"The Billow of Fire" by P.P. Bliss

This is especially true of the poetry, which talks of little else but pride and humbling, redemption and purification, courage and brotherhood, all within an explicitly evangelical framework. Whittier's poem, probably the best of what is even by generous standards a dismal lot, captures this spirit in the last three of its ten stanzas (several efforts by others droned on considerably longer): How shrivelled in thy hot distress The primal sin of selfishness! How instant rose, to take thy part, The angel in the human heart! Ah! not in vain the flames that tossed Above thy dreadful holocaust; The Christ again has preached      through thee The Gospel of Humanity! Then lift once more thy towers on high, And fret with spires the western sky, To tell that God is yet with us, And love is still miraculous! Not all of the art and literature of the fire is so reassuring, however. A drawing by illustrator Alfred Fredericks for an issue of Every Saturday published right after the disaster is similar to Armitage's in that it shows several noble young women helping poor Chicago to her feet. But this work is much more unsettling because some of these maidens of mercy are forced to fight off predatory hounds with savage fangs who are determined to tear apart their sister while she is so vulnerable to attack. This life-and-death drama is set against the post-holocaust backdrop of the ruined city, over which hovers an ominous winged female figure holding a torch, as big black birds circle in the sky. This scene suggests that while the forces of good will resurrect Chicago, they must forever be on guard against the agents of chaos and evil.

"Chicago, October 10, 1871" by Alfred Fredericks

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