Posted on Saturday, April 04, 2009 - 12:59 pm:

Reminiscences (1902)

Pages 30-32

THE SECOND ADVENTISTS.

In 1833, the year of the great meteoric display, Rev. William Miller, of Pittsfield, Mass., began a special study of the Scriptures, with a view to ascertaining how much longer the world would last, and in 1838 promulgated his belief that in October, 1843, Christ would make his second appearance and all things terrestrial be destroyed. Mr. Miller came to Cleveland, where I heard him preach to a small congregation, evidently, at the close of the meeting, largely in sympathy with his views.

The Rev. Charles Fitch, a good speaker and a man of great energy, became an enthusiastic convert, and in a church situated where the old Court House now stands, nightly preached the new doctrine. He also published a paper called "The Second Advent of Christ," in which he gave a chronological chart of the world and pictures of beasts explanatory of the prophecies upon which he based his conclusions. I now have before me a bound copy of his paper, which I have had for many years. From it I copy the following: "We expect the Lord every day. Whether He will permit us to commence another volume of twelve numbers we know not. Or if He permits us to commence, it is far more doubtful whether His coming will be delayed long enough to complete the volume."

This, of course, was very discouraging to subscribers, as no promise was given that their money would be refunded should the paper come to an untimely end, which Mr. Fitch plainly told his readers he expected at any moment.

After a time the "Adventists," as they were called, built on the west side of Wood street, between St. Clair and Rockwell streets, a church particularly suited to their belief. The church was round, without side windows, but with a large opening at the top, evidently constructed with a view to a quick and uninterrupted ascension when Gabriel's horn should be blown. "Adventism" rapidly spread so that there was scarcely a hamlet where there was not some one or more persons who believed that the world was soon to be turned "topsy turvy."

Not a few sold their property, often for half its value, or gave it away outright. Many made themselves ascension robes, and some of the more deluded were seen wearing them in the streets, fearing in their absence from home the Lord might appear and they not have on their celestial gowns.

I remember a story being told how a man, on one of the days set for the final dissolution of the earth, clothed himself in his ascension garment and got on top of a hay stack, no doubt thinking he would thus get the start of other mortals and arrive at St. Peter's gate before the rush. After a time it was said the man fell asleep, when some boys set fire to the hay. Aroused by the flames darting up around him, as the story went, the man arose and was heard to cry out in agony, "O, Lord, thou hast surely come according to thy promise, but here I am in h — 11, just as my wife has long predicted."

The belief in the near destruction of the world to a great extent passed away, but not until thousands of these "Adventists" had found homes in asylums.

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Pages 50-53

A HISTORIC CHURCH.

On the northeast corner of Erie street and Central avenue, formerly Ohio street, stands an old church building, a reminder of Longfellow's lines:

"In the market place of Bruges
Stands the belfry old and brown;
Thrice consumed and thrice rebuilded.
Still it watches o'er the town."

True, the old church building referred to has not been "thrice consumed," but it has belonged to three different church organizations, has been thrice remodeled, and it is now more than threescore years since it was built. It was erected by the First Congregational Society in Cleveland, which came into existence in 1834, with a membership of thirty-eight.

It was built on land where now stands the court house, fronting the Public Square. The expense in building it brought the society badly in debt. With a view to raising money to help the society out of its financial troubles, in 1842-3 it was rented, for a portion of the time, to the Second Adventists, at whose head, in Cleveland, was Rev. Charles Fitch, a good speaker, and a man of unbounded energy. He held meetings in the church nightly, and drew large audiences. His clarion voice rang out loudly, calling upon the people to believe that Christ was about to appear, and that the end of the world was at hand. People in the congregation often became excited, and sometimes several would arise at once, crying out with great earnestness to be saved. In the light of reason, many of the scenes seemed ludicrous. One evening, when I was present, Mr. Fitch, with a passionate display of feeling, called upon the people to come forward for special prayer. There was a gallery around the church, except at the north end, where two stairways led down, one on each side of the pulpit. Finally, after much exhortation on the part of Mr. Fitch, a lubberly fellow, I well knew, "Tom" Cotterell, started down one of the stairways, and when near the bottom stumbled. Mr. Fitch quickly called out, "Never mind, brother, it is better to stumble into heaven than to walk straight into hell."

Several members of the Congregational Society became much displeased at what was going on in their place of worship, withdrew from the organization, and joined other churches. Finally, the church building had to be sold, and was bought by the Second Baptists. It was moved to ' the comer of Erie and Ohio streets. The interior was changed and the whole structure renovated. Here, the Rev. J. Hyatt Smith, an able and fluent speaker, preached some four years — 1851-5 Pursuing the practice so much now in vogue with some of our clergymen, he often took for discussion "live topics," The church usually was well filled, and sometimes there was not even standing room for all who came. Upon one occasion, I remember, when the church was full, after Mr. Smith had finished his remarks, he asked another clergyman, who was present with him in the pulpit, to address the audience. No sooner had the man finished than Mr. Smith arose and said had he known the brother's views upon the subject on which he had spoken, he should not have invited him to speak, as they differed entirely from what he had been teaching. The clergyman arose to explain, but Mr. Smith hastily gave out a hymn. While the choir sang the two clergymen stood in the pulpit, each holding one side of a hymn book, one pale, evidently with anger, and the other livid with excitement. Mr. Smith was well liked, though he had a quick temper and was exceedingly sensitive. He had a "call" to Buffalo, then went to Brooklyn, N. Y. where he was elected to Congress, and where some years later he died.

The Baptists finally sold the church to a German church society, since which it has become a business property. It is now a place of mart. The lower portion has been made into stores and the upper part into tenement rooms. Shoes are now mended, meat sold, and beer vended, and poor people eke out an existence in small rooms in this old structure, the walls of which once rang with eloquence and where the end of the world was proclaimed to be at hand.