The historical papers contained in this volume, and others on kindred themes, such as "Subterranean Rome

and " Comparative Religion," were the product of his pen during his professorship in Newton.

On the 14th of August, 1873, John Howard Raymond, LL. D., the first president of Vassar College, a man distinguished for his skill in organizing this "first great college for women," worn out with incessant labor, surrendered his toils and entered into his reward. The trustees selected Professor Caldwell as his successor. He accepted the position, and entered upon its duties in September of the same year. For him it was an untried field. On him rested the government of the college, instruction in mental and moral philosophy, and the pastoral care of the college. The position was an honorable one, and a responsible and exacting one. The college had grown in numbers and in popularity beyond all expectations. It had had the world for its source of supply of students. It had had no rival. It was well funded by its founder, and when President Caldwell began his work it needed and desired no financial agent, nor did it expect from him the duties of a soliciting agent. He was to be the educating head of the college, and his success was to depend upon his power to keep the standard of scholarship high, to keep the moral and religious tone of the college pure, and to be as far as possible the student's temporary pastor and friend. But the number of students could not be expected to be as large as formerly. There were now rivals, notably Wellesley and Smith. The smaller colleges were inviting young women to their privileges, and during his presidency Harvard had arranged an annex. Yet Vassar prospered in respect to numbers under his administration. She generally had all the students she could accommodate, and a larger number than formerly applied for admission in the year he resigned, though totally ignorant of such a purpose on his part.

I recall two brief visits made to Vassar while he was president, and I find through others that my impressions are correct. He was full of zeal in teaching his own classes, and careful to know the instruction given to the other classes. His relations with both scholars and teachers were pleasant and inspiring. His religious life withal was the tender regard of a pastor. He sought for the Christian spirit as the ruling agency in the highest intellectual acquisitions. I remember that one of my visits occurred during the Lenten season, and that the Episcopalian students, as expressive of their love for and confidence in him, requested him to conduct services for them. He gladly assented, and at the service which I attended, had I not known that the president was a Baptist, I should have supposed him a clergyman of their own faith. From all I then saw and have since heard, I believe that as an educator he never did better work; as a president he was clear in his judgments and wise in his methods, and as the pastor he kept the tone of the college pure and elevating.

When he accepted the presidency he limited, in his own mind, his term of service to five years. He remained seven. There were some complaints as to the number of the students and the income of the college. It was not in him to beat the bush for birds, or to rake the streets for money. Accordingly, June 7, 1885, he resigned, the trustees adopting the following resolutions:

1. Resolved, That the resignation of President Caldwell, to take effect at the close of the present academic year, be and is hereby accepted, with the expression of the deep regret of the Board that circumstances have seemed to Dr. Caldwell to render it his duty thus to sever his connection with the college.

2. Resolved, That we hereby express to the retiring president our profound sense of the patience and faithfulness with which he has discharged during the past seven years the duties of his office, our personal affection and esteem for his charac

ter, and our warmest wishes for his future happiness and suc

cess.

3. Resolved, That in consideration of the importance to the college, during the few ensuing weeks, of an executive head acquainted with matters relative to instructors and students, we request Dr. Caldwell to perform the functions of president until a successor shall be appointed.

Retiring from Vassar, he decided to spend the remainder of his days in literary work, and he naturally turned his feet towards his former home in Providence. The memories of the place were fragrant to him. He loved the First Church, and he knew he was loved by her. The friends in the church and in the University who had "fallen on sleep" made the spot sacred to him; and those surviving, to whom he had ministered, and with whom he had lovingly associated, made the spot congenial to him. His life here was quiet yet busy. His interest in literature, education, and religion continued unabated. He identified himself, as formerly, with the Providence Athenæum, and was president of the Corporation at the time of his death. He was an active co-worker of the Rhode Island Historical Society. Whatever would promote the interests of the University received his attention and care. He planned and completed the first four of seven papers on "The Cities of our Faith." He was called to address the societies of several colleges at their anniversaries, and preached, as he often said, "whenever I can get a chance." That chance came quite frequently, and never more heartily than when the pulpit of the First Church needed a supply. Of his relations to his pastor, the Rev. T. Edwin Brown, D. D., said, at the memorial meeting referred to: "A great affliction has fallen upon me. I bear glad testimony to the beauty and tenderness of relation which has existed between the pastor and ex-pastor for the five years since Dr. Caldwell returned to this city. He could not have been tenderer and more sympathetic.

In it the graciousness and urbanity of the man were illustrated, his gentleness and unselfishness. It might be well said of him that grace was his characteristic quality, the grace in our Lord Jesus Christ.”

But the time of his departure came, came suddenly, unexpectedly. He had been in the enjoyment of excellent health during the summer, and had preached with unusual power. On the Sunday previous to his last illness it was noticed that he appeared remarkably vigorous. In his Bible-class on that day he was as bright and stimulating as ever. But on Monday, September 16th, while engaged in his last literary work, arranging his books upon their shelves, a task he was never willing to commit to another hand, he was smitten with a chill, from the results of which he never recovered. His wife nursed him as none but such a wife can. cian, watched over him and ministered to him with filial fidelity; other skilled physicians counseled and advised. He rallied and relapsed repeatedly. His disease baffled human skill, the hour had struck, and on Thursday, September 26, 1889, at 10.45 A. M., unconscious to those about him, he passed home, seemingly saying to them by the record of his life, "Let not your heart be troubled." "I ascend unto my Father and your Father, and my God and your God."

His younger son, a physi

The next Saturday, in the meeting-house where he had so frequently comforted others, and in the presence of those who had known him, admired him, and loved him, there were simple funeral services, such as he desired, conducted solely by his pastor, consisting of Scripturereading, singing by the choir of "Abide with Me," "O Paradise," "Servant of God, well done," and prayer. Before the prayer Dr. Brown read the following telegram from Dr. Caldwell's intimate and faithful friend, Rev. George D. Boardman, D. D., of Philadelphia, Pa.: "In Dr. Caldwell's death the church of Christ has lost an

eminent preacher, a sagacious counselor, a scholarly champion, a Christian exemplar. My own sense of bereavement is so keen that were the funeral any day but Saturday I should certainly attend it."

He was buried in the family lot in Newburyport, Mass., and by his side now lies the wife of his youth.

Dr. Caldwell was a man whose very presence commanded attention. Tall, well-proportioned, a large head, with a liquid, nervous, expressive eye, there was an air of elegance, refinement, and power about him, which would cause him to be selected in a crowd as a man endowed by nature as well as culture for the position of a leader. Yet he was simple-hearted as a child, and as free from the consciousness of superiority as the humblest citizen. There was neither royalty in his gait nor in his manner of address. An inborn self-distrust, self-depreciation, together with an inborn inertia, held him back from asserting himself on public occasions, and from expressing his convictions with the boldness of personal authority in the pulpit and in the class-room. This instinctive shrinking from self-assertion is the key to his apparent reserve, which has often been attributed to haughtiness and coldness. Few men were ever less arrogant, less egotistic, less exclusive. From a child he had been a lover of books, his whole life had been substantially a literary life, and the man of similar tastes most naturally was attracted to him and became his intimate friend, but he repelled no one who desired his help and friendship.

Dr. Caldwell's special mental characteristic was his intuitive perception of the essence of a subject. His reading was broad, more largely indeed in the spheres of literature, philosophy, and theology than in that of the natural sciences; yet this broad reading was so completely under his control that the central thoughts, when he wished to apply them, came to him as suddenly and swiftly as a flash of light. His mind, when at rest, seemed to be inert