Lippincott'S Magazine Of Popular Literature And Science, Volume 26 December, 1880. by Various None (smart ebook reader .txt) 📕

Besides St. Paul'S,  The Comparatively Modern St. John'S Chapel And The

John Street Methodist Church,  It Really Has Nothing To Show To The

Tourist In Search Of Ancient Places Of Worship. The Vicinity Can Boast A

Few Colonial Temples--The Quaint Old Dutch Church At Tarrytown,  Dear To

The Readers Of Irving; The Tennent Church On The Battle-Ground Of

Monmouth,  New Jersey,  With Its Blood-Stains Of Wounded British Soldiers;

And A Charmingly Plain Little Friends' Meeting-House,  No Bigger Than A

Small Parlor,  Near Squan,  New Jersey,  Being The Most Strikingly

Attractive. In Newark One Notes The Deep-Set Windows And Solid Stone

Walls Of The Old First Presbyterian Church,  And The Quiet Plainness Of

Trinity Episcopal Church,  Which Looks Like Boston'S King'S Chapel,  With

The Addition Of A White Wooden Spire.

Philadelphia Is Richer Than Any Other American City In buildings Of The

Seventeenth And Eighteenth Centuries. On The Older Streets It Is A

Frequent Sight To See Quaint Little Houses Of Imported English Brick

Modestly Laid In alternate Red And Black,  Curiously Like The Latest

Modern Fashion. The Ample Room For Growth Possessed By This

Widespreading City Has Saved Many An Ancient House For Present Use As

Dwelling Or Store. One Is Not Surprised,  Therefore,  To Find On The Old

Streets Near The Delaware Three Churches Of Weather-Stained Brick Which

Seem Trying To Make The Piety Of An Elder Age Useful To The Worshippers

Of To-Day. All Three Of These Churches--Gloria Dei,  Christ And St.

Peter'S--Now Have Their Chief Work Among The Poor People Whom One Always

Finds In a Business Quarter Near The River-Front,  But Each Attracts,  By

Its Old-Time Associations And Its Modern Missionary Spirit,  A Goodly

Circle Of Attendants From The Western Parts Of The City. Gloria Dei

Church,  The Oldest Of The Three,  Was Built In 1700 By Swedish Lutherans

On The Spot Where The Swedish Predecessors Of The Friends Had Located

Their Fortified Log Church Twenty-Three Years Earlier. Its Bell And

Communion-Service And Some Of Its Ornamental Woodwork Were Presented By

The King Of Sweden. It Is Surrounded By The Usual Graveyard,  In Which

Lies Alexander Wilson,  The Lover And Biographer Of Birds,  Who Asked To

Be Buried Here,  In a "Silent,  Shady Place,  Where The Birds Will Be Apt

To Come And Sing Over My Grave." The Old Swedes' Church Retained Its

Lutheran Connection Until Recent Years,  When It Became An Episcopal

Parish.

Christ Church And St. Peter'S Were Formerly United In One Parochial

Government,  And To The Two Parishes Ministered William White,  The First

Church-Of-England Minister In Pennsylvania,  The Friend And Pastor Of

Washington,  The Chaplain Of Congress And One Of The First Two Bishops Of

The American Church. The Present Structure Of Christ Church Was Begun In

1727,  But Not Finished For Some Years. The Parish Is Older,  Dating From

1695. Queen Anne Gave It A Communion-Service In 1708. In 1754 Came From

England Its Still-Used Chime Of Bells,  Which Were Laboriously

Transferred During The Revolution To Allentown,  Pennsylvania,  Lest They

Should Fall Into British Hands And Be Melted Up For Cannon. At Christ

Church A Pew Was Regularly Occupied By Washington During His Frequent

Residence In Philadelphia; And Here Have Been Seated Patrick Henry,

Benjamin Franklin,  James Madison And Many Another Patriot,  Besides

Cornwallis,  Howe,  Andre And Others On The English Side. Around And

Beneath The Church Are Many Graves Covered By Weather-Worn Stones,  And

On The Walls Of The Interior There Are A Number Of Mural Tablets.

St. Peter'S Church Was Begun In 1758,  And Completed Three Years Later.

In Quiet Graciousness Of Appearance It Is Like Another Christ Church,

And Its Interior Arrangements Are Still More Quaint,  The Chancel Being

At The Eastern End Of The Church,  While The Pulpit And Lectern Are At

The Western. In The Adjoining Churchyard Is A Monument To Commodore

Decatur.

One Cannot Find In all America Sweeter And Quainter Memorials Of A

Gentle Past--Memorials Still Consecrated To The Gracious Work Of The

Present--Than The Churches And Other Denominational Houses In The Old

Moravian Towns Of Pennsylvania. At Bethlehem,  As One Stands In The

Little Three-Sided Court On Church Street And Looks Up At The Heavy

Walls,  The Tiny Dormer Windows And The Odd-Shaped Belfry Which Mark The

"Single Sisters' House" And Its Wings,  One May Well Fancy One'S Self,  As

A Travelled Visitor Has Said,  In Quebec Or Upper Austria. Still More

Quaint And Quiet Is Willow Square,  Behind This Curious House,  Where,

Beneath Drooping Willow-Boughs,  One Finds One'S Self Beside The Door Of

The Old German Chapel,  With The Little Dead-House,  The Boys' School And

The Great And Comparatively Modern Moravian Church Near By. Through

Willow Square Leads The Path To The Burying-Ground,  Where Lie,  Beneath

Tall Trees,  Long Rows Of Neatly-Kept Graves,  Each Covered With A Plain

Flat Stone,  The Men And The Women Lying On Either Side Of The Broad

Central Path. Several Of The Ancient Moravian Buildings Date From The

Middle Of The Last Century. The Widows' House Stands,  Opposite The

Single Sisters' Range,  And Across The Street From The Large Church Is

The Moravian Seminary For Young Ladies,  Established In 1749,  And By Far

The Oldest Girls' School In The United States.

It Was In 1778 That The Single Sisters Gave To Pulaski That Banner Of

Crimson,  Silk Which Is Commemorated In Longfellow'S Well-Known "Hymn Of

The Moravian Nuns At Bethlehem." The Poem,  However,  Written In The

Author'S Early Youth,  And Preserved For Its Rare Beauty Of Language And

Fine Choice Of Subject,  Rather Than For Its Historical Accuracy,  Has

Done Much To Perpetuate A Wrong Idea Of The Moravian Spirit And Ritual.

Mr. Longfellow Writes In His First Stanza

      When The Dying Flame Of Day

      Through The Chancel Shot Its Ray,

      Far The Glimmering Tapers Shed

      Faint Light On The Cowled Head,

      And The Censer Burning Swung,

      When Before The Altar Hung

      That Proud Banner,  Which,  With Care,

      Had Been Consecrated There;

  And The Nuns' Sweet Hymn Was Heard The While,

  Sung Low In The Dim,  Mysterious Aisle.

But The Moravians Know Nothing Of Chancels,  Tapers,  Cowled Heads,

Censers,  Altars Or Nuns. Their Faith Has Always Been The Simplest

Protestantism,  Their Churches Are Precisely Such As Methodists Or

Baptists Use,  And Their Ritual Is Plainer Than That Of The Most

"Evangelical" Episcopal Parish. Their "Single Sisters' Houses," "Widows'

Houses" And "Single Brethren'S Houses"--The Last Long Disused--Are

Simply Arrangements For Social Convenience Or Co-Operative Housekeeping.

Mr. Longfellow'S Poetic Description Applies To The Moravian Ceremonial

No More Accurately Than To A Congregational Prayer-Meeting Or A

Methodist "Love-Feast."

[Illustration: The Moravian Cemetery,  Bethlehem,  Pennsylvania.]

Beside The Deep And Silent Waters Of The James River In Virginia,

Undisturbed By Any Sound Save The Flight Of Birds And The Rustle Of

Leaves,  Stands All That Is Left Of The First Church Building Erected By

Englishmen In america. A Good Part Of The Tower Remains,  The Arched

Doorways Being Still Intact,  And It Seems A Pitiable Misfortune That The

Honestly-Laid Bricks Of The Venerable Building Could Not Have Come Down

To Our Day. But,  As It Is,  This Ancient Square Block Of Brick Forms Our

One Pre-Eminent American Ruin. Nothing Could Be A More Solemn Monument

Of The Past Than The Lonely Tower,  Surrounded By Thick Branches And

Underbrush And Looking Down Upon The Few Crumbling Gravestones Still

Left At Its Base. Jamestown,  Long Abandoned As A Village,  Has Now Become

An Island,  The Action Of The Waters Having At Last Denied It The

Remaining Solace Of Connection With The Mainland Of The Old Dominion,

Of Whose Broad Acres It Was Once The Chief Town And The Seat Of

Government--The Forerunner Of All That Came To America At The Hands Of

English Settlers.

In The Slumberous Old City Of Williamsburg,  Three Miles From Jamestown,

Stands The Bruton Parish Church,  Two Hundred And Two Years Old,  And

Still The Home Of A Parish Of Sixty Communicants. Built Of Brick,  With

Small-Paned Windows And Wooden Tower,  Its Walls Have Listened To The

Eloquence Of The Learned Presidents Of The Neighboring William And Mary

College,  And Its Floor Has Been Honored By The Stately Tread Of Many A

Colonial Governor,  Member Of The Legislature Or Revolutionary Patriot;

For Williamsburg Was The Capital And Centre Of Virginia Until The End Of

The Eighteenth Century,  And Shared Whatever Virginia Possessed Of

Political Or Personal Renown. Washington,  Of Course,  Was More Than Once

An Attendant At Bruton Church,  And So Were Jefferson And Patrick Henry

And An Honorable Host. In The Church And In The Chapel Of William And

Mary College--Which The Ambitious Colonists Used To Think A Little

Westminster Abbey--Was The Religious Home Of A Good Share Of What Was

Stateliest Or Most Honorable In The Early Colonial Life Of The South.

Other Old Churches Still Dot The Virginia Soil--St. John'S,  Richmond;

Pohick Church,  Westmoreland County; Christ Church,  Lancaster County; St.

Anne'S,  Isle Of Wight County. Their Antiquities,  And Those Of Other

Ancient Sanctuaries Of The Old Dominion,  Have Been Painstakingly Set

Forth By Bishop Meade And Other Zealous Chroniclers,  And Their

Attractiveness Is Increased,  In Most Cases--As At Jamestown--By The

Loneliness Of Their Surroundings. Another Old Church,  Left In The Midst

Of Sweet Country Sights And Gentle Country Sounds,  Is St. James'S,  Goose

Creek,  South Carolina. St. Michael'S And St. Philip'S At Charleston In

The Same State Have Heard The Roar Of Hostile Cannon,  But Have Come

Forth Unscathed. The Demolished Brattle Street Church In boston Was Not

The Only One Of Our Sacred Edifices To Be Wounded By Cannonballs,  For

The Exigences Of The Fight More Than Once,  During The Revolution And

The Civil War,  Brought Flame And Destruction Within The Altar-Rails Of

Churches North And South.

The Growth Of The Roman Catholic Church In america Has Been So Recent

That It Can Show But Few Historical Landmarks. The Time-Honored

Cathedral At St. Augustine,  Florida,  And The Magnificent Ruin Of The San

Jose Mission Near San Antonio,  Texas,  And One Or Two Weather-Stained

Little Chapels In The North-West,  Are Nearly All The Churches That Bring

To Us The Story Of The Priestly Work Of The Roman Ecclesiastics During

The Colonial Days.

We Have No State Church,  And The Different Presidents Have Made A Wide

Variety Of Choice In Selecting Their Places Of Worship In Washington.

St. John'S,  Just Opposite The White House,  Has Been The Convenient

Sunday Home Of Some Of Them: Others Have Followed Their Convictions In

Methodist,  Presbyterian,  Unitarian And Other Churches. But The City Of

Washington