The great Civil War, which divided the nation and the states, families and households, struck the First Independent Church like a hurricane. In a sense, the Scripture was fulfilled as to the smiting of the shepherd and the scattering of the flock. The result was to be a distinct lessening of John Chambers's influence upon the city of Philadelphia, at least, and his relegation to a comparatively limited sphere of influence. One of his alumni writes: "If he had been in sympathy with the North in the Civil War, I believe he would have attained a national reputation. As events turned out, his Southern affiliations and sympathy displaced him somewhat from his niche of peculiar influence in Philadelphia, and relegated him to a work of lessening circumference". The biographer would gladly pass over the whole subject, but true history requires that a just statement of the facts should be given. Whatever be the judgment, all acknowledge that John Chambers acted with a good conscience. Deo Vindice.
Despite his passionate love of liberty and his democratic sympathies, he had imbibed in Baltimore and held in Pennsylvania the general ideas of the South concerning slavery. This "institution" was considered as orthodoxy itself. It was defended from the pulpit and set forth as divinely ordained. Mr. Chambers sincerely believed that the black man must ever be "a servant of servants unto his brethren". His passionate appeals to the supremacy of the Constitution as against the "higher law", and his hearty profession of admiration for the law-abiding citizen were all on the side of upholding and protecting slavery as an American "institu[114]tion" to be sacredly safe-guarded. Just before the war, when calling at our home and finding the book "Uncle Tom's Cabin" lying upon the sofa and bearing evidences of being well perused, he condemned the reading of such a "vile" work in no measured terms.
By nature a sincere man of peace and in practical life a consummate peacemaker, our pastor professed great abhorrence of war. Nevertheless, these denunciations of slaughter and his oft-expressed horror of "brethren imbruing their hands in each other's blood", were discounted in the minds of those who knew his bitter denunciations of all things British and monarchial, and remembered his keen interest in the Mexican war. Some hostile critic of our national policy with Mexico, on seeing the Philadelphia recruits marching away to serve under General Scott, called them "dough faces". Mr. Chambers heard of this and, on the contrary, praising warmly the bold soldier boys of 1846 said that "if the body of the man who had called such soldiers 'dough faces' were made into bread, there wouldn't be a dog in Philadelphia that would eat a pound of it".
The slow coming events cast long and great shadows which rapidly shortened as the year 1861 drew near. The situation was critical and the political sky was fast gathering blackness. In politics John Chambers was a strong Democrat, sympathizing strongly with the president, James Buchanan, "Pennsylvania's favorite son", with whom he was personally acquainted, as well as with his niece, Harriet Lane, of whose decease I read in July, 1903. He spent several summers with the president at Bedford Springs, was often a guest at Wheatland, and at Washington was known at the White House, and once, at least, opened the House of Representatives with prayer.
It is certain that our pastor suffered greatly in his mind over the thought of a disruption of the union. Thanksgiv[115]ing day was the elect season at which preachers discussed political themes, and Dr. Chambers's sermon of November 24, 1859, was printed in a pamphlet.
I remember the occasion as if it were yesterday. His rendering of the eighth chapter of Deuteronomy was with such impressive power that to this day I feel as if no other chapter ought to be read on similar occasions. He also read the second chapter of First Timothy, after which he offered his fervent prayer. As I peruse again the printed discourse I can hear his ringing voice and see the superb and graceful gestures. This was his opening sentence:
"I have announced to you my purpose to relieve my heart of a burden that has long oppressed me. As an American citizen, an American minister of the Gospel, I love this Bible; and the God of the Bible. My country, its constitution, and its laws, I love. As a man of peace I have a heart for the nation.... I love it as a unit. I am ready to live by it as a unit; and am ready to put the blood of my heart fresh upon its altar rather than see it anything else than a unit". He then went on to dwell on the worth of the union to ourselves and the world of mankind, and upon the jealousy which European nations, especially the monarchies, and more particularly England, had of us. Their hope of "triumphing over this Western continent was by triumphing over us".
He then dwelt upon the importance, solemnity and value of an oath, declaring that one of the most alarming signs of the times was the utter indifference to the value of an oath.
"Now, for example, the Constitution most positively and absolutely, in the plainest and most unmistakable manner provides that a fugitive from labor escaping from one state to another shall be delivered up. This is the Constitution. I am not to-day touching slavery right or wrong. I am[116] looking as a practical man at things as they are." Every citizen who winks at its evasion, "if he aids or abets the fugitive in his flight, he is before heaven a perjured man and the waters of the ocean could not wash out the stain."
The fugitive slave law had been often resisted in Philadelphia, as I remember well. In the same city, the first anti-slavery society had been formed, and within its present limits the first ecclesiastical protest ever raised against slavery was signed in the Mennonite meeting house in Germantown, where in summer I sometimes worshipped. The agitation of the abolitionists, and the burning down of Pennsylvania Hall were all matters of fresh memory to adult listeners in 1859.
"I now take up that question of questions—can this union be perpetuated? I answer 'yes'. Take the Bible for our rule and guide. Let it be the sheet anchor of our hope.... No tempest that crowned heads or despotic sceptres can invoke will ever throw our ship upon the lee shore or put out the light of this American union".
After a fling, by the way, at the divine right of kings, "a right which God gave in his wrath", he quoted the legend of Franklin's calling for prayer in the constitutional convention, noted the incident of Jesus and the tribute to C?sar, and then dwelt on the necessity of the adopted citizen, especially, keeping his oath. He intimated that those immigrants who did not like our constitution "had better pack up and go home.... The constitution and laws of this country are our C?sar and on us rests the solemn duty of obedience". He then passed to the duties of husbands and wives, of children to their parents, and to the duty of training the youth to speak with respect of rulers and laws. His final exhortation was to the sacred obligation to obey the constitution and the laws. He pointed out the danger[117] of the dissolution of the union, showing that the peril was great "unless our pulpits cease their clamor against the constitution and the laws". Ministers must not urge "the higher law (as they call it) of instinct, but preach God's revealed word, and cease, too, from declaring from the altar that it is better to put into a man's hand a rifle, a death weapon, rather than a mother's Bible". He urged that we cease the agitation and abuse, that arrays state against state, and that sectionalism be abandoned. The conclusion was made with tremendous effect. "If I were on the banks of the Potomac, standing by that vault at Mount Vernon, I would say it over the sacred dust of the immortal Washington, the man that would labor or would wish for the dissolution of the American union, let him be "anathema, maranatha".
But neither rhetoric, nor eloquence, nor professions of loyalty to the constitution could prevent secession, or that firing of the shot on Sumter which unified the North. The news of this overt act of hostility at once sharply divided the congregation, and a number of the very best men and women in the church, some of them Mr. Chambers's oldest and warmest supporters, withdrew into other churches, mostly Presbyterian, or united themselves with the Central Congregational Church, where they and their children and grandchildren form a notable element in that honored church. Others, like Anna Ross, the soldiers' friend, became actively identified with patriotic measures. The loss to the First Independent church was a rich gain to other churches. Four out of six of his elders, Daniel Steinmetz, Joseph B. Sheppard, Rudolph S. Walton, and John Yard, Jr., among his ablest laymen, withdrew into Presbyterian churches to help build them up with their talents, generosity, and consecration, or initiated new enterprises.[118] Others, though they did not take away their letters of membership, never again or rarely, worshipped in the church edifice. Probably the number thus lost to the congregation ran into the hundreds, but the break was because of conscience and conviction.
Nevertheless God was glorified and Christ honored even in farewells. The partings were in friendship. These were not personal quarrels, and the relations between man and man for Christ's sake were always maintained. John Chambers's own testimony on this point is clear. In 1875 he said "We did not dispute. They treated me and they have always treated me with the greatest respect and they were among our most useful men ... and we have been on the terms of the most perfect friendship since.... We did not have any trouble with each other—we parted in peace."
The most striking manifestation of the sentiment hostile to the pastor was shown by some of the trustees, yet in a way not approved of by the congregation. There was possibly some ground for the apprehension felt by the trustees, as one of them told me, that Southern sympathizers might get control of the property of the "copperhead church." Therefore, a flagstaff was erected on the roof and the stars and stripes were unfurled, and for some months waved in the breeze from morning till sunset. I was passing down Chestnut street that very morning, just as the flag was run up and a few gentlemen standing on the tin roof gave three cheers. It was a surprise and not wholly a pleasant one to me. This procedure hurt Mr. Chambers's feelings, but he said little about it. Not a few others, including the biographer, thought that peculiar kind of patriotism was, in its manifestation, entirely unwarranted. At the next election, the trustees most prominent in the flag pole business[119] were quietly dropped. The excitement about the "copperhead church" died away, and the pole was taken down and disposed of, the flag ever remaining in honor.
On the other hand Mr. Chambers did some things which his friends deemed highly unwise. On one occasion, it is said, he paraded publicly with the Keystone Club, a prominent political organization, which had been influential in the nomination of James Buchanan. None of the young men of his church who enlisted in the union army received any encouragement from their pastor, who was never known in his public prayers to pray for the success of the national cause in arms, though always petitioning the throne of grace in behalf of the union of the States. One after another and sometimes groups of young patriots together would put on the national uniform, shoulder their muskets and march off to battle, quite frequently never to return again. On one occasion, being called on for public prayer in the large Wednesday night meeting, though but eighteen years of age (Mr. Chambers always encouraged his young men to pray publicly) I petitioned the Father of us all, as was my daily custom privately, and as some of the others of us did occasionally in public, for the success of the union arms in the field, and the defeat of the slave-holder's rebellion, and that "their covenant with death might be annulled and their agreement with hell not stand". I meant of course slavery and slavery only, but perhaps particular offence was taken by the pastor, because William Lloyd Garrison had in these words characterized the Constitution of the United States. Mr. Chambers was visibly displeased and afterwards referred to the prayer in terms of rebuke.
It was in the first year of the war, on Sunday, May 5, that either a company or a regiment, or portion of one—my diary says "part of the Scott Legion and the National[120] Guard" came to our church to worship before going to the front. I do not know just how or why the invitation was sent or accepted. Probably it was to draw out the exact sentiment of John Chambers. In any event the patriots ready to die for their country received no direct encouragement (except to maintain the constitution and laws of the country), but rather, as we all thought, discouragement, when the pastor told them he could not encourage them to go forth to shed their brother's blood.
When Robert Lee, with his Confederate veterans, invaded Pennsylvania, and was statesman as well as general enough to give battle on northern soil at Gettysburg, Philadelphia was in a white heat of excitement. Captain Griffiths, one of the handsomest men in the congregation, whose pew was directly in front of ours, received his death wound in this battle.
In June, 1863, I was in Baltimore visiting at my uncle's and trying to recuperate after an attack of chills and fever, resulting from spending a summer on the other side of the Delaware. (I am now thoroughly persuaded, by the way, of the efficiency of mosquito's as carriers of malarial poison). I had recovered, but on hearing that Lee's army had marched towards Pennsylvania, my native state, I immediately resolved to go home and enlist in the army. Riding into the city and through the barricades guarded by union soldiers, I took the train for Philadelphia, reaching my house on late Saturday night. Early Monday morning I enlisted in Company H of the Merchants' Regiment, 44th Pennsylvania Militia. Within a day or two I received uniform and arms and was on my way to Camp Curtin at Harrisburg, ready to march to the fords of the Potomac. Before leaving I called to see my former minister, John Chambers, to tell him what I was about to do, hoping to receive[121] his blessing. As yet Vicksburg seemed impregnable, and apparently Lee was to march victoriously through Pennsylvania. Mr. Chambers argued against the possibility of putting down the rebellion, and descanted upon the impregnability of the terrific fortifications at Vicksburg, which were able, as he thought, to bid defiance to any force that could be brought against them.
Our interview was ended by the entrance of his friend the Rev. Dr. William Swan Plumer, a handsome man of magnificent bearing, whose white beard swept his breast and whom I had more than once heard preach. He was a voluminous and popular writer, who had held pastorates in Richmond, Baltimore, and Allegheney City, Pa. From the close of the war until 1880 he was professor in the theological seminary at Columbia, S. C. Before I had been a day in Camp Curtin at Harrisburg, Lee was driven back from Gettysburg, and our war-governor himself in the camp announced to us the fall of Vicksburg. Years afterward in Ithaca, I wrote ex-governor Curtin a sympathizing letter on the death of his daughter, Mrs. William H. Sage, of our little city. He replied in a long letter full of appreciation and memories of 1861-'65.
No memorial tablet was ever put up in the Chambers's church to the memory of the young men from the congregation who gave their lives to their country.
It is perhaps on the whole better to dwell lightly upon the record of John Chambers during the war, partly because it is a blessed thing to know how to forget. Even the battlefields "nature has long since healed and reconciled to herself in the sweet oblivion of flowers". We have now a united country, the ulcer of slavery is a thing of long ago, and some things are seen more clearly. Possibly brethren of John Chambers who publicly refused to shake hands with him[122] have since been sorry. It is also quite certain that in the days of heat and bitterness, Mr. Chambers was held responsible for some things which members of his family, or relatives, said or did, and not himself. Afterwards, when charged with holding certain sentiments, or appealed to to vindicate his reputation, he refused, as he said "to hide himself behind a woman". He was too much of a man to say "women did it".
Mrs. Martha Chambers, his second wife, had died in March, 1860. During the war or most of it, he was a widower. Within this period, his daughter-in-law, a Virginia lady, the wife of Duncan Chambers, presided over his household. Our pastor's nephew, Duncan Chambers Milner (now pastor at Joliet, Ill.) a soldier in the union army, was wounded, and spent some time during his convalescence in his uncle's home, afterwards entering upon the work of the United States Christian Commission. He bears witness how his uncle, with rock-like convictions, strove, in spite of the obloquy of enemies and the coldness of friends, to be patriot, pastor, and Christian, bearing all things, hoping all things, enduring all things, in a trying time, when political slander was busy, going on with his work as usual.
In all the separations and differences between the great pastor and some members of his flock, there was no personal bitterness or angry word. It was only on questions of national policy that they differed. Their brotherly regard remained the same, and God was glorified. This certainly was true. John Chambers, the hero quailed not before threats of being hanged at the lamp post. He went about his duties as usual. Like most men whose lives are threatened, our pastor died quietly in his bed.
Rev. Thomas DeWitt Talmage came to Philadelphia during the war, in 1862, and at once attracted much atten[123]tion and great crowds to the church edifice on Seventh Street above Brown. I was one of the number who was drawn under his influence, and, from patriotic and personal reasons, I took my letter away from the First Independent Church to unite with the Second Reformed (Dutch) Church, of which Dr. Talmage was pastor. I met him in camp when he was a chaplain of the Coal Regiment, raised in Philadelphia during Lee's invasion. No one could ever doubt Talmage's loyalty to the Federal cause. In the darkest days of the war, when it seemed as though the slave owners' rebellion would succeed he uttered a fervent prayer for the union, winding up with the petition, "Blast the Southern Confederacy". These were the days when on each Sunday, one went to the house of God, expecting to see a new widow in black and freshly made orphans in the congregation.
I saw Mr. Talmage first and heard him speak on the platform in Concert Hall, where also sat John Chambers. I remember how he sent some old ladies home to hunt for "the sixth chapter of the book of Nicodemus". Mr. Talmage quickly found out who were the popular preachers of Philadelphia—Phillips Brooks, Herrick Johnson, A. A. Willetts, John Chambers, and others. He was so struck with Dr. Chambers's position of influence that he made investigation into his methods and hired a man to look over the files of the Public Ledger to make a list of the subjects on which he had preached in previous years. All this was very interesting to Mr. Chambers when told him by his nephew, to whom the facts were communicated by Mr. Talmage himself.
Famous visitors to the church and preachers in the pulpit of the First Independent Church made variety. Some of these sermons heard I can never forget, such as that by the Rev. Dr. Schenck, who set forth the example of Caleb,[124] "faithful found among the faithless, faithful only he". The Rev. Henry Grattan Guinness impressed me more with his fluency than his ideas. Dr. Daniel March, whose Night Scenes of the Bible I read with delight, and who replied so spiritedly to Hepworth Dixon's foolish charges, I met again in Boston, after his tour around the world in the late eighties, and from him I have lately heard in praise of his old theological friend. Dr. Plumer gave us good biblical sermons. So did Dr. Leyburn. Dr. Neill, a Methodist, always pleased and fed us. Professor W. G. Fisher, ever popular, and author of many well-known tunes, was also frequently seen by us.
I have felt free to mention the faults, failings, and defects of the man we all loved so well, partly because he himself instilled early in us the love of absolute truth, and because his career is in itself a mighty lesson to all young men. It is a story that shows self-conquest and mastery of difficulties, for John Chambers was ever rising on stepping stones of his dead self to higher things. Out of his own faults, by God's grace, he made a ladder by which he mounted up to God. It is because his strength was made perfect in weakness that his life speaks even yet so powerfully. Though he has been dead much more than a quarter of a century, his influence is to-day like wave on wave of ever widening circles, and the force of his life is reproduced in scores of other human lives in all parts of the earth.
Even in intellectual edification he "builded better than he knew". When the "higher criticism" came, with its imaginary terrors, as of hoof, horn, and teeth, I for one, felt able to tame, manage, and use it as a faithful beast of burden, both for the history of Japan and of Israel, largely because John Chambers used to say to me: "Will, study the Bible, and don't be afraid of what you find there". Where[125] some see only the chestnut burr, I have found food and sweetness. "Out of the eater has come forth meat, and out of the strong, sweetness," largely because of the atmosphere which John Chambers suffused around my youthful head.
Mr. Chambers's fortieth anniversary sermon on May 14, 1865, was published in a neat pamphlet, with a sketch of the history of the church. He was then in his sixty-eighth year and in vigorous health. About eight or ten of his original parishioners out of the seventy-one who, in April, 1825, had voted to call him to be their pastor, still survived. Despite the subtraction of removals, dismissals and deaths the church rolls showed an active membership of twelve hundred. The church edifice, on a lot seventy-six by one hundred feet, had cost, for building and enlargement, about fifty thousand dollars, all raised by direct subscription. About three thousand persons had been received into membership, nine-tenths on confession of faith. Other statistics are interesting—2,509 funerals, 6,247 sermons, 2,400 funeral addresses, 3,000 addresses on missionary, temperance and Sunday School subjects, and about 28,000 pastoral calls. In forty years, excepting his absence in Europe, he had been out of the pulpit for ill health only three times. In the foulness of strength and prosperity the spirit of this discourse is best set forth as he expressed it, "Oh, to grace how great a debtor" and "Hitherto the Lord hath helped us."
The salary of our pastor, at first very modest, had been increased to $1,500, then to $2,500, and for a few later years, he received $4,000. It was about this time, 1865, that the gentlemen of the congregation presented him with a tea set of silver.
Almost as a matter of course, John Chambers was often approached by pastorless church committees seeking a popular and efficient leader; but never, for one moment, did he[126] encourage the thought of leaving his people for another field. Nevertheless the gossips sometimes imagined otherwise. Concerning one particular instance, which was the occasion of a witty and very remarkable sermon, my fellow-alumnus, Rev. Dr. Robert Maurice Luther, writes me, under date of July 16, 1903:
"As a preacher, Dr. Chambers was, by voice and personal presence most attractive. His voice was indescribably rich, full and sonorous. He was frequently charged with taking lessons from celebrated actors. This he indignantly and most emphatically denied, frequently in my hearing. On the other hand, I more than once heard an actor of some prominence, afterward a teacher of elocution, assert that he was in the habit of attending the First Independent Church, for the purpose of getting hints on the management of his voice, from Dr. Chambers's method.
One sermon, much criticised, I remember distinctly, to-day. It must have been delivered about the year 1856. The occasion was a persistent report, widely circulated, that Dr. Chambers was about to accept a call to a more largely remunerated pastorate in Baltimore. The theme was "The Immortality of the Scandal Monger." The text was, "It is reported among the heathen, and Gashmu saith it." Neh., vi, 6. The pastor said that Gashmu had never been heard of before, and did not appear again, yet he was immortal.
I. How an unknown man may become immortal.
Does any one of you say that the work of the Lord offers no compensation in the way of personal fame? He is correct in the main. Do your work as faithfully as you may, and the probability is that you will die, and the world will give your memory not a second thought. Men will forget where you are buried. The newspapers will not stop their[127] presses long enough to record the fact of your death unless they are paid for it. Wicked men will say, There, we told you so! That foolish fellow who made himself, and all good fellows miserable by his religion is dead at last. He caught a cold going to prayer-meeting, and he is gone, religion and all. The world will not greatly concern itself about you, or your memory. But just invent a new lie about one of God's saints. It may be as improbable as this one which Gashmu invented, that the Jews were about to rebel, and at once you take your position among the famous men. Your name will go down to posterity, as one whom the world will not willingly forget. Unborn generations will read your name, and believe the lie which you invented.
II. How should the Christian man meet scandal?
In the way in which Nehemiah met it. He said nothing to refute the scandal. He kept right along, doing the work of the Lord. He knew that any attempt to answer the charge would only give advantage to the enemy. If a dog barks at you in the street, it is bad policy to turn round and bark back at him. The dog is always a better barker than you are. If you lower yourself to his level, you must not complain if he beats you at his own game. Keep on doing the Lord's work. They sent for Nehemiah to come down and have an interview with them at one of the villages of the plain of Ono, but he replied "O no! I am doing a great work: I cannot come down." Imitate Nehemiah. You may not have the immortality of Gashmu, but that is an immortality of infamy. Better be remembered by God, than by His enemies.
The effect of this sermon was immense and immediate. The daily press took it up, and made frequent and pungent comments, but the sharp wit of the good preacher had forestalled all criticism.
There were many special sermons, about election time,[128] and in civil crises, which were equally bright and witty. It was not by these that the reputation of the good man was made, however. None who heard, can ever forget his sermons for the young. As a rather dull boy of nine, or ten, I listened as if he were talking directly to me. Hearing once a pretentious young man, criticising Dr. Chambers, and saying that he was not an intellectual preacher, my wonder was what "intellectual" meant: and I was greatly helped by my mother, who told me that the young man did not know enough to be able to understand our pastor. After all these years, I am inclined to think that my mother was entirely right. His sermons for the culture of the Christian Life, I have never heard equalled. He anticipated everything in this line which Drummond afterward wrote.
After fifty years, his form, his face, his voice, are all as vividly present as they were in my childhood, and I am sure that the spiritual lessons of his life, survive just as strongly in the hearts of hundreds of us boys of the old First Independent Church.
John Chambers was much more than a preacher. His pastoral work, and his intimate personal knowledge of each member of his large congregation, were as remarkable as his pulpit utterances. Thursday was his day for coming to our house, and it seems to me now, that he came every Thursday, but that is, of course, impossible. However, we children always expected to see him on Thursday, and usually at dinner. I well remember the homelike frankness with which he would express his appreciation of some of the dishes which my mother, who was a notable, and old-time housewife, would have prepared for him. I remember even more distinctly how it seemed to me that he knew everything that went on at our school and the events of our little cosmos. He seemed to be as much interested in them[129] as we boys were. He seemed to know everything that we did. The only time in my boyhood that I went to Welch's circus, down Walnut street, I became disgusted with some coarse jokes of the clown, and went out before the performance was over. I ran down the stairway from the dress circle, out of the door, and plump into the arms of Dr. Chambers! Did he scold me? Not much. He simply said in that voice of his, the tones of which were like an organ, "My boy! You in that place! Come now, you did not like it, did you? I should not think that you would care for such things. I should think your telescope would show you finer sights than anything you would see there."
How did he know that I had a telescope, and that I had made it myself, and that I used to be up on the roof of our old home all night, only creeping into bed just in time to avoid being caught? I never told him. I went no more to the circus.
In our church life it was the same. On the Sunday on which I united with the church, there were seventy-two who were received; yet this great man found time to say to the boy of fifteen, as we left the church, that he would expect me to take part, preferably by engaging in prayer, in the Sunday night prayer service, a fortnight from that day."