proposals went considerably beyond the changes adopted at that time and included some which were finally inserted in the Prayer Book Revision of 1931. He stated them in cogent language in an article contributed to the "Church Review" of April, 1886. They included permission sometimes to use the summary of the law without the full decalogue (in the Communion Office); the addition of the response "thanks be to Thee, O Lord," after the Gospel; and the change of the Prayer of Humble Access to the place which it now occupies directly before the administration of Communion. Concerning the Prayer for the Departed, he desired the expansion of the brief reference in the Prayer for the Church so as to make it clear that, as he says, "this doctrine is woven into the structure of this office and expressed in this great intercession." He adds, "I hardly know how to plead for this or why I need to. The instincts of the hearts of men and women are yearning for a safe and authorized utterance of their sense of intercommunion with the faithful dead. * * * Untaught and unhelped the heart strays off into the dreary dreadful-ness of the most material and carnal of all things, miscalled spiritualism, which disturbs and desecrates the repose of the dead and fills the living with unrest." The Bishop further advocated proper Prefaces for all the festivals of our Lord and for All Saints' Day. His sense of liturgical fitness and his acquaintance with liturgical history are both clearly manifested in this article; and his great usefulness to the Church during the twelve years of labor and discussion spent on the revision fully deserved the tribute paid by Dr. Huntington, whose own leadership in the House of Deputies was parallel with that of the Bishop of Albany among the Bishops.

With this broader field of influence at home went also contact with the Mother Church in England and fruitful friendships with the leaders on that side of the water. In 1884 Bishop Doane was one of the deputation appointed to represent the American Church at the centenary of the consecration of Bishop Seabury held in Aberdeen. His warm friend, Bishop John Williams of Connecticut was his companion on a tour through the highlands of Scotland, of which record has already been made in the published letters of Bishop Williams and of Dr. Samuel Hart. In 1900 the Bishop of Albany again represented the American Church at the commemoration of the bi-centenary of the Society for the Propagation of the Gospel and it was he who was chosen to preach the sermon on June 16 at the great service in St. Paul's Cathedral, London--a sermon in which, after retracing the story of the connection between the S. P. G. and the American Church, he made an eloquent plea for a revival of the missionary spirit throughout the whole Anglican Communion.

"* * * Nay, we must be very courageous, and plan larger ventures for the evangelisation of the world. Our fathers' God did deliver them from the apathy in which they were content to dwell, and He will lead us on into larger faith and naught-withholding obedience.

"This is the message that I have come across the sea to speak. Be of good cheer! for, despite the lukewarm indifference of 200 years ago, the result of the Society's labours in America is a marvel. Be of good cheer! for God meant it all for your good and ours, that by that very experience He would make the great Missionary Church of today. Be of good cheer! only stand fast in the principles on which this Society was founded--even to propagate the Gospel, the good news, a fact and not a theory, a fact and not a doctrine, even that God hath raised Jesus from the dead, whom to believe, whom to confess is salvation."

The twenty-fifth anniversary of Bishop Doane's consecration, February 2, 1894, was observed by a great service in the Cathedral of All Saints, at which the presiding Bishop, Right Reverend John Williams of Connecticut, was the preacher. A large number of bishops and clergy, both from the Diocese and from outside of it, were present to do him honor. No one who looked about him could fail to recognize that the honor was well deserved. A quarter of a century is, after all, a short time in the history of the Church, and in few episcopates has there been so much of progress to show, both materially and spiritually as was evident in the story of Bishop Doane's work. Bishop Williams aptly quoted at the end of his sermon the inscription by which Sir Christopher Wren is honored in St. Paul's Cathedral, London: "Si monumentum requiris, Circumspice."

An indication of the position which he had come to hold in the Anglican communion is found in the correspondence of the New York Times concerning the Lambeth Conference of 1897.

"The American bishops have exerted great influence, as they deserved to do, by virtue of their numbers and high character. Bishop Doane, of Albany, has made perhaps the deepest impression as an original thinker with a philosophical mind. He has been considered the real leader of the American House of Bishops by virtue of commanding intellect, earnestness of purpose and courtly manners."

On this occasion the Bishop and Mrs. Doane had the privilege of being the guests of the Dean of St. Paul's during the great festival observances connected with the sixtieth anniversary of the accession of Queen Victoria. They were given places of honor in the Cathedral and at the other exercises, and later when the Bishops were received at Windsor by the Queen, Bishop Whipple of Minnesota and Bishop Doane were the two from the United States who were singled out to be presented personally to Her Majesty as representative leaders from this side of the water. It was on this occasion also that the Bishop made a visit to Dublin to preach before the University in the Chapel of Trinity College, and also in St. Patrick's Cathedral. Bishop Doane also delivered an address when moving a resolution of respect to the memory of the late Archbishop Benson, long his intimate friend. This was described by a writer in one of the American newspapers as the most beautiful and appropriate utterance during the seventeen days occupied by the meeting of the Conference.

It will be beyond the scope of this brief sketch of so full and complex a life as Bishop Doane's, even to enumerate the many honors that were bestowed upon him and offices that he administered. In 1892 he was elected a regent of the University of the State of New York and Vice Chancellor, and presided with notable dignity and felicity at its convocations. He was constantly in demand for sermons and addresses, both at home and abroad. In May, 1900, he was invited to speak in Carnegie Hall, New York City, before an interdenominational gathering which bore the rather pretentious title of The Ecumenical Conference on Foreign Missions. He gave a noble and eloquent address on the missionary motive, but prefaced it, with characteristic candor and courtesy, by saying:

"So far as I represent the Episcopal Church, and I am not disposed to misrepresent her, I stand here holding fast to her definite dogmatic position and to her distinctive polity." He added a plea for emphasis on positive loyalties without bitterness or condemnation of one another, and declared his belief that Church unity will come, "though I do not believe we can force it by any device of man."

In 1902 he was orator on Washington's Birthday at the University of Pennsylvania, and received from that venerable institution an honorary degree.

In all he held eleven degrees from nine different institutions. His B. A. and M. A. were, of course, from Burlington College, New Jersey. Columbia University, Trinity College, the University of Oxford, and the University of Dublin conferred the degree of Doctor of Divinity. Hobart College, the University of Pennsylvania, Union University, and the University of Cambridge made him a Doctor of Laws; and Union at a later date conferred the D. C. L. degree.


For more than thirty years Bishop Doane carried the increasing cares of his exacting Diocese, and along with them weighty and far-reaching responsibilities in the General Church. Then came the warnings of failing strength in one whose strength had seemed hitherto equal to every burden that could be placed upon it. He was obliged on several occasions to call in the help of visiting Bishops to aid in his visitations and it became evident that he could not go on indefinitely without assistance. In 1903 he asked for the election of a bishop coadjutor. The request was granted. The choice of the Diocese fell upon the Rev. Richard Henry Nelson, D. D., Rector of St. Peter's Church, Philadelphia, Pa., and he was consecrated at a most impressive service in the Cathedral, May 19, 1904. The completed choir which had been dedicated only a few weeks before was a fitting frame for this solemn and dignified ceremony. The Bishop of Albany himself was the consecrator, assisted by Bishop Whitaker of Pennsylvania and Bishop Brewster of Connecticut. The preacher was Bishop Hall of Vermont. Ten Bishops took part in the service and about one hundred of the other clergy. Bishop Nelson began his visitation of the missions in the northern part of the Diocese a week later and was everywhere welcomed both because of his own strong personality and his happy gift for friendship; but also because the Diocese realized with thanksgiving that its beloved Bishop was thus relieved from a burden long ably and cheerfully borne, which had now become too heavy for him.

While Bishop Nelson took over and vigorously sustained the missionary work of the Diocese, Bishop Doane still continued his far-reaching activity for several years longer. Gradually, as strength failed, he ceased to make his visitations, but continued to preside with all the intellectual vigor of his prime at the many meetings of diocesan organizations, and to some extent those of the Church at large, in which he had long been a controlling influence. In May, 1913, although far from well, he journeyed to New York to attend a meeting of the Board of Missions. Before the meeting was concluded, he rose from his seat, evidently very weary, and started to leave the room. Immediately, every member of the Board stood in token of respect. He passed slowly and feebly from their sight, his work done.

He was taken seriously ill and could not return to his home. He died in a hotel room in New York City on the 17th of May, 1913. The following day, which was Trinity Sunday, tribute was paid to the Bishop in the Cathedral of All Saints by Dean Brookman and in almost every parish church throughout the diocese. At 10 o'clock on Monday morning, May 19, the Bishop's body was borne to his Cathedral and laid upon an oak bier at the head of the choir alley, and directly in front of the Episcopal Throne. By his own desire, his body rested in a simple pine coffin such as his zeal for burial reform had led him to propose many years before. The Cathedral possessed as yet no mortuary lights and six candlesticks of black and silver were loaned by the pastor of the Roman Catholic Church of Our Lady of Angels. Acolytes of the Cathedral and of Grace Church took turns in standing at the head of the coffin, holding the processional crucifix; and a guard of honor, consisting of four of the clergy was maintained day and night until the burial on the following day. A visitor to the Cathedral writes of the funeral services as follows:

"As the people moved forward from the west door, their eyes were caught by the yellow glow of candle-light which threw out the steady, white-robed figure of the crucifer with the crucifix, and the still watchers on either hand, and then they saw the red and purple of the great pall, the scarlet of the Bishop's robe, the shine of metal and the flash of jewel in the staff of office; and last, the quiet face and folded hands of Bishop Doane.

"From the face all weariness had vanished, all sign of weakness had gone. It was the face of the dead, but of the strong man dead. * * * It is but simple truth to say that the dead face was worthy of the setting, and none who gazed upon it has failed to know the 'majesty of death.'

"From the hour announced, the movement of the people through the Cathedral rose and fell with the hours like the tide. At first they came in groups, and then in line, then groups again. Between 12 and 1 o'clock they came in one unbroken stream. Through the afternoon it was groups and then a line, then groups once more.

"By 4 o'clock Albany was pouring its citizens in a torrent through the great central alley, which was blocked to the great west door like a river in time of flood, by those who came to take their last look upon the Bishop's face. They were state and city officials, clergy and lay people from all parts of the diocese. Parishioners of the Cathedral and of the city parishes, the rich and poor regardless of religious belief or affiliation, they came to pay final honor to the man and the Bishop, who for forty-seven years had taken part in the life and work of Albany and had shed lustre upon the name and fame of Albany abroad.

"At 7 o'clock on Tuesday morning, the day of burial, the Canon Precentor, Dr. Fulcher, was the celebrant at a requiem Eucharist in the presence of the body. Then the silent march past the coffined dead began again, not to be halted until the second Bishop of Albany, who had come by night train from his visitation of the northern part of the diocese to be present, began the Holy Eucharist, with Dean Brookman as his server. The communicants were the immediate family and close friends of Bishop Doane. This Eucharist in the presence of the body of the first Bishop of Albany at the Cathedral altar, had a beauty and compelling power in its significance that needed no glory of music or pomp of ceremonial for emphasis."

"The honorary pall-bearers were Dr. Henry Hun, General Amasa J. Parker, Colonel William Gorham Rice, and Dr. Howard Van Rennselaer of Albany; General C. W. Tillinghast of Troy, George Foster Peabody, George McC. Miller, George C. Clarke, and J. P. Morgan of New York; and W. W. Frazier of Philadelphia.

"The Cathedral clergy, Canon Sherman, the Canon Precentor, Dr. Fulcher, and Dean Brookman preceded the Bishops, who were Bishop Courtney of St. James' Church, New York, Bishop Lloyd, president of the Board of Missions, Bishop Davies of Western Massachusetts, Bishop Olmsted of Central New York, Bishop Lawrence of Massachusetts, Bishop Greer of New York, and Bishop Nelson of Albany.

"The Responsory was read by Bishop Greer, and the Lesson by Bishop Lawrence. After the Lesson the Easter hymn, 'Jesus Lives,' was sung, and Canon Fulcher intoned the Creed and the prayers for those in affliction and for the repose of the dead. During the singing of 'For All Thy Saints' the Bishops, with the Cathedral clergy and the members of the family, followed the coffin through the north archway of the choir to the choir alley and around to the ambulatory where, just back of the high altar, the two-ton stone had been hoisted to open the vault under the pavement where the Bishop's body would rest beside the bodies of Mrs. Doane and her sister, Miss Margaret Condit. Though the officiants were screened from the body of the church by walls of massive masonry, the Dean's voice was heard in the Homo Natus throughout the vast building.

"Then in a thrilling silence, Bishop Nelson was heard to read the Committal sentence. The choir took up 'I heard a Voice,' and the Bishop concluded with the prayers and the grace. While the 'Dead March in Saul' rolled through the arches, the funeral party came back to the choir. Bishop Nelson pronounced the Benediction, and Bishop Doane's deathless hymn, 'Ancient of Days,' was taken up by choir and congregation."

"In a 'Minute' adopted by the clergy present at the funeral they say of the late Bishop:

"'From the very first, the new diocese felt the quickening touch of his strong personality, his large and catholic Churchmanship, his subtle power to win the affection and trust of men, and inspire them with his own vision and grasp of the mission of the Church in his day and generation. He brought to his task the splendid vigor of his youth, its courage, its enthusiasm, and the trained power of one who thought with precision and worked out his thought to practical and enduring results. In his soul and in his work he reached the measure of greatness.

"'His mind and will were constructive; therefore, his first and continuous task was to build for the new diocese institutions and organizations that should survive himself and those who worked with him, inspired with his ideals and faiths. In spirit and purpose they were substantially all the clergy and laity of the diocese. He knew how to bind us to him with hooks of steel. His large and gracious nature without effort forged the links, and they drew to him even those who differed from him in points of view and details of method.

"'Here, in this majestic Cathedral church which he built to consecrate his houses of learning and charity, we, the clergy of the diocese, thank God for all that he was to us, to the diocese, and to the Church of Christ in this land, with its deepening sense of its historic and world-wide relations.'

"The minute is signed for the clergy by the Rev. Drs. Battershall and Enos and the Rev. Hubert P. LeF. Grabau."

Bishop Doane came to a diocese in which there were 75 parishes and missions, 6,561 communicants, and 78 clergy canonically connected. When he died there were 126 parishes, 37 organized missions, and 12 other places where work was carried on, though without organization. The communicants had increased four-fold to 25,578, and the clergy numbered 142.

He came to a diocese newly created, practically without organization and without institutions. He left a diocese fully organized in a system of convocations for missionary extension, and equipped with a Cathedral, hospitals, schools, a sisterhood employed in many works of mercy, an orphanage, and a wide-spread ministry to sufferers from tuberculosis in the Adirondack region. To these outward and visible signs of his wise and energetic administration should be added, what cannot be added because it cannot be known, much less measured, the deep impression of a spiritual ministry upon a multitude of souls; a record known to God, though it cannot be set down in pages of statistics nor valued by any method of human computation.

The characteristic qualities which marked the career of the first Bishop of Albany and left their impress upon two generations during his long ministry of sixty year's are hard to summarize. He was a many-sided man of outstanding gifts and multifarious contacts with life. To a naturally powerful mind was added the discipline of study and wide reading and observation and a vigorous independence of thought. But even more than for his intellect and scholarship, he was remembered for his capacity to make friends. He carried in his mind and in his heart a host of people ranging through all classes of society and his interest in them was genuine. He was as truly the friend of an Adirondack guide as he was of an Archbishop of Canterbury. He met with the same genial and democratic temper a Wall Street banker or a Maine fisherman. It is characteristic of him that at one Diocesan Convention, after having paid tribute to notable leaders in the Church who had died during the year, he added to the list the name of the gatekeeper at the Union station, with whom he on his frequent railway journeys had formed a real friendship and to whom he paid a tribute of affectionate respect.

Bishop Doane was a man of tireless industry. He wrote much, traveled far, neglected no least duty in his Diocese, yet found time for many and weighty duties elsewhere.

At Northeast Harbor, Maine, where in 1882 he founded the summer colony he did, during his vacations, a work of far-reaching influence that grew to be nearer to his heart than anything else except the Diocese of Albany. There he established St. Mary's-by-the-Sea, hallowed by memories of his daughter and a beloved sister-in-law. Every summer more people came thither, attracted by the vital Christian character of the colony. The wooden slab chapel was replaced by a beautiful stone Church, where gathered a congregation made up of men and women from many communions beside our own, as well as the island residents who had had hitherto no opportunity for Christian worship. One who is familiar with the life there writes that even now, twenty years after his death, the influence of Bishop Doane is manifest in the general observance of Sunday as a day for joyful worship. Though Mt. Desert was his place of recreation and rest, he did there a work that touched more varied groups of people with his vital faith than even in his own Cathedral.

He was a man fitted to command, and no one who ever was associated with him in any work can forget the masterful way in which he handled the undertaking. It was said of him, perhaps with justice, that he was an autocrat, and that he expected his associates to yield to him even against their better judgment, more than was wise. To some extent this was true. To a greater degree than he realized, he became essential to the enterprises that he had at heart, so that when his influence and spirit were withdrawn, they were left in a far more helpless condition than he could have believed possible. This was the unconscious defect of his energetic and constructive temperament.

Something of the same quality shows itself in his lack of concern for what was thought or said about him, which manifested itself in many ways, both in the cheerful courage with which he espoused unpopular causes and in the readiness with which he did unusual things. This is illustrated in a small way by the fact that he early adopted the full Episcopal costume of the Church of England. The fact that he was the only Bishop in America who went about in an apron, knee breeches, gaiters and a shovel hat, affected him not in the least, even although those were days when Americans were far less familiar with English customs than they are today. Many anecdotes of the Bishop sprang out of this custom, most of them pure invention. But this one is founded on fact. In the neighborhood of the Bishop's House lived a little girl whose careful mother insisted that she be warmly dressed when she went out to play in winter. She particularly disliked the leggings which had to be laboriously buttoned and unbuttoned, and which handicapped her freedom of movement. When she first saw Bishop Doane descend the steps of his house dressed as an English Bishop, she looked first with surprise and then with sympathy at his gaitered legs. "Bishop," she said, running up to him with the freedom of a friend, "does your mother make you wear them, too?"

In larger matters the position that he held and his independence of judgment are illustrated by the way in which he combined the convinced and unshakable high Church-manship of his early training with the ability to understand and work with men of many other shades of opinion. In the controversy that rocked the Church in 1892 when Phillips Brooks was elected Bishop of Massachusetts, it was Bishop Doane's powerful influence that turned the scale in favor of the confirmation of the election. To someone who expressed deep concern in conversation with him at the time, he remarked with a smile, "When you've seen as many tempests like this as I have and have observed how little effect they really have upon the Church as a whole, you will not take them so seriously." In matters of Churchmanship, Bishop Doane never satisfied the extremists on either side, and indeed it must be confessed that his position was not always easy to understand, although no doubt on his part it was entirely conscientious and well grounded. It has been said that his youth was largely influenced by the Oxford Movement, of which his father was one of the chief sponsors in America; and that he himself was regarded in his earlier ministry as rather a dangerous man because of his Puseyite leanings. He contended vigorously not only by word but by example for the restoration of the Holy Eucharist to its place as the chief service on the Lord's Day, and introduced into his Cathedral eucharistic lights and vestments at a time when they brought vigorous condemnation and were much more rare than they are at present. For many years white linen vestments were worn, but in 1900 the Bishop authorized the use of colored silk ones in the Cathedral services. He owned a cope but never wore it, though friends of his pointed out to him, much to his own amusement, that it was not really so gorgeous as his scarlet convocation robe and Oxford hood in which he appeared on great occasions.

He himself heard confessions, and instructed his clergy and people in the value of the sacrament of penance with a frankness and plainness of teaching that disturbed the evangelical members of the Diocese greatly. In fact at one time Albany was scandalized by a report that confessional boxes were to be erected in the Cathedral. The agitation died down when it was discovered that the suspicious objects were storm porches. On the other hand the Bishop could and did describe himself as a staunch Protestant, adding that he was both anti-Roman and anti-Presbyterian. This was in a charge to the Diocese concerning the proposal to change the corporate name of the Church. To the surprise and disappointment of many of his friends, he opposed the change, although admitting that if he had been present when the title was adopted, he would have voted against it. The Bishop also held strong opinions against non-communicating attendance at Holy Communion and emphasized his views by directing that in the Cathedral those who were expecting to receive Holy Communion at the midday service should come up after the sermon and occupy places in the choir, while others were encouraged to depart.

The fact is that Bishop Doane's theological position was influenced all through his life by convictions which he inherited from his father and Bishop Hobart, and his godfather, William Croswell. It had the strength and also the limitations of their robust and aggressive Anglicanism. He stood uncompromisingly for the Catholic creeds, ministry and sacraments. But in questions of ceremonial he sometimes found it hard to adjust himself to the changes brought about by younger men than he, in the rapidly growing tendency toward enrichment of ritual.


To his contemporaries Bishop Doane was known as a master both of spoken and of written English. His acquaintance with literature was wide and appreciative and he had a felicitous and discriminating sense both of the meaning and of the music of words. Sometimes it is true this resulted in a certain obscurity because, one felt, the temptation to over-elaboration had gotten the better of his critical sense. Yet his prose always had dignity and at its best a quality that was described by one of his friends as Elizabethan. His earliest literary work--the life of his distinguished father--suffers from lack of plan, but it contains passages of eloquence and beauty. The young man, in his devotion to the idolized figure which he was describing, failed to discriminate between what was essential to the story and much that swelled the work in bulk without adding to its impression. The Bishop's later works had a considerable circulation and bear testimony to his wide reading, definite convictions and pastoral temper.

His aptness of phrase and his poet's feeling for words are nowhere more magnificently displayed than in some of the inscriptions that he wrote for memorial pillars and tablets in the Cathedral of All Saints. These enduring sentences carved in stone still preserve in a remarkable and illuminating way the mind, heart and spirit of Bishop Doane. Perhaps his own choice would be that here where his greatness as a founder had its focus, his memory as a writer should be most vitally preserved and honored.

The Bishop's poetic gifts were by no means inconsiderable and in this he was in the Doane tradition, for his father's tastes lay in the same direction, and three well-loved hymns in the Hymnal of the American Church are from his pen. Only one bears the name of the son, but that is a noble utterance and will long survive. "Ancient of Days" was written in 1886 to be sung at the Bi-centennial Celebration of the founding of Albany. It contained one stanza appropriate to the occasion, which has been omitted. He himself as an active member of the Commission on the Hymnal contributed much to an earlier revision. His own modest preface to "Rhymes From Time to Time" published in 1901 begins with the words, "I have called these verses by their right names. They do not pretend to be poetry." He adds that "a busy man, toiling with the plain prose of routine and official duties" has no time for the labor that should go into the production of poetry. Some of the Rhymes, however, rise to a true poetic level; others testify to his great capacity for friendship and that genial humor which made him so welcome a guest in so many circles of friends. His verses entitled "Life Sculpture" were often quoted, and should have a place in any comprehensive anthology of American poetry:

"Chisel in hand stood a sculptor boy With his marble block before him."

One touching group of poems voices in a clear and moving way his patient faith in immortality and his love for the daughter whose early death left a long shadow upon his courageous and cheerful spirit.

Another of his short occasional poems which was widely known and is deserving of a permanent place in American literature was drawn from him by his affection for his great St. Bernard dog, Cluny.

"I am quite sure he thinks that I am God--
Since He is God on whom each one depends
For life, and all things that His bounty sends--
Not quick to mind, but quicker far than I
To Him Whom God I know and own: his eye,
Deep brown and liquid, watches for my nod:
He is more patient underneath the rod
Than I, when God His wise corrections sends.
He looks love at me, deep as words e'er spake;
And from me never crumb or sup will take
But he wags thanks with his most vocal tail;
And when some crashing noise wakes all his fear
He is content and quiet if I'm near,
Secure that my protection will prevail;
So, faithful, mindful, thankful, trustful, he
Tells me what I unto my God should be."

As a preacher Bishop Doane early took a high place not only in the American Church, but in the judgment of many outside his own communion. We have already noted the fact that he was called upon to appear as the representative of the Church in America at notable occasions and in the most famous pulpits of England. This was equally true on this side of the water. His fluent ease and grace, both of manner and diction, his ringing voice that filled without apparent effort the largest churches, and his couragenous and timely dealing with great topics, for he never permitted himself to speak without having some point of cardinal importance as his theme, made him a preacher who was heard with delight and profit, not only in his own diocese but on many occasions of note elsewhere. He had a rare gift of reaching and moving the hearts of young people and was never more effective than in his talks to confirmation classes or to the graduates of St. Agnes' School as, year after year, he addressed them, taking the class motto invariably as his subject.

This love for youth found expression in many verses, from which the Bishop gathered a selection for a beautifully printed and illustrated volume, "Sunshine and Play-Time," which was published by E. P. Dutton and Company in 1893.

His affection for his own grandchildren and his constant delight in their compansionship were very beautiful. They called him "Dampy" and it was one of the joys in the days when he was at home at the Bishop's House to save for them a children's hour of their own. One of them has written down a fragmentary memory of this happy association.

"The House of the Library was, like all the best things in this world, on a hilltop. And after one had braved the rough cobble-stones to the head of the street, there was also a high, white marble stoop, and a long flight of creaking, wooden stairs, to climb; and if one was very small, one's short legs were very weary when they reached the 'little library', and looked up four more steps into the warmth of the big room, with the long logs blazing in the welcoming fire-place.

"The roaring fire called to us, and the wide red-leather armchairs on either side, and the rich walls, lined with books to the high ceiling, and most of all the beloved voice of 'Dampy', that hailed us when the old clock in the corner struck four, and the stumping of our six ambitious feet began amid the plaintive groans of the misunderstood staircase. The stairs were the only thing in that house that did not love us, and that was my fault, because it was I who discovered how wonderful the broad, slippery banisters were for sliding, and after that the old stairs had no peace.

"Before the tall clock had quite finished striking--he was so slow about it--we had panted out our answer to the voice that called us, and I had dragged the last and fattest leg of all the six up those four steps.

"Then the voice became a face, that smiled all over, and a big nose that wrinkled itself quickly to shake off a pair of glasses, and two wide arms into which we tumbled--and our play-hour--and his--began.

"Did you read Scott when you were grown up? Oh, I'm so sorry for you.

"To the three who found room on those broad knees, or spilled over onto the arms of the great red chair by the fire Ivanhoe rode, and fought, and conquered, in lists no farther away than the blue hills watched from the Library windows, over which the winter sunset reflected itself in the rose and amethyst of the river-mist. We knew how Palestine looked--the Hermit of Engedi lived in a desert like our Sand-Plains, only without the pines, and without the snow that covered our desert for so many weeks. But the snow made our hills the Highlands, and the sound of Rob Roy's bag-pipes came as clearly to us from our last northern ridges of the Appalachians, as ever they did to Di Vernon's ears. And the bag-pipes of our fancy never brayed out of tune or out of place.

"Ping Wing had a soft heart. She cried over poor little Amy Robsart, and wanted to shut her ears when there was fighting and killing; but Bony's eyes shone, and he drummed with his heels on the legs of the red chair, when the din of battle began, and Tony forgot that she was a girl and drummed too, sometimes on the chair, sometimes on Dampy's long-suffering shins.

"At times Dampy was called away, to speak to someone outside of the enchanted room, and we three sat in the twilight, watched by the little imp of Lincoln curled up over the curtained doorway.

"And still the clocks ticked, and the twilight deepened, in the Library, till the glowing of the long logs was all the light we had. Then Bony would say: --'I dare you to go behind the cabinet.'

"Only the three could really understand what courage that venture demanded. There it stood, the carved oak cabinet, so big that you could only just pass between its great ends and the wall of books; square and solid, covered with a jungle of photographs, and filled with unlimited wonders. It was from the cabinet, on state occasions, that Dampy could bring out the Birdie Books, a mine of joy and color and knowledge. We know now that Audubon and Wilson created them, but in those days we only knew that they mysteriously inhabited the library cabinet. But behind! Who could really know what lay behind? There was a region of shadow, of shelves half-seen, of papers rustling against timid feet, and when one looked out to the beloved room, one saw the strange backs of dear familiar pictures and ornaments, on the high cabinet, that shut out all the rest of the Library.

"But a dare is a dare, and we each ventured round one end, while Ping Wing slept, with her curly head between Tibur's paws.

"Slowly Tony crept round, feeling her way from carved knob to carved knob of the cabinet. The second corner turned--and the shadow all about her--the faint smell of old bindings--the scratch of Bony's reluctant finger-nails at the other end of the shadow--then suddenly a harsh sound above, two terrified shrieks and a rush, and Bony and Tony clinging together in the midst of the shadow while the old grandfather clock--he was only clearing his throat--counted out five slow strokes.

"From the stairs, the other tall clock acquiesced, beginning his tale of the hour just as the nearer notes ceased, and after another minute the solemn cathedral clock on the mantlepiece chimed his ecclesiastical approval, and boomed a sonorous decision to his colleagues, to which the anxious little travelling clock on Dampy's desk agreed nervously, full five minutes late.

"We stole out from behind the cabinet, the mystic hour was over, the Children's Hour, and Dampy was coming back, up the four steps, to hide a good-night kiss in each of the three heads of tumbled curls."

The library was Bishop Doane's true home, where he worked undisturbed by the family life that flowed around him, often interrupted by those who came to see him on errands of business or friendship, yet always able to resume his labors without apparent effort. With its walls lined to the ceiling by shelves filled with well-worn books, his father's and his own, its wide fire-place, its long windows with a view of the Hudson valley northward, its friendly atmosphere, it was at once study and office, a place for work, for conference, for relaxation and for friendship; and as my own memory reminds me, it could be at times a sanctuary, where the Bishop knelt with those who shared his work to seek God's help in prayer.

Fully to record the great part Bishop Doane played in the life of the Church during his long ministry, it would be necessary almost to write a history of the Church during that period. This, of course, the limitations of our space make impossible. To every student of history, whether the history of our Nation or the history of the American Church, the period is one of intense interest. The rapid growth of the Nation and its extension westward raised a host of problems, many of which still remain unsettled. The Church grew with the Nation, and relatively much more rapidly, and it must be remembered that there was almost no precedent, in the Anglican Communion at any rate, for the right ordering of this expansion. When William Croswell Doane was born, the Episcopal Church in the United States had about 31,000 communicants in a population of between twelve and thirteen millions. By the time he was ordained, the population had grown to twenty-three millions but the Church had 80,000 communicants--more than double the number twenty years before. When he became Bishop of Albany, the 80,000 had become 220,000 in a population of thirty-eight millions. And when he died, there were something over a million of communicants out of one hundred million population. Exactly as the task of bringing this wide flung and restless growth within the framework of a Constitution devised for thirteen states along the Atlantic seacoast taxed the resources of American statesmanship, so did the task of adapting the machinery of a small and somewhat obscure group of homogeneous Church people to a nation-wide body, such as the Church became during these years, call for great and wise constructive planning. It was his father, whose sermon preached at the General Convention in 1835 in Philadelphia held up the conception of the Church as a missionary organization in which every baptized member had a responsibility and duty. The son was no unworthy successor to his father's place in this respect. It is safe to say that from 1870 almost to the day of his death, his influence was increasingly powerful in determining the direction of the Church's growth and its administration. His was the mind of a statesman, but he was never merely a statesman. He was a devoted servant of Jesus Christ and to the wisdom which he showed in counsel concerning the outward growth of the Church was joined a deep spirit of consecration and a passionate longing that the American Church should be not only great in numbers and material property, but all glorious within, manifesting the fruit of the Spirit. He saw the Church sweep across the Western prairies and the Rocky Mountains and spread along the Pacific Coast. He saw the planting of its foreign work in Asia, Africa, Mexico, South America and the islands of the sea. He saw one by one missionary jurisdictions erected in the newly settled parts of our land, and in many cases watched them mature to the stature of self-governing dioceses. As he had begun in his own important field, on the very first visitation, to spy out the land seeking where new work could be planted or where feeble beginnings could be strengthened, so with unceasing vigilance, interest, and prayer he threw himself into the work of creating a truly national Church.

One of the Bishop's colleagues closely associated with him in this enterprise and bound to him by friendship, in a personal letter to the writer, gives a brief impression of his contribution to the missionary work of the Church.

"In the Board of Missions he was always a joy to me just because of his understanding and of the human sympathy that made him able to appreciate the value of the work that challenged the Church.

"In my judgment it was largely Bishop Doane who helped the Church to realize that there was need for organization which resulted in the constitution of the National Council."

The story of this eventful epoch in the life of the American Church is still waiting to be written in its completeness. When that task is undertaken few men will be found to have influenced the life of the Church more strongly than William Croswell Doane. His biography too needs to be written in full, lest we forget the labors from which we all benefit. As a small contribution toward that end, this slight sketch of a great life is gratefully offered by one whom he confirmed and ordained, and who received at his hands many and cherished tokens of personal friendship and of pastoral care, as a true Father in God.

Project Canterbury