George Peabody

LONDON -- They filled Westminster Abbey yesterday to remember George Peabody, a man whose story reveals that fame is often fleeting, but philanthropy can last forever.Tenants in the homes he built for London's poor were there. So were educators from schools he established in America,including the Peabody Institute in Baltimore.The audience of 1,800 was sprinkled with politicians and clergy, ambassadors and businessman, all somehow still touched by Peabody in the 200th anniversary year of his birth.

That day in London a few weeks ago was depressing, cold and wet. I was to meet up with an old friend, who suggested that we run indoors to the National Gallery on Trafalgar Square. And there, hanging on the wall of this marvelous museum, there was no escaping the touch of Baltimore. The museum was packed with visitors, many of whom sought out an exhibition of paintings titled Americans in Paris. My eye soon caught a compelling painting of a Victorian woman stylishly dressed in jet black, seated on a slipcovered chair.

Mstislav Rostropovich, the world-renowned cellist, conductor and human rights activist, will receive the George Peabody Medal for Outstanding Contributions to Music, the highest honor the Peabody Conservatory can bestow.The Russian-born Rostropovich will receive the medal at Friedberg Hall Thursday during the intermission of an all-Russian program by the Peabody Symphony Orchestra. The program will be conducted by Leon Fleisher and feature piano soloist Stephen Prutsman.Rostropovich, who is in his last year as the music director of Washington's National Symphony, will spend the earlier part of the day rehearsing the Peabody Camerata and several Peabody cast members for the world premiere performances of the chamber opera, "Ligeia," at the Evian Festival in France.

If Dean Winston Tabb has his way, the George Peabody Library will once again be an open book to the public, just as it was in the beginning. Tabb, dean of university libraries at the Johns Hopkins University, oversees the soaring six-story library that houses an extensive collection of rare books and opens its doors today after an almost two-year renovation. "It's exhilarating," Tabb said before a Saturday night gala to celebrate the reopening. "We'll see how it works when it's used intensively.

From The Sun Feb. 19-25, 1845Feb. 21: Whenever we smell musk, we suspect an absence of soap. Cold bathing and soap every day are more important than cologne. There is no beauty like that of the human face -- no melody like that of the human voice -- no sweetness to be compared with that of the human skin, if it is only washed.Feb. 24: All the signs indicate that "the winter is over and gone," and that we are to have an early spring.From The Sun Feb. 19-25, 1895Feb. 19: Yesterday was the centennial of the birth of George Peabody, the American philanthropist, who gave millions for the advancement of education and science in this country.

George Peabody, a 19th century merchant banker whose bicentenary birthday is being celebrated in Baltimore today, was a rare and wonderful character: a poor New England farm boy who became a brilliant financier beloved for his generosity.A tall, genial man with demonic work habits, he came to like well-cut clothes, good food, fine wines, old friends and pretty women. But most of all he loved making money.He certainly was good at it, especially for a man who never got past the fourth grade and who made his first half-buck as a patched-pants kid tending sheep.

That day in London a few weeks ago was depressing, cold and wet. I was to meet up with an old friend, who suggested that we run indoors to the National Gallery on Trafalgar Square. And there, hanging on the wall of this marvelous museum, there was no escaping the touch of Baltimore. The museum was packed with visitors, many of whom sought out an exhibition of paintings titled Americans in Paris. My eye soon caught a compelling painting of a Victorian woman stylishly dressed in jet black, seated on a slipcovered chair.

LONDON -- I OWE a debt of gratitude to George Peabody, the 19th-century Baltimore and London banker-philanthropist. In fact he's the reason I have a roof over my head.My building was erected at the turn of the century after Lord Shaftesbury, one of Britain's leading social reformers, persuaded Peabody that housing for the working class was an excellent use for his philanthropy.Sometimes I don't know whether to bless him or curse him when I'm struggling up five flights of stone steps to my apartment, lugging heavy shopping bags.

LONDON -- George Peabody? His name may appear on thousands of properties, and his statue may stand in the middle of the financial district, but he's no longer a well-known figure in the city where he added to his fortune -- and spawned a public housing empire."

IT wasn't your ordinary piano recital, in which nervous pre-teen students parade to the upright to deliver renditions of "Water Sprites" while their parents pray silently.No, the recital at the Peabody Conservatory showcased the work of students in a program called "New Music From the Electronic and Computer Music Department." It was extraordinary in every way!A Roland A-80 keyboard and synthesizer sat at center stage, dominating the Steinway grand, which for this occasion had been pushed ignominiously into a corner, its keyboard clamped shut.

During the 1980s, when celebrated soprano Phyllis Bryn-Julson was a newcomer to the faculty at the Peabody Institute's Conservatory of Music, she wasn't exactly bowled over by the physical condition of the place. "I thought we were producing incredible beauty in the ugliest facilities," she says. "The beauty was internalized." It's about to be externalized, with all appropriate fanfare. This week, Peabody unveils nearly $27 million worth of campus renovations, the most extensive and expensive construction project since the institution opened in 1866.

At Read and Cathedral streets in Mount Vernon lies what historic preservationist Jamie Hunt calls "the historic and spiritual intersection of royal romances in Baltimore." On one side sits the church where Wallis Warfield was christened. (King Edward VIII was forced to give up the British throne to marry the twice-divorced Baltimore native.) The other side of the street boasts the townhouse where Elizabeth "Betsy" Bonaparte died in bitter seclusion after Napoleon ended her marriage to his younger brother, French naval officer Jerome Bonaparte.

History is proving kinder to J. Pierpont Morgan than many of his contemporaries were. Reviled in his time as the prototypical plutocrat, Morgan has been rediscovered as the architect of the 19th-century American industrial expansion and a patriot attentive to the call of duty. Last week, the integrity and prestige of the namesake J. P. Morgan & Co. bank was the focus of much of the commentary that attended the announcement that the bank would be taken over by Chase Manhattan Corp. to create an institution valued at more than $96 billion.

Clifton Mansion, the grand summer home of Johns Hopkins from 1836 to 1873, will soon hold a remembrance of 19th century Baltimore's great fortunes and early philanthropy -- thanks to Hopkins' 86-year-old great-grandnephew Samuel Hopkins.To honor the Hopkins legacy -- and that of other great givers to Baltimore, such as Enoch Pratt and George Peabody -- a philanthropy exhibit showcasing those figures will be placed in the mansion's arched hallway. The hall was made wide enough to let a young woman wearing a hoop skirt climb the spiral staircase leading up to the Italianate tower.

Kelly Kallaur, a 29-year-old optometrist recently arrived from New York, wanted to surprise her husband Greg, 33, with something special for their first wedding anniversary. She asked him to meet her at an elegant Charles Street restaurant, the Brass Elephant, and told him to dress for outdoor weather, but said no more about what was in store.What followed was a walk in the autumn sunset through the scenes of some of Baltimore's most famous old love stories. Joining the latest and perhaps most unusual addition to the list of Baltimore guided tours, the Kallaurs were among the three dozen people who took the first "Romantic Legacy" tour through Mount Vernon.

LONDON -- They filled Westminster Abbey yesterday to remember George Peabody, a man whose story reveals that fame is often fleeting, but philanthropy can last forever.Tenants in the homes he built for London's poor were there. So were educators from schools he established in America,including the Peabody Institute in Baltimore.The audience of 1,800 was sprinkled with politicians and clergy, ambassadors and businessman, all somehow still touched by Peabody in the 200th anniversary year of his birth.

At Read and Cathedral streets in Mount Vernon lies what historic preservationist Jamie Hunt calls "the historic and spiritual intersection of royal romances in Baltimore." On one side sits the church where Wallis Warfield was christened. (King Edward VIII was forced to give up the British throne to marry the twice-divorced Baltimore native.) The other side of the street boasts the townhouse where Elizabeth "Betsy" Bonaparte died in bitter seclusion after Napoleon ended her marriage to his younger brother, French naval officer Jerome Bonaparte.

During the 1980s, when celebrated soprano Phyllis Bryn-Julson was a newcomer to the faculty at the Peabody Institute's Conservatory of Music, she wasn't exactly bowled over by the physical condition of the place. "I thought we were producing incredible beauty in the ugliest facilities," she says. "The beauty was internalized." It's about to be externalized, with all appropriate fanfare. This week, Peabody unveils nearly $27 million worth of campus renovations, the most extensive and expensive construction project since the institution opened in 1866.

LONDON -- I OWE a debt of gratitude to George Peabody, the 19th-century Baltimore and London banker-philanthropist. In fact he's the reason I have a roof over my head.My building was erected at the turn of the century after Lord Shaftesbury, one of Britain's leading social reformers, persuaded Peabody that housing for the working class was an excellent use for his philanthropy.Sometimes I don't know whether to bless him or curse him when I'm struggling up five flights of stone steps to my apartment, lugging heavy shopping bags.