The history of a work of faith and love in Charleston, South Carolina...

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THE HISTORY

WORK OF MITH AND LOVE

CHARLESTON, SOUTH CAROLINA,

Chapter I

Ox that fearful night of February IT, 1865, when Columbia, the fair capital of South Carolina, was enveloped in flames, I found myself with my little family amid the fierce and fiery billows which swept over the devoted city. Helpless, almost hopeless, not knowing what terrible fate awaited us, in this frightful extremity God raised me up a devoted friend in the person of Lieutenant John A. McQueen, of the Fifteenth Illinois Cavalry, which was the escort of General O. O. Howard. During the entire stay of the Federal army in the blackened and ruined city, this devoted officer never forsook us, giving all the protection he possibly could ; and it was only when the last company of United States soldiers had departed that he took his leave.

On parting with him, as he mounted his horse, I placed in his hands a letter, addressed by me to General "Wade Hampton, or any other Confederate into whose custody he might fall. I charged him to retain this on his person, as, in the chances of war, he might find it useful. The story is a long one, and will be found farther on in this record. Suffice it to say here, that ten days after he left Columbia, near Camden, South Carolina, Lieutenant McQueen was wounded in a skirmish, and my letter was the means of saving his life. Hearing of the casualty, I resolved to seek the disabled officer; and, after a journey of over two hundred miles by rail and wagon, and on foot, I found him. Procuring a buggy and a horse, I took him to Ealeigh, North Carolina, where General Joseph E. Johnston sent him through the lines without exchange or parole, in consideration of his noble and humane conduct in Columbia and Camden.

After the cessation of hostilities, the Right Reverend Thomas F. Davis, D. D., Bishop of South Carolina, sent me to ^N^ew York in April, 1866, to endeavor to collect a fund sufficiently large to rebuild our Theological Seminary buildings, and restore our library, which had been burned during the war. At the same time, I was charged to raise money for the purpose of establishing a school for the children of the freedmen, which was to be under the direction of the Protestant Episcopal Church. For the first-named object I collected a little over five thousand dollars; and, for the second, a sufficient amount to purchase, in Charleston, the old Marine Hospital building, which I fitted up nicely for a school. The commission for colored people of the Protestant Episcopal Church have paid the teachers from that time to the present ; while about eighteen hundred colored children have attended this school. Here I would state my success in collecting funds for this undertaking was owing, in great measure, to the interest evinced in me by General Howard, an interest which arose from my kindness to his lieutenant. By General Howard I was introduced to Mr. Johnson, then President of the United States, to whose liberality I was indebted for a check for one thousand dollars, paid out of his own private fund, for the purchase of the school-house for colored children.

All this, however, was, in the providence of God, only preparing the way for me to enter upon a much greater work which He had appointed for me to do. In order that my readers may fully understand, not only the nature and results of my vast undertaking, but the circumstances which led to the same, it will be necessary for me to retrace my steps, and open a sad page in my personal history.

On the 25th of October, 1864, the angel of death visited my family circle, and bore to the arms of his heavenly Father, whose pleasure it was to call him, my eldest child, a lovely boy of eleven years of age. Beautiful in person, remarkably lovely in disposition and character, this precious child was one of those spiritualized children whom we see occasionally. But the Father had need of him ; and, after enduring for seventy-two hours the agonies of that dread .disease, yellow fever, he closed his eyes for ever on the things of this world, to oj^en them in that life which is immortal.

Then, indeed, did a shadow so dark, so deep, fall upon our pathway that we could scarcely see to grope our way to clasp the Father's hand, w^hich we knew was extended to us from behind the cloud, in loving and tender mercy. For three long years — years full of unceasing regret for the precious child gone from us — I went heavily all the day, and night after night watered my couch with my tears. Hearts that have experienced a similar bereavement can understand how it was that, at this time, life was simply a duty, all pleasure in it being gone.

It lias been my custom to spend the anniversary of my child's death at his grave in the cemetery, about two miles from the city of Charleston. On the 25th of October, 1867, I repaired, as usual, to the grave to weep there, little dreaming that I was on the eve of establishing a great institution, which, under God, was to change the destiny of many hundreds. On this occasion I was more than usually afflicted ; when in the depths of sorrow, our heavenly Father graciously put forth his hand, and mercifully led me into green pastures and beside still waters.

In the midst of that graveyard, surrounded by those quiet sleepers, I reflected on the present condition of my beloved boy. He had passed through the gates of light, and w^as enjoying those things for which I was only hoping ; knowing, where I was only believing. I thought of the time w^hen, perhaps, the Father may send him to be one of those who shaU lead my spirit through the unknown country. Had he lived and grown to manhood, and become a successful minister of the gospel, at best he could have only worn the crown, and this he already had without the conflict. Calmed and comforted by these precious truths, brought us by our dear Lord, my thoughts then reached out to the boys — the young schoolmates and companions of my precious child. While he was a dweller in paradise, sharing in its glories, and partaking of its gifts, they, for the most part, were orphaned by the war, thoroughly impoverished, and growing up perfectly destitute of educational advantages. Their

23arents had formerly sent them to the city or abroad, to be educated, or employed tutors at home ; for, owing to the sparseness of the white population, there were no large public nor private schools in the country places convenient to the plantations. These children, as a general thing, represented the best blood of our land. What a sad change from their former condition ! How pitiable to see them ignorant, uncultured, running wild in the woods ! Then my thoughts reverted to the breaking up of our schools in 1861, by which so many of the Southern youth sustained the loss of education, and had grown up with minds almost entirely uncultured. It seemed to me that boys, whose parents were among the elite of the land, suffered a terrible fall when they were plunged into an abyss of ignorance ; for, the greater the height from which they fell, the lower the depths into which they were plunged. Standing, as we were, amid the utter wreck of fortune, I felt that we must not, if the evil could be prevented, suffer the additional calamity of ignorance. Who, who would come to the rescue of these boys ? The answer came, it seemed to me from heaven : " Something must be done, and done at once, and you must do it." I do it ? I have no way ; from day to day I can scarcely procure the means with which to sustain my family. The voice seemed ringing in my ears : " Take up your work and do it."

Gradually the light seemed to break upon me, showing me, although then dimly, the way. I remembered that I had at my command a large building, which I had erected before the war as a Sunday-school and an industrial school-house. This I could use for a schoolroom. Then I owned a house, the last piece of projDerty I held of my patrimony, all the rest having been swept away by the terrible whirlwind of war. This building I was renting at six hundred dollars per annum. I determined to give a month's notice to the tenants ; and this house I could devote to an orphanage. Thus, from thought to thought, my duty became plain, and the way growing clearer. As the sun went down, throwing gleams of glory on that little grave, I knelt on the mound, and asked of God that, if the thought and desire were from him, I might be endowed with the wisdom, tlie zeal, the continuity of purpose to carry out the enterprise; and I prayed that the hearts of His people might be open to me.

and that thej should not listen coldly, when I pleaded the cause of the impoverished orphan ; or, if this was not an inspiration, let it all pass away as a morning cloud or the fantasies of a fleeting dream.

Devoting my life afresh to our blessed Saviour, I arose from my knees and with a lightened heart returned to my home. From that time to this, although never a day has passed in which my thoughts have not dwelt upon my absent dear one, I have never been permitted to grieve for him. I left that pre- . cious little grave ; but I carried with me the glorious resolve, the holy purpose with which I had been inspired while kneeling there, and which inspiration, let me say, has never deserted me, even amid weariness, sickness, and discouragement.

O reader, what a lesson you can gather from this experience ! When your heavenly Father chastens you, do not give up in despair ; but ask, " Lord, what is it ? What wilt thou have thy servant to do?" Look about you; see what your work is; then, be up and doing. Do not suffer sorrow to so manacle your hands that you can not put them out to the needy.

That night I wrote a circular, and the next day had it printed. It was addressed to the clergy of the State, to whom it was forwarded. I sent one to every section, and, where there were no clergymen, to prominent citizens, asking them to let me know what destitute orphans, half -orphans, and others whose parents were living, but who, for lack of means, could not attend any school, were in their neighborhood.

It was soon noised abroad that I was about to establish an Orphan Home. Even my friends thought me deranged. " It can not be done," was the universal cry. Friend after friend discouraged me by prophesying failure. It seemed to them as chimerical as the attempt would be single-handed to build a cathedral in the Desert of Sahara. They had not felt the power of that inspiration of God's spirit which came upon me at that grave. The more they opposed and even condemned me, the more earnest and steadfast I became in my purpose. Soon I was flooded with applications from the country for the admission of boys, chiefly from the low country bordering on the sea, from the sea-island cotton plantations, and from the ricegrowing region.

One among many letters was very toucliing, and came from a widow. She wrote that, " Sunday as it was, she felt compelled to write to me. She had just returned from church, where she had heard my circular read by the rector ; that up to that moment she felt the cloud which overhung her was impenetrable ; that, if God had not forgotten her, she was at least forsaken. By that circular the clouds had been riven, and a ray of light had come from the Throne of Grace into her darkened heart. She had a fine boy, about fifteen years old ; that his father, before he died, had taken him through Caesar ; but now his education had been stopped, and there was no earthly hope for him. My circular, however, had changed all this, and she was going to send me her boy, whether I could take him or not." In due time he came ; and, to anticipate a little, he was fitted for college. He went to Trinity College, Hartford ; graduated creditably; studied law, and was admitted to practice ; but, giving up all for Christ, he is now a candidate for holy orders in a prominent theological seminary, and will (D. Y.) be admitted in about a year.

After carefully selecting my number, giving the preference to the oldest boys, knowing that they had the least time to spare, I consented to take thirty-three, the largest number the house could accommodate. Having settled this, I looked around first for a principal, and Mr. John Gadsden, of Summerville, South Carolina, son of the Rev. Mr. Phillip Gadsden, and nephew of the late Bishop of South Carolina, was engaged. Then teachers, in all eight, were contracted with. A matron was found in Mrs. John Bryan, the widow of a dear friend, and my former warden. Up to this time I had not one dollar, nor did I know where to procure one. When I look back to this period, I can only say that God must have supernaturally nerved me to the work. My circular suggested that I wished first the children of our own Church, then those of other denominations of Christians.

The quartermaster of the United States Army, then stationed at the Citadel in Charleston, South Carolina, had brought letters of introduction to me, in consequence of which I had extended to him certain civilities. Hearing of my undertaking, he informed me that he had ordered some iron bedsteads, belongiiig to the army, to be sold ; that he would biij them in, and send them to me. I accepted his offer, and he sent me one hundred of them, and these, with some repairs, I have used ever since. This was the first gift to the enterprise. Here and there I gathered a little furniture, bedding, and crockery ; and asked credit of certain grocers, butchers, and bakers, assuring them that I would not owe more than the house in which the children were to live was worth ; and, if I failed, would close up, sell the building and pay them. On these terms the credit was .granted. On the 9th of December, 1867, the day-school was opened by the Rt. Eev. Bishop Davis. There was a large attendance of children and adults in the church, to whom I delivered a written address. Thus we began in the house of God. Soon we had nearly three hundred boys and over one hundred girls in the school.

I would here state that this enterprise was not for my support. I do not instruct save in those studies which are of a religious nature. Nor is my labor for pecuniary reward ; it is a labor of faith and love ; and the richest offerings that I receive are the smiles of my heavenly Father, and the grateful thanks of the hearts I have been permitted by Him to gladden.

I charged fifty cents a month for each child received into the day-school ; but such then was the poverty of the people that very few could pay even this small amount. I distributed over eight hundred dollars' worth of school-books among the children, for which I never received one hundred dollars in return. 1 was forgiven the debt, for a part of them, by a generous publisher in l^ew York, and a part I paid for.

On the 21st of March, 1868, the first boy came to the Home. He was an orphan, the son of highly respectable parents ; but the poor child gave every evidence of the wild life he had been leading. I shall never forget the shock I received on seeing him ; the degeneracy was even greater than I had imagined possible. That boy remained with us five years : he was two years at Union College, Schenectady, "New York ; is now a medical student in Albany, and a devout communicant of the Church.

The thirty-three boys soon came into the Home. When the first five had arrived, taking them into my study, I said :

" 'Now, boys, you have come liere as my sons ; you are to be my guests. No one expects to make any money. You are bere to study and to take advantage of this great opportunity. Your spiritual mother, the Church, has opened her arms to shelter you ; she proposes to lead you in the way of life." I remembered how shocked I. was, when, a pure boy, I had left my mother's home and care for a boarding-school, to see and read, upon the walls of the premises of one of the most prominent and respectable schools in Charleston, indecent figures drawn and words written. Telling the boys of this, I charged them never to allow an improper figure to appear on these premises ; that I would not attend to this, but they must manage it themselves. I remarked : " The boy who writes or draws anything improper on the walls needs cleaning, and, although you can not make him clean within, you can typically. You can take him to the pump and wash him well, and, when I hear that you have done so, I will dismiss the boy." In all these seven years I have never seen a word written, nor figure drawn, on the premises. A laughable incident took place in connection with this. About two years ago, Mr. William CuUen Bryant, the poet, visited the institution, and addressed the boys in a most noble speech, after which I told him and his party how successful I had been in ]3reventing the boys from disgracing the walls with improper figures or words. Turning to my young charges, I said, " IsTow, boys, have you ever ducked any one yet ? " I was somewhat confounded by the general laugh which arose, and the emphatic declaration, " Yes ! " they had ducked three, but as the offenders had promised faithfully never to repeat the offense, evinced much sorrow, and begged hard that I might not be told of their misdeed, as they would have to leave if I knew of it, they had put them on trial without telling me, and these boys had been as good as their word. There was a general laugh at my expense, but with such a record I was willing. I have never repeated the order since I first told the five boys; it has been handed from one year to the next, and is one of the unwritten traditions of the institution.

Now begins a series of the most wonderful providences. I would ask my readers to note how the presence of God has been with us through all the years of the life of this institution.

how He has used one means and another, at times making us reaKze that it was His hand guiding us, and His voice counseling us ; and if my experience, given in these pages, can only strengthen one fainting heart, and encourage it in energy, patience, endurance, and faith, this narrative will not have been written in vain. If I can make only one heart realize that our Father is not far off, but nigh, that His hand is stretched out still and His ear is open to our prayers, then I shall have comforted some soul, and helped some one to cling closer to God ; and this will be my exceeding great reward.

Up to this point I had been in receipt of little or no money. The tuition fees were only nominal. The common schools of the city were not organized, and my school was filled with free scholars ; it was the largest, indeed the only large one, in the place. I raised in Charleston, through all the first year, only three hundred and thirty dollars for this great work. My expenses were increasing, salaries and bills were unpaid, and matters looked desperate. But my courage did not fail, nor did my resolution falter. Faith in God and the belief that He had placed this work in my hands sustained me. How much I bore from doubting and dissuading friends, whose want of sympathy became want of confidence in my success, only God knows ; how many earnest prayers went up to heaven, how many sleepless nights and waking hours of anxiety were passed, are recorded only above. The world did not know of my struggles and my anxieties. I maintained a confident exterior, never suffering a thought of failure to enter into my mind.

In March, 1868, obtaining a leave of absence from my vestry, after the boys had aU arrived and matters were organized, I went to the city of Baltimore. I was received with open heart and arms into the family of the Bev. Dr. Mahan, the rector of St. Paul's Church. I told my 'story at St. Paul's, and, when its rector handed me the collection, it amounted to nearly eight hundred dollars. This sum was soon on its way to the South, and unspeakable was the joy which it carried there. In the congregation of St. Paul's, Baltimore, was a gentleman, Mr. Wilkins Glenn, who was owner and editor of the " Baltimore Gazette." He came to me for my plans and statistics ; expressed much delight at this work, regarding it as the best effort of which he had heard from the South. He devoted many columns, day after day, in the " Gazette," to me and my work, and proposed to form an association to assist in carrying ont my purposes. I passed '^ve weeks in Baltimore, preaching in Emmanuel Church and St. Luke's, and obtaining about one thousand dollars from the two churches. Day after day I went from house to house through snow — for we had five snow-storms during my stay in the city — through rain and cold, trudging the wet streets from nine o'clock in the morning until ten o'clock at night.

Dear brother or sister, you who have had this trying work to do, let me tell you that many a time I have gone in between the outer and inner doors of the houses, and knelt and prayed for grace and will to pull the bell ; imploring God for strength to overcome this shrinking feeling, this repugnance of the flesh and spirit, l^ow and then my courage has failed me, and I have gone off choked and weeping. I tried to take the ground that I was no beggar, but an ambassador for Christ, doing his work and coming to the Lord's children to place before them an opportunity of laying up treasure in heaven. I acknowledge that the position sometimes brought me scoffs; but, to the honor of Baltimore, I will say that I was received with affectionate consideration and generous assistance.

I procured in Baltimore and Washington — chiefly in the latter place, from Ascension Churcli, then under Dr. Pinkney, now Assistant Bishop of Maryland — sufficient money to pay all my past dues and to carry me on to June. In that month my supplies became exhausted. In that unfortunate extremity a telegram reached me from Mr. Glenn, requesting me to return to Baltimore immediately, and by the next train I left Charleston. I found that Mr. Glenn had been to New York, and succeeded in interesting Mr. Clarkson ^N'. Potter, Mr. William Appleton, Mr. I. S. Thayer, Mr. Charles O'Conor, Mr. William B. Duncan, and others, who had consented to assist in placing me on a firmer footing. Mr. Glenn called a meeting of influential gentlemen in Baltimore, and then and there they organized a society, with Mr. Samuel G. Wyman as its president, which pledged me six hundred dollars a month for three years. I returned to my home with a feeling of happiness animating my heart, and strengthened to proceed with my work. By the faithful fulfillment of this pledge I was enabled to get through the first year, having had over five hundred children in the day-school and thirty-three living in the Home, whom I had, for the most part, clothed as well as fed. During that year nine of the boys were confirmed and became communicants.

CHAPTEE II.

October 1, 1868, began my second year. The school opened with as many pupils as usual, and the same thirty-three boys were in the Home. A few more day-scholars paid their tuition, which was raised to one dollar per month. A few in the Home also paid a trifling sum. On the 1st of January, 1869, 1 refused to take the girls again, and declined in one day one hundred and ten. This was a hard struggle, but I found my means too limited to manage both ; therefore, with great reluctance, I gave up, for the time, this precious charge.

Mr. Glenn kept up faithfully his monthly remittance of six hundred dollars a month, which was, of course, a great assistance, but it was not enough. Therefore, I went to 'New York in November, 1868. JN^ow my past introduction through General Howard availed me much, and I was able to collect about three thousand dollars. "While in J^ew York an advertisement from a Charleston paper was sent to me, of the proposed sale of a building immediately in the rear of the Church of the Holy Communion. I knew that if this work was to be continued that building w^ould be essential to me, for over two hundred applicants were waiting on me to consent to take them into a house which held thirty-three. Seeing that the terms were one third cash, and the balance in three years, I made known my wants to God, and telegraphed to a friend to buy the house if the price did not exceed five thousand dollars. I had not a cent with which to meet the payment, but the house was purchased, and I was informed that, as soon as the papers were made out, I would have to pay seventeen hundred dollars ; the house cost five thousand one hundred and fifty dollars. When I ascertained how mnch I had to pay on my purchase, I sought my very dear friend Mr. John D. Wolfe, and told him all my plans. His name calls up in the memory of hundreds the image of one whose ear was ever open to every story of work for the glory of God and the good of men — a man who, as he lived on, ripened more and more for the inheritance of the saints. Full of love and generosity, he scattered of his abundance throughout the land; and, though dead, he yet liveth in the institutions he founded and fostered. Never seeming to weary, however many appeals were made to him — and their name was legion — ^lie was full of humanity. After patiently hearing my story, he remarked, " You are as bad as the bishops — a sort of stand-and-deliver man." Then, turning to his desk, he filled up a check for one thousand dollars, saying, as he handed it to me, "If you are good for anything, you can pick up the other seven hundred dollars." This amount was raised in time, and, at the expiration of the three years, the house was paid for.

During this year nothing of consequence happened save that I received into the house just purchased thirty-one more boys. When I began this work, I was determined that I would allow no espionage — that I would throw the boys on their honor entirely. I told them, from the first, that the key of their dormitories was on the inside; that they need never go out of second-story windows by means of ladders at night ; that no one was watching them ; that, if they went out after hours, they must leave the house by the front-door, remembering always, as they crossed the threshold, that God and their conscience knew they were violating a trust, and, if they could do this, sooner or later, I would find them out, and they would leave the institution immediately. All the boys who have left have given me their assurance that never, while inmates of the Home, did they absent themselves after hours without permission. This is another unwritten tradition of the institution ; and a boy who, under such circumstances, would leave the Home at night would be compelled, by the pressure of the public opinion of the boys, to leave altogether. Is not the boy here laying a foundation of truth and hio-h-minded honor on which the man will rear a noble structure? Will not these bojs make valuable men? For, as tlie poet tells us —

" As the twig is bent the tree's inclined."

An incident occurred this year which illustrates the tone of the institution. Tickets of admission to the theatre had been presented to two of the larger boys. The principal permitted them to go, and waited for them until their return. When they came, both were seriously under the influence of liquor. This was Friday night. On Monday, after the usual daily service, Mr. Gadsden came into the vestry-room and said that he had a disagreeable fact to lay before me. Hearing all the particulars, I told him to leave the matter to me. During the day I staid about the premises, treating these young men as though I was not cognizant of their misdemeanor. The next day, after morning prayer, while I was still in the vestry-room, they came in, and under great embarrassment opened their case to me. They stated that they had gone into the saloon adjoining the theatre, and, as it was a very cold night, each had taken a drink. Being unaccustomed to the use of ardent spirits, they liad been overcome by the potion. They said they did not feel that at their age — one was nineteen and the other twenty — they had done so very great a wrong in taking the drink : the wrong was in going into a bar-room at all. It was a breach of confidence ; in this they had transgressed, and feared they had lost my respect. They were willing, they said, to submit to any punishment I was prepared to inflict. Perceiving that they were deeply moved, I asked them if this confession was of their own volition. They replied, " Entirely." I asked if this would ever again occur. *' I^Tever," they replied, " while under your charge." " Then," said I, " young men, your offense is as freely forgiven as it is fully and honestly confessed ; we will never refer to it again." I saw the big tears roll down their cheeks, and, as they pressed my hand, their hearts were too full for words. At that moment everything was gained, and these two young men were patterns in the school until they left. I learned at that time the full value of our heavenly Father's forgiveness to a truly penitent sinner. Since then, one of these young men, now a respectable citizen, called to see me, and remarked that this occurrence was 2 the turmng-point of his life ; my course with himself and his young friend conquered them, and they would have died sooner than have offended again. It had made a lasting impression on their minds and hearts, and had a most happy influence on the institution. During this year fourteen youths were confirmed ' and became communicants.