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OUR next visit was
to Baltimore. It is a fine city, with more of the air of Old England
about it than most cities in the States. It derives its name from an
English nobleman, and traditions of the olden time seem to hover
over it, as if loath to depart. We had a particularly warm reception
from the friends who entertained us in Baltimore. They represented a
family of some mark that had been long settled in the city. We had
made their acquaintance in Switzerland some years before. We could
not but recall the family of Philip the evangelist, but instead of
four daughters who were virgins our host had seven, and instead of
prophesying they were all busily engaged in Christian labours of
love.
The city has a wonderfully tine park—Druid Hill. It was in great
beauty, greatly improved since our first visit. I believe it was
formerly the property of some scrubby old man that would let nobody
into it; now it belongs to the citizens, and they do enjoy it, from
the least even to the greatest. A well-frequented park has a great
social effect, drawing a community together, and forming a bond
between rich and poor. And the gold of the evening sun, stealing
through leafy thickets, and transfiguring all with heavenly glory,
has a thrilling effect, one would hope a good effect, sluggish
though human beings are to respond to the silent influences of
nature.
The sensation of Baltimore was over the approaching opening of the
Johns-Hopkins Hospital. It must be explained that Mr. Johns-Hopkins
was a very rich merchant, far from open-handed in his lifetime, who,
when he could keep his seven millions of dollars no longer, left
them to found two institutions—a university and a hospital. Through
the kindness of President Gillman we were shown over the university
buildings; and another officer showed us the hospital, which was
opened publicly the day after we left. Both are on a very high
scale, especially the hospital. Every contrivance for the benefit of
the sick and for the efficient carrying on of the work of the
hospital that modern skill has discovered is brought into full play
in the arrangements. I believe the architect was sent over the world
to inspect all the chief hospitals in existence, and get from them
every arrangement that experience had devised for their efficient
management. The university has been chiefly distinguished for
physical research. Its many publications have already procured for
it a distinguished place, and it seems likely that it will
accomplish much more. I found considerable anxiety prevailing in
Christian families on account of the appointment of some professors
whose views inclined to scepticism. Christian parents did not like
to place their sons under the shadow of unbelievers, whatever might
be the branch of study, and some young men had gone to Princeton who
would naturally have studied at the Johns-Hopkins. It is believed,
however, that the trustees will be more careful in future
appointments. The college is undenominational, and, like other
American colleges, is governed by a body of trustees, the first
having been named by the testator. The hospital is a fine and
imposing building; but the university is scattered over a
considerable number of separate erections, and none of them is
sufficiently imposing to correspond to the importance of the
institution.
Some of the marble houses of Baltimore are very beautiful. But there
is a green-stone in the neighbourhood with which architects are but
too prone to play fantastic tricks. A church which presents sundry
stripes of this green-stone has gained from an irreverent public the
name of “The Church of the Holy Zebra.’’ It brought to mind a church
in another city, with a tall and very narrow spire, which has
suggested the name of “The Church of the Sacred Toothpick.” We
cannot linger over the institutions of Baltimore, but the Peabody
Institute, with its large library and art collection, deserves
special notice—a link of connection between the old country and the
new, and a token of that cordial feeling which made Mr. Peabody the
benefactor of both.
Our friends at Baltimore had arranged for us a day’s pleasant
excursion to Washington. We were greatly struck with the improvement
of the capital during the last nineteen years. Thackeray’s
designation “the city of magnificent distances” is applicable no
longer. Its vacant stances are now occupied by handsome public
buildings and private residences. The trees lining the residential
streets, that were mere saplings in our recollection; are now of
tolerable size. The carriage-ways, that used to be so rugged, are
paved with asphalt. For once in an American city you see not a few
symbols of royalty, but it is over the doors of the foreign
embassies. Great Britain of course mounts the lion and the unicorn
over her embassy—a respectable residence with very little style. The
most remarkable change in Washington is the completion of the
National .Monument, It is a plain obelisk, towering to the height of
above five hundred feet, traversed in the interior by an elevator,
which, if you can secure a place in it, will carry you to the top in
less than ton minutes. There you will find a magnificent view of the
meandering Potomac at your feet, and of the other objects of
interest about Washington, round and round. If you descend by the
stair, you will find an opportunity of reading the names of the
states, cities, companies, Sabbath schools, societies, and
individuals that contributed to the building of the monument. I
could not but think of the great Christian temple of the apostle,
that glorious edifice to the erection of which all tribes and
peoples and tongues are to contribute their share.
We had hoped to have a private interview with the President, but by
some unexpected contretemps we did not succeed. So we went with all
the world to the White House at one o’clock, merely to shake hands.
As soon as the clock struck, the worthy gentleman came into the room
by a door in the farther end, as quietly as possible, and stood
rather helplessly near it, as the citizens crowded past. He looked
substantial, but by no means brilliant. There was no little business
power evinced in his face, such as you might expect in a successful
Indianapolis lawyer, who had the reputation of having seldom or
never lost a case. He is an elder of the Presbyterian Church, and at
Indianapolis was actively interested in church work. His
father-in-law, the Rev. Dr. Scott, a very aged man, resides with the
family. Mr. Harrison has laid down a rule for himself that he will
do no business on Sunday. lie claims it as the day of rest, and
maintains that the President needs rest as much as the poorest
mechanic. Another step in the direction of Sabbath rest has been
taken by Mr. Wanamaker, the postmaster-general. The doors of the
Washington office are closed every Sunday. I am happy to say that
there seems to be a general movement in the country at present in
favour of a better observance of the Lord’s day. In any of the
railway companies are reducing the number of freight trains and
excursion trains. The want of a Sabbath in many parts of the country
is recognized by them as hurtful to the physical welfare of the
people, as it is by others to their moral and spiritual good.
The civil service of the United States has got into such a bad
groove that it must be extremely difficult for any President to move
it into a better. Innumerable situations throughout the whole
country are thrown vacant at every presidential election, and it has
been too much the practice of the new President to reward his
friends by the gift of these. As far as I could learn, the new
President is honestly trying to continue efficient men of whatever
party in office, and remove those only whose qualifications are
deficient, or who wv.-re placed in office for mere political ends.
But the matter is often complicated, and probably he will not fully
please either party.
Dr. Hamlin, minister of a very handsome Presbyterian church, called
the Church of the Covenant, had asked me to take part in his service
next day, but previous engagements prevented. The President holds a
pew there, Mr. Secretary Blaine another, Secretary of Treasury
Windom a third, and Postmaster WaiMmaker a fourth. It might almost
be called the Church of the Cabinet. It is a recent erection, and
cost upwards of 200,000 dollars. One day the spire subsided; it did
not even fall over 011 the road, but simply sat down, having been
badly built. A good many thousand dollars were needed to build it
up. It is one proof of the greater wealth of America that sums arc
often expended on church building that would simply overwhelm us in
Scotland. It must be remembered that a complete church establishment
embraces not only the church proper, but, a chapel for lesser
gatherings, Sabbathschool buildings to any amount, parlours for
committee and other meetings, a pastors study and a pastor’s house,
all fitted up with handsome carpets and other furniture, the cost of
the whole probably double that of a church alone. Christian
liberality is a marvel to the world, even though it has far from
reached the limit of its capacity.
From Baltimore our destination was Cincinnati, distant six hundred
miles. We had to find our way through the Alleghany Mountains, and
far from an easy way it was for the railway. But the route from
Harrisburg to Pittsburg, which occupies the greater part of the day,
is extremely beautiful. Along sweet river-sides and through wooded
mountains, by banks and braes that are well deserving of a poet’s
song, you are whirled along in a constant succession of beauty. At
the famous “horse-shoe” the line has to double upon itself—an
operation of which we afterwards came on some much more extensive
specimens. Among the towns we passed was ill-fated Johnstown,
reposing softly in the mellow sunshine, with its busy population of
30,000. had we only known what was to happen, we should not have
been satisfied with the cursory, careless look that hardly impressed
its features on our memory. It was but a week or two after that a
dam burst a few miles higher up the valley, creating a tragedy of
destruction hardly paralleled in history, the loss of life being
variously stated between fifteen thousand and three thousand. At the
time of the accident we were near Los Angeles, and from one of its
ministers, the Rev. J. L. Russell, who had quite recently been
transferred from Altona, in the immediate neighbourhood of
Johnstown, and who was intimately acquainted with many of the
sufferers, we learned some sad particulars that had not appeared in
the newspapers. Among these was the case of a young lady who had
been borne away on a piece of wreck, and remained in the water
sixteen hours, terribly bulleted. Her clothes were torn oil her, and
she was utterly exhausted when she was found by her brother. He had
to clothe her with some of his own garments, and carry her on his
back six miles before he could get anything done for her. Some
people were reported dead, or at least mad, who were really safe.
Among these was a Mr. Fulton, a gentleman in good business, and
president of the Amendment Committee—that is, the committee that was
then trying to get prohibition carried in Pennsylvania. A friend
meeting him congratulated him on being alive, and alluded to the
rumour that he was dead. “Did you not know,” said he, “that. I could
not die before the 18th of June 1.” That was to be the great voting
day. The newspapers were full of tales, all tales of tragedy, but
many of heroism and noble effort. Conspicuous among these was the
ease of an unknown horseman, who, when he saw the water beginning to
rush out at the bottom of the embankment, galloped down the valley,
exhorting all to escape to the mountains, but was himself swept away
and swallowed up in the roaring Hood.
We reached Cincinnati after a night in the sleeping cars. Under the
kind charge of Dr. Morris of Lane Theological Seminary, we had a
most agreeable visit here—“a good time,” though hurried—were
introduced to many of the citizens, and feasted by a brother Scot
who rejoices in the title of the “oil-king.” Cincinnati is a
prosperous and remarkable city, was once the rival of Chicago, but
has been outstripped in the race by its old competitor. I cannot but
note a little fact that gave me no ordinary satisfaction. A poor
boy, who had been a scholar in the Sunday school at Pilrig when I
was minister there, had found his way to Cincinnati, and having
procured for himself a training as a lawyer, was now one of the
foremost lawyers, and one of the most exemplary and liberal
Christians, of the city. Well do I remember the dingy house in which
his family lived, in that same dingy street, then called Moray
Street (Spey Street now), where Thomas Carlyle spent some years of
his Edinburgh life; and well do i remember the feelings with which I
used to call on that boy's mother, and another worthy mother in the
same stair, both struggling hard to bring up large families aright,
amid great difficulty and much sorrow. They did need comfort, for
they were fighting a hard but noble battle; and both of them had
great cause to thank God for his blessing, which in the evening of
their life came in more forms than one. Bread cast on the water is
found after many days. Apart from the personal aspect of the case, I
looked on it as a remarkable illustration of the openness of the
path to success and distinction in the United States. The poorest
boy (James Garfield, for instance) may find his way to the very top
of the ladder. Cincinnati brought me another joy. An esteemed
minister told me he knew of two, if not three, young men who had
been led to devote themselves to foreign missions through reading
the “Personal Life of Livingstone."
From Cincinnati a day’s travelling brought us to Chicago. Chicago is
everywhere a household word, the symbol of marvellous progress and
extraordinary enterprise. But every one knows about Chicago. Two
pleasant visits were paid to the Presbyterian and Congregational
theological seminaries, in the latter of which I found an old
student of New College, Edinburgh—Professor Scott—enjoying a high
reputation both as a professor and a preacher. The Presbyterian
seminary owes not a little to the late Mr. M‘Cormick, after whom it
is named, well known among our farmers in connection with the
M'Cormick reaping-machine; and it is a pleasure to add that his son
is following in his steps. Part of our little time at Chicago was
spent under the roof of the widow of one of the earliest traders in
the place—the late Mr. Hubbard, who settled at Fort Dearborn when
there were but two houses in the neighbourhood. lie became a very
prosperous citizen, and owned a fine house and garden in the city.
When the great fire broke out on the other side of the river, there
was no idea that it would cross over to his neighbourhood. After it
had burned for many hours, his wife at night was looking sadly out
at the blazing city, and seeing an unusual brightness, begged Mr.
Hubbard (who was in bed) to come and look at it. Seeing the
direction the fire was taking, he became alarmed, roused his
household, filled his carriages with books, pictures, and whatever
else of value was portable, and sent the whole to the houses of
friends at a distance. Ere long the house was burned to the ground.
Some of his furniture was stolen, but was afterwards discovered in a
house in the suburbs, and recovered by its rightful owner. Mr.
Hubbard never rebuilt his house, and the site on which it stood,
with a cavity in the centre, stands to this day, a touching memorial
of one of the greatest calamities that have happened in modern
times. How many stories of the like kind might Chicago tell!
The chief interest of my visit to Chicago was in connection with Mr.
Moody. He was just at the end of a month’s labour in his own church,
which is situated in the north end of the town, in the immediate
neighbourhood of Mrs. Hubbard’s house, not far from the site of
Dearborn Fort, The spot where he commenced his home mission work
when an employee in. a shoe-store is not far oil! It was a great
pleasure to meet again the prince of evangelists, and find him
directing all his energies to make his work more aggressive, and to
train agents to go to the haunts of sinners and urge the careless to
come in. It seemed to me that unconsciously, perhaps, he was taking
a lesson from Dr. Chalmers, He was very particular in urging that,
when the careless did come in, they should get a ♦(Mast suited to
their wants, and not be chilled by that cold formality which seemed
to him the bane of all the churches. I was twice in his church, on a
week-day and on the Sabbath. Doth times he constrained me to give a
word. I heard him give a lecture on the thirteenth chapter of 1st
Corinthians, and afterwards at Northfield I heard him preach on
subjects equally practical.
I asked him whether he was not preaching more than he used to do on
the application of Christianity to daily life. “Yes, I am,” he
replied. The readiness of human nature to abuse free grace had
impressed itself on him, and the need of “line upon line, precept
upon precept,” had become a burning conviction. But Moody knew well
what many do not know—how to connect the inculcation of a thorough
obedience in every-day life with living faith in Christ, and not
doom poor weak human nature to struggles and burdens for which its
strength is quite unequal.
I was more than ever impressed with the fact that Moody is a man sui
generis. There will never be a school of Moodys. His methods will
not be carried out in full by other men. But besides the success of
his evangelistic work, he will always be remarkable for the impulse
which he imparts to Christian workers towards plainness of speech,
earnestness, and consecration. There will likewise be a constant
increase of reverence for the Bible under his instructions and
example. Moody is a man of one book, and it is a singular testimony
to the everlasting freshness and fulness of the Bible that
everything which he ever has taught, or ever will teach, is derived
from it alone. I rather think that now that he is entering on the
work of permanent organization he will find that what to him has
been a strong point hitherto is really a weak point—I mean his being
unconnected officially with any branch of the Church, and his acting
solely on his own responsibility.
We had no time to see much more of Chicago on this occasion than a
saunter through the streets and a drive through its fine Lincoln
Park and other suburbs allowed.
One institution, however, did command our special attention —the
Women’s Christian Temperance Union. If is always known as the
W.C.T.U., letters of which the saloon-keepers have their own
interpretation—“Women constantly torment us.” Its office is in one
of the largest blocks in one of the chief commercial streets. The
building—it all belongs to the W.C.T.U.—cost 800,000 dollars, but a
great part of it is let out for offices and. warerooms, the rent
going to pay interest on mortgages. But the temperance women have
very large accommodation for themselves. They have business offices,
and editorial sanctums, and an entire printing and publishing
establishment. The lady secretaries and the lady editor seem quite
at home in their places of business and in the whole round of their
work. The weekly temperance journal, the Union Signal, with a
circulation of above fifty thousand copies, is edited and published
by them. The president of the Union is Miss Willard, usually
regarded as the most eloquent woman in America. Miss Willard is one
of those who have strongly urged the formation of “a third party,”—
that is, a party whose one object shall be to secure prohibition,
and which will support any prohibitionist candidate, be he
republican or democratic. This action, however, does not meet with
the approval of all the temperance party (and I agree with them),
both because they dislike mixing up their cause with party politics,
and because they do not consider the policy in itself to be the best
for the temperance cause. But the women’s establishment looks like
business, and shrewd vigorous women they seemed who were at work
within its walls. |
