CHURCH LIFE. MINOR PERSONALITIES.
These were the days, also, "before the war", when expansion was the
law of woman's apparel. The hoop skirt had reached its maximum of
periphery. Many colors were mingled on the same dress. The ladies wore
"shoot-the-moon" bonnets, with small sized flower gardens stuffed
inside the brim, between face and frame, and the ribbons necessary
for adornment and fastening ran into yard lengths. Besides ribbon
on the top of the head gear, there must be great bows on either
side of the chin. Many a time I remember seeing the choir singers
untie their bonnet strings when they would praise God with the voice
and understanding; or, to be more scientific, they unlatched the
hook and eye, which really did the business of fastening, the bows
being for ornament rather than utility, reminding one of Gothic
architecture made of timber in lieu of stone. It was a grand thing,
at least one boy thought, to go to a morning or noon wedding within a
private house, where at 10 A.M. the windows were shut tight and the
gas lighted. The girls were all in voluminous circles of flounced
silks. Their bonnets spread out on the bed of the dressing room were
veritable parterres, with ribbons half a foot wide and a yard long.
Inside the house of God the fripperies of fashion were as rampant then
as now. In one stylish family, albeit, according to common rumor of
humble origin, whose pew was near ours, but further to the east, there
was the father, who was a dandy in his dress. He always sat during the
sermon and those parts of the service not calling for a bowed head
or the grasping of a hymn book, holding his ridiculous little cane,
which had for its handle a lady's foot carved in ivory. Her toes were
always in his mouth, and the diligence with which he sucked that
cane impressed a certain boy, who passes over further description, of
oiled and perfumed ringlets, amazing necktie or diamond-studded cravat
and other vanities of life. I never frankly accepted the statement of
Ecclesiastes, until I saw this gentleman's cane and neck gear. It must
be confessed that the amount of time sometimes spent by young men on
their neckties, then often three or four inches wide and made to stick
out so that the ends were continuous with the shoulders, is a secret
not to be told to the present generation lest we corrupt the youth.
But the psychical moment to the small boy was when the very stylish
daughter of the family aforesaid with her sublunar bonnet, her
gorgeous mantilla, her mighty collar of lace and resplendent brooch
sailed up the aisle, sending many a black silk hat spinning on its
richochetting way before her. When about two fathom's distance from
the pew door, which stood at right angles to the long aisle, she
would seize a handful of the various concentric steel circles of her
dress, and slightly tilting the metal bands would sail into her pew
with as little collision against the wooden sides as possible. Within
a busy period, of possibly less than five minutes, she was able to
accommodate her crinoline to the dimensions allowed and get her spirit
in tune with the sacredness of the hour and place.
Nevertheless when in later days, sorrow came to that same daughter,
now bereaved and fatherless, she rose by divine grace into a very
transfiguration of character, through sisterly and filial devotion.
Life is too short to tell of all the oddities and curious situations
into which the hoop skirt led its wearer, and one must read Edward
Everett Hale's amusing story of "The Skeleton in the Closet",
to see what dire mischief these inventions of the evil one were
capable of wreaking, even when discarded. They did indeed seem to be
indestructible.
What glistening starry eyes, what dewy and rosy cheeks, what lovely
faces dwelt inside of those bonnets! Even to-day in life's dusty
pathway, sweet influences like the breath of a May morning come back
with the happy memories of Sabbath days, that were as "the bridal
of the earth and sky", with the trees in white blossoms standing as
bridesmaids. In memory's glow the returning vision of youth make what
the Deuteronomist calls "the days of heaven upon earth". It was in
that wonderful training school on Broad street, that so many lovely
maidens were taught how, by divine grace, to be noble wives and
mothers, and useful women and workers for the coming of the kingdom of
heaven, and from which so many alumni went forth, young men to preach
the good news of God. On the missionary field, or at home, in bustling
cities, or in quiet country charges, many there are who to-day amid
monotony and toil, refresh their spirits at the fountains of memory,
taking inspiration from the past and its great personality, thanking
God and taking courage.
"The traveller owns the grateful sense
Of sweetness near, he knows not whence,
And pausing takes with forehead bare
The benediction of the air."
They were not all sunny days for "the pastor", but rather many a
"dark and cloudy day", for not all of the seed of the sower fell into
good and honest hearts. Too many trusted in themselves and falling,
wallowed in the mire. One favorite text and a very sincere utterance
of both the Christ's first John and one of his latest disciples so
named, was this: "I have no greater joy than to hear that my children
walk in truth". When, on the contrary, his quondam church members
dishonored their Lord, then "the pastor's" heart was wrung--alas, too
often--with anguish.
Among memory's dissolving views is one of a young man who had been
brought into the church and for a time gave promise of manly piety
and a fruitful Christian career, but, falling into habits of worldly
pleasure he seemed to lose in girth of soul as he became larger in
body. He once boasted to me of his finely developed muscle, ascribing
his physical enlargement and, as he thought, improvement to "good
liquor and good women," saying it without a blush, and in such a
statement horribly abusing the English language as I knew and felt it.
When the war broke out he became captain in a regiment which was made
up chiefly of Roman Catholic Irish soldiers from Philadelphia, men as
devout in one way as they were reckless in another. In leading them
to the charge in their first battle, he noticed not only how their
faces turned pale as the spirit conquered the flesh, but also how each
man crossed himself, and how, as he described it, the advance of his
company into the thick of the fight could be traced by the packs of
cards which they threw away. They did not wish to lose their lives,
but they relished even less the idea of being found dead with these
instruments of pleasure and of evil in their knapsacks. The handsome
young captain, after going to moral wreck, was mortally wounded in
battle. When his body was brought home and laid in Laurel Hill, I
remember the impressive final words of his saddened and disappointed
pastor as he committed "to the care of the Resurrection and the Life"
the relics of a once noble form:
"Alas! there are wrecks on humanity's sea
More awful than any on ocean can be".
Yet the preacher's burning denunciations of sin and his praise of
holiness helped us all to keep step with the Infinite and hold to the
right path. Whether in formal discourse or in the reading of a hymn he
lost no opportunity to make sinners and false professors uncomfortable
and to cheer well doers.
Rev. James Crowell, D.D., writes, in 1902:
"I remember going in to hear Rev. Dr. Chambers one Sabbath afternoon,
and being much struck with a remark that he made while reading a hymn.
It was characteristic of the plain, straightforward way in which he
would sometimes rebuke what he thought was wrong among the people. He
was reading the hymn
'My soul, be on thy guard
Ten thousand foes arise,'
and when he came to the last verse, beginning,
'Fight on, my soul, till death
Shall bring thee to thy God,'
he suddenly laid down the hymn-book and said, 'Bring whom? Bring that
cruel rum-seller, who sells damnation to his fellow men for the sake
of paltry gain? Bring that lazy lounging Christian who was at church
this morning, but is now taking a nap in bed, at home, instead of
being in the house of God? No!'"
"Dr. Chambers was very active and prominent in connection with the
Noon-day prayer meeting in the old Sansom Street Baptist Church,
at the corner of Ninth and Sansom. He attended that meeting with
undeviating punctuality, always insisted upon the exercises beginning
exactly upon the hour, and upon a strict adherence to the rule which
required prayers and remarks to be limited to three minutes. He was an
inspiration in that meeting, and by his spirit and his eloquent voice
added much to its enthusiasm and success.
"I remember when I was a little boy attending school at the West
Chester Academy, an announcement was made at one time that a great
temperance meeting was to be held in Everhart's Grove, a little piece
of woods about half a mile from the end of the town. The meeting
was held on Saturday afternoon, and going down, with a few of my
schoolmates to attend the meeting, upon reaching the outskirts of the
town, when yet more than a quarter of a mile distant from the place
of meeting in the woods, I heard Dr. Chambers' clarion voice most
distinctly, as he was engaged in speaking.
"He was for many years a leader in aggressive movements in the
temperance cause, and by his faithfulness in denouncing those who were
engaged in the traffic he did much to promote the interests of that
great reform. He was also exceedingly faithful as a pastor in looking
after the absentees from worship. It was said that he could always
mark those who were absent from the House of God on the Sabbath, and
that his rule was on Monday to look them up and ascertain the reason
of their absence. He was an earnest and faithful and aggressive worker
in the cause of his Master, and by his eloquence and fervor succeeded
in retaining his hold upon the large congregation that worshipped in
the old church at the corner of Broad and Sansom streets".
I can add to Dr. Crowell's testimony my own as to Mr. Chambers's
inspiring presence at the Union prayer meetings in the Sansom Street
Baptist Church for I attended many of them. Once when the hymn "Oh for
a thousand tongues to sing" had been finished he rose up and told us
in a few burning words that we need not pray for "a thousand tongues",
but that one tongue was enough, if each used his aright. His knowledge
of the presence or absence of his parishioners was nearly infallible.
Once when a very useful lady member had been absent during several
weeks at "revival" meetings in another church, her pastor said to her
of her absence: "It was like pouring melted lead down my back". Mr.
Chambers did not believe in extra meetings, but in live ones all the
time.