The sudden excitement to which we give the name of "panic" is almost always senseless and without foundation, whether this panic be a wild rush in the money market or the stampede of an audience down the aisles and out of the windows. My advice to my family when they are in a congregation of people suddenly seized upon by a determination to get out right away, and to get out regardless as to whether others are able to get out, is to sit quiet on the supposition that nothing has happened, or is going to happen.

I have been in a large number of panics, and in all the cases nothing occurred except a demonstration of frenzy. One night in the Academy of Music, Brooklyn, while my congregation were worshipping there, at the time we were rebuilding one of our churches, there occurred a wild panic. There was a sound that gave the impression that the galleries were giving way under the immense throngs of people. I had been preaching about ten minutes when at the alarming sound aforesaid, the whole audience rose to their feet except those who fainted. Hundreds of voices were in full shriek. Before me I saw strong men swoon. The organist fled the platform. In an avalanche people went down the stairs.

A young man left his hat and overcoat and sweetheart, and took a leap for life, and it is doubtful whether he ever found his hat or coat, although, I suppose, he did recover his sweetheart. Terrorisation reigned. I shouted at the top of my voice, "Sit down!" but it was a cricket addressing a cyclone. Had it not been that the audience for the most part were so completely packed in, there must have been a great loss of life in the struggle. Hoping to calm the mult.i.tude I began to sing the long meter doxology, but struck it at such a high pitch that by the time I came to the second line I broke down. I then called to a gentleman in the orchestra whom I knew could sing well: "Thompson, can't you sing better than that?" whereupon he started the doxology again. By the time we came to the second line scores of voices had joined, and by the time we came to the third line hundreds of voices enlisted, and the last line marshalled thousands. Before the last line was reached I cried out, "As I was saying when you interrupted me," and then went on with my sermon. The cause of the panic was the sliding of the snow from one part of the roof of the Academy to another part. That was all. But no one who was present that night will ever forget the horrors of the scene.

On the following Wednesday I was in the large upper room of the college at Lewisburg, Pa.; I was about to address the students. No more people could get into this room, which was on the second or third storey. The President of the college was introducing me when some inflammable Christmas greens, which had some six months before been wound around a pillar in the centre of the room, took fire, and from floor to ceiling there was a pillar of flame. Instantly the place was turned from a jolly commencement scene, in which beauty and learning and congratulation commingled, into a raving bedlam of fright and uproar. The panic of the previous Sunday night in the Academy of Music, Brooklyn, had schooled me for the occasion, and I saw at a glance that when the Christmas greens were through burning all would be well.

One of the professors said to me, "You seem to be the only composed person present." I replied, "Yes, I got prepared for this by something which I saw last Sunday in Brooklyn."

So I give my advice: On occasions of panic, sit still; in 999 cases out of a thousand there is nothing the matter.

I was not released from my pastorate of the Brooklyn Tabernacle by the Brooklyn Presbytery until December, 1894, after my return from abroad.

Some explanation was demanded of me by members of the Presbytery for my decision to relinquish my pastorate, and I read the following statement which I had carefully prepared. It concerns these pages because it is explanatory of the causes which carried me over many crossroads, encountered everywhere in my life:

"To the Brooklyn Presbytery--

"Dear Brethren,--After much prayer and solemn consideration I apply for the dissolution of the pastoral relation existing between the Brooklyn Tabernacle and myself. I have only one reason for asking this. As you all know, we have, during my pastorate, built three large churches and they have been destroyed. If I remain pastor we must undertake the superhuman work of building a fourth church. I do not feel it my duty to lead in such an undertaking. The plain providential indications are that my work in the Brooklyn Tabernacle is concluded. Let me say, however, to the Presbytery, that I do not intend to go into idleness, but into other service quite as arduous as that in which I have been engaged. Expecting that my request will be granted I take this opportunity of expressing my love for all the brethren in the Presbytery with whom I have been so long and so pleasantly a.s.sociated, and to pray for them and the churches they represent the best blessings that G.o.d can bestow.--Yours in the Gospel,

"T. DEWITT TALMAGE."

The following resolution was then offered by the Presbytery as follows:

"Resolved--That the Presbytery, while yielding to Dr. Talmage's earnest pet.i.tion for the dissolution of the relationship existing between the Brooklyn Tabernacle and himself, expresses its deep regret at the necessity for such action, and wishes Dr. Talmage abundant success in any field in which in the providence of G.o.d he may be called to labour. Presbytery also expresses its profound sympathy with the members of the Tabernacle Church in the loss of their honoured and loving pastor, and cordially commends them to go forward in all the work of the church."

In October, 1895, I accepted the call of the First Presbyterian Church in Washington. My work was to be an a.s.sociation with the Rev. Dr. Byron W. Sunderland, the President's pastor. It was Dr. Sunderland's desire that I should do this, and although there had been some intention in Dr.

Sunderland's mind to resign his pastorate on account of ill-health I advocated a joint pastorate. There were invitations from all parts of the world for me to preach at this time. I had calls from churches in Melbourne, Australia; Toronto, Canada; San Francisco, California; Louisville, Kentucky; Chicago, Illinois; New York City; Brooklyn, N.Y.

London had pledged me a larger edifice than Spurgeon's Tabernacle. All these cities, in fact, promised to build big churches for me if I would go there to preach.

The call which came to me from Washington was as follows:

"Rev. Dr. T. DeWitt Talmage--

"The congregation of the First Presbyterian Church, of Washington, D.C., being on sufficient grounds well satisfied of the ministerial qualifications of you, the Rev. Dr. T. DeWitt Talmage, and having good hopes from our knowledge of your past eminent labours that your ministrations in the Gospel will be profitable to our spiritual interests, do earnestly, unanimously, harmoniously and heartily, not one voice dissenting, call and desire you to undertake the office of co-pastor in said congregation, promising you in the discharge of your duty all proper support, encouragement and obedience in the Lord. And that you may be free from worldly cares and avocations, considering your well and wide-known ability and generosity, we do not a.s.sume to specify any definite sum of money for your recompense, but we do hereby promise, pledge and oblige ourselves, to pay to you such sums of money and at such times as shall be mutually satisfactory during the time of your being and remaining in the relation to said church to which we do hereby call you."

On September 23, 1895, accompanying this call, I received the following dispatch from Dr. Sunderland:

"T.D.W. Talmage, 1, South Oxford Street.

"Meeting unanimous and enthusiastic. Call extended, rising vote, all on their feet in a flash. Call mailed special delivery.

"B. SUNDERLAND."

On September 26, 1895, I accepted the call in the following letter:

"The call signed by the elders, deacons, trustees, and members of the congregation of the First Presbyterian Church of Washington is before me. The statement contained in that call that you 'do earnestly, unanimously, harmoniously and heartily, not one voice dissenting,' desire me to become co-pastor in your great and historical church has distinctly impressed me. With the same heartiness I now declare my acceptance of the call. All of my energies of body, mind, and soul shall be enlisted in your Christian service. I will preach my first sermon Sabbath evening, October 27."

Washington was always a beautiful city to me, the climate in winter is delightful. President Cleveland was a personal friend, as were many of the public men, and I regarded my call to Washington as a national opportunity. It had been my custom in the past, when I was very tired from overwork, to visit Washington for two or three days, stopping at one of the hotels, to get a thorough rest. For a long time I was really undecided what to do, I had so many invitations to take up my home and life work in different cities. While preaching was to be the main work for the rest of my life, my arrangements were so understood by my church in Washington that I could continue my lecture engagements.

I delivered a farewell sermon before leaving for Washington, at the Lafayette Avenue Presbyterian Church, in Brooklyn, before an audience of five thousand people. My text was 2 Samuel xii. 23: "I shall go to Him."

I still recall the occasion as one of deep feeling--a difficult hour of self-control. I could not stop the flow of tears that came with the closing paragraph. The words are merely the outward sign of my inner feelings:

"Farewell, dear friends. I could wish that in this last interview I might find you all the sons and daughters of the Mighty. Why not cross the line this hour, out of the world into the kingdom of G.o.d?

I have lived in peace with all of you. There is not among all the hundreds of thousands of people of this city one person with whom I could not shake hands heartily and wish him all the happiness for this world and the next. If I have wronged anyone let him appear at the close of this service, and I will ask his forgiveness before I go. Will it not be glorious to meet again in our Father's house, where the word goodbye shall never be spoken? How much we shall then have to talk over of earthly vicissitudes! Farewell! A hearty, loving, hopeful, Christian farewell!"

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE FIRST PRESBYTERIAN CHURCH OF WASHINGTON DR. TALMAGE'S LAST CHARGE.]

I was installed in the First Presbyterian Church in Washington on October 23, 1895. My first sermon in the new pulpit in Washington was preached to a crowded church, with an overflow of over three thousand persons in the street outside. The text of my sermon was, "All Heaven is looking on."

In a few days, by exchange of my Brooklyn property, I had obtained the house 1402 Ma.s.sachusetts Avenue, in Washington, for my home. It had at one time been the Spanish Legation, and was in a delightful part of the city. Shortly after my arrival in Washington I received my first introduction at the White House, with my daughters, to Mrs. Cleveland.

Our reception was cordial and gracious in the extreme. I had engaged a suite of rooms at the Arlington Hotel for a year. We remained there till our lease was up before entering our new home. There was a desire among members of the congregation of the First Presbyterian Church to have me preach at the morning as well as the evening services. With three ministers attached to one church there was some difficulty in the arrangement of the sermons. Eventually it was decided that I should preach morning and evening.

In 1896 I made an extensive lecturing tour, in which I discussed my impressions of the world trip I had recently made.

The world was getting better in spite of contrasting opinions from men who had thought about it. G.o.d never launched a failure.

In 1897 I made an appeal for aid for the famine in India. I always believed it was possible to evangelise India.

My life in Washington was not different from its former course. I had known many prominent people of this country, and some of the great men of other lands.

I had known all the Presidents of the United States since Buchanan. I had known Mr. Gladstone, all the more prominent men in the bishoprics, and in high commercial, financial and religious position. I had been presented to royalty in more than one country.

Legislatures in the North and South have adjourned to give me reception.

The Earl of Kintore, a Scottish peer, entertained us at his house in London in 1879. I found his family delightful Christian people, and the Countess and their daughters are very lovely. The Earl presided at two of my meetings. He took me to see some of his midnight charities--one of them called the "House of Lords" and the other the "House of Commons,"

both of them asylums for old and helpless men. We parted about two o'clock in the morning in the streets of London. As we bade each other good-bye he said, "Send me a stick of American wood and I will send you a stick." His arrived in America, and is now in my possession, a shepherd's crook; but before the cane I purchased for him reached Scotland the good Earl had departed this life. I was not surprised to hear of his decease. I said to my wife in London, "We will never see the Earl again in this world. He is ripe for Heaven, and will soon be taken." He attended the House of Lords during the week, and almost every Sabbath preached in some chapel or church.

I shall not forget the exciting night I met him. I was getting out of a carriage at the door of a church in London where I was to lecture when a ruffian struck at me, crying, "He that believeth not shall be d.a.m.ned."

The scoundrel's blow would have demolished me but for the fact that a bystander put out his arm and arrested the blow. From that scene I was ushered into the ante-room of the church where the Earl of Kintore was awaiting my arrival. From that hour we formed a friendship. He had been a continuous reader of my sermons, and that fact made an introduction easy. I have from him five or six letters.

Lord and Lady Aberdeen had us at their house in London in the summer of 1892. Most gracious and delightful people they are. I was to speak at Haddo House, their estate in Scotland, at a great philanthropic meeting, but I was detained in St. Petersburg, Russia, by an invitation of the Emperor, and could not get to Scotland in time. Glad am I that the Earl is coming to Canada to be Governor-General. He and the Countess will do Canada a mighty good. They are on the side of G.o.d, and righteousness, and the Church. Since his appointment--for he intimated at Aberdeen, Scotland, when he called upon me, that he was to have an important appointment--I have had opportunity to say plauditory things of them in vast a.s.semblages in Ottawa, Montreal, Toronto, London and Grimsby Park.

In a sc.r.a.p book in which I put down, hurriedly, perhaps, but accurately, my impressions of various visits to the White House during my four years pastorate in Washington, I find some notes that may be interesting. I transmit them to the printed page exactly as I find them written on paper:

"May 1, 1896. Had a long talk this afternoon with Mrs. Cleveland at Woodley. I always knew she was very attractive, but never knew how wide her information was on all subjects. She had her three children brought in, and the two elder ones sang Easter songs for me. Mrs.

Cleveland impresses me as a consecrated Christian mother. She pa.s.ses much of her time with her children, and seems more interested in her family than in anything else. The first lady of the land, she is universally admired. I took tea with her and we talked over many subjects. She told me that she had joined the church at fourteen years of age. Only two joined the church that day, a man of eighty years old and herself. She was baptised then, not having been baptised in infancy. She said she was glad she had not been baptised before because she preferred to remember her baptism.

"She said she did not like the great crowds attending the church then, because she did not like to be stared at as the President's wife. But I told her she would get used to that after a while. She said she did not mind being stared at on secular occasions, but objected to it at religious service. She said she had long ago ceased taking the Holy Communion at our church because of the fact that spectators on that day seemed peculiarly anxious to see how she looked at the Communion.

"My first meeting with Mrs. Cleveland was just after her marriage.

She was at the depot, in her carriage, to see Miss Rose Cleveland, the President's sister, off on the train. Dr. Sunderland introduced me at that time, when I was just visiting Washington. Mrs.

Cleveland invited me to take a seat in her carriage. I accepted the invitation, and we sat there some time talking about various things.

I saw, as everyone sees who converses with her, that she is a very attractive person, though brilliantly attired, unaffected in her manner as any mountain la.s.s.

"March 3, 1897. Made my last call this afternoon on Mrs. Cleveland.

Found her amid a group of distinguished ladies, and unhappy at the thought of leaving the White House, which had been her home off and on for nearly eight years. Her children have already gone to Princeton, which is to be her new home. She is the same beautiful, unaffected, and intelligent woman that she has always been since I formed her acquaintance. She is an inspiration to anyone who preaches, because she is such an intense listener. Her going from our church here will be a great loss. It is wonderful that a woman so much applauded and admired should not have been somewhat spoiled.

More complimentary things have been said of her than of any living woman. She invited me to her home in Princeton, but I do not expect ever to get there. Our pleasant acquaintance seems to have come to an end. Washington society will miss this queen of amiability and loveliness.

"February 4, 1897. Had one of my talks with President Cleveland.