[Chicago Tribune, Monday 23 December 1889, p.1.]
The Sunday before Christmas was appropriately selected for the John Crerar memorial meeting. John Crerar's will is Chicago's princely Christmas gift. It was not, however, a mere spirit of gratitude toward the giver of this rich heritage that crowded Central Music-Hall yesterday afternoon to the doors. Heirs and republics are notoriously ungrateful.
One ignorant of the circumstances would have looked with wonder upon that great audience. It was composed largely of men, and all wore the quiet, substantial aspect of the prosperous citizen. What common cord of human interest had drawn this great throng together? Was some great public question of surpassing importance to be acted on, or was it one of those exigencies of public safety or the welfare of society which called for the gravest deliberation? The magnetism of some great orator or the thrilling magic of a famous singer might have attracted a part of this assembly, or one might have imagined that another Lincoln was dead and his mourning compatriots had assembled to do honor to his memory.
But John Crerar was a private citizen, and the thought that this was so was present in every mind and cropped out in all the speeches, notably in the admirable address of Mr. Franklin MacVeagh.
At this glad Christmas tide, when all hearts are softened with kindly sentiments of giving and making others happy, there is spread over all as soft as the mantle of charity the memory of the Christian citizen who had lived honorably and well, and when dying gave all to his fellow-men except the pittance necessary to buy a head stone to mark his grave. Those hearts were inspired with the greatness of the man and not the size of his fortune, with gratitude for his modest life, so great in its final achievement, and not gratitude only for his benefactions.
It was found necessary to close the doors before the hour set for the beginning of the exercises. The great auditorium was completely filled. In t he audience were to be seen such men as:
R.T. Crane, C.H. McCormick, John M. Clark, O.S.A. Sprague, Edson Keith, J. McGregor Adams, H.H. Kohlsaat, H.N. Higinbotham, Thomas Drummond, J. Irving Pearce, John B. Drake, John B. Carson, George F. Bissell.
Upon the stage were:
Marshall Field, Lyman J. Gage, Lyman Trumbull, E.W. Blatchford, Ald. Summerfield, Rev. Dr. Locke, Rev. Dr. Fawcett, T.B. Bryan, M.B. Loomis, T.H. Harvey, N.K. Fairbank, Bishop Fallows, A.C. Bartlett, Van H. Higgins, S. Thatcher Jr., C.D. Peacock, Dr. Cummings, Rev. F. Bristol, Dr. Montgomery, Rev. S. J. McPherson, Rev. Dr. Meloy, Rev. J.P. Brushingham, Rensselaer Stone, Mark Crawford, N.T. Williams, H.W. Austin, E.F. Cragis, Philip A. Hoyne, H.W. Bishop, Franklin MacVeagh, Mayor Cregier, Gen. Chetlain, John Cameron, Rev. Luke Hitchcock, A.A. Sprague.
When the great organ gave forth the first soft strains of the voluntary the rustling of the incoming audience had ceased and a solemn quiet had settled on the crowded hall. Mrs. Crosby began with the plaintive death motive from "Siegfried," and then played both of Chopin's funeral marches, concluding with the grand harmony of Guillimant's famous funeral march. The other music was furnished at intervals in the program by Mr. G.E. Holmes and the Chicago Quartette. Mr Holmes' numbers were "Calvary," by Rodney, and "Come Unto Me," by Cohen. The Chicago Quartette sang "Rock of Ages" and a quartette arrangement of "Come Unto Me."
Mayor Cregier presided, and in a few sonorous sentences said that the meeting was called to pay a brief tribute to the memory of one of Chicago's noblest citizens. He asked the Rev. Dr. S.J. McPherson, Mr. Crerar's former pastor, to read the Scripture lesson.
"I will read a portion of his favorite chapter," said Dr. McPherson. "I have often heard him say that is was his honored mother's favorite chapter and his own. It is the eighth chapter of Romans."
The reading was listened to with deep attention, and the Rev. Dr. Clinton Locke then offered prayer. He thanked God for the bright examples given us of Christian lives such as that of John Crerar.
The Hon. Thomas B. Bryan made the opening address. His scholarly periods were well rounded and his deep, strong voice gave impressiveness to the well-chosen words of eulogy. The epitaph which he had made for John Crerar called forth applause. The speech is given in full below:
Mr. Chairman and Fellow-Citizens: An infant though Chicago is in the family of cities, already no acres of her broad domain are more populous than her burial places--"God's acres." At this instant one of our best-known and best-respected citizens is being born to the abode of the silent. The most impressive of all sanctuaries is the cemetery, with Death in the pulpit. The few of our earlier citizens still lingering in the aisles must recall the words of a gifted brother now mute: "What a dial-plate the world is, and how like shadows we flit over our little round of years and are gone! If only one pauses now and then in life's forced march to count the number of those who have waried by the way--of those who have brushed with him the morning dews--he feels a sort of terror lest he finish his journey alone."
A few days since, when the first intimation was conveyed to me that this hall had been spoken for and a memorial service projected, my acceptance of the invitation for an address was conditioned that its words should be few. Let these words breathe the spirit of gratitude to our departed friend rather than of mourning at his taking away. We are not here to mourn. The voice that called John Crerar from among us came to him like a loving whisper from on high. The tolling of the bells and the uttered "dust to dust" announced only the dissolving of the "mortal mixture of earth's mold." He spoke to us yet again. Aye, even after the lapse of weeks, and whilst thousands were talking of the good man gone, there suddenly came from him glad tidings, as though he had sent back from his heavenward journey a carrier dove bearing messages of tender greeting and peerless bounty to those he had left behind.
Death is not only the great reaper of men, but also the disperser of all
that men have garnered. Although nor mortal can outwit the Conqueror or
gainsay His fiat: "Thy life's earnings and thy life are no longer thine,"
yet man, thus deprived of his possessions, is graciously granted a voice
in their distribution. This, like most of the boons in this life, has its
attendant responsibility. Man is, indeed, a machine, but is accountable
for his own running, whenever allowed to be his own engineer. It is thus
that the testator certifies to his character in his testament--often the
most reliable sketch of his biography. Of the successful author--whether
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of business enterprises or of books--it may be truly said that his will
may prove to be the most entertaining and valuable of his posthumous works.
In some instances, of course, it disposes merely of inherited fortune, in others it has little or nothing to dispose of, even when favoring opportunities had induced a public expectation of a fortune, with no reckoning meanwhile of untoward circumstances or of dire and unavoidable calamities that may have intervened. Now, too, as in the time of Swift, "there are some possessed of good qualities, serviceable to others but useless to themselves, like a sundial on the front of a house, to inform neighbors and passengers but not the owner within." Such men devise plans and evolve from their fertile brains undertakings for development by others, the foster parents, as the cuckoo because of the weakness of its own vascular system deposits its eggs in the nests of other birds for their incubation. Of such was not Mr. Crerar, who executed as he planned. He accumulated and he gave, both largely and wisely. He was entitled to congratulation like to that extended by Horace to his friend Tibullus on the double blessing of having opulence and also the skill of using it with wisdom. The faculty of acquiring riches, though not to be despised, is of a much lower grade of mental and moral achievement than is their judicious employment when acquired. There are some men in every large community toward whom money flows apparently in an unremitting stream, as though, in the capacious laboratories, possessing the alchemy for converting all things into gold. It is the combination of this peculiar faculty, with exalted moral worth and genuine benevolence, that distinguishes such a man as John Crerar from the mere money magnate. Money-making degenerates too frequently into inordinate money loving for its own sake, and then it becomes a degrading form of idolatry. The thumbscrew is as detestable an instrument of torture in money dealings as it was in the inquisition. Avarice is as corrosive as aqua fortis. Not more ineffaceably does the burring of the engraver indent his plate than does cupidity the character of man.
No imprint of this hateful vice could be found on John Crerar's manly brow.
Then, too, he was liberal in all directions, narrow-minded in none. He loved his Maker and he loved his church, as evinced by his regular attendance and generous contributions. Yet he was free from bigotry. On my library table, at this writing, lies a volume of Virginia laws, published at the time of their enactment, long before our day, one of which may be quoted in comparison with Mr. Crerar's gentle methods, and, as a historical fact, illustrating the severity that then obtained: "Be it enacted, and it is hereby enacted, by the authority aforesaid, that if any person being of the age of 21 years or upwards shall willfully absent him or herself from divine service at his or her parish church or chapel the space of one month (and shall fail to pay the fine imposed for that offense), such person shall, by order of such justice or justices before whom such conviction shall be, receive on his or her bare back ten lashes" (and then the lawmakers to prevent any tender mercy on the part of the Sheriff in administering their penalty added the words to complete the law), "well laid on." Anxious as Mr. Crerar was to encourage church attendance he would never have enforced it through that penal code.
Social as was his nature, to a high degree, there was yet in Mr. Crerar the equipoise that preserved him from the empty existence of mere social glow-worm that sports over the surface of humanity as float phosphorescent animals over the sea. An ever-welcome guest, his sobriety would not be endangered by all the wines that ever flowed from the vineyards of Champagne and Burgundy. It was this well-balanced good cheer of the heart and sound judgment of the head that kept him always erect at the business mart as at the banquet. Some men remind us dwellers in the country of the action of the poultry and the birds at the time of an eclipse, even at mid-day. Mistaking the temporary darkness for the night, they fold their wings and go to roost. No temporary eclipse or shadows crossing Crerar's path every induced a folding of the wings of his nativity, at least not till he recognized and understood the last shadow, and finally,
"From the banquet of life rose a satisfied guest,
Thanked the Lord for the feast, and in hope went to rest."
Mr. Chairman, when on the evening of its publication one of the executors of the Crerar will was answering questions as to its features, at a meeting of the Loyal Legion, one of the companions present happened to hold a manuscript address containing an epitaph on a miserly usurer. It doubtless satirized a last century Gripus, whose palsied hand, although just about to open death's door, still clutched a "nickel," or some such insignificant coin, with a pressure threatening to nickel-plate the palm. The epitaph struck us as presenting a most forcible contrast to the glowing reception of the exceptionally beautiful will then the sensation of the hour:
"Here lies old Thirty-three and a Third Per Cent;
The more he got the more he lent;
The more he lent the more he craved--
Good Lord! can such a man be saved?"
Answering the comment it elicited, it occurred to me that we might appropriately offset it somewhat thus:
"Here Crerar rests; his race is run;
His will and works all hearts have won.
'Twere bliss to tread the paths he trod
And find one's soul at home with God."
But long before he lay down to dreamless sleep he bethought himself of so disposing of his worldly possessions as would best crown the good work wrought by lifes' busy shuttlers.
With the same keen-eyed and consummate judgment ever characteristic of him he selected a number of his intimate friends to execute the various trusts about to be confided to them. His expression of confidence in the friendship and fidelity of his executors is as marked as it is merited. And then the will! That unique and matchless paper, which would seem, as a saintly inspiration, to have been written by a heaven-guided pen. As from the Eiffel tower the beholder sees below him this busy world in miniature, so this good man, from the summit of his moral elevation, surveyed, as far as possible, the field of humanity. Was ever will before more fittingly or feelingly dedicated in the solemn words of its caption: "In the name of God, Amen"? Each of the fifty-two links of the golden chain challenges admiration as a component part of the exquisite whole.
The munificent tributes to friendship; the remembrance of kindred remote and unknown; the delicate consideration of business associates; the more than regal contributions to charity; the superb endowment of a great library as a fountain of enlightenment, with the thoughtful provision to guard its crystal stream from all pollution; the touchingly-beautiful pathos that is distilled from his double legacy to the woman once kind to his mother--all these varied bequests blend their harmonizing hues in this rainbow arch of human sympathy. Our highest tribute to the worth of departed friends is not the inscriptions we may write upon their tombs, but the emulation of their excellence in our lives. Memorial meetings are held mainly to accomplish good by emphasizing character and deeds worthy of emulation. Lofty examples are placed, like sculptured marble, in the corridors of our lives, to remind us of our duty to God and man.
From the life and works of that nature's nobleman, John Crerar, there may be learned loyalty to friendship, the strength of his friendship being shown by t he ample store of pleasure he provided for his surviving friends. In one sense we are all his heirs, for we all have a heritage in the cherished remembrance of what he was and did. Loyalty to one's church may also be learned, for he was not one of those richly attired soldiers of the church militant, whose appearance in the sanctuary is always as though on dress parade. Loyalty to humanity, to true manhood in all its noblest attributes, may be learned from his high example. His final act--that wondrous will--with its wealth of gifts, its wise counsels, its humble recognition of Christian stewardship, is alone a credential of immortality. It is of itself his monument, his shaft of glory, bearing imperishable inscriptions of his love for men, and abiding faith in God.
Mr. Franklin MacVeagh was the next speaker. He began slowly and deliberately, weighing each word as it fell from his lips, his intense manner adding eloquence to his well-chosen language. It was the businessman, the friend and associate of John Crerar, who stood upon the platform to draw the great lesson of John Crerar's life and death from a mind and heart weighted down by the greatness of thoughts and sympathies which they inspired. Like Crerar, he is an honored private citizen, and the appropriateness and deep meaning of his earnest words were keenly appreciated by the audience. The greater part of the speech is given below:
One who is here this afternoon to say a word cannot but be reminded that
this is not an ordinary audience. You have not come to hear any one speak
in particular. And we, as speakers, have come, each burdened with some affection
or sentiment toward John Crerar. Doubtless this hall would not hold a large
proportion even
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of those who are conscious of the benefactions of this remarkable man. And
we all know that no enlargement of audience halls in the future could possibly
hold an appreciable fraction of the people whom his will is absolutely sure
to benefit both largely and profoundly.
I am here because I knew John Crerar. There was much in his life to attract and charm us, to gain our admiration and affection. He was above all a pure man. Possessed of the highest social qualities, yet he found it unnecessary to be anything else than as pure as a child. I could occupy all the time allotted me in enumerating and commenting upon John Crerar's virtues, but I shall not attempt it.
He lived and died a private citizen. He is now no longer a private citizen. What makes this change? It is not the revelation of his possession of this great wealth. We knew about that before, and he still remained a private citizen. There are others now living who have great fortunes. It is not the possession of that wealth which has made the difference. It is the use he made of that wealth. He has arisen from a private citizen to the ranks of creative men--poets, artists, philosophers, and statesmen.
There is a spiritual power in wealth, and John Crerar found the secret of it. He has taught us a lesson, not new, but never more beautifully taught. He has done more than that. He has set us an example of the right uses of wealth, the great uses of wealth, the permanent uses of wealth, and the final uses of wealth.
There are two ways of looking at property--one selfishly, as simply personal property; the other recognizing the claims of the community, the claims of the world to share at least in the surplus of wealth. He came to each us this lesson at an opportune moment--a time when we are growing rich, when the accumulation of wealth is exceedingly pronounced, before it has been tested what will be ultimate influence of democracy on wealth. It comes while we are still young, have still not made up our minds, when it is still possible for us to learn this lesson.
He did one other thing which I cannot omit. He showed a loyalty to Chicago, and the example of that was needed. Prophetic spirit! He saw this city entering upon a career that would make it metropolitan in wealth and power and appreciated its needs and responsibilities as the heart of the continent. He rose the conception of the spiritual side of wealth; he rose to the conception of the spiritual side of progress. Let us believe he did so knowingly, that his fame shall be certain and his name immortal.
The Rev. Frank W. Gunsaulus was to have delivered the second address, but he was detained by the funeral of a parishioner. The Rev. Frank M. Bristol made a short but eloquent address, which follows in full:
I shall feel myself happy if I may succeed in adding a single high and worthy sentiment to the chaplet of eulogy with which you would crown the memory of John Crerar. Many are the honors that have come to our fair city, but no one of them can be worn with a more legitimate pride than the bright and lasting honor of having been the home of that now immortal philanthropist.
Whatever else it may possess, a city or nation has no right to boast until it may justly boast of its citizens. How mean and vulgar is that pride which exults in nothing but wealth and praises with its barbarous eloquence only the magnificence of its brick and mortar. Great men make cities great, and do you ask me whether I am ready to give a definition of greatness? I answer: Yes. It is a long definition, a clear definition, a simple, eloquent definition, an immortal definition. My definition of greatness is John Crerar's will. By all that is great in moral influence, by all that is great in human enlightenment, by all that is great in friendship and public spirit. I had rather be the author of John Crerar's will than the author of Homer's Iliad. Out of that great will shall spring new Iliads of a nobler and diviner sort than the Iliad of Arms. As as to the genus back of it, I place the genius to accumulate a fortune virtuously and dispense it philanthropically as high as, if not higher than, the genius that leads armies to victory, the genius that builds a constitution, or the genius that writes the stately epic. That genius of thrift and philanthropy reflected highest honor upon the name of John Crerar, and that name reflects glory upon our city.
Better than that temples of commerce, learning, art, and religion are rising here to challenge a world's admiration and astonishment. Better than that this city has so quickly sprung from ashes to splendor; better than that this metropolis is rapidly becoming the commercial center of this great continent; better than all this is it here are rising great-brained, great-souled, wise, and generous men.
Our city has lost a rich fortune than it has gained by the death of John Crerar. All his great and noble gifts cannot compensate us for our loss of the man. A great, good man is ever better and greater than anything he can do. John Crerar was greater than his fortune, greater than gold, greater than his will., greater than his princely benefactions. And while the city rejoices in the unmeasured benefits that will come from his generous bequests., it may well mourn the loss of such a high-minded, public spirited man. It has seemed to me, my fellow-citizens, that during the last few years the happiest man that was walked our streets has been the man who has carried in his heart the magnificent purpose of benefaction that was expressed in John Crerar's will. Happy must have been the waking thoughts, happy the evening meditations, happy the dreams of him who carried in his bosom such a plan and resolution to bless mankind, and happy forever to that noble, manly spirit will be the memory of what he lived for.
You will say his name is his monument. Gratitude has already written the record of his great act on the memory of the people. He belongs to the better history of today and to the brightest prophecies of the tomorrow. Henceforth and forever this city will feel the power, the uplifting power, the progressive, enlightening power of john Crerar. But we owe it to the memory of the greatly good man, we owe it to the youth of this and of every coming generation, we owe it to ourselves and the city of our pride to erect in our midst a monument that shall not only celebrate the benevolence of one of the greatest of philanthropists, but also express our appreciation of his worth and our gratitude for his benefactions.
While the noblest monument that art could touch with beauty and with graceful grandeur might add nothing to his virtue or to the increasing luster of his name it would educate our youth to a higher manhood and inspire them to emulate the industry, the integrity, the success, and the Christian benevolence of John Crerar, philanthropist. [Applause.]
Bishop Fallows made the last address, and he appropriately selected a portion of the theme to dwell upon which had barely been mentioned in the other speeches. He filled the place on the program assigned originally to the Rev. Robert McIntyre, who was unavoidably detained. His remarks in substance were as follows:
I have been called upon to say a few words in place of my friend and brother, the Rev. Dr. McIntyre, who is unable to be present. I could not add anything to the graceful, grateful, and discriminating words of eulogy which have been so eloquently uttered by the gentlemen who have preceded me upon the lines of thought which they have followed. But I wish here, this afternoon, to express, in behalf of the children and youth of this city, my most heartfelt feelings of gratitude to the noble and honored Christian citizen whose life and regal benefactions have been the theme of the hour. Two millions and a half of dollars have been set apart in that will, which will pass into the history not only of Chicago but of the country as one of the most memorable papers we have ever possessed for the founding and perpetuation of a public library. And one of the most significant features of that bequest is that literature which debases the taste, inflames the imagination, corrupts the heart, and ruins the soul shall find no place upon the library shelves.
It is time to call a halt, as John Crerar in his ringing words has done, to the further advance of those pernicious novels, which loosen the zone of virtue with a more than Corinthian shamelessness and boldness. Today books have found their way into Christian homes and find a place on the center tables there, to be read by young and old alike, which our wise and watchful fathers and mothers would no more have allowed to enter the homes of our youth than they would the deadly rattlesnake or the most venomous viper. Books find a cordial admittance into those sacred precincts which ought only to be read--nay, I will correct myself--which ought not even to be read by those poor, pitiable, and ever to be pitied Pariahs of our streets, who with brows of brass, and hands of fire, and hearts of ice ensnare so many young men in the net of perdition.
Mr. Crerar has raised a breakwater stronger far than one of stone and iron, which will, we hope keep back the inrolling tide of a devastating French realism from our Western American society.
One single thought further in closing: In that chapter of the Divine Word we so often read when we lay our sacred dust to rest the apostle of hope immortality asks the question, "What shall they do which are baptized for the dead if the dead rise not at all?" I do not know the fullness of meaning there is in St. Paul's words, but I think he means that those baptized for the dead are those who are baptized to take the place of the dead. The living are to take up and carry on with their own work the work of the departed loved and revered ones.
Before me and around me are you businessmen of this great city. We ministers, as well as those in other professions of life, regard with a just and laudable pride the great work you have done in building up this city to such a height of solid magnificence. But I pray that you all may be baptized with the spirit of this man whose memory we hold so dear, that you may be baptized for him and do the work he has left to be accomplished, and that you may lay the foundations of other splendid benefactions which shall be "for the glory of God and the relief of man's estate."
The benediction was pronounced by the Rev. Dr. McPherson and the audience was dismissed.
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