St. Louis Mo.
May 20th 1878
[1878/05/20]
My dear Papa,
[WTS]
I have long had something in my mind that I have wanted to tell you and that I have often had on my tongue to say, but which I have postponed mentioning from time to time for reasons which you will appreciate when I come to explain myself. What I am going to tell you will I fear disappoint you and perhaps cause you pain, and it will therefore be with reluctance and difficulty that I will express that which I have to tell you. I have never desired and what is more, my dear Papa, I have never intended to devote my life to the practice of Law, nor do I now intend to accept any offer looking to my starting in that profession. The reason why I do not intend to become a lawyer is not that I dread the labor and fatigue of the profession, for I believe as firmly as you do that we were all made to work, and that true contentment is found in steady, careful, earnest, patient work. Nor is it because I fear I will not succeed, for my friends give me every reason to think and feel that I would make a good lawyer. Nor is it again because I think the rewards of the profession are too slow, for I think that compared with most other callings that of the lawyer is rich in rewards of riches, honor, esteem and everything else men strive for. The real reason and the only reason why I have chosen not to be a lawyer, -- and that is what I so much fear will disappoint you -- is that I have chosen another profession, in one word I desire to become a priest -- a Catholic priest. I say my dear Papa that I am fully aware what a bitter disappointment this will undoubtedly be to you, and I can tell you moreover that there is nothing in the world so hard for me as deliberately to displease you and go against your will, disappointing your hopes, defeating your plans and destroying in one sense the effect of all your kind efforts and deep interest in my regard. And this is why I have postponed speaking or writing either to you or to Mama about this all important matter. If I had told you four years ago that I was very anxious to become a priest you would have thought that the influence of the priests at Georgetown had made me desire this -- that seeing their quiet, secluded, peaceful studious way of living, I, who have always been moderately fond of books, desired to lead the same quiet studious life, and therefore that on that account I wanted to be a priest. You would have told me, I think, that a couple of years at Yale among my equals or superiors in mind and men of social standing would dissipate this idea and give me other ideas of life, and other hopes and ambitions. At any rate this is what I thought you would say, so I thought it not worth while to mention my idea of becoming a priest, but that it was better to go and see whether my ideas would change or my desires would be dissipated. So I went to College, gave up my mind and heart to College studies, College pleasures, College ideas, lived among my equals in age and mind and social position, had a pleasant and I hope somewhat profitable stay in New Haven. You know the influence that surround a man at College -- what he does, who he goes with -- what he thinks and feels, & there is no need of my dwelling on this except to ask you frankly do you think my life at New Haven was such as to make a man want to be a priest? Just as frankly I tell you now that I desired then, more than ever before, to become a priest. Why did I not speak to you then candidly and fully, and ask your consent, or give you a chance to dissuade me? Because my dear sir, I could not hope that you would agree with me, and I thought, as before, what will Papa say to this? He'll say: "Tom, this is folly. You are a mere boy, have seen nothing of the world yet comparatively: this notion of yours will soon pass off -- enjoy yourself and go study law in the fall &c." This my dear Papa is what I think you would have said in all kindness and tenderness to me, and I obeyed the advice without asking it. How I have lived since then you know as well as I do, and I don't propose to tire you or display my own conceit by showing how I have tried to be faithful to your desires; and what I have already said will prepare you for the statement that my desire of entering the ministry of the Catholic church instead of being weakened by contact with society, has grown stronger, instead of being dimmed by the prospect of success at the bar, has been made clearer and more desirable in my mind, instead of being replaced by hopes of domestic happiness, of riches, and of honors, has taken the place of all these hopes. I see other men entertaining, and has come to be the only hope, desire or ambition that I entertain, the only thing I want to work and strive for.
If by writing a volume I could convince you of the truths in which we Catholics believe, I should gladly take the time and joyfully do the work, but I know very well it is not my business, in fact that it would be the height of presumption and folly for such a son to presume to teach such a father. In justice to myself however I must say just this one thing: that if you were a Catholic, instead of being chagrinned, disappointed and pained at the step I am going to take, you would be proud, happy and contented in it. For if you believed, as all Catholics do, that the Bible is the revealed word of God, that the Catholic Church is the authorized teacher of the Bible; that this life is intended to be used as a preparation for eternity (and I know my dear Sir that you give us credit for sincerity in this belief) then you would conclude that the best way of spending this life would be in learning the truths that teacher proposes to us, and in helping other people to learn them. As I said, I simply say this much to justify myself if possible in your eyes, and you will readily understand the connection of thought in my mind, and if my reasoning is at fault you will, I know, kindly correct it in your answer:- The only obstacle to my doing a certain thing to which my convictions impel me is that I will wound and grieve the kindest and tenderest of fathers. Why? Because his opinions views and convictions do not agree with mine. Am I responsible for that fact, or am I on that account the less bound to follow my own convictions? I think not. Then I commit no crime in grieving him, if I do so with reluctance, and after four years trial of myself; and I do not do wrong even in disobeying him, if, before deciding, I wait until I attain an age when every man feels that he must act for himself, that his life is in his own hands and that he alone is responsible for the future, that as a rational being he must follow the dictates of his own reason and that nobody on earth can relieve him of the responsibility of doing so.
This thing has been in my mind so long, my dear Papa, I have thought about it so much and turned it over in my reflections so many different ways, putting it in its relation to my own future, to the interests of the family, and to my duty to you, that now that I have come to the point of telling you and acting in the matter, I scarcely know where to commence and where to end. Your answer to this, which I shall expect with the deepest interest will show me what I ought to explain to you, or where I have failed to make myself clear and what more you desire me to do or say before taking any final and conclusive action. There are some things, though, which I ought to say before closing this letter: I have spoken to Mama, about a week ago I think, concerning this matter, and though the announcement of my intention was such a sudden thing as to be something of a shock to her, and though I know it will grieve her to part from me, still she agrees with me so completely in principle that she has given her consent and approval.
Another thing is that I know this would be a disagreeable thing to have talked about, and might annoy you and the family to death, as a man can't get a new hat now-a-days without being criticized and possibly having the interesting fact telegraphed over the country. So to save you from worry and inquisitiveness I would rather have the matter kept to ourselves and only talked of between ourselves. With a view to going about the matter quietly, and to save you and the family and myself any annoyance I had even gone so far as to think of going to England to make my preparatory studies, and would like to know what you would think of such a plan. It seems to me I could go quietly abroad telling my friends I was going over to study, but not telling them what, and then you could leave it to chance to disclose what had become of me. I don't mean to say that I am ashamed of what I am going to do, or that I am afraid of having it known -- I simply mean that I fear you may be somewhat ashamed of it, and at any rate would not want to have it added to the list of topics on which you are liable to be interviewed.
As I said before I shall await with very deep interest and grave concern your answer to this letter, and shall listen to all you may have to say in reply with deepest affection and sincerest filial reverence.
Your devoted son,
Thomas E. Sherman
[TES]
St. Louis
May 25th 1878
[1878/05/25]
My dear Papa,
[WTS]
I received yesterday afternoon your letter of the 22nd which I have read many, many times, and the burning words of which have sunk deep into my mind and heart. During the time that I have contemplated the grave step of which I spoke in my last letter, I have been suffering in anticipation the pain of your disappointment, and the grief of having wounded you; but I feel that grief and pain a hundred-fold more sharply now that I hear from your own lips as it were, how much you are hurt and chagrinned, and how highly you disapprove of my choice of a profession. Weighing again all the reasons against my decision that you suggest and the many others that have occurred to my mind, and that I have turned over and over during the last four years and looked at from every side, and putting in the same scale with them my affection and duty to you, my love of home, of family, of friends and relatives, of wealth and honor, of ease and comfort and prosperity; adding still further the appealing words of your letter and its terrible conclusion as to the sorrow I am causing you, I have tried during last night and this morning to put myself in the presence of that God whom we both worship, of that Infinite, all-wise, all-good Being whom you invoke in your letter, and before whom we both expect to stand in judgment, and the result is, my dear Papa, that I am confirmed in my resolution and strengthened in my purpose of giving up everything for what I honestly believe to be his service. To give you the steps of reasoning by which I reach this conclusion would be to sermonize, and your letter warns me against that; so all I can do is to state the conclusion frankly and decisively, with bitter sorrow that it must be painful and unsatisfactory one to you. I alone am responsible for this decision, therefore I alone must bear the burden of offending him whom I have most wished to please and satisfy, for whom I would gladly lay down my life -- do anything, in fact, but fail to follow my conscience. Had I declared this purpose sooner I should either have gone away from you long before now, or should have lived out a sad life indeed under your perpetual displeasure and perhaps disgust. It is a terrible thing for us both, and therefore the sooner it is over the better. We stand on two sides of the shield and neither of us can see fully the other;'s side -- starting with different premises we reach different conclusions, and each of us feels that argument is vain and useless. Your letter contains but one request, to pause. How long my dear Papa do you wish me to wait? My feeling in the matter is that as each of us is fully decided, I after four years of waiting that have seemed to me a small eternity; you after an eventful life time and after great and varied experience; as neither of us can hope to alter the mind or feelings of the other, the sooner I am gone the better. As you are far too noble and generous even in your grave annoyance to resort to any other means of prevention than the fair, kind means of reason and persuasion, and as I am fully resolved to act, and delay would only increase the pain felt on both sides, I will make arrangements to sail in a couple of weeks for England, unless you think this action precipitate. As for Mr. Hitchcock I have simply told him I am going abroad to study, to be gone more than one year at least. He thought this quite natural and proper. If you wish it I will tell him frankly the reason of my going, otherwise I don't know that I shall mention it. -- Thanking you from my heart for your kind and affectionate treatment of me in this most painful matter,
Your affectionate son,
Thomas E. Sherman
[TES]
St. Louis
May 27th 1878.
[1878/05/27]
My dear Papa,
[WTS]
I received yesterday your letter of the 24th which I have read carefully many times in connection with your former one, and which I found so full of tenderness and kindness and love for me that it caused me bitter tears to feel that I was now deliberately causing you this trouble and grief. Your last letter made me feel too that if I stated to you more frankly the motives that are impelling me in this, you might acquit me of the terrible charges of selfishness and ingratitude which in spite of your affectionate heart you cannot help making against me. I agree with you that if a man simply to escape from the cares and troubles of a busy life, and simply to enjoy studious retirement abandoned his family and friends he would be both base and selfish. But if he has no family at all dependent on him, if his family are well off and in no prospect of being in actual want of his services; and if he chooses retirement, not for the sake of ease and leisure but to prepare for an active earnest life, to study for a profession as a man does at West Point, at College or at a professional school of any kind; and if he hopes after the few years of retirement are over to be openly and actively employed among his fellow men then I do not think he is either falso to his family or his fellow men or wrapped up in himself. It occurred to me when we were travelling on that grand trip last summer when we saw so many wounded officers and men and then afterwards when we heard on all sides about the character of the Flat Heads and Coeur d'Alenes, that these few Black Gowns among these Indians had accomplished more than some few regiments would be able to do. And when we saw Joset and Dionemedi I did not think them selfish but the contrary. They left their homes in Italy, they abandoned parents, friends, wealth, country and language even to go teach those wretched savages some simple truths that all our boasted Civilization can't teach them. Was that selfish? Doubtless their friends thought so when they went into a Cloister to prepare for the priesthood, but God don't think so and you and I don't think so, now that we see with our own eyes what they have accomplished. I must say frankly that for my part I would rather be Joset today than the Chief Justice of the United States. Now I don't mean to say my dear Papa that I am so narrow minded and bigoted that I think a man can't be pure, just, honest, upright, and charitable in the world, for I think that God approves of all honest callings, and I do not have to look further than to you, my dear Sir, to find a model of every manly virtue, spotless honor, unsullied purity, kindness, patience, and forbearance, forgiveness of injuries, and every other virtue I desire to emulate.
I haven't any doubt I could make a fortune at the bar and acquire some honor, but I don't want a fortune and that's not the kind of honor I have any ambition for. What I do desire is to devote my life to acquiring knowledge and imparting that knowledge to others, not to making money and then spending it, to try to teach poor people to be contented by showing them how happy even men of culture and refinement can be on very little means, and by teaching them the principles of morality and wholesome truths that are everlasting. Such an ambition you may think is humbug in one whom you have seen grow up selfish, worldly, fond of dress and pleasure, but you know perfectly well my dear Papa that the Catholic Church works great changes in men and shows them a way to act out their inclinations and aspirations practically. Society you tell me is shaken to its foundations. Who is going to steady the foundations, that is, the lower classes? Not a lawyer who wins great cases and takes large fees from corporations, but a man that will mingle with the people, teach the people, persuade the people. Now really to reach the people a man must go among them simple in his dress and manners, pure in heart, but with his head well stocked with knowledge to inform and guide them -- This I take it is the secret of the success of our Church with the lower classes and in that success I long to have a hand, because I believe that only our Church can effectually reach the lower classes, and thus aid the Government in suppressing Communism, &c. Of course, my dear Papa, I am deeply grateful for all that you have done for me, for the many advantages I have had in education, travel, society and a thousand ways, but you cannot ask me to show that gratitude by embracing a calling that I have no inclination for when I feel that there is another calling which is more pleasing to God Almighty, will be more useful to my fellow men and in which therefore I shall be much happier, whatever privations, hardships and self-denials that calling may impose or necessitate. -- I could fill up a sheet with thanks for all you have done for me, but were I to do so I should thank you more than for all for allowing us to worship God as we thought right -- a blessed privilege, more precious than riches, and therefore, as you say, to be carefully guarded and preserved as it is laid down in the Constitution.
I shall write the letter you direct, and address it to Judge Reber, stating all that you indicate and assuming the whole responsibility of my action, also expressly stating that you disapprove, &c.
The reason for my going to England I did not fully state. It is not only to save myself from stacks of remonstrant letters or visits of kind friends and relatives, but also -- and this is the main reason -- because the Church has few candidates of my stamp in this Western country, whereas in England she has plenty of men of culture, education and good family, intercourse with whom would make my first years easier and more profitable, and enable me to return here a more useful man. As this matter is so terribly distressing to us all, the sooner it is over the better. I have already engaged my passage in the Steamer Scythia which sails June 5th, for I know you and all the family will feel easier when the suspense and doubt are over. The Scythia is a Cunarder, a fine steamer, and full of people destined for the Exposition.
Believe me, my dear Papa, I think and feel a thousand times more than I write or know how to put into words, and shall always remain
Your devoted son,
Thomas E. Sherman
[TES]