PART 21 of 24 Parts
Bishop Hampton and Dr. Bruce were troubled about the close proximity of the saloon to the Settlement. It would be a constant source of temptation to Burns.
"Did you ever make any inquiries about the ownership of this property adjoining us?" the bishop asked.
"No, I haven’t taken time for it. I will now, if you think it would be worthwhile. But what can we do, Edward, against the liquor interests? They are firmly established as the churches or politics."
"God will handle it in time, just as He removed slavery," replied the bishop gravely. "Meanwhile, I think we have a right to know who controls this saloon so near the Settlement."
"I’ll find out," said Dr. Bruce.
Two days later he walked into the business office of one of the members of Nazareth Avenue Church and asked to see him for a few moments. He was received by his old parishioner, Clayton Price, who welcomed him warmly.
"I called to see you about that property next to the Settlement where the bishop and I now work. I am going to speak plainly, because life is too short and too serious for us both to have any foolish hesitation about this matter. Clayton, do you think it is right to rent that property for a saloon?"
Dr. Bruce’s question was as direct and uncompromising as he had meant it to be. The effect of it on his old parishioner was instantaneous.
First a hot flush rose to the face of the businessman. Then he grew pale and dropped his head on his hands. When he raised it again, Dr. Bruce was amazed to see a tear roll down his cheek.
"Doctor, did you know that I took the pledge that morning with the others?"
"Yes, I remember."
"But you never knew how I have been tormented over my failure to keep it. That saloon property has been the temptation of the devil to me. It is the best-paying investment I have at present. And yet it was only a minute before you came in here that I was in an agony of remorse to think how I was letting this earthly gain tempt me into a denial of the very Christ I promised to follow. I know well enough that He would never rent property for such a purpose. There is no need, Doctor, for you to say a word more."
Dr. Bruce stood up, embraced his former parishioner and departed.
Within a month the saloon next to the Settlement closed. The saloon-keeper’s lease had expired, and Clayton Price not only refused to renew it, but offered the building to the bishop and Dr. Bruce to use for their work, which had now grown so large that the building they had first rented was insufficient for all the projects that were planned.
One of the most important of these was the special food department suggested by Felicia. It was not a month after Clayton turned the saloon property over to the Settlement that Felicia found herself installed—in what had formerly been the main barroom—as head of a department of cooking and a course in housekeeping for girls who wished to make a living as servants. She was now a resident of the Settlement along with the Bruces and the bishop, Burns and his friend, and other women from the city. Martha, the violinist, came over to the Settlement on certain evenings to give lessons in music.
"Felicia, tell us your plan in full now," said the bishop one evening when he, Dr. and Mrs. Bruce and Felicia were together.
"Well, I have long thought of the hired-girl problem," said Felicia. "And I have reached certain conclusions in regard to it which you men may not grasp, though I’m sure Mrs. Bruce will understand me."
"We acknowledge our inadequacy, Felicia. Go on," said the bishop with a smile.
"Then this is what I propose to do. The old saloon building is large enough to divide into a suite of rooms that would be the equivalent of an ordinary house. My plan is to teach housekeeping and cooking to girls who will afterwards go out into service. The course will be ten weeks long. In that time I will teach plain cooking, neatness, quickness and a love of good work."
"Hold on, Felicia!" the bishop interrupted. "This is not an age of miracles!"
"Then we will make it one," replied Felicia. "I know this seems like an impossibility, but I want to try it. I know a score of girls already who will take the course. And if we can once establish something like an esprit de corps among the girls themselves, I am sure it will be of great value to them."
"Felicia, if you can accomplish half of what you propose, it will bless this community," said Mrs. Bruce. "I don’t see how you can do it, but I say God bless you as you try."
Felicia’s plan succeeded beyond all expectations. In time the graduates of Felicia’s cooking school came to be prized by housekeepers all over the city. But that is anticipating our story! The history of the Settlement has never yet been written. When it is, Felicia’s part will be found of very great importance.
The depth of winter found Chicago presenting, as every great city of the world presents to the eyes of Christendom, the marked contrast between riches and poverty; between culture, refinement, luxury and ease, and ignorance, depravity, destitution and the bitter struggle for bread.
It was a hard winter but a gay one. Never had there been such a succession of parties, receptions, balls, dinners, banquets. Never had the opera and theater been so crowded with fashionable audiences. Never had there been such a lavish display of jewels and dresses.
And never, on the other hand, had the deep want and suffering been so cruel. Never had the wind blown so chillingly over the lake and through the thin shells of tenements in the neighborhood of the Settlement. Never had the pressure for food and fuel and clothes been so urgently thrust up against the people of the city.
Bishop Hampton and Dr. Bruce, with their assistants went out and helped save men, women and children from the torture of physical privation. Substantial quantities of food and clothing and money were donated by the churches, charitable societies, civic, authorities and benevolent associations. But the personal touch of the Christian disciple was hard to secure. Where were the disciples obeying the Master’s command to go to the suffering and give themselves with their gifts in order to make these gifts of value in time to come?
The bishop found his heart sinking within him as he faced this fact: that men would give money who would not think of giving themselves. And the money they gave did not represent any real sacrifice because they did not miss it. They gave what was easiest to give, what hurt them the least. Where did the sacrifice come in? Was this following Jesus? Was this going with Him all the way?
The bishop was appalled to discover how few of his wealthy friends would really suffer any genuine inconvenience for the sake of humanity. Is charity the giving of worn-out garments? Is the gift really a gift when simply turned over to a paid solicitor or secretary of some benevolent organization? Shall the man never go and give his gift himself? Shall the woman never deny herself her reception or party or musicale and go personally and actually touch humanity as it festers in the great metropolis?
All this the bishop asked himself as he plunged deeper into the sin and sorrow of that bitter winter. He was bearing his cross with joy. And still, silently, powerfully, irresistibly, the Holy Spirit was moving through the churches, touching aristocratic, wealthy, ease-loving members who shunned the terrors of the social problems as they would shun a contagious disease.
This fact was impressed upon the Settlement workers in a startling way one morning. Perhaps no other incident that winter could have shown more plainly how much momentum had already grown out of the movement of Nazareth Avenue Church and the action of Dr. Bruce and Bishop Hampton following the pledge to do as Jesus would do.
The breakfast hour at the Settlement was the one hour in the day when the whole family found a little breathing space for fellowship together. It was an hour of relaxation. There was a great deal of good-natured repartee and much real wit and enjoyable fun at this hour. The bishop told his best stories. Dr. Bruce was at his best in description. This company of disciples was healthily humorous, in spite of the atmosphere of sorrow that constantly surrounded them. In fact, the bishop often said that the faculty of humor was as God-given as any other, and in his own case it was the only safety valve he had for the tremendous pressures put upon him.
This particular morning he was reading extracts from a morning paper for the benefit of the others. Suddenly he paused, and his face grew gray and sad. The rest looked up and a hush fell over the table.
"Man is shot and killed while taking a lump of coal from a coal car," he read. "His family was freezing and he had had no work for six months. His six children and a wife all packed into a three-room cabin on the West Side. One child wrapped in rags in a closet!"
These were the headlines that the Bishop read aloud. He went on to read the detailed account of the shooting and the visit of the reporter to the tenement where the family lived.
When he finished, there was silence around the table. The humor of the hour was swept away by this bit of human tragedy.
There were various comments on the part of the residents. One of the newcomers, a young man preparing for the ministry said, "Why didn’t the man apply to one of the charity organizations for help? Or to the city? It is certainly not true that, even at its worst, this city full of Christian people would knowingly allow anyone to go without food or fuel."
"No, I don’t believe it would," replied Dr. Bruce. "But we don’t know the history of this man’s case. He may have asked for help so often before that finally, in a moment of desperation, he determined to help himself. I have known such cases this winter."
"This is not the most terrible fact in this case," said the bishop. "The worst thing about it is the fact that the man had not had any work for six months."
"Why don’t such people go out into the country?" asked the divinity student.
Someone at the table, who had made a special study of the opportunities for work in the country, answered the question. According to him, the places in the country that might provide steady employment were exceedingly few, and in almost every case offered only to men without families. Suppose a man’s wife and children were ill. How could he move or get into the country? How could he pay even the meager sum necessary to move his few goods? There were probably a hundred reasons why this particular man had not gone elsewhere.
"Meanwhile, there are the wife and children," said Mrs. Bruce. "How awful! Where is the place, did they say?"
"Why, it’s only three blocks from here. This is the Penrose district. I believe Penrose himself owns half of the houses in that block. They are among the worse houses in this part of the city. And Penrose is a church member."
"Yes, he belongs to the Nazareth Avenue Church," replied Dr. Bruce in a low voice.
The bishop rose from the table, the very figure of divine wrath. He had just opened his mouth to say something when the bell rang and one of the residents went to the door.
"Tell Dr. Bruce I want to see him," came a voice. "Penrose is the name. Clarence Penrose. Dr. Bruce knows me."