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diff --git a/23761-h/23761-h.htm b/23761-h/23761-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..ba4d3c4 --- /dev/null +++ b/23761-h/23761-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,10324 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" /> + <title> + The Project Gutenberg eBook of Little Journeys To The Homes Of The Great, Volume 7 (of 14), by Elbert Hubbard. + </title> + <style type="text/css"> +/*<![CDATA[ XML blockout */ +<!-- + p { margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; + } + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; + } + hr { width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + clear: both; + } + + hr.full {width: 100%;} + + body{margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + } + + .pagenum { /* uncomment the next line for invisible page numbers */ + visibility: hidden; + position: absolute; + left: 92%; + font-size: smaller; + text-align: right; + font-size: 12px; + font-weight: normal; + } /* page numbers */ + + a:link {color:blue; + text-decoration:none} + link {color:blue; + text-decoration:none} + a:visited {color:blue; + text-decoration:none} + a:hover {color:red} + pre {font-size: 8pt;} + + .blockquot{margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 10%;} + + + .center {text-align: center;} + .smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + .u {text-decoration: underline;} + + .caption {font-weight: bold;} + + .figcenter {margin: auto; text-align: center;} + + // --> + /* XML end ]]>*/ + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Little Journeys to the Homes of the Great, +Volume 7, by Elbert Hubbard + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Little Journeys to the Homes of the Great, Volume 7 + Little Journeys to the Homes of Eminent Orators + +Author: Elbert Hubbard + +Release Date: December 7, 2007 [EBook #23761] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LITTLE JOURNEYS *** + + + + +Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Annie McGuire and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + + + + +<h3>Little Journeys To the Homes of the Great, Volume 7</h3> + +<h1>Little Journeys to the Homes<br /> + of Eminent Orators</h1> + +<h3>by</h3> + +<h2>Elbert Hubbard</h2> + +<h3>Memorial Edition</h3> + +<h3>New York</h3> + +<h3>1916.</h3> + + + + +<hr class="full" /> +<h2><a name="CONTENTS" id="CONTENTS"></a>CONTENTS</h2> + +<p> +<a href="#PERICLES"><b>PERICLES</b></a><br /> +<a href="#MARK_ANTONY"><b>MARK ANTONY</b></a><br /> +<a href="#SAVONAROLA"><b>SAVONAROLA</b></a><br /> +<a href="#MARTIN_LUTHER"><b>MARTIN LUTHER</b></a><br /> +<a href="#EDMUND_BURKE"><b>EDMUND BURKE</b></a><br /> +<a href="#WILLIAM_PITT"><b>WILLIAM PITT</b></a><br /> +<a href="#JEAN_PAUL_MARAT"><b>JEAN PAUL MARAT</b></a><br /> +<a href="#ROBERT_INGERSOLL"><b>ROBERT INGERSOLL</b></a><br /> +<a href="#PATRICK_HENRY"><b>PATRICK HENRY</b></a><br /> +<a href="#STARR_KING"><b>STARR KING</b></a><br /> +<a href="#HENRY_WARD_BEECHER"><b>HENRY WARD BEECHER</b></a><br /> +<a href="#WENDELL_PHILLIPS"><b>WENDELL PHILLIPS</b></a><br /> +</p> + + + + +<hr class="full" /> +<h2><a name="PERICLES" id="PERICLES"></a>PERICLES<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_9" id="VII_Page_9">[Pg 9]</a></span></h2> + + + +<div class="blockquot"><p>When we agreed, O Aspasia! in the beginning of our loves, to +communicate our thoughts by writing, even while we were both in +Athens, and when we had many reasons for it, we little foresaw the +more powerful one that has rendered it necessary of late. We never +can meet again: the laws forbid it, and love itself enforces them. +Let wisdom be heard by you as imperturbably, and affection as +authoritatively, as ever; and remember that the sorrow of Pericles +can rise but from the bosom of Aspasia. There is only one word of +tenderness we could say, which we have not said oftentimes before; +and there is no consolation in it. The happy never say, and never +hear said, farewell.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>And now at the close of my day, when every light is dim and every +guest departed, let me own that these wane before me, remembering, +as I do in the pride and fulness of my heart, that Athens confided +her glory, and Aspasia her happiness, to me.</p> + +<p>Have I been a faithful guardian? Do I resign them to the custody of +the gods, undiminished and unimpaired? Welcome then, welcome, my +last hour! After enjoying for so great a number of years, in my +public and private life, what I believe has never been the lot of +any other, I now extend my hand to the urn, and take without +reluctance or hesitation that which is the lot of all.</p></div> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">—<i>Pericles to Aspasia</i></span><br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_10" id="VII_Page_10">[Pg 10]</a></span></p> + +<div class="center"> + <a id="image0441-1"></a> + <img src="images/0441-1.jpg" width="301" height="400" + alt="" + title="" /> + + <p class="center">PERICLES</p> +</div> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_11" id="VII_Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span></p> + + +<p>Once upon a day there was a grocer who lived in Indianapolis, Indiana. +The grocer's name being Heinrich Schliemann, his nationality can be +inferred; and as for pedigree, it is enough to state that his ancestors +did not land at either Plymouth or Jamestown. However, he was an +American citizen.</p> + +<p>Now this grocer made much moneys, for he sold groceries as were, and had +a feed-barn, a hay-scales, a sommer-garten and a lunch-counter. In fact, +his place of business was just the kind you would expect a strenuous man +by the name of Schliemann to keep.</p> + +<p>Soon Schliemann had men on the road, and they sold groceries as far west +as Peoria and as far east as Xenia.</p> + +<p>Schliemann grew rich, and the opening up of Schliemann's Division, where +town lots were sold at auction, and Anheuser-Busch played an important +part, helped his bank-balance not a little.</p> + +<p>Schliemann grew rich: and the gentle reader being clairvoyant, now sees +Schliemann weighed on his own hay-scales—and wanting everything in +sight—tipping the beam at part of a ton. The expectation is that +Schliemann will evolve into a large oval satrap, grow beautifully +boastful and sublimely reminiscent, representing his Ward in the Common +Council until pudge<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_12" id="VII_Page_12">[Pg 12]</a></span> plus prunes him off in his prime.</p> + +<p>But this time the reader is wrong: Schliemann was tall, slender and +reserved, also taciturn. Groceries were not the goal. In fact, he had +interests outside of Indianapolis, that few knew anything about. When +Schliemann was thirty-eight years old he was worth half a million +dollars; and instead of making his big business still bigger, he was +studying Greek. It was a woman and Eros taught Schliemann Greek, and +this was so letters could be written—dictated by Eros, who they do say +is an awful dictator—that would not be easily construed by Hoosier "hoi +polloi." Together the woman and Schliemann studied the history of +Hellas.</p> + +<p>About the year Eighteen Hundred Sixty-eight Schliemann turned all of his +Indiana property into cash; and in April, Eighteen Hundred Seventy, he +was digging in the hill of Hissarlik, Troad. The same faculty of +thoroughness, and the ability to captain a large business—managing men +to his own advantage, and theirs—made his work in Greece a success. +Schliemann's discoveries at Mount Athos, Mycenæ, Ithaca and Tiryns +turned a searchlight upon prehistoric Hellas and revolutionized +prevailing ideas concerning the rise and the development of Greek Art.</p> + +<p>His Trojan treasures were presented to the city of Berlin. Had +Schliemann given his priceless findings to Indianapolis, it would have +made that city a Sacred Mecca for all the Western World—set it apart, +and<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_13" id="VII_Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span> caused James Whitcomb Riley to be a mere side-show, inept, +inconsequent, immaterial and insignificant. But alas! Indianapolis never +knew Schliemann when he lived there—they thought he was a Dutch Grocer! +And all the honors went to Benjamin Harrison, Governor Morton and Thomas +A. Hendricks.</p> + +<p>If the Indiana Novelists would cease their dalliance with Dame Fiction +and turn to Truth, writing a simple record of the life of Schliemann, it +would eclipse in strangeness all the Knighthoods that ever were in +Flower, and Ben Hur would get the flag in his Crawfordsville +chariot-race for fame.</p> + +<p>Berlin gave the freedom of the city to Schliemann; the Emperor of +Germany bestowed on him a Knighthood; the University voted him a Ph. D.; +Heidelberg made him a D. C. L.; and Saint Petersburg followed with an +LL. D.</p> + +<p>The value of the treasure, now in the Berlin Museum, found by Schliemann +exceeds by far the value of the Elgin Marbles in the British Museum.</p> + +<p>We know, and have always known, who built the Parthenon and crowned the +Acropolis; but not until Schliemann had by faith and good works removed +the mountain of Hissarlik, did we know that the Troy, of which blind +Homer sang, was not a figment of the poet's brain.</p> + +<p>Schliemann showed us that a thousand years before the age of Pericles +there was a civilization almost as great. Aye! more than this—he showed +us that the<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_14" id="VII_Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span> ancient city of Troy was built upon the ruins of a city +that throve and pulsed with life and pride, a thousand years or more +before Thetis, the mother of Achilles, held her baby by the heel and +dipped him in the River Styx.</p> + +<p>Schliemann passed to the Realm of Shade in Eighteen Hundred Ninety, and +is buried at Athens, in the Ceramicus, in a grave excavated by his own +hands in a search for the grave of Pericles.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_15" id="VII_Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span>Pericles lived nearly twenty-five centuries ago. The years of his life +were sixty-six—during the last thirty-one of which, by popular acclaim, +he was the "First Citizen of Athens." The age in which he lived is +called the Age of Pericles.</p> + +<p>Shakespeare died less than three hundred years ago, and although he +lived in a writing age, and every decade since has seen a plethora of +writing men, yet writing men are now bandying words as to whether he +lived at all.</p> + +<p>Between us and Pericles lie a thousand years of night, when styli were +stilled, pens forgotten, chisels thrown aside, brushes were useless, and +oratory was silent, dumb. Yet we know the man Pericles quite as well as +the popular mind knows George Washington, who lived but yesterday, and +with whom myth and fable have already played their part.</p> + +<p>Thucydides, a contemporary of Pericles, who outlived him by nearly half +a century, wrote his life. Fortunately, Thucydides was big enough +himself to take the measure of a great man. At least seven other +contemporaries, whose works we have in part, wrote also of the First +Citizen.</p> + +<p>To Plutarch are we indebted for much of our knowledge of Pericles, and +fortunately we are in position to verify most of Plutarch's gossipy +chronicles.</p> + +<p>The vanishing-point of time is seen in that Plutarch<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_16" id="VII_Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span> refers to Pericles +as an "ancient"; and through the mist of years it hardly seems possible +that between Plutarch and Pericles is a period of five hundred years. +Plutarch resided in Greece when Paul was at Athens, Corinth and other +Grecian cities. Later, Plutarch was at Miletus, about the time Saint +Paul stopped there on his way to Rome to be tried for blasphemy—the +same offense committed by Socrates, and a sin charged, too, against +Pericles. Nature punishes for most sins, but sacrilege, heresy and +blasphemy are not in her calendar, so man has to look after them. +Plutarch visited Patmos where Saint John was exiled and where he wrote +the Book of Revelation. Plutarch was also at "Malta by the Sea," where +Saint Paul was shipwrecked; but so far as we know, he never heard of +Paul nor of Him of whom, upon Mars Hill, Paul preached.</p> + +<p>Paul bears testimony that at Athens the people spent their time in +nothing else but either to tell or to hear some new thing. They were +curious as children, and had to be diverted and amused. They were the +same people that Pericles had diverted, amused and used—used without +their knowing it, five hundred years before.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_17" id="VII_Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span>The gentle and dignified Anaxagoras, who abandoned all his property to +the State that he might be free to devote himself to thought, was the +first and best teacher of Pericles. Under his tutorship—better, the +companionship of this noble man—Pericles acquired that sublime +self-restraint, that intellectual breadth, that freedom from +superstition, which marked his character.</p> + +<p>Superstitions are ossified metaphors, and back of every religious +fallacy lies a truth. The gods of Greece were once men who fought their +valiant fight and lived their day; the supernatural is the natural not +yet understood—it is the natural seen through the mist of one, two, +three, ten or twenty-five hundred years, when things loom large and out +of proportion—and all these things were plain to Pericles. Yet he kept +his inmost belief to himself, and let the mob believe whate'er it list. +Morley's book on "Compromise" would not have appealed much to +Pericles—his answer would have been, "A man must do what he can, and +not what he would." Yet he was no vulgar demagog truckling to the +caprices of mankind, nor was he a tyrant who pitted his will against the +many and subdued by a show of arms. For thirty years he kept peace at +home, and if this peace was once or twice cemented by an insignificant +foreign war, he proved thereby that he was abreast of Napoleon, who +said, "The cure for civil dissension is war abroad." Pericles<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_18" id="VII_Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span> stands +alone in his success as a statesman. It was Thomas Brackett Reed, I +believe, who said, "A statesman is a politician who is dead."</p> + +<p>And this is a sober truth, for, to reveal the statesman, perspective is +required.</p> + +<p>Pericles built and maintained a State, and he did it, as every statesman +must, by recognizing and binding to him ability. It is a fine thing to +have ability, but the ability to discover ability in others is the true +test. While Pericles lived, there also lived Æschylus, Sophocles, +Euripides, Pythagoras, Socrates, Herodotus, Zeno, Hippocrates, Pindar, +Empedocles and Democritus. Such a galaxy of stars has never been seen +before nor since—unless we have it now—and Pericles was their one +central sun.</p> + +<p>Pericles was great in many ways—great as an orator, musician, +philosopher, politician, financier, and great and wise as a practical +leader. Lovers of beauty are apt to be dreamers, but this man had the +ability to plan, devise, lay out work and carry it through to a +successful conclusion. He infused others with his own animation, and +managed to set a whole cityful of lazy people building a temple grander +far in its rich simplicity than the world had ever seen. By his masterly +eloquence and the magic of his presence, Pericles infused the Greeks +with a passion for beauty and a desire to create. And no man can inspire +others with the desire to create who has not taken sacred<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_19" id="VII_Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span> fire from the +altar of the gods. The creative genius is the highest gift vouchsafed to +man, and wherein man is likest God. The desire to create does not burn +the heart of the serf, and only free people can respond to the greatest +power ever given to any First Citizen.</p> + +<p>In beautifying the city there was a necessity for workers in stone, +brass, iron, ivory, gold, silver and wood. Six thousand of the citizens +were under daily pay as jurors, to be called upon if their services were +needed; most of the other male adults were soldiers. Through the genius +of Pericles and his generals these men were set to work as masons, +carpenters, braziers, goldsmiths, painters and sculptors. Talent was +discovered where before it was supposed there was none; music found a +voice; playwriters discovered actors; actors found an audience; and +philosophy had a hearing. A theater was built, carved almost out of +solid stone, that seated ten thousand people, and on the stage there was +often heard a chorus of a thousand voices. Physical culture developed +the perfect body so that the Greek forms of that time are today the +despair of the human race. The recognition of the sacredness of the +temple of the soul was taught as a duty; and to make the body beautiful +by right exercise and by right life became a science. The sculptor must +have models approaching perfection, and the exhibition of the sculptor's +work, together with occasional public religious processions of naked +youths, kept before the people<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_20" id="VII_Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span> ideals superb and splendid.</p> + +<p>For several years everybody worked, carrying stone, hewing, tugging, +lifting, carving. Up the steep road that led to the Acropolis was a +constant procession carrying materials. So infused was everybody and +everything with the work that a story is told of a certain mule that had +hauled a cart in the endless procession. This worthy worker, "who was +sustained by neither pride of ancestry nor hope of posterity," finally +became galled and lame and was turned out to die. But the mule did not +die—nothing dies until hope dies. That mule pushed his way back into +the throng and up and down he went, filled and comforted with the +thought that he was doing his work—and all respected him and made way. +If this story was invented by a comic poet of the time, devised by an +enemy of Pericles, we see its moral, and think no less of Pericles. To +inspire a mule with a passion for work and loyalty in a great cause is +no mean thing.</p> + +<p>So richly endowed was Pericles that he was able to appreciate the best +not only in men, but in literature, painting, sculpture, music, +architecture and life as well. In him there was as near a perfect +harmony as we have ever seen—in him all the various lines of Greek +culture united, and we get the perfect man. Under the right conditions +there might be produced a race of such men—but such a race never lived +in Greece and never could. Greece was a splendid experiment. Greece was +God's finest plaything—devised to show what He could do.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_21" id="VII_Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span>I have sometimes thought that comeliness of feature and fine physical +proportions were a handicap to an orator. If a man is handsome, it is +quite enough—let him act as chairman and limit his words to stating the +pleasure he has in introducing the speaker. No man in a full-dress suit +can sway a thousand people to mingled mirth and tears, play upon their +emotions and make them remember the things they have forgotten, drive +conviction home, and change the ideals of a lifetime in an hour. The man +in spotless attire, with necktie mathematically adjusted, is an usher. +If too much attention to dress is in evidence, we at once conclude that +the attire is first in importance and the message secondary.</p> + +<p>The orator is a man we hate, fear or love, and are curious to see. His +raiment is incidental; the usher's clothes are vital. The attire of the +usher may reveal the man—but not so the speaker. If our first +impressions are disappointing, so much the better, provided the man is a +man.</p> + +<p>The best thing in Winston Churchill's book, "The Crisis," is his +description of Lincoln's speech at Freeport. Churchill got that +description from a man who was there. Where the issue was great, Lincoln +was always at first a disappointment. His unkempt appearance, his +awkwardness, his shrill voice—these things made people laugh, then they +were ashamed because they laughed, then they pitied, next followed +surprise,<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_22" id="VII_Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span> and before they knew it, they were being wrapped 'round by +words so gracious, so fair, so convincing, so free from prejudice, so +earnest and so charged with soul that they were taken captive, bound +hand and foot.</p> + +<p>Talmage, who knew his business, used to work this element of +disappointment as an art. When the event was important and he wished to +make a particularly good impression, he would begin in a very low, +sing-song voice, and in a monotonous manner, dealing in trite nothings +for five minutes or more. His angular form would seem to take on more +angles and his homely face would grow more homely, if that were +possible—disappointment would spread itself over the audience like a +fog; people would settle back in their pews, sigh and determine to +endure. And then suddenly the speaker would glide to the front, his +great chest would fill, his immense mouth would open and there would +leap forth a sentence like a thunderbolt.</p> + +<p>Visitors at "The Temple," London, will recall how Joseph Parker works +the matter of surprise, and often piques curiosity by beginning his +sermon to two thousand people in a voice that is just above a whisper.</p> + +<p>One of the most impressive orators of modern times was John P. Altgeld, +yet to those who heard him for the first time his appearance was always +a disappointment. Altgeld was so earnest and sincere, so full of his +message that he scorned all the tricks of oratory, but still he must +have been aware that his insignificant<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_23" id="VII_Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span> form and commonplace appearance +were a perfect foil for the gloomy, melancholy and foreboding note of +earnestness that riveted his words into a perfect whole.</p> + +<p>Over against the type of oratory represented by Altgeld, America has +produced one orator who fascinated first by his personal appearance, +next exasperated by his imperturbable calm, then disappointed through a +reserve that nothing could baffle, and finally won through all three, +more than by his message. This man was Roscoe Conkling, he of the +Hyperion curls and Jovelike front.</p> + +<p>The chief enemy of Conkling (and he had a goodly list) was James G. +Blaine, who once said of him, "He wins, like Pericles, by his grand and +god-like manner—and knows it." In appearance and manner Pericles and +Conkling had much in common, but there the parallel stops.</p> + +<p>Pericles appeared only on great occasions. We are told that in twenty +years he was seen on the streets of Athens only once a year, and that +was in going from his house to the Assembly where he made his annual +report of his stewardship. He never made himself cheap. His speeches +were prepared with great care and must have been memorized. Before he +spoke he prayed the gods that not a single unworthy word might escape +his lips. We are told that his manner was so calm, so well poised, that +during his speech his mantle was never disarranged.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_24" id="VII_Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span>In his speeches Pericles never championed an unpopular cause—he never +led a forlorn hope—he never flung reasons into the teeth of a mob. His +addresses were the orderly, gracious words of eulogy and congratulation. +He won the approval of his constituents often against their will, and +did the thing he wished to do, without giving offense. Thucydides says +his words were like the honey of Hymettus—persuasion sat upon his lips.</p> + +<p>No man wins his greatest fame in that to which he has given most of his +time; it's his side issue, the thing he does for recreation, his heart's +play-spell, that gives him immortality. There is too much tension in +that where his all is staked. But in his leisure the pressure is +removed, his heart is free and judgment may for the time take a back +seat—there was where Dean Swift picked his laurels. Although Pericles +was the greatest orator of his day, yet his business was not oratory. +Public speaking was to him merely incidental and accidental. He +doubtless would have avoided it if he could—he was a man of affairs, a +leader of practical men, and he was a teacher. He held his place by a +suavity, gentleness and gracious show of reasons unparalleled. In +oratory it is manner that wins, not words. One virtue Pericles had in +such generous measure that the world yet takes note of it, and that is +his patience. If interrupted in a speech, he gave way and never answered +sharply, nor used his position to the other's<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_25" id="VII_Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span> discomfiture. In his +speeches there was no challenge, no vituperation, no irony, no +arraignment. He assumed that everybody was honest, everybody just, and +that all men were doing what they thought was best for themselves and +others. His enemies were not rogues—simply good men who were +temporarily in error. He impeached no man's motives; but went much out +of his way to give due credit.</p> + +<p>On one occasion, early in his public career, he was berated by a bully +in the streets. Pericles made no answer, but went quietly about his +business. The man followed him, continuing his abuse—followed him clear +to the door of his house. It being dark, Pericles ordered one of his +servants to procure a torch, light the man home and see that no harm +befell him.</p> + +<p>The splendor of his intellect and the sublime strength of his will are +shown in that small things did not distress him. He was building the +Parthenon and making Athens the wonder of the world: this was enough.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_26" id="VII_Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span>The Greeks at their best were barbarians; at their worst, slaves. The +average intelligence among them was low; and the idea that they were +such a wonderful people has gained a foothold simply because they are so +far off. The miracle of it all is that such sublimely great men as +Pericles, Phidias, Socrates and Anaxagoras should have sprung from such +a barbaric folk. The men just named were as exceptional as was +Shakespeare in the reign of Elizabeth. That the masses had small +appreciation of these men is proven in the fact that Phidias and +Anaxagoras died in prison, probably defeating their persecutors by +suicide. Socrates drank the cup of hemlock, and Pericles, the one man +who had made Athens immortal, barely escaped banishment and death by +diverting attention from himself to a foreign war. The charge against +both Pericles and Phidias was that of "sacrilege." They said that +Pericles and Phidias should be punished because they had placed their +pictures on a sacred shield.</p> + +<p>Humanity's job-lot was in the saddle, and sought to wound Pericles by +attacking his dearest friends: so his old teacher, Anaxagoras, was made +to die; his beloved helper, Phidias, the greatest sculptor the world has +ever known, suffered a like fate; and his wife, Aspasia, was humiliated +by being dragged to a public trial, where the eloquence of Pericles +alone saved her from a malefactor's death; and it is said that this was<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_27" id="VII_Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span> +the only time when Pericles lost his "Olympian calm."</p> + +<p>The son of Pericles and Aspasia was one of ten generals executed because +they failed to win a certain battle. The scheme of beheading +unsuccessful soldiers was not without its advantages, and in some ways +is to be commended; but the plan reveals the fact that the Greeks had so +little faith in their leaders that the threat of death was deemed +necessary to make them do their duty. This son of Pericles was declared +illegitimate by law; another law was passed declaring him legitimate: +and finally his head was cut off, all as duly provided in the statutes. +Doesn't this make us wonder what this world would have been without its +lawmakers? The particular offense of Anaxagoras was that he said Jove +occasionally sent thunder and lightning with no thought of Athens in +mind. The same subject is up for discussion yet, but no special penalty +is provided by the State as to conclusions.</p> + +<p>The citizens of Greece in the time of Pericles were given over to two +things which were enough to damn any individual and any nation—idleness +and superstition. The drudgery was done by slaves; the idea that a free +citizen should work was preposterous; to be useful was a disgrace. For a +time Pericles dissipated their foolish thought, but it kept cropping +out. To speak disrespectfully of the gods was to invite death, and the +philosophers who dared discuss the powers of Nature or refer to a +natural religion were safe only<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_28" id="VII_Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span> through the fact that their language +was usually so garlanded with the flowers of poesy that the people did +not comprehend its import.</p> + +<p>Very early in the reign of Pericles a present of forty thousand bushels +of wheat had been sent from the King of Egypt; at least it was called a +present—probably it was an exacted tribute. This wheat was to be +distributed among the free citizens of Athens, and accordingly when the +cargo arrived there was a fine scramble among the people to show that +they were free. Everybody produced a certificate and demanded wheat.</p> + +<p>Some time before this Pericles had caused a law to be passed providing +that in order to be a citizen a man must be descended from a father and +a mother who were both Athenians. This law was aimed directly at +Themistocles, the predecessor of Pericles, whose mother was an alien. It +is true the mother of Themistocles was an alien, but her son was +Themistocles. The law worked and Themistocles was declared a bastardicus +and banished.</p> + +<p>Before unloading our triremes of wheat, let the fact be stated that laws +aimed at individuals are apt to prove boomerangs. "Thee should build no +dark cells," said Elizabeth Fry to the King of France, "for thy children +may occupy them." Some years after Pericles had caused this law to be +passed defining citizenship, he loved a woman who had the misfortune to +be born<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_29" id="VII_Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span> at Miletus. According to his own law the marriage of Pericles +to this woman was not legal—she was only his slave, not his wife. So +finally Pericles had to go before the people and ask for the repeal of +the law that he had made, in order that his own children might be made +legitimate. Little men in shovel hats and knee-breeches who hotly fume +against the sin of a man marrying his deceased wife's sister are usually +men whose wives are not deceased, and have no sisters.</p> + +<p>The wheat arrived at the Piræus, and the citizens jammed the docks. The +slaves wore sleeveless tunics. The Greeks were not much given to that +absurd plan of cutting off heads—they simply cut off sleeves. This +meant that the man was a worker—the rest affected sleeves so long that +they could not work, somewhat after the order of the Chinese nobility, +who wear their finger-nails so long they can not use their hands. "To +kill a bird is to lose it," said Thoreau. "To kill a man is to lose +him," said the Greeks.</p> + +<p>"You should have your sleeves cut off," said some of the citizens to +others, with a bit of acerbity, as they crowded the docks for their +wheat.</p> + +<p>The talk increased—it became louder.</p> + +<p>Finally it was proposed that the distribution of wheat should be +deferred until every man had proved his pedigree.</p> + +<p>The ayes had it.</p> + +<p>The result was that on close scrutiny five thousand<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_30" id="VII_Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span> supposed citizens +had a blot on their 'scutcheon. The property of these five thousand men +was immediately confiscated and the men sold into slavery. The total +number of free men, women and children in the city of Athens was about +seventy-five thousand, and of the slaves or helots about the same, +making the total population of the city about one hundred fifty +thousand.</p> + +<p>We have heard so much of "the glory that was Greece, and the grandeur +that was Rome," that we are, at times, apt to think the world is making +progress backward. But let us all stand erect and lift up our hearts in +thankfulness that we live in the freest country the world has ever +known. Wisdom is not monopolized by a few; power is not concentrated in +the hands of a tyrant; knowledge need not express itself in cipher; to +work is no longer a crime or a disgrace.</p> + +<p>We have superstition yet, but it is toothless: we can say our say +without fear of losing our heads or our sleeves. We may lose a few +customers, and some subscribers may cancel, but we are not in danger of +banishment; and that attenuated form of ostracism which consists in +neglecting to invite the offender to a four-o'clock tea has no terrors.</p> + +<p>Bigotry is abroad, but it has no longer the power to throttle science; +the empty threat of future punishment and the offer of reward are +nothing to us, since we perceive they are offered by men who haven't<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_31" id="VII_Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span> +these things to give. The idea of war and conquest is held by many, but +concerning it we voice our thoughts and write our views; and the fact +that we perceive and point out what we believe are fallacies, and brand +the sins of idleness and extravagance, is proof that light is breaking +in the East. If we can profit by the good that was in Greece and avoid +the bad, we have the raw material here, if properly used, to make her +glory fade into forgetfulness by comparison.</p> + +<p>Do not ask that the days of Greece shall come again—we now know that to +live by the sword is to die by the sword, and the nation that builds on +conquest builds on sand. We want no splendor fashioned by slaves—no +labor driven by the lash, nor lured on through superstitious threat of +punishment and offer of reward: we recognize that to own slaves is to be +one.</p> + +<p>Ten men built Athens. The passion for beauty that these men had may be +ours, their example may inspire us, but to live their lives—we will +none of them! Our lives are better—the best time the world has ever +seen is now; and a better yet is sure to be. The night is past and +gone—the light is breaking in the East!</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_32" id="VII_Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span>Womanhood was not held in high esteem in Greece. To be sure, barbaric +Sparta made a bold stand for equality, and almost instituted a +gynecocracy, but the usual idea was that a woman's opinion was not worth +considering. Hence the caricaturists of the day made sly sport of the +love of Pericles and Aspasia. These two were intellectual equals, +comrades; and that all of Pericles' public speeches were rehearsed to +her, as his enemies averred, is probably true. "Aspasia has no time for +society; she is busy writing a speech for her lord," said Aristophanes. +Socrates used to visit Aspasia, and he gave it out as his opinion that +Aspasia wrote the sublime ode delivered by Pericles on the occasion of +his eulogy on the Athenian dead. The popular mind could not possibly +comprehend how a great man could defer to a woman in important matters, +and she be at once his wife, counselor, comrade, friend. Socrates, who +had been taught by antithesis, understood it.</p> + +<p>The best minds of our day behold that Pericles was as sublimely great in +his love-affairs as he was in his work as architect and statesman. Life +is a whole, and every man works his love up into life—his life is +revealed in his work, and his love is mirrored in his life. For myself I +can not see why the Parthenon may not have been a monument to a great +and sublime passion, and the statue of Athena, its chief ornament, be +the sacred symbol of a great woman greatly loved.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_33" id="VII_Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span>So far as can be found, the term of "courtesan" applied by the mob to +Aspasia came from the fact that she was not legally married to Pericles, +and for no other reason. That their union was not legal was owing to the +simple fact that Pericles, early in his career, had caused a law to be +passed making marriage between an Athenian and an alien morganatic: very +much as in England, for a time, the children of a marriage where one +parent was a Catholic and the other a Protestant were declared by the +State to be illegitimate. The act of Pericles in spreading a net for his +rival and getting caught in it himself is a beautiful example of the +truth of a bucolic maxim, "Chickens most generally come home to roost."</p> + +<p>Thucydides says that for thirty years Pericles never dined away from +home but once. He kept out of crowds, and was very seldom seen at public +gatherings. The idea held by many was that a man who thus preferred his +home and the society of a woman was either silly or bad, or both. +Socrates, for instance, never went home as long as there was any other +place to go, which reminds us of a certain American statesman who met a +friend on the street, the hour being near midnight. "Where are you +going, Bill?" asked the statesman. "Home," said Bill. "What!" said the +statesman, "haven't you any place to go?" The Athenian men spent their +spare time in the streets and marketplaces—this was to them what the +daily paper<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_34" id="VII_Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span> is to us.</p> + +<p>In his home life Pericles was simple, unpretentious and free from all +extravagance. No charge could ever be brought against him that he was +wasting the public money for himself—the beauty he materialized was for +all. He held no court, had no carriages, equipage, nor guards; wore no +insignia of office, and had no title save that of "First Citizen" given +him by the people. He is the supreme type of a man who, though holding +no public office, yet ruled like a monarch, and, best of all, ruled his +own spirit. There is no government so near perfect as that of an +absolute monarchy—where the monarch is wise and just.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_35" id="VII_Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span>Greece is a beautiful dream. Dreams do not endure, yet they are a part +of life, no less than the practical deeds of the day. The glory of +Greece could not last; its limit was thirty years—one generation. The +splendor of Athens was built on tribute and conquest, and the lesson of +it all lies in this: For thirty years Pericles turned the revenues of +war into art, beauty and usefulness.</p> + +<p>England spent more in her vain efforts to subjugate two little South +African republics than Pericles spent in making Athens the Wonder of the +World. If Chamberlain and Salisbury had been the avatars of Pericles and +Phidias, they would have used the nine hundred millions of dollars +wasted in South Africa, and the services of those three hundred thousand +men, and done in England, aye! or done in South Africa, a work of +harmony and undying beauty such as this tired earth had not seen since +Phidias wrought and Pindar sang.</p> + +<p>And another thing, the thirty thousand Englishmen sacrificed to the God +of War, and the ten thousand Boers, dead in a struggle for what they +thought was right, would now nearly all be alive and well, rejoicing in +the contemplation of a harmony unparalleled and unsurpassed.</p> + +<p>During the last year the United States has appropriated four hundred +million dollars for war and war-apparatus. Since Eighteen Hundred +Ninety-seven we have expended about three times the sum named for<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_36" id="VII_Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span> war +and waste. If there had been among us a Pericles who could have used +this vast treasure in irrigating the lands of the West and building +Manual-Training Schools where boys and girls would be taught to do +useful work and make beautiful things, we could have made ancient Greece +pale into forgetfulness beside the beauty we would manifest.</p> + +<p>When Pericles came into power there was a union of the Greek States, +formed with intent to stand against Persia, the common foe. A treasure +had been accumulated at Delos by Themistocles, the predecessor of +Pericles, to use in case of emergency.</p> + +<p>The ambition of Themistocles was to make Greece commercially supreme. +She must be the one maritime power of the world. All the outlying +islands of the Ægean Sea were pouring their tithes into Athens and Delos +that they might have protection from the threatening hordes of Persia.</p> + +<p>Pericles saw that war was not imminent, and under the excuse of +increased safety he got the accumulated treasure moved from Delos to +Athens. The amount of this emergency fund, to us, would be +insignificant—a mere matter of, say, two million dollars. Pericles used +this money, or a portion of it at least, for beautifying Athens, and he +did his wondrous work by maintaining a moderate war-tax in a time of +peace, using the revenue for something better than destruction and +vaunting pride.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_37" id="VII_Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span>But Pericles could not forever hold out against the mob at Athens and +the hordes abroad. He might have held the hordes at bay, but disloyalty +struck at him at home—his best helpers were sacrificed to +superstition—his beloved helper Phidias was dead. War came—the +population from the country flocked within the walls of Athens for +protection. The pent-up people grew restless, sick; pestilence followed, +and in ministering to their needs, trying to infuse courage into his +whimpering countrymen, bearing up under the disloyalty of his own sons, +planning to meet the lesser foe without, Pericles grew aweary, Nature +flagged, and he was dead.</p> + +<p>From his death dates the decline of Greece—she has been twenty-five +centuries dying and is not dead even yet. To Greece we go for +consolation, and in her armless and headless marbles we see the perfect +type of what men and women yet may be. Copies of her Winged Victory are +upon ten thousand pedestals pointing us the way.</p> + +<p>England has her Chamberlain, Salisbury, Lord Bobs, Buller, and +Kitchener; America has her rough-riders who bawl and boast, her +financiers, and her promoters. In every city of America there is a +Themistocles who can organize a Trust of Delos and make the outlying +islands pay tithes and tribute through an indirect tax on this and that. +In times of alleged danger all Kansans flock to arms and offer their +lives in the interest of outraged humanity.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_38" id="VII_Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span>These things are well, but where is the Pericles who can inspire men to +give in times of peace what all are willing to give in the delirium of +war—that is to say, themselves?</p> + +<p>We can Funstonize men into fighting-machines; we can set half a nation +licking stamps for strife; but where is the Pericles who can infuse the +populace into paving streets, building good roads, planting trees, +constructing waterways across desert sands, and crowning each +rock-ribbed hill with a temple consecrated to Love and Beauty! We take +our mules from their free prairies, huddle them in foul transports and +send them across wide oceans to bleach their bones upon the burning +veldt; but where is the man who can inspire our mules with a passion to +do their work, add their mite to building a temple and follow the +procession unled, undriven—with neither curb nor lash—happy in the +fond idea that they are a part of all the seething life that throbs, +pulses and works for a Universal Good!</p> + +<p>England is today a country tied with crape. On the lintels of her +doorposts there linger yet the marks of sprinkled blood; the guttural +hurrahs of her coronation are mostly evoked by beer; behind it all are +fears and tears and a sorrow that will not be comforted.</p> + +<p>"I never caused a single Athenian to wear mourning," truthfully said +Pericles with his dying breath. Can the present prime ministers of earth +say as much? That is the kind of leader America most needs today—a man<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_39" id="VII_Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span> +who can do his work and make no man, woman or child wear crape.</p> + +<p>The time is ripe for him—we await his coming.</p> + +<p>We are sick and tired of plutocrats who struggle and scheme but for +themselves; we turn with loathing from the concrete selfishness of +Newport and Saratoga; the clatter of arms and the blare of +battle-trumpets in time of peace are hideous to our ears—we want no +wealth gained from conquest and strife.</p> + +<p>Ours is the richest country the world has ever known. Greece was a +beggar compared with Iowa and Illinois, where nothing but honest effort +is making small cities great. But we need a Pericles who shall inspire +us to work for truth, harmony and beauty—a beauty wrought for +ourselves—and a love that shall perform such miracles that they will +minister to the millions yet unborn. We need a Pericles! We need a +Pericles!</p> + + + +<hr class="full" /> +<h2><a name="MARK_ANTONY" id="MARK_ANTONY"></a>MARK ANTONY<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_40" id="VII_Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span></h2> + + + +<div class="blockquot"><p>It is not long, my Antony, since, with these hands, I buried thee.<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_41" id="VII_Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span> +Alas! they were then free, but thy Cleopatra is now a prisoner, +attended by guard, lest, in the transports of her grief, she should +disfigure this captive body, which is reserved to adorn the triumph +over thee. These are the last offerings, the last honors she can +pay thee; for she is now to be conveyed to a distant country. +Nothing could part us while we lived, but in death we are to be +divided. Thou, though a Roman, liest buried in Egypt; and I, an +Egyptian, must be interred in Italy, the only favor I shall receive +from thy country. Yet, if the Gods of Rome have power or mercy left +(for surely those of Egypt have forsaken us), let them not suffer +me to be led in living triumph to thy disgrace! No! hide me, hide +me with thee in the grave; for life, since thou hast left it, has +been misery to me.</p></div> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">—<i>Plutarch</i></span><br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_42" id="VII_Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span></p> + +<div class="center"> + <a id="image0442-1"></a> + <img src="images/0442-1.jpg" width="272" height="400" + alt="" + title="" /> + <p class="center">MARK ANTONY</p> +</div><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_43" id="VII_Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span></p> + + + +<p>The sole surviving daughter of the great King Ptolemy of Egypt, +Cleopatra was seventeen years old when her father died.</p> + +<p>By his will the King made her joint heir to the throne with her brother +Ptolemy, several years her junior. And according to the custom not +unusual among royalty at that time, it was provided that Ptolemy should +become the husband of Cleopatra.</p> + +<p>She was a woman—her brother a child.</p> + +<p>She had intellect, ambition, talent. She knew the history of her own +country, and that of Assyria, Greece and Rome; and all the written +languages of the world were to her familiar. She had been educated by +the philosophers, who had brought from Greece the science of Pythagoras +and Plato. Her companions had been men—not women, or nurses, or pious, +pedantic priests.</p> + +<p>Through the veins of her young body pulsed and leaped life plus.</p> + +<p>She abhorred the thought of an alliance with her weak-chinned brother; +and the ministers of state who suggested another husband, as a +compromise, were dismissed with a look. They said she was intractable, +contemptuous, unreasonable, and was scheming for the sole possession of +the throne. She was not to be diverted<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_44" id="VII_Page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span> even by ardent courtiers who +were sent to her, and who lay in wait, ready with amorous sighs—she +scorned them all.</p> + +<p>Yet she was a woman still, and in her dreams she saw the coming prince.</p> + +<p>She was banished from Alexandria.</p> + +<p>A few friends followed her, and an army was formed to force from the +enemy her rights.</p> + +<p>But other things were happening. A Roman army came leisurely drifting in +with the tide, and disembarked at Alexandria. The Great Cæsar himself +was in command—a mere holiday, he said. He had intended to join the +land forces of Mark Antony and help crush the rebellious Pompey, but +Antony had done the trick alone, and only a few days before, word had +come that Pompey was dead.</p> + +<p>Cæsar knew that civil war was on in Alexandria, and being near he sailed +slowly in, sending messengers ahead warning both sides to lay down their +arms.</p> + +<p>With him was the far-famed invincible Tenth Legion that had ravished +Gaul. Cæsar wanted to rest his men, and incidentally to reward them. +They took possession of the city without a blow.</p> + +<p>Cleopatra's troops laid down their arms, but Ptolemy's refused. They +were simply chased beyond the walls, and their punishment was for a time +deferred.</p> + +<p>Cæsar took possession of the palace of the King, and his soldiers +accommodated themselves in the houses,<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_45" id="VII_Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span> public buildings and temples as +best they could.</p> + +<p>Cleopatra asked for a personal interview that she might present her +cause. Cæsar declined to meet her. He understood the trouble—many such +cases he had seen. Claimants for thrones were not new to him. Where two +parties quarreled both were right—or wrong—it really mattered little. +It is absurd to quarrel—still more foolish to fight. Cæsar was a man of +peace, and to keep the peace he would appoint one of his generals +governor, and make Egypt a Roman colony. In the meantime he would rest a +week or two, with the kind permission of the Alexandrians, and work upon +his "Commentaries"—no, he would not see either Cleopatra or Ptolemy: +any information desired he would get through his trusted emissaries.</p> + +<p>In the service of Cleopatra was a Sicilian slave who had been her +personal servant since she was a little girl. This man's name was +Appolidorus—a man of giant stature and imposing mien. Ten years before +his tongue had been torn out as a token that as he was to attend a queen +he should tell no secrets.</p> + +<p>Appolidorus had but one thought in life, and that was to defend his +gracious queen. He slept at the door of Cleopatra's tent, a naked sword +at his side, held in his clenched and brawny hand.</p> + +<p>And now behold at dusk of day the grim and silent Appolidorus, carrying +upon his giant shoulders a large and curious rug, rolled up and tied +'round at either<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_46" id="VII_Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span> end with ropes. He approaches the palace of the King, +and at the guarded gate hands a note to the officer in charge. This note +gives information to the effect that a certain patrician citizen of +Alexandria, being glad that the gracious Cæsar had deigned to visit +Egypt, sends him the richest rug that can be woven, done, in fact, by +his wife and daughters and held against this day, awaiting Rome's +greatest son.</p> + +<p>The officer reads the note, and orders a soldier to accept the gift and +carry it within—presents were constantly arriving. A sign from the dumb +giant makes the soldier stand back—the present is for Cæsar and can be +delivered only in person. "Lead and I will follow," were the words done +in stern pantomime.</p> + +<p>The officer laughs, sends the note inside, and the messenger soon +returning, signifies that the present is acceptable and the slave +bearing it shall be shown in. Appolidorus shifts the burden to the other +shoulder, and follows the soldier through the gate, up the marble steps, +along the splendid hallway lighted by flaring torches and lined with +reclining Roman soldiers.</p> + +<p>At a door they pause an instant, there is a whispered word—they enter.</p> + +<p>The room is furnished as becomes the room that is the private library of +the King of Egypt. In one corner, seated at the table, pen in hand, sits +a man of middle age, pale, clean-shaven, with hair close-cropped. His +dress is not that of a soldier—it is the flowing, white<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_47" id="VII_Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span> robe of a +Roman Priest. Only one servant attends this man, a secretary, seated +near, who rises and explains that the present is acceptable and shall be +deposited on the floor.</p> + +<p>The pale man at the table looks up, smiles a tired smile, and murmurs in +a perfunctory way his thanks.</p> + +<p>Appolidorus having laid his burden on the floor, kneels to untie the +ropes.</p> + +<p>The secretary explains that he need not trouble, pray bear thanks and +again thanks to his master—he need not tarry!</p> + +<p>The dumb man on his knees neither hears nor heeds.</p> + +<p>The rug is unrolled.</p> + +<p>From out the roll a woman leaps lightly to her feet—a beautiful young +woman of twenty.</p> + +<p>She stands there, poised, defiant, gazing at the pale-faced man seated +at the table.</p> + +<p>He is not surprised—he never was. One might have supposed he received +all his visitors in this manner.</p> + +<p>"Well?" he says in a quiet way, a half-smile parting his thin lips.</p> + +<p>The woman's breast heaves with tumultuous emotion—just an instant. She +speaks, and there is no tremor in her tones. Her voice is low, smooth +and scarcely audible: "I am Cleopatra."</p> + +<p>The man at the desk lays down his pen, leans back and gently nods his +head, as much as to say, indulgently, "Yes, my child, I hear—go on!"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_48" id="VII_Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span>"I am Cleopatra, Queen of Egypt, and I would speak with thee alone."</p> + +<p>She paused; then raising one jeweled arm motions to Appolidorus that he +shall withdraw. With a similar motion, the man at the desk signifies the +same to his astonished secretary.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Appolidorus went down the long hallway, down the stone steps and waited +at the outer gate amid the throng of soldiers. They questioned him, +gibed him, railed at him, but they got no word in reply.</p> + +<p>He waited—he waited an hour, two—and then came a messenger with a note +written on a slip of parchment. The words ran thus: "Well-beloved +'Dorus: Veni, vidi, vici! Go fetch my maids, also all of our personal +belongings."</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_49" id="VII_Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span>Standing alone by the slashed and stiffened corpse of Julius Cæsar, Mark +Antony says:</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">"Thou art the ruins of the noblest man</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">That ever lived in the tide of times."</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>Cæsar had two qualities that mark the man of supreme power: he was +gentle and he was firm.</p> + +<p>To be gentle, generous, lenient, forgiving, and yet never relinquish the +vital thing—this is to be great.</p> + +<p>To know when to be generous and when firm—this is wisdom.</p> + +<p>The first requisite in ruling others is to rule one's own spirit.</p> + +<p>The suavity, moderation, dignity and wise diplomacy of Cæsar led him by +sure and safe steps from a lowly clerkship to positions of gradually +increasing responsibility. At thirty-seven he was elected Pontifex +Maximus—the head of the State Religion.</p> + +<p>Between Pagan Rome and Christian Paganism there is small choice—all +State religions are very much alike. Cæsar was Pope: and no State +religion since his time has been an improvement on that of Cæsar.</p> + +<p>In his habits Cæsar was ascetic—a scholar by nature. He was tall, +slender, and in countenance sad. For the intellect Nature had given him, +she had taken toll by cheating him in form and feature. He was +deliberate and of few words—he listened in a way that always first +complimented the speaker and then disconcerted him.</p> + +<p>By birth he was a noble, and by adoption one of the<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_50" id="VII_Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span> people. He was both +plebeian and patrician.</p> + +<p>His military experience had been but slight, though creditable, and his +public addresses were so few that no one claimed he was an orator. He +had done nothing of special importance, and yet the feeling was +everywhere that he was the greatest man in Rome. The nobles feared him, +trembling at thought of his displeasure. The people loved him—he called +them, "My children."</p> + +<p>Cæsar was head of the Church, but politically there were two other +strong leaders in Rome, Pompey and Crassus. These two men were rich, and +each was at the head of a large number of followers whom he had armed as +militia "for the defense of State." Cæsar was poor in purse and could +not meet them in their own way even if so inclined. He saw the danger of +these rival factions. Strife between them was imminent—street fights +were common—and it would require only a spark to ignite the tinder.</p> + +<p>Cæsar the Pontiff—the man of peace—saw a way to secure safety for the +State from these two men who had armed their rival legions to protect +it.</p> + +<p>To secure this end he would crush them both.</p> + +<p>The natural way to do this would have been to join forces with the party +he deemed the stronger, and down the opposition. But this done, the +leader with whom he had joined forces would still have to be dealt with.</p> + +<p>Cæsar made peace between Pompey and Crassus by<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_51" id="VII_Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span> joining with them, +forming a Triumvirate.</p> + +<p>This was one of the greatest strokes of statecraft ever devised. It made +peace at home—averted civil war—cemented rival factions.</p> + +<p>When three men join forces, make no mistake—power is never equally +divided.</p> + +<p>Before the piping times of peace could pall, a foreign war diverted +attention from approaching difficulties at home.</p> + +<p>The Gauls were threatening—they were always threatening—war could be +had with them any time by just pushing out upon them. To the south, +Sicily, Greece, Persia and Egypt had been exploited—fame and empire lay +in the dim and unknown North.</p> + +<p>Only a Cæsar could have known this. He had his colleagues make him +governor of Gaul. Gaul was a troublesome place to be, and they were +quite willing he should go there. For a priest to go among the fighting +Gauls—they smiled and stroked their chins! Gaul had definite boundaries +on the south—the Rubicon marked the line—but on the north it was +without limit. Real-estate owners own as high in the air and as deep in +the earth as they wish to go. Cæsar alone guessed the greatness of Gaul.</p> + +<p>Under pretense of protecting Rome from a threatened invasion he secured +the strongest legions of Pompey and Crassus. Combining them into one +army he led them northward to such conquest and victory as<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_52" id="VII_Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span> the world +had never before seen.</p> + +<p>It is not for me to tell the history of Cæsar's Gallic wars. Suffice it +to say that in eight years he had penetrated what is now Switzerland, +France, Germany and England. Everywhere he left monuments of his +greatness in the way of splendid highways, baths, aqueducts and temples. +Colonies of settlers from the packed population of Rome followed the +victors.</p> + +<p>An army left to itself after conquest will settle down to riot and mad +surfeit, but this man kept his forces strong by keeping them at +work—discipline was never relaxed, yet there was such kindness and care +for his men that no mutiny ever made head.</p> + +<p>Cæsar became immensely rich—his debts were now all paid—the treasure +returned to Rome did the general coffers fill, his name and fame were +blazoned on the Roman streets.</p> + +<p>When he returned he knew, and had always known, it would be as a +conquering hero. Pompey and Crassus did not wish Cæsar to return. He was +still governor of Gaul and should stay there. They made him governor—he +must do as they required—they sent him his orders. "The die is cast," +said Cæsar on reading the message. Immediately he crossed the Rubicon.</p> + +<p>An army fights for a leader, not a cause. The leader's cause is theirs. +Cæsar had led his men to victory, and he had done it with a +comparatively small degree of danger. He never made an attack until +every expedient<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_53" id="VII_Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span> for peace was exhausted. He sent word to each barbaric +tribe to come in and be lovingly annexed, or else be annexed +willy-nilly. He won, but through diplomacy where it was possible. When +he did strike, it was quickly, unexpectedly and hard. The priest was as +great a strategist as he was a diplomat. He pardoned his opposers when +they would lay down their arms—he wanted success, not vengeance. But +always he gave his soldiers the credit.</p> + +<p>They were loyal to him.</p> + +<p>Pompey and Crassus could not oppose a man like this—they fled.</p> + +<p>Cæsar's most faithful and trusted colleague was Mark Antony, seventeen +years his junior—a slashing, dashing, audacious, exuberant fellow.</p> + +<p>Cæsar became dictator, really king or emperor. He ruled with moderation, +wisely and well. He wore the purple robe of authority, but refused the +crown. He was honored, revered, beloved. The habit of the Pontiff still +clung to him—he called the people, "My children."</p> + +<p>The imperturbable calm of the man of God was upon him. His courage was +unimpeachable, but caution preserved him from personal strife. That he +could ever be approached by one and all was his pride.</p> + +<p>But clouds were beginning to gather.</p> + +<p>He had pardoned his enemies, but they had not forgiven him.</p> + +<p>There were whisperings that he was getting ready to<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_54" id="VII_Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span> assume the office +of emperor. At a certain parade when Cæsar sat upon the raised seat, +reviewing the passing procession, Mark Antony, the exuberant, left his +place in the ranks, and climbing to the platform, tried to crown his +beloved leader with laurel. Cæsar had smilingly declined the honor, amid +the plaudits of the crowd.</p> + +<p>Some said this whole episode was planned to test the temper of the +populace.</p> + +<p>Another cause of offense was that, some time before, Cæsar had spent +several months in Alexandria at the court of Cleopatra. And now the +young and beautiful queen had arrived in Rome, and Cæsar had appeared +with her at public gatherings. She had with her a boy, two years old, by +name Cæsario.</p> + +<p>This Egyptian child, said the conspirators, was to be the future Emperor +of Rome. To meet this accusation Cæsar made his will and provided that +his grand-nephew, Octavius Cæsar, should be his adopted son and heir. +But this was declared a ruse.</p> + +<p>The murmurings grew louder.</p> + +<p>Sixty senators combined to assassinate Cæsar. The high position of these +men made them safe—by standing together they would be secure.</p> + +<p>Cæsar was warned, but declined to take the matter seriously. He neither +would arm himself nor allow guards to attend him.</p> + +<p>On the Fifteenth of March, B. C. Forty-four, as Cæsar<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_55" id="VII_Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span> entered the Senate +the rebels crowded upon him under the pretense of handing him a +petition, and at a sign fell upon him. Twenty-three of the conspirators +got close enough to send their envious daggers home.</p> + +<p>Brutus dipped his sword in the flowing blood, and waving the weapon +aloft cried, "Liberty is restored!"</p> + +<p>Two days later, Mark Antony, standing by the dead body of his beloved +chief, sadly mused:</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">"Thou art the ruins of the noblest man</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">That ever lived in the tide of times."</span><br /> +</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_56" id="VII_Page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span>Cæsar died aged fifty-six. Mark Antony, his executor, occupying the +office next in importance, was thirty-nine.</p> + +<p>In point of physique Mark Antony far surpassed Cæsar: they were the same +height, but Antony was almost heroic in stature and carriage, muscular +and athletic. His face was comely: his nose large and straight; his eyes +set wide apart; his manner martial. If he lacked in intellect, in +appearance he held averages good.</p> + +<p>Antony had occupied the high offices of questor and tribune, the first +calling for literary ability, the second for skill as an orator. Cæsar, +the wise and diplomatic, had chosen Mark Antony as his Secretary of +State on account of his peculiar fitness, especially in representing the +Government at public functions. Antony had a handsome presence, a +gracious tongue, and was a skilled and ready writer. Cæsar himself was +too great a man to be much in evidence.</p> + +<p>In passing it is well to note that all the tales as to the dissipation +and profligacy of Mark Antony in his early days come from the +"Philippics" of Cicero, who made the mistake of executing Lentulus, the +step-father of Mark Antony, and then felt called upon forever after to +condemn the entire family. "Philippics" are always a form of +self-vindication.</p> + +<p>However, it need not be put forward that Mark Antony was by any means a +paragon of virtue—a man who has been successively and successfully +soldier, lawyer,<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_57" id="VII_Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span> politician, judge, rhetorician and diplomat is what he +is. Rome was the ruler of the world; Cæsar was the undisputed greatest +man of Rome; and Mark Antony was the right hand of Cæsar.</p> + +<p>At the decisive battle of Pharsalia, Cæsar had chosen Mark Antony to +lead the left wing while he himself led the right. More than once Mark +Antony had stopped the Roman army in its flight and had turned defeat +into victory. In the battle with Aristobulus he was the first to scale +the wall.</p> + +<p>His personal valor was beyond cavil—he had distinguished himself in +every battle in which he had taken part.</p> + +<p>It was the first intent of the conspirators that Cæsar and Antony should +die together, but the fear was that the envious hate of the people +toward Cæsar would be neutralized by the love the soldiers bore both +Cæsar and Antony. So they counted on the cupidity and ambition of Antony +to keep the soldiers in subjection.</p> + +<p>Antony was kept out of the plot, and when the blow was struck he was +detained at his office by pretended visitors who wanted a hearing.</p> + +<p>When news came to him that Cæsar was dead, he fled, thinking that +massacre would follow. But the next day he returned and held audience +with the rebels.</p> + +<p>Antony was too close a follower of Cæsar to depart from his methods. +Naturally he was hasty and impulsive; but now, everything he did was in +imitation of the<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_58" id="VII_Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span> great man he had loved.</p> + +<p>Cæsar always pardoned. Antony listened to the argument of Brutus that +Cæsar had been removed for the good of Rome. Brutus proposed that Antony +should fill Cæsar's place as Consul or nominal dictator; and in return +Brutus and Cassius were to be made governors of certain +provinces—amnesty was to be given to all who were in the plot.</p> + +<p>Antony agreed, and at once the Assembly was called and a law passed +tendering pardon to all concerned—thus was civil war averted. Cæsar was +dead, but Rome was safe.</p> + +<p>The funeral of Cæsar was to occur the next day. It was to be the funeral +of a private citizen—the honor of a public funeral-pyre was not to be +his. Brutus would say a few words, and Antony, as the closest friend of +the dead, would also speak—the body would be buried and all would go on +in peace.</p> + +<p>Antony had done what he had because it was the only thing he could do. +To be successor of Cæsar filled his ambition to the brim—but to win the +purple by a compromise with the murderers! It turned his soul to gall.</p> + +<p>At the funeral of Cæsar the Forum was crowded to every corner with a +subdued, dejected, breathless throng. People spoke in whispers—no one +felt safe—the air was stifled and poisoned with fear and fever.</p> + +<p>Brutus spoke first: we do not know his exact words, but we know the +temper of the man, and his mental attitude.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_59" id="VII_Page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span>Mark Antony had kept the peace, but if he could only feel that the +people were with him he would drive the sixty plotting conspirators +before him like chaff before the whirlwind.</p> + +<p>He would then be Cæsar's successor because he had avenged his death.</p> + +<p>The orator must show no passion until he has aroused passion in the +hearer—oratory is a collaboration. The orator is the active +principle—the audience the passive.</p> + +<p>Mark Antony, the practised orator, begins with simple propositions to +which all agree. Gradually he sends out quivering feelers—the response +returns—he continues, the audience answers back—he plays upon their +emotion, and soon only one mind is supreme, and that is his own.</p> + +<p>We know what he did and how he did it, but his words are lost. +Shakespeare, the man of imagination, supplies them.</p> + +<p>The plotters have made their defense—it is accepted.</p> + +<p>Antony, too, defends them—he repeats that they are honorable men, and +to reiterate that a man is honorable is to admit that possibly he is +not. The act of defense implies guilt—and to turn defense into +accusation through pity and love for the one wronged is the supreme task +of oratory.</p> + +<p>From love of Cæsar to hate for Brutus and Cassius is but a step. Panic +takes the place of confidence among the conspirators—they slink away. +The spirit of the<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_60" id="VII_Page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span> mob is uppermost—the only honor left to Cæsar is the +funeral-pyre. Benches are torn up, windows pulled from their fastenings, +every available combustible is added to the pile, and the body of +Cæsar—he alone calm and untroubled amid all this mad mob—is placed +upon this improvised throne of death. Torches flare and the pile is soon +in flames.</p> + +<p>Night comes on, and the same torches that touched to red the +funeral-couch of Cæsar hunt out the houses of the conspirators who +killed him.</p> + +<p>But the conspirators have fled.</p> + +<p>One man is supreme, and that man is Mark Antony.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_61" id="VII_Page_61">[Pg 61]</a></span>To maintain a high position requires the skill of a harlequin. It is an +abnormality that any man should long tower above his fellows.</p> + +<p>For a few short weeks Mark Antony was the pride and pet of Rome. He gave +fetes, contests, processions and entertainments of lavish kind. "These +things are pleasant, but they have to be paid for," said Cicero.</p> + +<p>Then came from Illyria, Octavius Cæsar, aged nineteen, the adopted son +of Cæsar the Great, and claimed his patrimony.</p> + +<p>Antony laughed at the stripling, and thought to bribe him with a fete in +his honor and a promise, and in the meantime a clerkship where there was +no work to speak of and pay in inverse ratio.</p> + +<p>The boy was weak in body and commonplace in mind—in way of culture he +had been overtrained—but he was stubborn.</p> + +<p>Mark Antony lived so much on the surface of things that he never +imagined there was a strong party pushing the "Young Augustus" forward.</p> + +<p>Finally Antony became impatient with the importuning young man, and +threatened to send him on his way with a guard at his heels to see that +he did not return.</p> + +<p>At once a storm broke over the head of Antony. It came from a seemingly +clear sky—Antony had to flee, not Octavius.</p> + +<p>The soldiers of the Great Cæsar had been remembered in his will with +seventy-five drachmas to every man, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_62" id="VII_Page_62">[Pg 62]</a></span> the will must stand or fall as +an entirety. Cæsar had provided that Octavius should be his +successor—this will must be respected. Cicero was the man who made the +argument. The army was with the will of the dead man, rather than with +the ambition of the living.</p> + +<p>Antony fled, but gathered a goodly army as he went, intending to return.</p> + +<p>After some months of hard times passion cooled, and Antony, Octavius and +Lepidus, the chief general of Octavius, met in the field for +consultation. Swayed by the eloquence of Antony, who was still full of +the precedents of the Great Cæsar, a Triumvirate was formed, and Antony, +Octavius and Lepidus coolly sat down to divide the world between them.</p> + +<p>One strong argument that Antony used for the necessity of this +partnership was that Brutus and Cassius were just across in Macedonia, +waiting and watching for the time when civil war would so weaken Rome +that they could step in and claim their own.</p> + +<p>Brutus and his fellow conspirators must be punished.</p> + +<p>In two years from that time, they had performed their murderous deed; +Cassius was killed at his own request by his servant, and Brutus had +fallen on his sword to escape the sword of Mark Antony.</p> + +<p>In the stress of defeat and impending calamity, Mark Antony was a great +man; he could endure anything but success.</p> + +<p>But now there were no more enemies to conquer:<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_63" id="VII_Page_63">[Pg 63]</a></span> unlike Cæsar the Great +he was no scholar, so books were not a solace; to build up and beautify +a great State did not occur to him. His camp was turned into a place of +mad riot and disorder. Harpers, dancers, buffoons and all the sodden +splendor of the East made the nights echo with "shouts, sacrifices, +songs and groans."</p> + +<p>When Antony entered Ephesus the women went out to meet him in the +undress of bacchanals, while troops of naked boys representing cupids, +and men clothed like satyrs danced at the head of the procession. +Everywhere were ivy crowns, spears wreathed with green, and harps, +flutes, pipes, and human voices sang songs of praise to the great god +Bacchus—for such Antony liked to be called.</p> + +<p>Antony knew that between Cleopatra and Cæsar there had been a tender +love. All the world that Cæsar ruled, Antony now ruled—or thought he +did. In the intoxication of success he, too, would rule the heart that +the great Cæsar had ruled. He would rule this proud heart or he would +crush it beneath his heel.</p> + +<p>He dispatched Dellius, his trusted secretary, to Alexandria, summoning +the Queen to meet him at Cilicia, and give answer as to why she had +given succor to the army of Cassius.</p> + +<p>The charge was preposterous, and if sincere, shows the drunken condition +of Antony's mind. Cleopatra loved Cæsar—he was to her the King of +Kings, the one supreme and god-like man of earth. Her studious<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_64" id="VII_Page_64">[Pg 64]</a></span> and +splendid mind had matched his own; this cold, scholarly man of fifty-two +had been her mate—the lover of her soul. Scarcely five short years +before, she had attended him on his journey as he went away, and there +on the banks of the Nile as they parted, her unborn babe responded to +the stress of parting, no less than she.</p> + +<p>Afterward she had followed him to Rome that he might see his son, +Cæsario.</p> + +<p>She was in Rome when Brutus and Cassius struck their fatal blows, and +had fled, disguised, her baby in her arms—refusing to trust the +precious life in the hands of hirelings.</p> + +<p>And now that she should be accused of giving help to the murderer of her +joy! She had execrated and despised Cassius, and now she hated, no less, +the man who had wrongfully accused her.</p> + +<p>But he was dictator—his summons must be obeyed. She would obey it, but +she would humiliate him.</p> + +<p>Antony waited at Cilicia on the day appointed, but Cleopatra did not +appear. He waited two days—three—and very leisurely, up the river, the +galleys of Cleopatra came.</p> + +<p>But she did not come as suppliant.</p> + +<p>Her curiously carved galley was studded with nails of gold; the oars +were all tipped with silver; the sails were of purple silk. The rowers +kept time to the music of flutes. The Queen in the gauzy dress of Venus +reclined<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_65" id="VII_Page_65">[Pg 65]</a></span> under a canopy, fanned by cupids. Her maids were dressed like +the Graces, and fragrance of burning incense diffused the shores.</p> + +<p>The whole city went down the river to meet this most gorgeous pageant, +and Antony the proud was left at the tribunal alone.</p> + +<p>On her arrival Cleopatra sent official word of her presence. Antony sent +back word that she should come to him.</p> + +<p>She responded that if he wished to see her he should call and pay his +respects.</p> + +<p>He went down to the riverside and was astonished at the dazzling, +twinkling lights and all the magnificence that his eyes beheld. Very +soon he was convinced that in elegance and magnificence he could not +cope with this Egyptian queen.</p> + +<p>The personal beauty of Cleopatra was not great. Many of her maids +outshone her. Her power lay in her wit and wondrous mind. She adapted +herself to conditions; and on every theme and topic that the +conversation might take, she was at home.</p> + +<p>Her voice was marvelously musical, and was so modulated that it seemed +like an instrument of many strings. She spoke all languages, and +therefore had no use for interpreters.</p> + +<p>When she met Antony she quickly took the measure of the man. She fell at +once into his coarse soldier ways, and answered him jest for jest.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_66" id="VII_Page_66">[Pg 66]</a></span>Antony was at first astonished, then subdued, next entranced—a woman +who could be the comrade of a man she had never seen before! She had the +intellect of a man and all the luscious weaknesses of a woman.</p> + +<p>Cleopatra had come hating this man Antony, and to her surprise she found +him endurable—and more. Besides that, she had cause to be grateful to +him—he had destroyed those conspirators who had killed her Cæsar—her +King of Kings.</p> + +<p>She ordered her retinue to make ready to return. The prows were turned +toward Alexandria; and aboard the galley of the Queen, beneath the +silken canopy, at the feet of Cleopatra, reclined the great Mark +Antony.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_67" id="VII_Page_67">[Pg 67]</a></span>The subject is set forth in Byron's masterly phrase, "Man's love is of +man's life a thing apart; 'tis woman's whole existence." Still, I +suppose it will not be disputed that much depends upon the man and—the +woman.</p> + +<p>In this instance we have a strong, wilful, ambitious and masculine man. +Up to the time he met Cleopatra, love was of his life apart; after this, +it was his whole existence. When they first met there at Cilicia, Antony +was past forty; she was twenty-five.</p> + +<p>Plutarch tells us that Fulvia, the wife of Antony, an earnest and +excellent woman, had tried to discipline him. The result was that, +instead of bringing him over to her way of thinking, she had separated +him from her.</p> + +<p>Cleopatra ruled the man by entwining her spirit with his—mixing the +very fibers of their being—fastening her soul to his with hoops of +steel. She became a necessity to him—a part and parcel of the fabric of +his life. Together they attended to all the affairs of State. They were +one in all the games and sports. The exuberant animal spirits of Antony +occasionally found vent in roaming the streets of Alexandria at dead of +night, rushing into houses and pulling people out of bed, and then +absconding before they were well awake. In these nocturnal pranks, +Cleopatra often attended him, dressed like a boy. Once they both got +well pummeled, and deservedly, but they stood the drubbing rather than +reveal their identity.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_68" id="VII_Page_68">[Pg 68]</a></span>The story of their fishing together, and Antony making all the catch has +been often told. He had a skilful diver go down every now and then and +place a fish on his hook. Finally, when he grew beautifully boastful, as +successful fishermen are apt to do, Cleopatra had her diver go down and +attach a large Newfoundland salt codfish to his hook, which when pulled +up before the company turned the laugh, and in the guise of jest taught +the man a useful lesson. Antony should have known better than to try to +deceive a woman like that—other men have tried it before and since.</p> + +<p>But all this horseplay was not to the higher taste of Cleopatra—with +Cæsar, she would never have done it.</p> + +<p>It is the man who gives the key to conduct in marriage, not the woman; +the partnership is successful only as a woman conforms her life to his. +If she can joyfully mingle her life with his, destiny smiles in +benediction and they become necessary to each other. If she grudgingly +gives, conforming outwardly, with mental reservations, she droops, and +spirit flagellates the body until it sickens, dies. If she holds out +firmly upon principle, intent on preserving her individuality, the man, +if small, sickens and dies; if great he finds companionship elsewhere, +and leaves her to develop her individuality alone—which she never does. +One of three things happens to her: she dies, lapses into nullity, or +finds a mate whose nature is sufficiently like her own that they can +blend.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_69" id="VII_Page_69">[Pg 69]</a></span>Cleopatra was a greater woman, far, than Antony was a man. But she +conformed her life to his and counted it joy. She was capable of better +things, but she waived them all, as strong women do and have done since +the world began. Love is woman's whole existence—sometimes. But love +was not Cleopatra's whole existence, any more than it is the sole +existence of the silken Sara, whose prototype she was. Cleopatra loved +power first, afterward she loved love. By attaching to herself a man of +power both ambitions were realized.</p> + +<p>Two years had gone by, and Antony still remained at Alexandria. +Importunities, requests and orders had all failed to move him to return. +The days passed in the routine affairs of State, hunting, fishing, +excursions, fetes and games. Antony and Cleopatra were not separated +night or day.</p> + +<p>Suddenly news of serious import came: Fulvia, and Lucius, the brother of +Antony, had rebelled against Cæsar and had gathered an army to fight +him.</p> + +<p>Antony was sore distressed, and started at once to the scene of the +difficulty. Fulvia's side of the story was never told, for before Antony +arrived in Italy she was dead.</p> + +<p>Octavius Cæsar came out to meet Antony and they met as friends. +According to Cæsar the whole thing had been planned by Fulvia as a +scheme to lure her lord from the arms of Cleopatra. And anyway the plan +had worked. The Triumvirate still existed—although<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_70" id="VII_Page_70">[Pg 70]</a></span> Lepidus had +practically been reduced to the rank of a private citizen.</p> + +<p>Antony and Cæsar would now rule the world as one, and to cement the bond +Antony should take the sister of Octavius to wife. Knowing full well the +relationship of Antony and Cleopatra, she consented to the arrangement, +and the marriage ceremony was duly performed.</p> + +<p>Antony was the head of the Roman army and to a great degree the actual +ruler. Power was too unequally divided between him and Cæsar for either +to be happy—they quarreled like boys at play.</p> + +<p>Antony was restless, uneasy, impatient. Octavia tried to keep the peace, +but her kindly offices only made matters worse.</p> + +<p>War broke out between Rome and certain tribes in the East, and Antony +took the field. Octavia importuned her liege that she might attend him, +and he finally consented. She went as far as Athens, then across to +Macedonia, and here Antony sent her home to her brother that she might +escape the dangers of the desert.</p> + +<p>Antony followed the enemy down into Syria; and there sent for Cleopatra, +that he might consult with her about joining the forces of Egypt with +those of Rome to crush the barbarians.</p> + +<p>Cleopatra came on, the consultation followed, and it was decided that +when Cæsar the Great—the god-like man whose memory they mutually +revered—said,<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_71" id="VII_Page_71">[Pg 71]</a></span> "War is a foolish business," he was right. They would +let the barbarians slide—if they deserved punishment, the gods would +look after the case. If the barbarians did not need punishment, then +they should go free.</p> + +<p>Tents were struck, pack-camels were loaded, horses were saddled, and the +caravan started for Alexandria. By the side of the camel that carried +the queen, quietly stepped the proud barb that bore Mark Antony.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_72" id="VII_Page_72">[Pg 72]</a></span>Cleopatra and Antony ruled Egypt together for fourteen years. The +country had prospered, even in spite of the extravagance of its +governors, and the Egyptians had shown a pride in their Roman ruler, as +if he had done them great honor to remain and be one with them.</p> + +<p>Cæsario was approaching manhood—his mother's heart was centering her +ambition in him—she called him her King of Kings, the name she had +given to his father. Antony was fond of the young man, and put him +forward at public fetes even in advance of Cleopatra, his daughter, and +Alexander and Ptolemy, his twin boys by the same mother. In playful +paraphrase of Cleopatra, Antony called her the Queen of Kings, and also +the Mother of Kings.</p> + +<p>Word reached Rome that these children of Cleopatra were being trained as +if they were to rule the world—perhaps it was so to be! Octavius Cæsar +scowled. For Antony to wed his sister, and then desert her, and bring up +a brood of barbarians to menace the State, was a serious offense.</p> + +<p>An order was sent commanding Antony to return—requests and prayer all +having proved futile and fruitless.</p> + +<p>Antony had turned into fifty; his hair and beard were whitening with the +frost of years. Cleopatra was near forty—devoted to her children, being +their nurse, instructor, teacher.</p> + +<p>The books refer to the life of Antony and Cleopatra<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_73" id="VII_Page_73">[Pg 73]</a></span> as being given over +to sensuality, licentiousness, profligacy. Just a word here to state +this fact: sensuality alone sickens and turns to satiety ere a single +moon has run her course. Sensuality was a factor in the bond, because +sensuality is a part of life; but sensuality alone soon separates a man +and a woman—it does not long unite. The bond that united Antony and +Cleopatra can not be disposed of by either the words "sensuality" or +"licentiousness"—some other term here applies: make it what you wish.</p> + +<p>A copy of Antony's will had been stolen from the Alexandria archives and +carried to Rome by traitors in the hope of personal reward. Cæsar read +the will to Senate. One clause of it was particularly offensive to +Cæsar: it provided that on the death of Antony, wherever it might occur, +his body should be carried to Cleopatra. The will also provided that the +children of Cleopatra should be provided for first, and afterward the +children of Fulvia and Octavia.</p> + +<p>The Roman Senate heard the will, and declared Mark Antony an outlaw—a +public enemy.</p> + +<p>Erelong Cæsar himself took the field and the Roman legions were pressing +down upon Egypt. The renegade Mark Antony was fighting for his life. For +a time he was successful, but youth was no longer his, the spring had +gone out of his veins, and pride and prosperity had pushed him toward +fatty degeneration.</p> + +<p>His soldiers lost faith in him, and turned to the powerful<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_74" id="VII_Page_74">[Pg 74]</a></span> name of +Cæsar—a name to conjure with. A battle had been arranged between the +fleet of Mark Antony and that of Cæsar. Mark Antony stood upon a +hillside, overlooking the sea, and saw the valiant fleet approach, in +battle-array, the ships of the enemy. The two fleets met, hailed each +other in friendly manner with their oars, turned and together sailed +away.</p> + +<p>On shore the cavalry had done the same as the soldiers on the sea—the +infantry were routed.</p> + +<p>Mark Antony was undone—he made his way back to the city, and as usual +sought Cleopatra. The palace was deserted, save for a few servants. They +said that the Queen had sent the children away some days before, and she +was in the mausoleum.</p> + +<p>To the unhappy man this meant that she was dead. He demanded that his +one faithful valet, known by the fanciful name of Eros, should keep his +promise and kill him. Eros drew his sword, and Antony bared his breast, +but instead of striking the sword into the vitals of his master, Eros +plunged the blade into his own body, and fell at his master's feet.</p> + +<p>At which Mark Antony exclaimed, "This was well done, Eros—thy heart +would not permit thee to kill thy master, but thou hast set him an +example!" So saying, he plunged his sword into his bowels.</p> + +<p>The wound was not deep enough to cause immediate death, and Antony +begged the gathered attendants to kill him.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_75" id="VII_Page_75">[Pg 75]</a></span>Word had been carried to Cleopatra, who had moved into her mausoleum for +safety. This monument and tomb had been erected some years before; it +was made of square blocks of solid stone, and was the stoutest building +in Alexandria. While Antony was outside the walls fighting, Cleopatra +had carried into this building all of her jewelry, plate, costly silks, +gold, silver, pearls, her private records and most valuable books. She +had also carried into the mausoleum a large quantity of flax and several +torches.</p> + +<p>The intent was that, if Antony were defeated and the city taken by +Cæsar, the conqueror should not take the Queen alive, neither should he +have her treasure. With her two women, Iras and Charmion, she entered +the tomb, all agreeing that when the worst came they would fire the flax +and die together.</p> + +<p>When the Queen heard that Antony was at death's door she ordered that he +should be brought to her. He was carried on a litter to the iron gate of +the tomb; but she, fearing treachery, would not unbar the door. Cords +were let down from a window above, and the Queen and her two women, with +much effort, drew the sorely stricken man up, and lifted him through the +window.</p> + +<p>Cleopatra embraced him, calling him her lord, her life, her king, her +husband. She tried to stanch his wound, but the death-rattle was already +in his throat. "Do not grieve," he said; "remember our love—remember,<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_76" id="VII_Page_76">[Pg 76]</a></span> +too, I fought like a Roman and have been overcome only by a Roman!"</p> + +<p>And so holding him in her arms, Antony died.</p> + +<p>When Cæsar heard that his enemy was dead, he put on mourning for the man +who had been his comrade and colleague, and sent messages of condolence +to Cleopatra. He set apart a day for the funeral and ordered that the +day should be sacred, and Cleopatra should not be disturbed in any way.</p> + +<p>Cleopatra prepared the body for burial with her own hands, dug the grave +alone, and with her women laid the body to rest, and she alone gave the +funeral address.</p> + +<p>Cæsar was gentle, gracious, kind. Assurances came that he would do +neither the city nor the Queen the slightest harm.</p> + +<p>Cleopatra demanded Egypt for her children, and for herself she wished +only the privilege of living with her grief in obscurity. Cæsar would +make no promises for her children, but as for herself she should still +be Queen—they were of one age—why should not Cæsar and Cleopatra still +rule, just as, indeed, a Cæsar had ruled before!</p> + +<p>But this woman had loved the Great Cæsar, and now her heart was in the +grave with Mark Antony—she scorned the soft, insinuating promises.</p> + +<p>She clothed herself in her most costly robes, wearing the pearls and +gems that Antony had given her, and upon her head was the diadem that +proclaimed her<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_77" id="VII_Page_77">[Pg 77]</a></span> Queen. A courier from Cæsar's camp knocked at the door +of the mausoleum, but he knocked in vain.</p> + +<p>Finally a ladder was procured, and he climbed to the window through +which the body of Antony had been lifted.</p> + +<p>In the lower room he saw the Queen seated in her golden chair of state, +robed and serene, dead. At her feet lay Iras, lifeless. The faithful +Charmion stood as if in waiting at the back of her mistress' chair, +giving a final touch to the diadem that sat upon the coils of her +lustrous hair.</p> + +<p>The messenger from Cæsar stood in the door aghast—orders had been given +that Cleopatra should not be harmed, neither should she be allowed to +harm herself.</p> + +<p>Now she had escaped!</p> + +<p>"Charmion!" called the man in stern rebuke. "How was this done?"</p> + +<p>"Done, sir," said Charmion, "as became a daughter of the King of Egypt."</p> + +<p>As the woman spoke the words she reeled, caught at the chair, fell, and +was dead.</p> + +<p>Some said these women had taken a deadly poison invented by Cleopatra +and held against this day; others, still, told of how a countryman had +brought a basket of figs, by appointment, covered over with green +leaves, and in the basket was hidden an asp, that deadliest of serpents. +Cleopatra had placed the asp in her bosom, and the other women had +followed her example.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_78" id="VII_Page_78">[Pg 78]</a></span>Cæsar, still wearing mourning for Mark Antony, went into retirement and +for three days refused all visitors. But first he ordered that the body +of Cleopatra, clothed as she had died, in her royal robes, should be +placed in the grave beside the body of Mark Antony.</p> + +<p>And it was so done.</p> + + + +<hr class="full" /> +<h2><a name="SAVONAROLA" id="SAVONAROLA"></a>SAVONAROLA<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_79" id="VII_Page_79">[Pg 79]</a></span></h2> + + + +<div class="blockquot"><p>Some have narrowed their minds, and so fettered them with the +chains of antiquity that not only do they refuse to speak save as +the ancients spake, but they refuse to think save as the ancients +thought. God speaks to us, too, and the best thoughts are those now +being vouchsafed to us. We will excel the ancients!</p></div> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">—<i>Savonarola</i></span><br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_80" id="VII_Page_80">[Pg 80]</a></span></p> + +<div class="center"> + <a id="image0443-1"></a> + <img src="images/0443-1.jpg" width="307" height="400" + alt="" + title="" /> + + <p class="center">SAVONAROLA</p> +</div><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_81" id="VII_Page_81">[Pg 81]</a></span></p> + + + +<p>The wise ones say with a sigh, Genius does not reproduce itself. But let +us take heart and remember that mediocrity does not always do so, +either. Men of genius have often been the sons of commonplace +parents—no hovel is safe from it.</p> + +<p>The father of Girolamo Savonarola was a trifler, a spendthrift and a +profligate. Yet he proved a potent teacher for his son, pressing his +lessons home by the law of antithesis. The sons of dissipated fathers +are often temperance fanatics.</p> + +<p>The character of Savonarola's mother can be best gauged by the letters +written to her by her son. Many of these have come down to us, and they +breathe a love that is very gentle, very tender and yet very profound. +That this woman had an intellect which went to the heart of things is +shown in these letters: we write for those who understand, and the +person to whom a letter is written gives the key that calls forth its +quality. Great love-letters are written only to great women.</p> + +<p>But the best teacher young Girolamo had was Doctor Michael Savonarola, +his grandfather, who was a physician of Padua, and a man of much wisdom +and common-sense, besides. Between the old man and his grandchild there +was a very tender sentiment, that soon formed<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_82" id="VII_Page_82">[Pg 82]</a></span> itself into an abiding +bond. Together they rambled along the banks of the Po, climbed the hills +in springtime looking for the first flowers, made collections of +butterflies, and caught the sunlight in their hearts as it streamed +across the valleys as the shadows lengthened. On these solitary little +journeys they usually carried a copy of Saint Thomas Aquinas, and seated +on a rock the old man would read to the boy lying on the grass at his +feet. In a year or two the boy did the reading, and would expound the +words of the Saint as he went along.</p> + +<p>The old grandfather was all bound up in this slim, delicate youngster, +with the olive complexion and sober ways. There were brothers and +sisters at home—big and strong—but this boy was different. He was not +handsome enough to be much of a favorite with girls, nor strong enough +to win the boys, and so he and the grandfather were chums together.</p> + +<p>This thought of aloofness, of being peculiar, was first fostered in the +lad's mind by the old man. It wasn't exactly a healthy condition. The +old man taught the boy to play the flute, and together they constructed +a set of pipes—the pipes o' Pan—and out along the river they would +play, when they grew tired of reading, and listen for the echo that came +across the water.</p> + +<p>"There are voices calling to me," said the boy looking up at the old +man, one day, as they rested by the bank.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I believe it—you must listen for the Voice," said the old man.<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_83" id="VII_Page_83">[Pg 83]</a></span></p> + +<p>And so the idea became rooted in the lad's mind that he was in touch +with another world, and was a being set apart.</p> + +<p>"Lord, teach me the way my soul should walk!" was his prayer. Doubt and +distrust filled his mind, and his nights were filled with fear. This +child without sin believed himself to be a sinner.</p> + +<p>But this feeling was all forgotten when another companion came to join +them in their walks. This was a girl about the same age as Girolamo. She +was the child of a neighbor—one of the Strozzi family. The Strozzi +belonged to the nobility, and the Savonarolas were only peasants, yet +with children there is no caste. So this trinity of boy, girl and +grandfather was very happy. The old man taught his pupils to observe the +birds and bees, to make tracings of the flowers, and to listen to the +notes he played on the pipes, so as to call them all by name. And then +there was always the Saint Thomas Aquinas to fall back upon should +outward nature fail.</p> + +<p>But there came a day when the boy and the girl ceased to walk hand in +hand, and instead of the delight and abandon of childhood there was +hesitation and aloofness.</p> + +<p>When the parents of the girl forbade her playing with the boy, reminding +her of the difference in their station, and she came by stealth to bid +the old man and her playmate Girolamo good-by, the pride in the boy's +heart flamed up: he clenched his fist—and feeling spent itself in +tears.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_84" id="VII_Page_84">[Pg 84]</a></span>When he looked up the girl was gone—they were never to meet again.</p> + +<p>The grief of the boy pierced the heart of the old man, and he murmured, +"Joy liveth yet for a day, but the sorrow of man abideth forever."</p> + +<p>Doubt and fear assailed the lad.</p> + +<p>The efforts of his grandfather to interest him in the study of his own +profession of medicine failed. Religious brooding filled his days, and +he became pale and weak from fasting.</p> + +<p>He had grown in stature, but the gauntness of his face made his coarse +features stand out so, that he was almost repulsive. But this homeliness +was relieved by the big, lustrous, brown eyes—eyes that challenged and +beseeched in turn.</p> + +<p>The youth was now a young man—eighteen summers lay behind—when he +disappeared from home.</p> + +<p>Soon came a letter from Bologna in which Girolamo explained at length to +his mother that the world's wickedness was to him intolerable, its +ambition ashes, and its hopes not worth striving for. He had entered the +monastery of Saint Dominico, and to save his family the pain of parting +he had stolen quietly away. "I have harkened to the Voice," he said.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_85" id="VII_Page_85">[Pg 85]</a></span>Savonarola remained in the monastery at Bologna for six years, scarcely +passing beyond its walls. These were years of ceaseless study, writing, +meditation—work. He sought the most menial occupations—doing tasks +that others cautiously evaded. His simplicity, earnestness and austerity +won the love and admiration of the monks, and they sought to make life +more congenial to him, by advancing him to the office of teacher to the +novitiates.</p> + +<p>He declared his unfitness to teach, and it was an imperative order, and +not a suggestion, that forced him to forsake the business of scrubbing +corridors on hands and knees, and array himself in the white robe of a +teacher and reader.</p> + +<p>The office of teacher and that of orator are not far apart—it is all a +matter of expression. The first requisite in expression is +animation—you must feel in order to impart feeling. No drowsy, lazy, +disinterested, half-hearted, preoccupied, selfish, trifling person can +teach—to teach you must have life, and life in abundance. You must have +abandon—you must project yourself, and inundate the room with your +presence. To infuse life, and a desire to remember, to know, to become, +into a class of a dozen pupils, is to reveal the power of an orator. If +you can fire the minds of a few with your own spirit, you can, probably, +also fuse and weld a thousand in the same way.</p> + +<p>Savonarola taught his little class of novitiates, and soon<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_86" id="VII_Page_86">[Pg 86]</a></span> the older +monks dropped in to hear the discourse. A larger room was necessary, and +in a short time the semi-weekly informal talk resolved itself into a +lecture, and every seat was occupied when it was known that Brother +Girolamo would speak.</p> + +<p>This success suggested to the Prior that Savonarola be sent out to +preach in the churches round about, and it was so done.</p> + +<p>But outside the monastery Savonarola was not a success: he was precise, +exact, and labored to make himself understood—freedom had not yet come +to him.</p> + +<p>But let us wait!</p> + +<p>One of America's greatest preachers was well past forty before he +evolved abandon, swung himself clear, and put out for open sea. +Uncertainty and anxiety are death to oratory.</p> + +<p>In every monastery there are two classes of men—the religious, the +sincere, the earnest, the austere; and the fat, lazy, profligate and +licentious.</p> + +<p>And the proportion of the first class to the second changes just in +proportion as the monastery is successful—to succeed in Nature is to +die. The fruit much loved by the sun rots first. The early monasteries +were mendicant institutions, and for mendicancy to grow rich is an +anomaly that carries a penalty. A successful beggar is apt to be +haughty, arrogant, dictatorial—from a humble request for alms to a +demand for your purse is but a step. In either case the man wants +something that is<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_87" id="VII_Page_87">[Pg 87]</a></span> not his—there are three ways to get it: earn it, beg +it, seize it. The first method is absurd—to dig I am ashamed—the +second, easy; the last is best of all, provided objection is not too +strenuous. Beggars a-horseback are knights of the road.</p> + +<p>That which comes easy, goes easy, and so it is the most natural thing in +the world for a monk to become a connoisseur of wines, an expert +gourmet, a sensualist who plays the limit. The monastic impulse begins +in the beautiful desire for solitude—to be alone with God—and ere it +runs its gamut dips deep into license and wallows in folly.</p> + +<p>The austere monk leaves woman out, the other kind enslaves her: both are +wrong, for man can never advance and leave woman behind. God never +intended that man, made in His image, should be either a beast or a +fool.</p> + +<p>And here we are wiser than Savonarola—noble, honest and splendid man +that he was. He saw the wickedness of the world and sought to shun it by +fleeing to a monastery. There he saw the wickedness of the monastery, +and there being no place to flee he sought to purify it. And at the same +time he sought to purify and better the world by standing outside of the +world.</p> + +<p>The history of the Church is a history of endeavor to keep it from +drifting into the thing it professes not to be—concrete selfishness. +The Church began in humility and simplicity, and when it became +successful,<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_88" id="VII_Page_88">[Pg 88]</a></span> behold it became a thing of pomp, pride, processional, +crowns, jewels, rich robes and a power that used itself to subjugate and +subdue, instead of to uplift and lead by love and pity.</p> + +<p>Oh, the shame of it!</p> + +<p>And Savonarola saw these things—saw them to the exclusion of everything +else—and his cry continually was for a return to the religion of Jesus +the Carpenter, the Man who gave his life that others might live.</p> + +<p>The Christ spirit filled the heart of Savonarola. His soul was wrung +with pity for the poor, the unfortunate, the oppressed; and he had +sufficient insight into economics to know that where greed, gluttony and +idleness abound, there too stalk oppression, suffering and death. The +palaces of the rich are built on the bones of the poor.</p> + +<p>Others, high in Church authority, saw these things, too, and knew, no +less than Savonarola, the need of reform—they gloried in his ringing +words of warning, and they admired no less his example of austerity.</p> + +<p>They could not do the needed work—perhaps he could do a little, at +least.</p> + +<p>And so he was transferred to Saint Mark's Monastery at Florence—the +place that needed him most.</p> + +<p>Florence was the acknowledged seat of art and polite learning of all +Italy, and Saint Mark's was the chief glory of the Church in Florence.</p> + +<p>Florence was prosperous and so was Saint Mark's, and have we not said +that there is something in pure<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_89" id="VII_Page_89">[Pg 89]</a></span> prosperity that taints the soul?</p> + +<p>Savonarola was sent to Saint Mark's merely as a teacher and lecturer. +Bologna was full of gloom and grime—the bestiality there was untamed. +Here everything was gilded, gracious and good to look upon. The +cloister-walks were embowered in climbing roses, the walls decorated +fresh from the brush of Fra Angelico, and the fountains in the gardens, +adorned by naked cupids, sent their sparkling beads aloft to greet the +sunlight.</p> + +<p>Brother Girolamo had never seen such beauty before—its gracious essence +enfolded him round, and for a few short hours lifted that dead weight of +abiding melancholy from his soul.</p> + +<p>When he lectured he was surprised to find many fashionable ladies in his +audience: learning was evidently a fad. He saw that it was expected that +he should be amusing, diverting, and incidentally, instructive. He had +only one mode of preaching—this was earnest exhortation to a higher +life, the life of austerity, simplicity and nearness to God, by laboring +to benefit His children.</p> + +<p>He mumbled through his lecture and retired, abashed and humiliated.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_90" id="VII_Page_90">[Pg 90]</a></span>It was the year Fourteen Hundred Eighty-two, and the whole world was +athrill with thought and feeling. Lorenzo the Magnificent was at the +very height of his power and popularity; printing-presses gave letters +an impetus; art flourished; the people were dazzled by display and were +dipping deep into the love of pleasure. The austerity of Christian +religion had glided off by imperceptible degrees into pagan pageantry, +and the song of bacchanals filled the streets at midnight.</p> + +<p>Lorenzo did for the world a great and splendid work—for one thing, he +discovered Michelangelo—and the encouragement he gave to the arts made +Florence the beautiful dream in stone that she is even to this day.</p> + +<p>The world needs the Lorenzos and the world needs, too, the +Savonarolas—they form an Opposition of Forces that holds the balance +true. Power left to itself attains a terrific impetus: a governor is +needed, and it was Savonarola who tempered and tamed the excesses of the +Medici.</p> + +<p>In Fourteen Hundred Eighty-three Savonarola was appointed Lenten +preacher at the Church of Saint Lorenzo in Florence. His exhortations +were plain, homely, blunt—his voice uncertain, and his ugly features at +times inclined his fashionable auditors to unseemly smiles. When +ugliness forgets itself and gives off the flash of the spirit, it +becomes magnificent—takes upon itself a halo—but this was not yet to +be.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_91" id="VII_Page_91">[Pg 91]</a></span>The orator must subdue his audience or it will subdue him.</p> + +<p>Savonarola retired to his cloister-cell, whipped and discouraged. He +took no part in the festivals and fetes: the Gardens of Lorenzo were not +for him; the society of the smooth and cultured lovers of art and +literature was beyond his pale. Being incapable by temperament of mixing +in the whirl of pleasure, he found a satisfaction in keeping out of it, +thus proving his humanity. Not being able to have a thing, we scorn it. +Men who can not dance are apt to regard dancing as sinful.</p> + +<p>Savonarola saw things as a countryman sees them when he goes to a great +city for the first time.</p> + +<p>There is much that is wrong—very much that is wasteful, extravagant, +absurd and pernicious, but it is not all base, and the visitor is apt to +err in his conclusions, especially if he be of an intense and ascetic +type.</p> + +<p>Savonarola was sick at heart, sick in body—fasts and vigils had done +their sure and certain work for nerves and digestion. He saw visions and +heard voices, and in the Book of Revelation he discovered the symbols of +prophesy that foretold the doom of Florence. He felt that he was +divinely inspired.</p> + +<p>In the outside world he saw only the worst—and this was well.</p> + +<p>He believed that he was one sent from God to cleanse the Church of its +iniquities—and he was right.</p> + +<p>These madmen are needed—Nature demands them, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_92" id="VII_Page_92">[Pg 92]</a></span> so God makes them to +order. They are ignorant of what the many know, and this is their +advantage; they are blind to all but a few things, and therein lies +their power.</p> + +<p>The belief in his mission filled the heart of Savonarola. Gradually he +gained ground, made head, and the Prior of Saint Mark's did what the +Prior of Saint Dominico's had done at Bologna—he sent the man out on +preaching tours among the churches and monasteries. The austerity and +purity of his character, the sublimity of his faith, and his relentless +war upon the extravagance of the times, made his presence valuable to +the Church. Then in all personal relationships the man was most +lovable—gentle, sympathetic, kind. Wherever he went his influence was +for the best.</p> + +<p>Power plus came to him for the first time at Brescia in Fourteen Hundred +Eighty-six. The sermon he gave was one he had given many times; in fact, +he never had but one theme: flee from the wrath to come, and accept the +pardon of the gentle Christ ere it is too late—ere it is too late.</p> + +<p>Much of what passes for oratory is merely talk, lecture, harangue and +argument. These things may all be very useful, and surely they have +their place in the world of work and business, but oratory is another +thing. Oratory is the impassioned outpouring of a heart—a heart full to +bursting: it is the absolute giving of soul to soul.</p> + +<p>Every great speech is an evolution—it must be given<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_93" id="VII_Page_93">[Pg 93]</a></span> many times before +it becomes a part of the man himself. Oratory is the ability to weld a +mass of people into absolutely one mood. To do this the orator must lose +himself in his subject—he must cast expediency to the winds. And more +than this, his theme must always be an appeal for humanity. Invective, +threat, challenge, all play their parts, but love is the great recurring +theme that winds in and out through every great sermon or oration. +Pathos is only possible where there is great love, and pathos is always +present in the oration that subdues, that convinces, that wins, and +sends men to their knees in abandonment of their own wills. The audience +is the female element—the orator the male, and love is the theme. The +orator comes in the name of God to give protection—freedom.</p> + +<p>Usually the great orator is on the losing side. And this excites on the +part of the audience the feminine attribute of pity, and pity fused with +admiration gives us love—thus does love act and react on love.</p> + +<p>Oratory supplies the most sublime gratification which the gods have to +give. To subdue the audience and blend mind with mind affords an +intoxication beyond the ambrosia of Elysium. When Sophocles pictured the +god Mercury seizing upon the fairest daughter of Earth and carrying her +away through the realms of space, he had in mind the power of the +orator, which through love lifts up humanity and sways men by a burst of +feeling that brooks no resistance.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_94" id="VII_Page_94">[Pg 94]</a></span>Oratory is the child of democracy—it pleads for the weak, for the many +against the few—and no great speech was ever yet made save in behalf of +mankind. The orator feels their joys, their sorrows, their hopes, their +desires, their aspirations, their sufferings and pains. They may have +wandered far, but his arms are open wide for their return. Here alone +does soul respond to soul. And it is love, alone, that fuses feeling so +that all are of one mind and mood. Oratory is an exercise of power.</p> + +<p>But oratory, like all sublime pleasures, pays its penalty—this way +madness lies. The great orator has ever been a man of sorrows and +acquainted with grief. Oratory points the martyr's path; it leads by the +thorn road; and those who have trod the way have carried the cross with +bleeding feet, and deep into their side has been thrust the spear.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_95" id="VII_Page_95">[Pg 95]</a></span>It was not until his fortieth year that Savonarola attained that +self-sufficiency and complete self-reliance that marks a man who is fit +for martyrdom. Courage comes only to those who have done the thing +before.</p> + +<p>By this time Savonarola had achieved enemies, and several dignitaries +had done him the honor of publicly answering him. His invective was +against the sins of Church and Society, but his enemies, instead of +defending their cause, did the very natural thing of inveighing against +Savonarola.</p> + +<p>Thus did they divert attention from the question at issue. Personal +abuse is often more effective than argument, and certainly much more +easy to wield.</p> + +<p>Savonarola was getting himself beautifully misunderstood. Such words as +fanatic, pretender, agitator, heretic, renegade and "dangerous" were +freely hurled at him. They said he was pulling down the pillars of +Society. He seriously considered retiring entirely from the pulpit; and +as a personal vindication and that his thoughts might live, he wrote a +book, "The Triumph of the Cross." This volume contains all his +philosophy and depicts truth as he saw it.</p> + +<p>Let a reader, ignorant of the author, peruse this book today, and he +will find in it only the oft-repeated appeal of a believer in "Primitive +Christianity." Purity of life, sincerity, simplicity, earnestness, +loyalty to God and love to man—these are very old themes, yet they<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_96" id="VII_Page_96">[Pg 96]</a></span> can +never die. Zeal can always fan them into flame.</p> + +<p>Savonarola was an unconscious part of the great "humanist" movement.</p> + +<p>Savonarola, John Knox, the Wesleys, Calvin, Luther, the Puritans, +Huguenots, Quakers, Shakers, Mennonites and Dunkards—all are one. The +scientist sees species under all the manifold manifestations of climate, +environment and local condition.</p> + +<p>Florence was a republic, but it is only eternal vigilance that can keep +a republic a republic. The strong man who assumes the reins is +continually coming to the fore, and the people diplomatically handled +are quite willing to make him king, provided he continues to call +himself "Citizen."</p> + +<p>Lorenzo de Medici ruled Florence, yet occupied no office, and assumed no +title. He dictated the policy of the government, filled all the offices, +and ministered the finances. Incidentally he was a punctilious +Churchman—obeying the formula—and the Church at Florence was within +his grasp no less than the police. The secret of this power lay in the +fact that he handled the "sinews of war"—no man ever yet succeeded +largely in a public way who was not a financier, or else one who owned a +man who was. Public power is a matter of money, wisely used.</p> + +<p>To divert, amuse and please the people is a necessity to the ruler, for +power at the last is derived from the people, and no government endures +that is not founded<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_97" id="VII_Page_97">[Pg 97]</a></span> on the consent of the governed. If you would rule +either a woman or a nation, you had better gain consent. To secure this +consent you must say "please."</p> + +<p>The gladiatorial shows of Greece, the games, contests, displays, all the +barbaric splendor of processions, music, fetes, festivals, chants, robes +and fantastic folderol of Rome—ancient and modern—the boom of guns in +sham battles, coronations, thrones and crowns are all manifestations of +this great game of power.</p> + +<p>The people are children, and must be pleased.</p> + +<p>But eventually the people reach adolescence: knowledge comes to them (to +a few at least) and they perceive that they themselves foot all bills, +and pay in sweat and tears and blood for all this pomp of power.</p> + +<p>They rise in their might, like a giant aroused from sleep, and the +threads that bound them are burst asunder. They themselves assume the +reins of government, and we have a republic.</p> + +<p>And this republic endures until some republican, coming in the name of +the people, waxes powerful and evolves into a plutocrat who assumes the +reins, and the cycle goes its round and winds itself up on the reel of +time.</p> + +<p>Savonarola thundered against the extravagance, moral riot and pomp of +the rich—and this meant the Medici, and all those who fed at the public +trough, and prided themselves on their patriotism.</p> + +<p>Lorenzo grew uneasy, and sent requests that the preacher moderate his +tone in the interests of public<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_98" id="VII_Page_98">[Pg 98]</a></span> weal. Savonarola sent back words that +were unbecoming in one addressing a ruler.</p> + +<p>Then it was that Lorenzo the Magnificent, also the wise and wily, +resolved on a great diplomatic move.</p> + +<p>He had the fanatical and troublesome monk, Fra Girolamo Savonarola, made +Prior of the Monastery of Saint Mark's—success was the weapon that +would undo him.</p> + +<p>Of course, Lorenzo did not act directly in the matter—personally he did +not appear at all.</p> + +<p>Now the Prior of Saint Mark's had the handling of large sums of money, +the place could really be the home of a prince if the Prior wished to be +one, and all he had to do was to follow the wishes of the Magnificent +Lorenzo.</p> + +<p>"Promote him," said Lorenzo, "and his zeal will dilute itself, and +culture will come to take the place of frenzy. Art is better than +austerity, and silken robes and 'broidered chasubles are preferable to +horsehair and rope. A crown looks better than a tonsure."</p> + +<p>And Savonarola became Prior of Saint Mark's.</p> + +<p>Now the first duty, according to established custom, of a newly +appointed Prior was to call, in official robes, and pay his respects to +Lorenzo, the nominal governor of Florence. It was just a mere form, you +know—simply showing the people that Saint Mark's was still loyal to the +State.</p> + +<p>Lorenzo appointed a day and sent word that at a certain<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_99" id="VII_Page_99">[Pg 99]</a></span> hour he would +be pleased to welcome the Prior, and congratulate him upon his +elevation. At the same time the Prior was expected to say mass in the +private chapel of the governor, and bestow his blessing upon the House +of the Medici.</p> + +<p>But Savonarola treated the invitation to call with disdain, and turned +the messengers of Lorenzo away with scant courtesy. Instead of joining +hands with Lorenzo he preached a sermon at the Cathedral, bitterly +arraigning the aristocracy, prophesying their speedy downfall, and +beseeching all men who wished to be saved to turn, repent, make +restitution and secure the pardon of God, ere it was too late. The +sermon shook the city, and other addresses of the same tenor followed +daily. It was a "revival," of the good old Methodist kind—and religious +emotion drifting into frenzy is older far than history.</p> + +<p>The name of Lorenzo was not mentioned personally, but all saw it was a +duel to the death between the plain people and the silken and perfumed +rulers. It was the same old fight—personified by Savonarola on one side +and Lorenzo on the other.</p> + +<p>Lorenzo sunk his pride and went to Saint Mark's for an interview with +the Prior. He found a man of adamant and iron, one blind and deaf to +political logic, one who scorned all persuasion and in whose lexicon +there was no such word as expediency.</p> + +<p>Lorenzo turned away, whipped and disappointed—the prophecies of +impending doom had even touched his<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_100" id="VII_Page_100">[Pg 100]</a></span> own stout heart. He was stricken +with fever, and the extent of his fear is shown that in his extremity he +sent for the Prior of Saint Mark's to come to his bedside.</p> + +<p>Even there, Savonarola was not softened. Before granting absolution to +the sick man, he demanded three things:</p> + +<p>"First, you must repent and feel a true faith in God, who in His mercy +alone can pardon."</p> + +<p>Lorenzo assented.</p> + +<p>"Second, you must give up your ill-gotten wealth to the people."</p> + +<p>Lorenzo groaned, and finally reluctantly agreed.</p> + +<p>"Third, you must restore to Florence her liberty."</p> + +<p>Lorenzo groaned and moaned, and turned his face to the wall.</p> + +<p>Savonarola grimly waited half an hour, but no sign coming from the +stricken man, he silently went his way.</p> + +<p>The next day Lorenzo the Magnificent, aged forty-two, died—died +unabsolved.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_101" id="VII_Page_101">[Pg 101]</a></span>Lorenzo left three sons. The eldest was Pietro, just approaching his +majority, who was the recognized successor of his father. The second son +was Giuliano, who had already been made a cardinal at thirteen years of +age, and who was destined to be the powerful Pope, Leo X.</p> + +<p>The death of Lorenzo had been indirectly foretold by Savonarola, and now +some of his disciples were not slow in showing an ill-becoming +exultation. They said, "I told you so!" The intensity of the revival +increased, and there was danger of its taking on the form of revolution.</p> + +<p>Savonarola saw this mob spirit at work, and for a time moderated his +tone. But there were now occasional outbreaks between his followers and +those of the Medici. A guard was necessary to protect Savonarola as he +passed from Saint Mark's to the different churches where he preached. +The police and soldiers were on the side of the aristocracy who +supported them.</p> + +<p>The Pope had been importuned to use his influence to avert the +threatened harm to "true religion." Savonarola should be silenced, said +the aristocrats, and that speedily.</p> + +<p>A letter came from Pope Alexander, couched in most gentle and gracious +words, requesting Savonarola to come to Rome, and there give exhibition +of his wondrous gifts.</p> + +<p>Savonarola knew that he was dealing with a Borgia—a<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_102" id="VII_Page_102">[Pg 102]</a></span> man who cajoled, +bought and bribed, and when these failed there were noose, knife and +poison close at hand. The Prior of Saint Mark's could deal with Lorenzo +in Florence, but with Alexander at Rome he would be undone. The +iniquities of the Borgia family far exceeded the sins of the Medici, and +in his impassioned moments Savonarola had said as much.</p> + +<p>At Rome he would have to explain these things—and to explain them would +be to repeat them. Alexander stood for nepotism, which is the sugared +essence of that time-honored maxim, "To the victor belong the spoils." +The world has never seen so little religion and so much pretense as +during the reign of the Borgias.</p> + +<p>At this time when offenders were called to Rome, it sometimes happened +that they were never again heard from. Beneath the Castle Saint Angelo +were dungeons—no records were kept—and the stories told of human bones +found in walled-up cells are no idle tales. An iron collar circling the +neck of a skeleton that was once a man is a sight these eyes have seen.</p> + +<p>Prison records open to the public are a comparatively new thing, and the +practise of "doctoring" a record has, until recently, been quite in +vogue.</p> + +<p>Savonarola acknowledged the receipt of the Pope's request, but made +excuses, and asked for time.</p> + +<p>Alexander certainly did all he could to avoid an open rupture with the +Prior of Saint Mark's. He was inwardly pleased when Savonarola affronted +the Medici—it was a<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_103" id="VII_Page_103">[Pg 103]</a></span> thing he dared not do—and if the religious +revival could be localized and kept within bounds, all would have been +well. It had now gone far enough; if continued, and Rome should behold +such scenes as Florence had witnessed, the Holy See itself would not be +safe.</p> + +<p>Alexander accepted the excuses of Savonarola with much courtesy. Soon +word came that the Prior of Saint Mark's was to be made a cardinal, but +the gentle hint went with the message that the red hat was to be in the +nature of a reward for bringing about peace at Florence.</p> + +<p>Peace! Peace! How could there be peace unless Savonarola bowed his head +to the rule of the aristocrats?</p> + +<p>His sermons were often interrupted—stones were thrown through the +windows when he preached. The pulpit where he was to speak had been +filled with filth, and the skin of an ass tacked over the sacred desk. +Must he go back?</p> + +<p>To the offer of the cardinal's hat he sent this message: "No hat will I +have but that of a martyr, reddened with my own blood."</p> + +<p>The tactics of the Pope now changed; he sent an imperative order that +Savonarola should present himself at Rome, and give answer to the +charges there made against him.</p> + +<p>Savonarola silently scorned the message.</p> + +<p>The Pope was still patient. He would waive the insult to himself, if +Florence would only manage to take care of her own troubles. But +importunities kept coming<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_104" id="VII_Page_104">[Pg 104]</a></span> that Savonarola should be silenced—the power +of the man had grown until Florence was absolutely under his subjection. +Bonfires of pictures, books and statuary condemned by him had been made +in the streets; and the idea was carried to Rome that there was danger +of the palaces being pillaged. Florence could deal with the man, but +would not so long as he was legally a part of the Church.</p> + +<p>Then it was that the Pope issued his Bull of Excommunication, and the +order removing Savonarola from his office as Prior of Saint Mark's.</p> + +<p>The answer of Savonarola was a sermon in the form of a defiance. He +claimed, and rightly, that he was no heretic—no obligations that the +Church asked had he ever disregarded, and therefore the Pope had no +right to silence him.</p> + +<p>He made his appeal to the rulers of the world, and declared that +Alexander was no Pope, because he had deliberately bought his way to the +Vatican.</p> + +<p>There was now a brief struggle between the authorities of the Pope and +those of Florence as to who should have the man. The Pope wanted him to +be secretly captured and taken to Rome for trial. Alexander feared the +publicity that Florence would give to the matter—he knew a shorter way.</p> + +<p>But Florence stood firm. Savonarola had now retired to Saint Mark's and +his followers barricaded the position. The man might have escaped, and +the authorities hoped<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_105" id="VII_Page_105">[Pg 105]</a></span> he would, but there he remained, holding the +place, and daily preaching to the faithful few who stood by him.</p> + +<p>Finally the walls were stormed, and police, soldiers and populace +overran the monastery. Savonarola remained passive, and he even reproved +several of the monks who, armed with clubs, made stout resistance.</p> + +<p>The warrants for arrest called only for Fra Girolamo, Fra Domenico and +Fra Silvestro—these last being his most faithful disciples, preaching +often in his pulpit and echoing his words.</p> + +<p>The prisoners were bound and hurried through the streets toward the +Piazza Signoria. The soldiers made a guard of spears and shields around +them, but this did not prevent their being pelted with mud and stones.</p> + +<p>They were lodged in separate cells, in the prison portion of the Palazzo +Vecchio, and each was importuned to recant the charges made against the +Pope and the Medici. All refused, even when told that the others had +recanted.</p> + +<p>Savonarola's judges were chosen from among his most bitter foes. He was +brought before them, and ordered to take back his accusations.</p> + +<p>He remained silent.</p> + +<p>Threatened, he answered in parable.</p> + +<p>He was then taken to the torture-cell, stripped of all clothing, and a +thin, strong rope passed under his arms. He was suddenly drawn up, and +dropped.</p> + +<p>This was repeated until the cord around the man's<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_106" id="VII_Page_106">[Pg 106]</a></span> body cut the skin and +his form was covered with blood.</p> + +<p>The physically sensitive nature of the man gave way and he recanted.</p> + +<p>Being taken to his cell he repeated all he had said against the Pope, +and called aloud, "Lord Jesus, pardon me that I forsook thy truth—it +was the torture—I now repeat all I ever said from my pulpit—Lord +Jesus, pardon!"</p> + +<p>Again he was taken to the torture-chamber and all was gone over as +before.</p> + +<p>He and his two companions were now formally condemned to death and their +day of execution set.</p> + +<p>To know the worst is peace—it is uncertainty that kills.</p> + +<p>A great calm came over Savonarola—he saw the gates of Heaven opening +for him. He was able now to sleep and eat. The great brown eyes beamed +with love and benediction, and his hands were raised only in blessing to +friend and foe alike.</p> + +<p>The day of execution came, and the Piazza Signoria was filled with a +vast concourse of people. Every spare foot of space was taken. Platforms +had been erected and seats sold for fabulous prices. Every window was +filled with faces.</p> + +<p>An elevated walk had been built out from the second story of the prison +to the executioner's platform. From this high scaffold rose a great +cross with ropes and chains dangling from the arms. Below were piled +high heaps of fagots, saturated with oil.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_107" id="VII_Page_107">[Pg 107]</a></span>There was a wild exultant yell from the enemies of the men on their +appearance, but others of their adversaries appeared dazed at their +success, and it seemed for a few moments as if pity would take the place +of hate, and the mob would demand the release of the men.</p> + +<p>The prisoners walked firmly and conversed in undertone, encouraging each +other to stand firm. Each held a crucifix and pressed it to his lips, +repeating the creed. Halfway across to the gibbet, they were stopped, +the crucifixes torn from their hands, and their priestly robes stripped +from them. There they stood, clad only in scant underclothes, in sight +of the mob that seethed and mocked. Sharp sticks were thrust up between +the crevices of the board walk, so blood streamed from their bare feet.</p> + +<p>Having advanced so that they stood beneath the gibbet, their priestly +robes were again thrown over them, and once more torn off by a bishop +who repeated the words, "Thus do I sever you from the Church Militant +and the Church Triumphant!"</p> + +<p>"Not the Church Triumphant!" answered Savonarola in a loud voice. "You +can not do that."</p> + +<p>In order to prolong the torture of Savonarola, his companions were +hanged first, before his eyes.</p> + +<p>When his turn came he stepped lightly to his place between the dead and +swinging bodies of his brethren. As the executioner was adjusting the +cord about his neck, his great tender eyes were raised to heaven and<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_108" id="VII_Page_108">[Pg 108]</a></span> +his lips moved in prayer as the noose tightened.</p> + +<p>The chains were quickly fastened about the bodies to hold them in place, +and scarcely had the executioner upon the platform slid down the +ladders, than the waiting torches below fired the pile and the flames +shot heavenward and licked the great cross where the three bodies +swayed.</p> + +<p>The smoke soon covered them from view.</p> + +<p>Then suddenly there came a gust of wind that parted the smoke and +flames, and the staring mob, now silent, saw that the fire had burned +the thongs that bound the arms of Savonarola. One hand was uplifted in +blessing and benediction.</p> + +<p>So died Savonarola.</p> + + + +<hr class="full" /> +<h2><a name="MARTIN_LUTHER" id="MARTIN_LUTHER"></a>MARTIN LUTHER<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_109" id="VII_Page_109">[Pg 109]</a></span></h2> + + + +<div class="blockquot"><p>Only slaves die of overwork. Work a weariness, a danger, forsooth! +Those who say so can know very little about it. Labor is neither +cruel nor ungrateful; it restores the strength we give it a +hundredfold and, unlike financial operations, the revenue is what +brings in the capital. Put soul into your work, and joy and health +will be yours.</p></div> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">—<i>Luther</i></span><br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_110" id="VII_Page_110">[Pg 110]</a></span></p> + +<div class="center"> + <a id="image0444-1"></a> + <img src="images/0444-1.jpg" width="300" height="400" + alt="" + title="" /> + + <p class="center">MARTIN LUTHER</p> +</div> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_111" id="VII_Page_111">[Pg 111]</a></span></p> + + + +<p>The idea of the monastery is as old as man, and its rise is as natural +as the birth and death of the seasons.</p> + +<p>We need society, and we need solitude. But it happens again and again +that man gets a surfeit of society—he is thrown with those who +misunderstand him, who thwart him, who contradict his nature, who bring +out the worst in his disposition: he is sapped of his strength, and then +he longs for solitude. He would go alone up into the mountain. What is +called the "monastic impulse" comes over him—he longs to be +alone—alone with God.</p> + +<p>The monastic impulse can be traced back a thousand years before Christ: +the idea is neither Christian, Jewish, Philistine nor Buddhist. Every +people of which we know have had their hermits and recluses.</p> + +<p>The communal thought is a form of monasticism—it is a getting away from +the world. Monasticism does not necessarily imply celibacy, but as +unrequited or misplaced love is usually the precursor of the monastic +impulse, celibacy or some strange idea on the sex problem usually is in +evidence.</p> + +<p>Monasticism has many forms: College Settlements, Zionism, Deaconesses' +Homes, Faith Cottages, Shakerism, Mormonism, are all manifestations of +the impulse<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_112" id="VII_Page_112">[Pg 112]</a></span> to get away from the world, and still benefit the world by +standing outside of it. This desire to get away from the world and still +mix in it shows that monasticism is not quite sincere—we want society +no less than we want solitude. Very seldom, indeed, has a monk ever gone +away and remained: he comes back to the world, occasionally, to beg, or +sell things, and to "do good."</p> + +<p>The rise of the Christian monastery begins with Paul the Hermit, who in +the year Two Hundred Fifty withdrew to an oasis in the desert, and lived +in a cave before which was a single palm-tree and a spring.</p> + +<p>Other men worn with strife, tired of stupid misunderstanding, +persecution and unkind fate, came to him. And there they lived in +common. The necessity of discipline and order naturally presented +itself, so they made rules that governed conduct. The day was divided up +into periods when the inmates of this first monastery prayed, communed +with the silence, worked and studied.</p> + +<p>Within a hundred years there were similar religious communities at fifty +or more places in Upper Egypt.</p> + +<p>Women have always imitated men, and soon nunneries sprang up here and +there. In fact, the nunnery has a little more excuse for being than the +monastery. In a barbaric society an unattached woman needs protection, +and this she gets in the nunnery. Even so radical a thinker as Max +Muller regarded the nunnery as a valuable agent in giving dignity to +woman's estate. If she was mistreated and desired protection, she could +find<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_113" id="VII_Page_113">[Pg 113]</a></span> refuge in this sanctuary. She became the Bride of Christ, and +through the protection of the convent, man was forced to be civil, and +chivalry came to take the place of force.</p> + +<p>Most monasteries have been mendicant institutions. As early as the year +Five Hundred we read of the monks going abroad a-questing, a bag on +their backs. They begged as a business, and some became very expert at +it, just as we have expert evangelists and expert debt-raisers. They +took anything that anybody had to give. They begged in the name of the +poor; and as they traveled they undertook to serve those who were poorer +than themselves. They were distributing agents.</p> + +<p>They ceased to do manual labor and scorned those who did. They traversed +the towns and highways by trios and asked alms at houses or of +travelers. Occasionally they carried cudgels, and if such a pair asked +for alms it was usually equal to a demand. These monks made +acquaintances, they had their friends among men and women, and often +being far from home they were lodged and fed by the householders. In +some instances the alms given took the form of a tax which the sturdy +monks collected with startling regularity. We hear of their dividing the +country up into districts, and each man having a route that he jealously +guarded.</p> + +<p>They came in the name of the Lord—they were supposed to have authority. +They said, "He who giveth to<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_114" id="VII_Page_114">[Pg 114]</a></span> the poor lendeth to the Lord." They +blessed those who gave, and cursed those who refused. Some of them +presumed to forgive the sins of those who paid. And soon the idea +suggested itself of forgiving in advance, or granting an indulgence. +They made promises of mansions in the skies to those who conformed, and +threatened with the pains of hell those who declined their requests. So +the monks occasionally became rich.</p> + +<p>And when they grew rich they often became arrogant, dictatorial, +selfish, gluttonous and licentious. They undertook to manage the +government which they had before in their poverty renounced. They hired +servants to wait upon them. The lust of power, and the lust of the +flesh, and the pride of the heart all became manifest.</p> + +<p>However, there were always a few men, pure of heart and earnest in +purpose, who sought to stem the evil tendencies. And so the history of +monasticism and the history of the Church is the record of a struggle +against idleness and corruption. To shave a man's head, give him a new +name, and clothe him in strange garments, does not change his nature. +Monks grown rich and powerful will become idle, and the vows of poverty, +chastity and obedience are then mere jokes and jests.</p> + +<p>No man knew this better than Benedict, who lived in the Sixth Century. +The profligacy, ignorance and selfishness of the fat and idle monks +appalled him. With the aid of Cassiodorus he set to work to reform the +monasteries by interesting the inmates in beautiful<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_115" id="VII_Page_115">[Pg 115]</a></span> work. Cassiodorus +taught men to write, illumine and bind books. Through Italy, France and +Germany he traveled and preached the necessity of manual labor, and the +excellence of working for beauty. The art impulse in the nunneries and +monasteries began with Benedict and Cassiodorus, who worked hand in hand +for beauty, purity and truth. Benedict had the greater executive +ability, but Cassiodorus had the more far-reaching and subtle intellect. +He anticipated all that we have to say today on the New Education—the +necessity of playing off one faculty of the mind against another through +manual labor, play and art creation. He even anticipated the primal idea +of the Kindergarten, for he said, "The pleasurable emotion that follows +the making of beautiful forms with one's hands is not a sin, like unto +the pleasure that is gained for the sake of pleasure—rather to do good +and beautiful work is incense to the nostrils of God."</p> + +<p>In all Benedictine monasteries flagellations ceased, discipline was +relaxed, and the inmates were enjoined to use their energies in their +work, and find peace by imitating God, and like Him creating beautiful +things.</p> + +<p>Beautiful bookmaking traces its genesis almost directly to Benedict and +Cassiodorus.</p> + +<p>But a hundred years after the death of these great men, the necessity of +reform was as great as ever, and other men took up the herculean task.</p> + +<p>And so it has happened that every century men have<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_116" id="VII_Page_116">[Pg 116]</a></span> arisen who protested +against the abuses inside the Church. The Church has tried to keep +religion pure, but when she has failed and scandalized society at large, +monasteries were wiped out of existence and their property confiscated. +Since the Fifteenth Century, regularly once every hundred years, France +has driven the monks from her borders, and in this year of our Lord +Nineteen Hundred Three she is doing what Napoleon did a hundred years +ago; what Cromwell did in England in Sixteen Hundred Forty-five; what +has been done time and again in every corner of Christendom.</p> + +<p>Martin Luther's quarrel with the Church began simply as a protest +against certain practises of the monks, and that his protests should +develop into a something called "Protestantism" was a thing he never for +a moment anticipated or desired. He had no thought of building an +institution on negation; and that he should be driven from the Church, +because he loved the Church and was trying to purify and benefit it, was +a source to him of deepest grief.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_117" id="VII_Page_117">[Pg 117]</a></span>Martin Luther was thirty-five years old. He was short in stature, +inclining to be stout, strenuous and bold. His faults and his virtues +were all on the surface. He neither deceived nor desired to deceive—the +distinguishing feature of his character was frankness. He was an +Augustinian monk, serving as a teacher in the University of Wittenberg.</p> + +<p>Up to this time his life had been uneventful. His parents had been very +poor people—his father a day-laborer, working in the copper-mines. In +his boyhood Martin was "stubborn and intractable," which means that he +had life plus. His teachers had tried to repress him by flogging him +"fifteen times in a forenoon," as he himself has told us.</p> + +<p>In childhood he used to beg upon the streets, and so he could the better +beg he was taught to sing. This rough, early experience wore off all +timidity, and put "stage-fright" forever behind. He could not remember a +time when he could not sing a song or make a speech.</p> + +<p>That he developed all the alertness and readiness of tongue and fist of +the street-urchin there is no doubt.</p> + +<p>When he was taken into a monastery at eighteen years of age, the fact +that he was a good singer and a most successful beggar were points of +excellence that were not overlooked.</p> + +<p>That the young man was stubbornly honest in his religious faith, there +is not a particle of doubt. The strength of his nature and the extent of +his passion made<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_118" id="VII_Page_118">[Pg 118]</a></span> his life in the monastery most miserable. He had not +yet reached the point that many of the older monks had, and learned how +to overcome temptation by succumbing to it, so he fasted for days until +he became too weak to walk, watched the night away in vigils, and +whipped his poor body with straps until the blood flowed.</p> + +<p>We now think it is man's duty to eat proper food, to sleep at night, and +to care for his body, so as to bring it to the most perfect condition +possible—all this that he may use his life to its highest and best. +Life is a privilege and not a crime.</p> + +<p>But Martin Luther never knew of these things and there was none to teach +him, and probably he would have rejected them stoutly if they had been +presented—arguing the question six nights and days together.</p> + +<p>The result of all that absurd flying in the face of Nature was +indigestion and its concomitant, nervous irritability. These demons +fastened upon him for life; and we have his word for it in a thousand +places that he regarded them as veritable devils—thus does man create +his devil in his own image. Luther had visions—he "saw things," and +devils, witches and spirits were common callers to the day of his death.</p> + +<p>In those early monastery days he used to have fits of depression when he +was sure that he had committed the "unpardonable sin," and over and over +in his mind he would recount his shortcomings. He went to confession so +often that he wore out the patience of at<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_119" id="VII_Page_119">[Pg 119]</a></span> least one confessor, who once +said to him, "Brother Martin, you are not so much a sinner as a fool." +Still another gave him this good advice, "God is not angry with you, but +He will be if you keep on, for you are surely angry with Him—you had +better think less about yourself and more of others: go to work!"</p> + +<p>This excellent counsel was followed. Luther began to study the +Scriptures and the writings of the saints. He took part in the disputes +which were one of the principal diversions of all monasteries.</p> + +<p>Now, a monk had the privilege of remaining densely ignorant, or he could +become learned. Life in a monastery was not so very different from what +it was outside—a monk gravitated to where he belonged. The young man +showed such skill as a debater, and such commendable industry at all of +his tasks, from scrubbing the floor to expounding Scripture, that he was +sent to the neighboring University of Erfurt. From there he was +transferred to the University of Wittenberg. In the classes at these +universities the plan obtained, which is still continued in all +theological schools, of requiring a student to defend his position on +his feet. Knotty propositions are put forth, and logical complications +fired at the youth as a necessary part of his mental drill. Beside this +there were societies where all sorts of abstrusities and absurdities +were argued to a standstill.</p> + +<p>At this wordy warfare none proved more adept than<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_120" id="VII_Page_120">[Pg 120]</a></span> Martin Luther. He +became Senior Wrangler; secured his degree; remained at the college as a +post-graduate and sub-lecturer; finally was appointed a teacher, then a +professor, and when twenty-nine years old became a Doctor of Theology.</p> + +<p>He took his turn as preacher in the Schlosskirche, which was the School +Chapel, and when he preached the place was crowded. He was something +more than a monotonous mumbler of words: he made his addresses personal, +direct, critical. His allusions were local, and contained a deal of +wholesome criticism put with pith and point, well seasoned with a goodly +dash of rough and surprising wit.</p> + +<p>Soon he was made District Vicar—a sort of Presiding Elder—and preached +in a dozen towns over a circuit of a hundred miles. On these tours he +usually walked, bareheaded, wearing the monk's robe. Often he was +attended by younger monks and students, who considered it a great +privilege to accompany him. His courage, his blunt wit, his active +ways—all appealed to the youth, and often delegations would go out to +meet him. Every college has his kind, whom the bantlings fall down and +worship—fisticuffs and books are both represented, and a touch of +irreverence for those in authority is no disadvantage.</p> + +<p>Luther's lack of reverence for his superiors held him back from +promotion—and another thing was his imperious temper. He could not bear +contradiction. The<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_121" id="VII_Page_121">[Pg 121]</a></span> orator's habit of exaggeration was upon him, and +occasionally he would affront his best friends in a way that tested +their patience to the breaking-point. "You might become an Abbot, and +even a Bishop, were it not for your lack of courtesy," wrote his +Superior to him on one occasion.</p> + +<p>But this very lack of diplomacy, this indifference to the opinions of +others, this boldness of speech, made him the pride and pet of the +students. Whenever he entered the lecture-room they cheered him, and +often they applauded him even in church.</p> + +<p>Luther was a "sensational preacher," and he was an honest preacher. No +doubt the applause of his auditors urged him on to occasional +unseemliness. He acted upon his audience, and the audience reacted upon +him. He thundered against the profligacy of the rich, the selfishness of +Society, the iniquities of the government, the excesses of the monks, +the laxity of discipline in the schools, and the growing tendency in the +Church to worship the Golden Calf. In some instances priests and monks +had married, and he thundered against these.</p> + +<p>All of the topics he touched had been treated by Savonarola in Italy, +Wyclif in England, Brenz at Heidelberg, Huss in Bohemia, Erasmus in +Holland and Bucer in Switzerland—and they had all paid the penalty of +death or exile.</p> + +<p>It is well to be bold, but not too bold. Up to a certain point the +Church and Society will stand criticism: first<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_122" id="VII_Page_122">[Pg 122]</a></span> it is diverting, next +amusing, then tiresome, finally heretical—that is to say, criminal.</p> + +<p>There had been a good deal of heresy. It was in the air—men were +thinking for themselves—the printing-presses were at work, and the +spirit of the Renaissance was abroad.</p> + +<p>Martin Luther was not an innovator—he simply expressed what the many +wished to hear—he was caught in the current of the time: he was part +and parcel of the Renaissance. And he was a loyal Churchman. None of his +diatribes were against the Church itself—he wished to benefit the +Church by freeing it from the faults that he feared would disintegrate +it.</p> + +<p>And so it happened that on the Thirty-first day of October, Fifteen +Hundred Seventeen, Martin Luther tacked on the church-door at Wittenberg +his Ninety-five Theses.</p> + +<p>The church-door was the bulletin-board for the University. The +University consisted of about five hundred students. Wittenberg was a +village of three or four thousand people, all told. The Theses were +simply questions for discussion, and the proposition was that Martin +Luther and his pupils would defend these questions against all comers in +public debate.</p> + +<p>Challenges of this sort were very common, public debates were of weekly +occurrence; and little did Martin Luther realize that this paltry +half-sheet of paper was to shake the world.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_123" id="VII_Page_123">[Pg 123]</a></span>The immediate cause of Luther's challenge was the presence of a +Dominican monk by the name of John Tetzel. This man was raising money to +complete Saint Peter's Church at Rome, and he was armed with a +commission direct from Pope Leo the Tenth.</p> + +<p>That Brother John was an expert in his line, no one has ever denied. He +had been in this business of raising money for about ten years, and had +built monasteries, asylums, churches and convents. Beginning as a plain, +sturdy beggar, this enterprising monk had developed a System—not +entirely new, but he had added valuable improvements.</p> + +<p>There is a whole literature on the subject of the "indulgence," and I +surely have no thought of adding to the mighty tomes on this theme. But +just let me briefly explain how John worked: When he approached a town, +he sent his agents ahead and secured the co-operation of some certain +priest, under the auspices of whose church the place was to be worked. +This priest would gather a big delegation of men, women and children, +and they would go out in a body to meet the representative of God's +Vicegerent on earth. The Pope couldn't come himself, and so he sent John +Tetzel.</p> + +<p>Tetzel was carried on a throne borne on the shoulders of twenty-five +men. His dress outshone any robe ever worn by mortal Pope. Upon his head +was a crown, and in his hand a hollow, golden scepter that enclosed<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_124" id="VII_Page_124">[Pg 124]</a></span> his +commission from the Pope. In advance of this throne was carried an +immense cross, painted red. As the procession entered a village, people +would kneel or uncover as the Agent of the Pope passed by; all traffic +would cease—stores and places of business would be closed. In the +public square or marketplace a stage would be erected, and from this +pulpit Tetzel would preach.</p> + +<p>The man had a commanding presence, and a certain rough and telling +eloquence. He was the foremost Evangelist of his day. He had a chorus of +chanters, who wore bright robes and sang and played harps. It will thus +be seen that Moody and Sankey methods are no new thing. Crowds flocked +to hear him, and people came for many miles.</p> + +<p>Tetzel reasoned of righteousness and judgment to come; he told of the +horrors of sin, its awful penalties; he pictured purgatory, hell and +damnation.</p> + +<p>Men cried aloud for mercy, women screamed, and the flaming cross was +held aloft.</p> + +<p>Men must repent—and they must pay. If God had blessed you, you should +show your gratitude. The Sacrament of Penance consists of three parts: +Repentance, Confession, Satisfaction. The intent of Penance is +educational, disciplinary and medicinal. If you have done wrong, you can +make restitution to God, whom you have angered, by paying a certain sum +to His Agent, for a good purpose.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_125" id="VII_Page_125">[Pg 125]</a></span>The Church has never given men the privilege of wronging other men by +making a payment. That is one of the calumnies set afloat by infidels +who pretend that Catholics worship images. You can, however, show +penitence, sincerity and gratitude by giving. Any one can see that this +is quite a different thing from buying an indulgence.</p> + +<p>This gift you made was similar to the "Wehrgeld," or money compensation +made to the injured or kinsmen of those who had been slain.</p> + +<p>By giving, you wiped out the offense, and better still you became +participant in all the prayers of those to whom you gave. If you helped +rebuild Saint Peter's, you participated in all the masses said there for +the repose of the dead. This would apply to all your kinsmen now in +Purgatory. If you gave, you could get them out, and also insure yourself +against the danger of getting in. Repent and show your gratitude.</p> + +<p>Tetzel had half a dozen Secretaries in purple robes, who made out +receipts. These receipts were printed in red and gold and had a big seal +and ribbon attached. The size of the receipt and seal was proportioned +according to the amount paid—if you had a son or a daughter in +Purgatory, it was wise to pay a large amount. The certificates were in +Latin and certified in diffuse and mystical language many things, and +they gave great joy to the owners.</p> + +<p>The money flowed in on the Secretaries in heaps.<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_126" id="VII_Page_126">[Pg 126]</a></span> Women often took their +jewelry and turned it over with their purses to Tetzel; and the +Secretaries worked far into the night issuing receipts—or what some +called, "Letters of Indulgence."</p> + +<p>That many who secured these receipts regarded them as a license to do +wrong and still escape punishment, there is no doubt. Before Tetzel left +a town his Secretaries issued, for a sum equal to twenty-five cents, a +little certificate called a "Butterbriefe," which allowed the owner to +eat butter on his bread on fast-days.</p> + +<p>Then in the night Tetzel and his cavalcade would silently steal away, to +continue their good work in the next town. This program was gone through +in hundreds of places, and the amount of money gathered no one knew, and +what became of it all, no one could guess.</p> + +<p>Pope, Electors, Bishops, Priests and Tetzel all shared in the benefits.</p> + +<p>To a great degree the same plans are still carried on. In Protestant +churches we have the professional Debt-Raiser, and the Evangelist who +recruits by hypnotic Tetzel methods.</p> + +<p>In the Catholic Church receipts are still given for money paid, vouching +that the holder shall participate in masses and prayers, his name be put +in a window, or engrossed on a parchment to be placed beneath a +cornerstone. Trinkets are sold to be worn upon the person as a +protection against this and that.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_127" id="VII_Page_127">[Pg 127]</a></span>The Church does not teach that the Pope can forgive sin, or that by mere +giving you can escape punishment for sin. Christ alone forgives.</p> + +<p>However, the Pope does decide on what constitutes sin and what not; and +this being true, I, for myself, do not see why he can not decide that +under certain conditions and with certain men an act is not a sin, which +with other men is so considered. And surely if he decides it is not a +sin, the act thereby carries no penalty. Thus does the Pope have the +power to remit punishment.</p> + +<p>Either the Pope is supreme or he is not.</p> + +<p>Luther thought he was. The most that Luther objected to was Tetzel's +extreme way of putting the thing. Tetzel was a Dominican; Luther was an +Augustinian; and between these two orders was continual friction. Tetzel +was working Luther's territory, and Luther told what he thought of him, +and issued a challenge to debate him on ninety-five propositions. That +priests in their zeal should overstep their authority, and that people +should read into the preaching much more than the preacher intended, is +not to the discredit of the Church. The Church can not be blamed for +either the mistakes of Moses, or for the mistakes of her members.</p> + +<p>We have recently had the spectacle of a noted Evangelist, in Vermont, +preaching prohibition, indulging in strong drink, and making a bet with +a Jebusite that he would turn all his clothing wrong side out—socks,<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_128" id="VII_Page_128">[Pg 128]</a></span> +drawers, trousers, undershirt, shirt, vest and coat—and preach with his +eyes shut. The feat was carried out, and the preacher won the bet; but +it would hardly be fair to charge this action up against either the +Prohibition Party or the Protestant Religion.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_129" id="VII_Page_129">[Pg 129]</a></span>Revolution never depended on any one man. A strong man is acted upon by +the thought of others: he is a sensitive plate upon which impressions +are made, and his vivid personality gathers up these many convictions, +concentrates them into one focus, and then expresses them. The great man +is the one who first expresses what the many believe. He is a voice for +the voiceless, and gives in trumpet tones what others would if they +could.</p> + +<p>Throughout Germany there was a strong liberal movement. To obey +blindly was not sufficient. To go to church, perform certain set acts +at certain times, and pay were not enough—these things were +all secondary—repentance must come first.</p> + +<p>And along comes John Tetzel with his pagan processions, supplying +salvation for silver! Martin Luther, the strenuous, the impulsive, the +bold, quickly writes a challenge in wrath to public disputation. "If God +wills," said Martin to a friend, "I'll surely kick a hole in his drum."</p> + +<p>Within two weeks after the Ninety-five Theses were nailed to the +church-door, copies had been carried all over Germany, and in a month +the Theses had gone to every corner of Christendom. The local +printing-press at Wittenberg had made copies for the students, and some +of these prints were carried the next day to Leipzig and Mainz, and at +once recognized by publishers as good copy. Luther had said the things +that thousands<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_130" id="VII_Page_130">[Pg 130]</a></span> had wanted to say. Tame enough are the propositions to +us now. Let us give a few of them:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>The whole life of the faithful disciple should be an act of +repentance.</p> + +<p>Punishment remains as long as the sinner hates himself.</p> + +<p>The Pope neither can nor will remit punishment for sin.</p> + +<p>God must forgive first, and the Pope through his priests can then +corroborate the remission.</p> + +<p>No one is sure of his own forgiveness.</p> + +<p>Every sinner who truly repents has a plenary remission of +punishment due him without payment of money to any one.</p> + +<p>Every Christian, living or dead, has a full share in all the wealth +of the Church, without letters of pardon, or receipts for money +paid.</p> + +<p>Christians should be taught that the buying of pardons is in no +wise to be compared to works of mercy.</p> + +<p>To give to a poor man is better than to pay money to a rich priest.</p> + +<p>Because of charity and the works of charity, man becomes better, +whether he pays money to build a church or not.</p> + +<p>Pardon for sin is from Christ, and is free.</p> + +<p>The Pope needs prayers for himself more than ready money.</p> + +<p>Christians should be taught that the Pope does not know of the +exactions of his agents who rob the poor by threat, otherwise he +would prefer that Saint Peter's should lie in ashes than be built +upon the skin, bones and flesh of his sheep.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_131" id="VII_Page_131">[Pg 131]</a></span>If the Pope can release souls from Purgatory, why does he not empty +the place for love and charity?</p> + +<p>Since the Pope is the richest man in Christendom, why indeed does +he not build Saint Peter's out of his own pocket?</p></div> + +<p>Such are the propositions that leaped hot from Luther's heart; but they +are not all of one spirit, for as he wrote he bethought himself that +Tetzel was a Dominican, and the Dominicans held the key to the +Inquisition. Luther remembered the fate of Huss, and his inward eye +caught the glare of fagots afire. So, changing his tone, to show that he +was still a Catholic, he said, "God forgives no man his sin until the +man first presents himself to His priestly Vicar."</p> + +<p>Were it not for such expressions as this last, one might assume that man +had no need of the assistance of priests or sacraments, but might go to +God direct and secure pardon. But this would do away with even Martin +Luther's business, so Brother Martin affirms: "The Church is necessary +to man's salvation, and the Church must have a Pope in whom is vested +Supreme Authority. The Church is not to blame for the acts of its +selfish, ignorant and sinful professors."</p> + +<p>One immediate effect of the Theses was that they put a quietus on the +work of Brother John Tetzel. Instead of the people all falling prostrate +on his approach, many greeted him with jeers and mud-balls. He was only +a few miles away from Wittenberg, but news<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_132" id="VII_Page_132">[Pg 132]</a></span> reached him of what the +students had in store, and immediately he quit business and went South.</p> + +<p>But although he did not appear in person, Tetzel prepared a counter set +of Theses, to the appalling number of one hundred thirteen, and had them +printed and widely distributed. His agent came to Wittenberg and peddled +the documents on the streets. The students got word of what was going on +and in a body captured the luckless Tetzelite, led him to the public +square, and burned his documents with much pomp and circumstance. They +then cut off the man's coat-tails, conducted him to the outskirts of the +town, turned him loose and cheered him lustily as he ran.</p> + +<p>It will thus be seen that the human heart is ever the same, and among +college students there is small choice.</p> + +<p>The following Sunday Luther devoted his whole sermon to a vigorous +condemnation of the act of his students, admonishing them in stern +rebuke. The sermon was considered the biggest joke of the season.</p> + +<p>Tetzel seemed to sink out of sight. Those whom he had sought to serve +repudiated him, and Bishops, Electors and Pope declined to defend his +cause.</p> + +<p>As for Luther, certain Bishops made formal charges against him, sending +a copy of his Theses to Pope Leo the Tenth. The Holy Father refused to +interfere in what he considered a mere quarrel between Dominicans and +Augustinians, and so the matter rested.</p> + +<p>But it did not rest long.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_133" id="VII_Page_133">[Pg 133]</a></span>The general policy of the Church in Luther's time was not unlike what it +is now. Had he gone to Rome, he would not have been humiliated—the +intent would have been to pacify him. He might have been transferred to +a new territory, with promise of a preferment, even to a Bishopric, if +he did well.</p> + +<p>To silence men, excommunicate them, degrade them, has never been done +except when it was deemed that the safety of the Church demanded it.</p> + +<p>The Church, like governments—all governments—is founded upon the +consent of the governed. So every religion, and every government, +changes with the people—rulers study closely the will of the people and +endeavor to conform to their desire. Priests and preachers give people +the religion they wish for—it is a question of supply and demand.</p> + +<p>The Church has constantly changed as the intelligence of the people has +changed. And this change is always easy and natural. Dogmas and creeds +may remain the same, but progress consists in giving a spiritual or +poetic interpretation to that which once was taken literally. The scheme +of the Esoteric and the Exoteric is a sliding, self-lubricating, +self-adjusting, non-copyrighted invention—perfect in its workings—that +all wise theologians fall back upon in time of stress.</p> + +<p>Had Luther obeyed the mandate and gone to Rome, that would have been the +last of Luther.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_134" id="VII_Page_134">[Pg 134]</a></span>Private interpretation is all right, of course: the Church has always +taught it—the mistake is to teach it to everybody. Those who should +know, do know. Spiritual adolescence comes in due time, and then all +things are made plain—be wise!</p> + +<p>But Luther was not to be bought off. His followers were growing in +numbers, the howls of his enemies increased.</p> + +<p>Strong men grow through opposition—the plummet of feeling goes deeper, +thought soars higher—vivid and stern personalities make enemies because +they need them, otherwise they drowse. Then they need friends, too, to +encourage: opposition and encouragement—thus do we get the alternating +current.</p> + +<p>That Luther had not been publicly answered, except by Tetzel's weak +rejoinders, was a constant boast in the liberal camp; and that Tetzel +was only fit to address an audience of ignorant peasantry was very sure: +some one else must be put forward worthy of Martin Luther's steel.</p> + +<p>Then comes John Eck, a priest and lawyer, a man in intimate touch with +Rome, and the foremost public disputant and orator of his time. He +proposed to meet Luther in public debate. In social station Eck stood +much higher than Luther. Luther was a poor college professor in a poor +little University—a mere pedagog, a nobody. That Eck should meet him +was a condescension on the part of Eck—as Eck explained.</p> + +<p>They met at the University of Leipzig, an aristocratic<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_135" id="VII_Page_135">[Pg 135]</a></span> and orthodox +institution, Eck having refused to meet Luther either at Erfurt or at +Wittenberg—wherein Eck was wise.</p> + +<p>The Bishop at Leipzig posted notices forbidding the dispute—this, it is +believed, on orders from Rome, as the Church did not want to be known as +having mixed in the matter. The Bishop's notices were promptly torn +down, and Duke George decided that, as the dispute was not under the +auspices of the Church, the Bishop had no business to interfere.</p> + +<p>The audience came for many miles. A gallery was set apart for the +nobility. Thousands who could not gain admittance remained outside and +had to be content with a rehearsal of the proceedings from those who +were fortunate enough to have seats.</p> + +<p>The debate began June Twenty-seventh, Fifteen Hundred Nineteen, and +continued daily for thirteen days.</p> + +<p>Eck was commanding in person, deep of voice, suave and terrible in turn. +He had all the graces and the power of a great trial lawyer. Luther's +small figure and plain clothes put him at a disadvantage in this +brilliant throng, yet we are told that his high and piercing voice was +heard much farther than Eck's.</p> + +<p>Duke George of Saxony sat on a throne in state, and acted as Master of +Ceremonies. Wittenberg was in the minority, and the hundred students who +had accompanied Luther were mostly relegated to places outside, under +the windows—their ardor to cut off coat-tails had<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_136" id="VII_Page_136">[Pg 136]</a></span> quite abated.</p> + +<p>The proceedings were orderly and dignified, save for the marked +prejudice against Luther displayed by Duke George and the nobility.</p> + +<p>Luther held his own: his manner was self-reliant, with a touch of pride +that perhaps did not help his cause.</p> + +<p>Eck led the debate along by easy stages and endeavored to force Luther +into anger and unseemliness.</p> + +<p>Luther's friends were pleased with their champion—Luther stated his +case with precision and Eck was seemingly vanquished.</p> + +<p>But Eck knew what he was doing—he was leading Luther into a defense of +the doctrines set forth by Huss. And when the time was ripe, Eck, in +assumed astonishment, cried out, "Why this is exactly that for which +Huss the heretic was tried and rightly condemned!" He very skilfully and +slyly gave Luther permission to withdraw certain statements, to which +Luther replied with spirit that he took back nothing, "and if this is +what Huss taught, why God be praised for Huss."</p> + +<p>Eck had gotten what he wanted—a defense of Huss, who had been burned at +the stake for heresy.</p> + +<p>Eck put his reports in shape and took them to Rome in person, and a +demand was made for a formal Bull of Excommunication against Martin +Luther.</p> + +<p>Word came from Rome that if Luther would amend his ways and publicly +disavow his defense of Huss, further proceedings would cease. The result +was a<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_137" id="VII_Page_137">[Pg 137]</a></span> volley of Wittenberg pamphlets restating, in still bolder +language, what had already been put forth.</p> + +<p>Luther was still a good Catholic, and his quarrel was with the abuses in +the Church, not with the Church itself. Had the Pope and his advisers +been wise enough they would have paid no attention to Luther, and thus +allowed opinion inside the Church to change, as it has changed in our +day. Priests and preachers everywhere now preach exactly the things for +which Huss, Wyclif, Ridley, Latimer and Tyndale forfeited their lives.</p> + +<p>But the Pope did not correctly gauge the people—he did not know that +Luther was speaking for fifty-one per cent of all Germany.</p> + +<p>Orders were given out in Leipzig from pulpits, that on a certain day all +good Catholics should bring such copies of Martin Luther's books as they +had in their possession to the public square, and the books would there +be burned.</p> + +<p>On October Ninth, the Bull of Excommunication mentioning Luther and six +of his chief sympathizers reached Wittenberg, cutting them off from the +Church forever.</p> + +<p>Luther still continued to preach daily, and declared that he was still a +Catholic and that as Popes had made mistakes before, so had Pope Leo +erred this time. With the Bull came a notice that, if Luther would +recant, the Bull would be withdrawn and Luther would be reinstated in +the Church.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_138" id="VII_Page_138">[Pg 138]</a></span>To which Luther replied, "If the Bull is withdrawn I will still be in +the Church."</p> + +<p>Bonfires of Luther's books now burned bright in every town and city of +Christendom—even in London.</p> + +<p>Then it was that Wittenberg decided to have a bonfire of its own. A +printed bill was issued calling upon all students and other devout +Christians to assemble at nine o'clock on the morning of December Tenth, +Fifteen Hundred Twenty, outside the Elster gate, and witness a pious and +religious spectacle. A large concourse gathered, a pyre of fagots was +piled high, the Pope's Bull of Excommunication was solemnly placed on +top, and the fire was lighted by the hand of Martin Luther.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_139" id="VII_Page_139">[Pg 139]</a></span>The Theses prepared by Tetzel had small sale. People had heard all these +arguments before, but Luther's propositions were new.</p> + +<p>Everything that Luther said in public now was taken down, printed and +passed along; his books were sold in the marketplaces and at the fairs +throughout the Empire. Luther glorified Germany, and referred often to +the "Deutsche Theologie," and this pleased the people. The jealousy that +existed between Italians and Germans was fanned.</p> + +<p>He occasionally preached in neighboring cities, and always was attended +by an escort of several hundred students. Once he spoke at Nuremberg and +was entertained by that great man and artist, Albert Durer. Everywhere +crowds hung upon his words, and often he was cheered and applauded, even +in churches. He denounced the extravagance and folly of ecclesiastical +display, the wrong of robbing the poor in order to add to the splendor +of Rome; he pleaded for the right of private interpretation of the +Scriptures, and argued the need of repentance and a deep personal +righteousness.</p> + +<p>Not only was Luther the most popular preacher of that day, but his books +outsold all other authors. He gave his writings to whoever would print +them, and asked for no copyright nor royalties.</p> + +<p>A request came from the Pope that he should appear at Rome.</p> + +<p>Such a summons is considered mandatory, and usually<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_140" id="VII_Page_140">[Pg 140]</a></span> this letter, +although expressed in the gentlest and most complimentary way, strikes +terror to the heart of the receiver. It means that he has offended or +grieved the Head of the Church—God's Vicegerent on earth.</p> + +<p>In my own experience I have known several offending priests to receive +this summons; I never knew of one who dared disregard the summons; I +never knew of one who received it who was not filled with dire +foreboding; and I never knew an instance where the man was humiliated or +really punished.</p> + +<p>A few years ago the American newspapers echoed with the name of a priest +who had been particularly bold in certain innovations. He was summoned +to Rome, and this was the way he was treated as told me with his own +lips, and he further informed me that he ascertained it was the usual +procedure:</p> + +<p>The offender arrives in Rome full of the feeling that his enemies have +wrongfully accused him. He knows charges have been filed against him, +but what these charges are he is not aware. He is very much disturbed +and very much in a fog. His reputation and character, aye! his future is +at stake.</p> + +<p>Before the dust of travel is off his clothes, before he shaves, washes +his face or eats, he appears at the Vatican and asks for a copy of the +charges that have been brought against him.</p> + +<p>One of the Pope's numerous secretaries, a Cardinal possibly, receives +him graciously, almost affectionately, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_141" id="VII_Page_141">[Pg 141]</a></span> welcomes him to Rome in the +name of the Pope. As for any matter of business, why, it can wait: the +man who has it in charge is out of the city for a day or so—rest and +enjoy the splendor of the Eternal City.</p> + +<p>"Where is the traveler's lodging?"</p> + +<p>"What? not that—here!"—a bell is rung, a messenger is called, the +pilgrim's luggage is sent for, and he is given a room in the Vatican +itself, or in one of the nearby "Colleges." A Brother is called in, +introduced and duly instructed to attend personally on His Grace the +Pilgrim. Show him the wonders of Rome—the churches, art-galleries, the +Pantheon, the Appian Way, the Capitol, the Castle—he is one of the +Church's most valued servants, he has come from afar—see that he has +the attention accorded him that is his due.</p> + +<p>The Pilgrim is surprised, a trifle relieved, but not happy. He remembers +that those condemned to die are given the best of food; but he tries to +be patient, and so he accepts the Brother's guidance to see Rome—and +then die, if he must.</p> + +<p>The days are crowded full—visitors come and go. He attends this +congregation and that—fetes, receptions, pilgrimages follow fast.</p> + +<p>The cloud is still upon him—he may forget it for an hour, but each day +begins in gloom—uncertainty is the only hell.</p> + +<p>At last he boldly importunes and asks that a day shall be set to try his +case.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_142" id="VII_Page_142">[Pg 142]</a></span>Nobody knows anything about his case! Charges—what charges? However, a +Committee of Cardinals wish to see him—why, yes, Thursday at ten +o'clock!</p> + +<p>He passes a sleepless night, and appears at the time appointed, haggard, +yet firm, armed with documents.</p> + +<p>He is ushered into the presence of the Cardinals. They receive him as an +equal. A little speech is made, complimenting him on his good work, upon +his uprightness, and ends with a gentle caution concerning the wisdom of +making haste slowly.</p> + +<p>Charges? There are no charges against the Pilgrim—why should there be? +And moreover, what if there are? Good men are always maligned. He has +been summoned to Rome that the Cardinals might have his advice.</p> + +<p>The Pope will meet him tomorrow in order to bestow his personal +blessing.</p> + +<p>It is all over—the burden falls from his back. He gasps in relief and +sinks into a chair.</p> + +<p>The greatness of Rome and the kindness and courtesy he has received have +subdued him.</p> + +<p>Possibly there is a temporary, slight reduction of position—he is given +another diocese or territory; but there is a promise of speedy +promotion—there is no humiliation. The man goes home subdued, conquered +by kindness, happy in the determination to work for the Church as never +before.</p> + +<p>Rome binds great men to her; she does not drive them away: her policy is +wise—superbly, splendidly wise.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_143" id="VII_Page_143">[Pg 143]</a></span>Luther was now beyond the pale—the Church had no further power to +punish him, but agents of the Church, being a part of the Government, +might proceed against him as an enemy of the State.</p> + +<p>Word came that if Luther would cease writing and preaching, and quietly +go about his teaching in the University, he would not be troubled in any +way.</p> + +<p>This only fired him to stronger expression. He issued a proclamation to +the German Nation, appealing from the sentence of the Pope, stating he +was an Augustinian monk, a Doctor of Theology, a preacher of truth, with +no stain upon his character. He declared that no man in Italy or +elsewhere had a right to order him to be silent, and no man or set of +men could deprive him of a share in God's Kingdom.</p> + +<p>He called upon all lovers of liberty who hoped for heaven to repudiate +the "Babylonish Captivity"—only by so doing could the smile of God be +secured. Thus did Martin Luther excommunicate the Pope.</p> + +<p>Frederick, the Elector of Saxony, preserved a strictly neutral attitude. +Martin Luther was his subject, and he might have proceeded against him +on a criminal charge, and was hotly urged to do so, but his reply was, +"Hands Off!"</p> + +<p>The city of Worms was at this time the political capital of Germany. A +yearly congress, or Diet, was held by the Emperor and his Electors, to +consider<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_144" id="VII_Page_144">[Pg 144]</a></span> matters of special import to the State.</p> + +<p>As Frederick refused to proceed against Luther, an appeal was made to +the Emperor, Charles the Fifth, asking that Luther be compelled to +appear before the Diet of Worms and make answer to the charges that +would there be brought against him.</p> + +<p>It was urged that Luther should be arrested and carried to Worms and +there be confined in the castle until the Diet should meet; but Charles +had too much respect for Frederick to attempt any such high-handed +procedure—it might mean civil war. Gladly would he have ignored the +whole matter, but a Cardinal from Rome was at his elbow, sent purposely +to see that Luther should be silenced—silenced as Huss was, if +necessary. Charles was a good Catholic—and so for that matter was the +Elector Frederick. The latter was consulted and agreed that if the +Emperor would issue a letter of "safe-conduct," and send a herald to +personally accompany the Reverend Doctor Luther to Worms, the Elector +would consent to the proceedings.</p> + +<p>The letter sent summoning Luther to Worms was an exceedingly guarded +document. It addressed the excommunicated heretic as "honorable, beloved +and pious," and begged him to accept the company and safe-conduct of the +bearer to Worms and there kindly explain to the Emperor the import of +his books and doctrines.</p> + +<p>This letter might have been an invitation to a banquet, but Luther said +it was an invitation to a holocaust, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_145" id="VII_Page_145">[Pg 145]</a></span> many of his friends so looked +upon it. He was urged to disregard it, but his reply was, "Though the +road to Worms were lined with devils I'd go just the same."</p> + +<p>No more vivid description of Luther's trial at Worms has been given than +that supplied by Doctor Charles Beard. This man was neither Catholic nor +Protestant, so we can not accuse him of hand-illumining the facts to +suit his fancy. Says Doctor Beard:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>Towards noon on the Sixteenth of April, Fifteen Hundred Twenty-one, +the watchers on the tower gate of Worms gave notice by sound of +trumpet that Luther's cavalcade was drawing near. First rode +Deutschland the Herald; next came the covered carriage with Luther +and three friends; last of all, Justus Jonas on horseback, with an +escort of knights who had ridden out from Worms to meet them. The +news quickly spread, and though it was dinner-time, the streets +were thronged, and two thousand men and women accompanied the +heretic to his lodging in the house of the Knights of Saint John. +Here he was close to the Elector, while his companions in his +lodging were two Saxon councilors. Aleandro, the Papal Nuncio, sent +out one of his servants to bring him news; he returned with the +report that as Luther alighted from his carriage a man had taken +him into his arms, and having touched his coat three times had gone +away glorying as if he had touched a relic of the greatest saint in +the world. On the other hand, Luther looked round about him, with +his demoniac eyes, and said, "God will be with me."</p> + +<p>The audience to which Luther was summoned was<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_146" id="VII_Page_146">[Pg 146]</a></span> fixed for four P.M., +and the fact was announced to him by Ulrich von Pappenheim, the +hereditary marshal of the Empire. When the time came, there was a +great crowd assembled to see the heretic, and his conductors, +Pappenheim and Deutschland, were obliged to take him to the hall of +audience in the Bishop's Palace through gardens and by back ways. +There he was introduced into the presence of the Estates. He was a +peasant and a peasant's son, who, though he had written bold +letters to Pope and Prelate, had never spoken face to face with the +great ones of the land, not even with his own Elector, of whose +good-will he was assured. Now he was bidden to answer, less for +himself than for what he believed to be the truth of God, before +the representatives of the double authority by which the world is +swayed. The young Emperor looked at him with impassive eyes, +speaking no word either of encouragement or rebuke. Aleandro +represented the still greater, the intrinsically superior, power of +the successor of Peter, the Vicar of Christ. At the Emperor's side +stood his brother Ferdinand, the new founder of the House of +Austria, while round them were grouped six out of the seven +Electors, and a crowd of princes, prelates, nobles, delegates of +free cities, who represented every phase of German and +ecclesiastical feeling.</p> + +<p>It was a turning-point of modern European history, at which the +great issues which presented themselves to men's consciences were +greater still than they knew.</p> + +<p>The proceedings began with an injunction given by Pappenheim to +Luther that he was not to speak unless spoken to. Then John von +Eck, Official-General of the<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_147" id="VII_Page_147">[Pg 147]</a></span> Archbishop of Trier, champion of the +Leipzig deputation, first in Latin, then in German, put, by +Imperial command, two questions to Luther. First, did he +acknowledge these books here present—showing a bundle of books +which were circulated under his name—to be his own; and secondly, +was he willing to withdraw and recall them and their contents, or +did he rather adhere to and persist in them? At this point, Schurf, +who acted as Luther's counsel, interposed with the demand, "Let the +titles be read." The official, in reply, recited, one by one, the +titles of the books comprised in the collected edition of Luther's +works published at Basel, among which were the "Commentaries on the +Psalms," the "Sermon of Good Works," the "Commentary on the Lord's +Prayer," and besides these, other Christian books, not of a +contentious kind.</p> + +<p>Upon this, Luther made answer, first in German, then in Latin, that +the books were his.</p> + +<p>The form of procedure had been committed by the Emperor to Eck, +Glapion, and Aleandro, and it may have been by their deliberate +intention that Luther was now asked, whether he wished to defend +all the books which he had acknowledged as his own, or to retract +any part of them? He began his answer in Latin, by an apology for +any mistakes that he might make in addressing personages so great, +as a man versed, not in courts, but in monk-cells; then, repeating +his acknowledgment of the books, proceeded to divide them into +three classes. There were some in which he had treated the piety of +faith and morals so simply and evangelically that his very +adversaries<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_148" id="VII_Page_148">[Pg 148]</a></span> had been compelled to confess them useful, harmless, +and worthy of Christian reading. How could he condemn these? There +were others in which he attacked the Papacy and the doctrine of the +Papists, who both by their teachings and their wretched examples +have wasted Christendom with both spiritual and corporal evil. Nor +could any one deny or dissimulate this, since the universal +experience and complaint bear witness that, by the laws of the Pope +and the doctrines of men, consciences are miserably ensnared and +vexed, especially in this illustrious German nation. If he should +revoke these books, what would it be but to add force to tyranny, +and to open, not merely the windows, but the doors to so great +impiety? In that case, Good God, what a cover of wickedness and +tyranny would he not become! A third class of his books had been +written against private persons, those, namely, who had labored to +protect the Roman tyranny and to undermine the piety which he had +taught. In these he confessed that he had been more bitter than +became his religion and profession. Even these, however, he could +not recall, because to do so would be to throw his shield over +tyranny and impiety, and to augment their violence against the +people of God. From this he proceeded to ask for evidence against +himself and a fair trial, adducing the words of Christ before +Annas: "If I have spoken evil, bear witness of the evil." Then, +with a touch of his native boldness, he told his audience that it +needed to beware lest the reign of this most excellent youth, +Prince Charles, should become unhappy and of evil omen. "I might," +he continued, "illustrate the matter more copiously by Scriptural<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_149" id="VII_Page_149">[Pg 149]</a></span> +examples—as Pharaoh, the King of Babylon, the Kings of Israel—who +most completely ruined themselves at the moment when by wisest +counsels they were zealous to strengthen and pacify their kingdoms. +For it is He who taketh the wise in their own craftiness, and +overturns the mountains before they know it. Therefore it is +needful to fear God. I do not say these things because my teaching +or admonition is necessary to persons of such eminence, but because +I ought not to withhold from Germany my due obedience. And with +these things I commend myself to Your Most Serene Majesty, and to +Your Lordships, humbly asking that you will not suffer me to be +brought into ill repute by the efforts of my adversaries. I have +spoken."</p> + +<p>This speech, spoken as it was with steady composure and a voice +that could be clearly heard by the whole assembly, did not satisfy +the official. His first demand was that, like the question to which +it was in answer, it should be repeated in German. Next, Eck +proceeded to point out that Luther's errors, which were the errors +of former heretics, Wyclif, Huss and the like, had been +sufficiently condemned by the Church, and particularly by the +Council of Konstanz. If Luther were willing to recant them, the +Emperor would engage that his other works, in which they were not +contained, should be tenderly handled: if not, let him recollect +the fate of other books condemned by the Church. Then, with the +customary exhortation to all theological innovators, not to set +their own opinions against those of apostles, saints and martyrs, +the official said that what he wanted was a simple and +straightforward answer: was Luther willing to recant<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_150" id="VII_Page_150">[Pg 150]</a></span> or not? To +which Luther replied: "Since Your Most Serene Majesty and Your +Lordships ask for a simple answer, I will give it, after this +fashion: Unless I am convinced by witness of Scripture or plain +reason (for I do not believe in the Pope or in Councils alone, +since it is agreed that they have often erred and contradicted +themselves), I am overcome by the Scriptures which I have adduced, +and my conscience is caught in the Word of God. I neither can nor +will recant anything, for it is neither safe nor right to act +against one's conscience." Then having given this answer in both +languages, he added in German, "God help me! Amen."</p> + +<p>The semblance of trial, which alone was allowed to Luther, was now +over; it only remained to pass sentence. Early on the morning of +the Nineteenth of April the Emperor summoned the Diet once more to +take counsel upon the matter. The Estates asked for time to +deliberate; on which the Emperor, replying that he would first give +them his own opinion, produced a document written in his own hand. +Beginning with the statement of his descent from Emperors, Kings of +Spain, Archdukes of Austria, and Dukes of Burgundy, all of whom had +lived and died faithful sons of the Church and defenders of the +Catholic faith, it announced the identity of his policy with +theirs. Whatever his predecessors had decreed in matters +ecclesiastical, whatever had been decided by the Council of +Konstanz and other Councils, he would uphold. Luther had set +himself against the whole of Christendom, alleging it to be, both +now and for a thousand years past, in error, and only himself in +possession of the<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_151" id="VII_Page_151">[Pg 151]</a></span> truth. The Estates had heard the obstinate +answer which he had made the day before; let him be no further +heard, and let him be taken back whence he came, the terms of his +safe-conduct being carefully observed; but let him be forbidden to +preach, nor suffer to corrupt the people with his vile doctrine. +"And as we have before said, it is our will that he should be +proceeded against as a true and evident heretic."</p></div> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_152" id="VII_Page_152">[Pg 152]</a></span>The difference between heresy and treason, at one time, was very slight. +One was disloyalty to the Church, the other disloyalty to the State.</p> + +<p>Luther's peril was very great. The coils had been deliberately laid for +him, and he had as deliberately placed his neck in the noose. Surely his +accusers had been very patient—every opportunity had been given to him +to recant.</p> + +<p>Aleandro, the Papal Nuncio, argued that, in the face of such stubborn +contumacy and insult to both Pope and Emperor, the Emperor would be +justified in canceling his safe-conduct and arresting Luther then and +there. His offense in refusing to retract was committed at Worms and his +trial should be there—and there he should be executed.</p> + +<p>The Elector Frederick was a stronger man far in personality than was the +Emperor Charles. "The promise of safe-conduct must be kept," said +Frederick, and there he rested, refusing to argue the merits of the case +by a word, one way or the other.</p> + +<p>Frederick held the life of Luther in his hand—a waver, a tremor—and +the fagots would soon crackle: for the man who pleads guilty and refuses +pardon there is short shrift.</p> + +<p>Luther started back for Saxony. All went well until he reached the Black +Forest within the bounds of the domain of Frederick; when behold, the +carriages and<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_153" id="VII_Page_153">[Pg 153]</a></span> little group of horsemen were surrounded by an armed +force of silent and determined men. Luther made a stout defense and was +handled not over-gently. He was taken from his closed carriage and +placed upon a horse—his friends and guard were ordered to be gone.</p> + +<p>The darkness of the forest swallowed Luther and his captors.</p> + +<p>News soon reached Wittenberg, and the students mourned him as dead.</p> + +<p>His enemies gloried in his disappearance, and everywhere told that he +had been struck by the vengeance of God.</p> + +<p>Luther was lodged in the Castle of Wartburg, and all communication with +the outside world cut off.</p> + +<p>The whole scheme was a diplomatic move on the part of the Elector. He +expected a demand would be made for the arrest of the heretic. To +anticipate this demand he arrested the man himself; and thus placed the +matter in position to legally resist should the prisoner be demanded.</p> + +<p>The Elector was the Governor, and the Estate was what would be to us a +State—the terms "state" and "estate" being practically the same word. +It was the old question of State Rights, the same question that Hayne +and Webster debated in Eighteen Hundred Thirty, and Grover Cleveland and +John P. Altgeld fought over in Eighteen Hundred Ninety-four. The Elector +Frederick prepared for a legal battle, and would<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_154" id="VII_Page_154">[Pg 154]</a></span> defy the "Federal Arm" +by force if worse came to worst.</p> + +<p>Luther remained a prisoner for seven months, and so closely guarded was +he that he only knew by inference that his keepers were his friends. The +Elector was discreet: he held no personal communication with Luther.</p> + +<p>In December, Fifteen Hundred Twenty-one, the prisoner was allowed to go +to Wittenberg on a three-days' parole. When he appeared at the +University he came as one from the dead. The event was too serious for +student jollification; many were struck dumb with astonishment and glad +tears of joy were upon every cheek—and by common consent all classes +were abandoned, and a solemn service of thanksgiving held in the church, +upon the door of which, four years before, this little college professor +had tacked his Theses.</p> + +<p>All understood now that Luther was a prisoner—he must go back to his +prison. He admonished his hearers to be patient, but to be firm; cleave +to what they believed to be right, even though it led to the scaffold. +He administered the sacrament, and through that congregation, and +throughout Saxony, and throughout all Germany ran the vow, silent, +solemn and serious, that Martin Luther's defiance of Papal authority was +right. The Church was made for man and not man for the Church—and come +what may, this man Luther must be protected even though the gutters ran +with blood.</p> + +<p>When would his trial occur? Nobody knew—but there<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_155" id="VII_Page_155">[Pg 155]</a></span> would be no haste.</p> + +<p>Luther went back to prison, but not to remain there. His little lease of +liberty had been given just to see which way the wind lay. He was a +prisoner still—a prisoner on parole—and if he was taken out of Saxony +it could only be by illegal means.</p> + +<p>The action of the Elector was as wise and as successful a bit of legal +procedure as ever mortal lawyer worked: that it was all done without the +advice, consent or connivance of the prisoner makes it doubly admirable.</p> + +<p>Luther set himself to work as never before, writing and preaching. He +kept close to Wittenberg and from there sent forth his thunders of +revolt. Outside of Saxony, at regular intervals, edicts were read from +pulpits ordering any and all copies of Luther's writings to be brought +forward that they might be burned. This advertised the work, and made it +prized—it was read throughout all Christendom.</p> + +<p>That gentle and ascetic Henry the Eighth of England issued a book +denouncing Luther and telling what he would do with him if he came to +England. Luther replied, a trifle too much in kind. Henry put in a pious +rejoinder to the effect that the Devil would not have Luther in hell. In +their opinion of Luther the Pope and King Henry were of one mind.</p> + +<p>So lived Martin Luther, execrated and beloved. At first he sought to +serve the Church, and later he worked to destroy it. After three hundred +years, the Catholic Church still lives, with more communicants<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_156" id="VII_Page_156">[Pg 156]</a></span> than it +had in the days of Luther. The fact that it still exists proves its +usefulness. It will still live, and it will change as men change. The +Church and the Pope are not the detestable things that Martin Luther +pictured them; and Protestantism is not the sweet and lovely object that +he would have us believe. All formal and organized religions will be +what they are, as long as man is what he is—labels count for little.</p> + +<p>In Fifteen Hundred Twenty-five Martin Luther married "Catharine the +Nun," a most excellent woman, and one whom rumor says had long +encouraged and upheld him in his works. Children came to bless them, and +the picture of the great heretic sitting at his wooden table with little +Johnny Luther on his knee, his loving wife by his side, and kind +neighbors entering for a friendly chat, shows the great reformer at his +best.</p> + +<p>He was the son of a peasant, all his ancestors were peasants, as he so +often told, and he lived like a peasant to the last. For himself he +wanted little. He sided with the people, the toilers, with those who +struggled in the bonds of slavery and fear—for them he was an Eye, an +Ear, a trumpet Voice.</p> + +<p>There never lived a braver man—there never lived one more earnest and +sincere. He fought freedom's fight with all the weapons God had given +him; and for the liberty we now enjoy, in great degree, we are debtors +to Martin Luther.</p> + + + +<hr class="full" /> +<h2><a name="EDMUND_BURKE" id="EDMUND_BURKE"></a>EDMUND BURKE<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_157" id="VII_Page_157">[Pg 157]</a></span></h2> + + + +<div class="blockquot"><p>I was not, like His Grace of Bedford, swaddled and rocked and +dandled into a legislator; "nitor in adversum" is the motto for a +man like me. I possessed not one of the qualities, nor cultivated +one of the arts, that recommend men to the favor and protection of +the great. I was not made for a minion or a tool. As little did I +follow the trade of winning the hearts, by imposing on the +understandings of the people.</p> + +<p>At every step of my progress in life, for in every step I was +traversed and opposed, and at every turnpike I met, I was obliged +to show my passport, and again and again to prove my sole title to +the honor of being useful to my country, by a proof that I was not +wholly unacquainted with its laws and the whole system of its +interests both abroad and at home; otherwise no rank, no toleration +even, for me.</p></div> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">—<i>Edmund Burke</i></span><br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_158" id="VII_Page_158">[Pg 158]</a></span></p> + +<div class="center"> + <a id="image0445-1"></a> + <img src="images/0445-1.jpg" width="276" height="400" + alt="" + title="" /> + + <p class="center">EDMUND BURKE</p> +</div> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_159" id="VII_Page_159">[Pg 159]</a></span></p> + + + +<p>In the "American Encyclopedia," a work I cheerfully recommend, will be +found a statement to the effect that Edmund Burke was one of the fifteen +children of his parents. Aside from the natural curiosity to know what +became of the fourteen, the matter is of small moment, and that its +truth or falsity should divide men is most absurd.</p> + +<p>Of this, however, we know: the parents of Burke were plain people, +rescued from oblivion only through the excellence of this one son. The +father was a lawyer, and fees being scarce, he became chief clerk for +another barrister, and so lived his life and did his work.</p> + +<p>When Edmund Burke was born at Dublin in the year Seventeen Hundred +Twenty-nine, that famous city was at its flood-tide of prosperity. It +was a metropolis of commerce, art, wit, oratory and literary culture. +The one name that looms large to us out of that time is that of Dean +Swift, but then there were dozens just as great as he—so-said.</p> + +<p>Edmund must have been a bright, fine, attractive boy, for we hear that +certain friends of his parents combined with his father and they bent +themselves to the task of sending the lad to Trinity College. Before +this, however, he had spent some time at a private school kept by one<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_160" id="VII_Page_160">[Pg 160]</a></span> +Abraham Shackleton, an Englishman and a member of the Society of +Friends. Shackleton was a rare, sweet soul and a most excellent teacher, +endowed with a grave, tranquil nature, constant and austere. Between his +son Richard and young Mr. Burke there sprang up a close and affectionate +friendship which neither time nor circumstance was able to dim.</p> + +<p>Now, the elder Burke was a lawyer, but not a great lawyer.</p> + +<p>What more natural, therefore, than that the boy Edmund should follow in +his father's footsteps and reap the fame and high honors which an unkind +Fate had withheld from his worthy parent?</p> + +<p>There was another boy destined for fame at Trinity College while Burke +was there, but they did not get acquainted then. Some years later they +met in London, though, and talked it over.</p> + +<p>In countenance these two young men had a certain marked resemblance. +Reynolds painted pictures of both Burke and Goldsmith, and when I looked +at these portraits this morning, side by side, I said, "Sir Joshua +hadn't quite got the Burke out of his brush before he painted the +Goldsmith." Burke is Goldsmith grown big.</p> + +<p>Each had a weak chin, which was redeemed by the fine, full forehead and +brilliant eye.</p> + +<p>In face and features, taken as a whole, Burke had a countenance of +surpassing beauty. Note the full sensuous lips, the clear, steady, +lustrous, beaming eye, the splendid head! There is nothing small, +selfish,<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_161" id="VII_Page_161">[Pg 161]</a></span> mean or trifling about the man—he is open, frank, +sympathetic, gentle, generous and wise.</p> + +<p>He is a manly man.</p> + +<p>No wonder that even the staid and chilly Hannah More loved him; and +little Miss Burney worshiped at his shrine even in spite of "his +friendship for those detested rebels, the Americans; and the other +grievous sin of persecuting that good man, Warren Hastings."</p> + +<p>Goldsmith was small in stature, apologetic in manner, hesitating, and at +times there was a lisp in speech, which might have been an artistic and +carefully acquired adjunct of wit, but it was not. Burke was commanding +in stature, dignified, suave, and in speech direct, copious and elegant. +Goldsmith overworked the minor key, but Burke merely suggests that it +had not been omitted.</p> + +<p>At college young Burke did not prove a brilliant student—his intellect +and aptitude it seems were a modest mouse-color that escaped attention.</p> + +<p>His reading was desultory and pretty general, with spasms of passion for +this study or that, this author or the other. And he has remarked, most +regretfully, that these passions were all short-lived, none lasting more +than six weeks.</p> + +<p>It is a splendid sign to find a youth with a passion for any branch of +work, or study, or for any author. No matter how brief the love, it adds +a ring of growth to character; and if you have loved a book once it is +easy to go back to it. In all these varying moods of likes and<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_162" id="VII_Page_162">[Pg 162]</a></span> +dislikes, Burke was gathering up material for use in after-years.</p> + +<p>But his teachers did not regard it so, neither did his father.</p> + +<p>He got through college after a five-years' course, aged twenty, by the +grace of his tutors. He knew everything except what was in the +curriculum.</p> + +<p>Tall, handsome, with hair black as the raven's wing, and eyes that +looked away off into space, dreamy and unconcerned, was Edmund Burke at +twenty.</p> + +<p>His father was a business lawyer, with a sharp nose for technicalities, +quirks and quillets, but the son studied law as a literary curiosity. +Occasionally there were quick chidings, answered with irony needlessly +calm: then the good wife and mother would intervene with her tears, and +the result was that Burke the elder would withdraw to the open air to +cool his coppers. Be it known that no man can stand out against his wife +and son when they in love combine.</p> + +<p>Finally it was proposed that Edmund go to London and take a course of +Law at the Middle Temple. The plan was accepted with ill-concealed +alacrity. Father and son parted with relief, but the good-by between +mother and son tore the hearts of both—they were parting forever, and +Something told them so.</p> + +<p>It evidently was the intention of Burke the elder, who was a +clear-headed, practical person, competent in all petty plans, that if +the son settled down to law<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_163" id="VII_Page_163">[Pg 163]</a></span> and got his "call," then he would be +summoned back to Dublin and put in a way to achieve distinction. But if +the young man still pursued his desultory reading and scribbling on +irrelevant themes, why then the remittances were to be withdrawn and +Edmund Burke, being twenty-one years of age, could sink or swim. Burke +pater would wash his hands in innocency, having fully complied with all +legal requirements, and God knows that is all any man can do—there!</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_164" id="VII_Page_164">[Pg 164]</a></span>In London town since time began, no embryo Coke ever rapped at the bar +for admittance—lawyers are "summoned" just as clergymen are "called," +while other men find a job. In England this pretty little illusion of +receiving a "call" to practise law still obtains.</p> + +<p>Burke never received the call, for the reason that he failed to fit +himself for it. He read everything but law-books. He might have assisted +a young man by the name of Blackstone in compiling his "Commentaries," +as their lodgings were not far apart, but he did not. They met +occasionally, and when they did they always discussed Spenser or Milton, +and waxed warm over Shakespeare.</p> + +<p>Burke gave Old Father Antic the Law as lavish a letter of recommendation +as the Legal Profession ever received, and he gave it for the very +natural reason that he had no use for the Law himself.</p> + +<p>The remittances from Dublin were always small, but they grew smaller, +less frequent and finally ceased. It was sink or swim—and the young man +simply paddled to keep afloat upon the tide of the times.</p> + +<p>He dawdled at Dodsley's, visited with the callers and browsed among the +books. There was only one thing the young man liked better to do than +read, and that was to talk. Once he had read a volume nearly through, +when Dodsley up and sold it to a customer—"a rather ungentlemanly trick +to play on an honest man," says<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_165" id="VII_Page_165">[Pg 165]</a></span> Burke.</p> + +<p>It was at Dodsley's that he first met his countryman Goldsmith, also +Garrick, Boswell and Johnson. It was then that Johnson received that +lasting impression of Burke, of whom he said, "Sir, if you met Edmund +Burke under a gateway, where you had taken shelter for five minutes to +escape a shower, you would be so impressed by his conversation that you +would say, 'This is a most extraordinary man.'"</p> + +<p>If one knows how, or has to, he can live in a large city at a small +expense. For nine years Burke's London life is a tale of a garret, with +the details almost lost in the fog. Of this time, in after-years, he +seldom spoke, not because he was ashamed of all the straits and shifts +he had to endure, but because he was endowed with that fine dignity of +mind which does not dwell on hardships gone and troubles past, but +rather fixes itself on blessings now at hand and other blessings yet to +come. Then, better still, there came a time when work and important +business filled every moment of the fast-flying hours. And so he himself +once said, "The sure cure for all private griefs is a hearty interest in +public affairs."</p> + +<p>The best searchlight through the mist of those early days comes to us +through Burke's letters to his friend Richard, the son of his old Quaker +teacher. Shackleton had the insight to perceive his friend was no common +man, and so preserved every scrap of Burke's writing that came his way.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_166" id="VII_Page_166">[Pg 166]</a></span>About that time there seems to have been a sort of meteoric shower of +chipmunk magazines, following in the luminous pathway of the "Spectator" +and the "Tatler." Burke was passing through his poetic period, and +supplied various stanzas of alleged poetry to these magazines for a +modest consideration. For one poem he received eighteen pence, as +tearfully told by Shackleton, but we have Hawkins for it that this was a +trifle more than the poem was worth.</p> + +<p>Of this poetry we know little, happily, but glimpses of it are seen in +the Shackleton letters; for instance, when he asks his friend's +criticism of such lines as these:</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">"The nymphs that haunt the dusky wood,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Which hangs recumbent o'er the crystal flood."</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>He speaks of his delight in ambient sunsets, when gilded oceans, ghostly +ships, and the dull, dark city vanish for the night. Of course, such +things never happen except in books, but the practise of writing about +them is a fine drill, in that it enables the writer to get a grasp on +his vocabulary. Poetry is for the poet.</p> + +<p>And if Burke wrote poetry in bed, having to remain there in the daytime, +while his landlady was doing up his single ruffled shirt for an evening +party, whose business was it?</p> + +<p>When he was invited out to dinner he did the meal such justice that he +needed nothing the following day; and the welcome discovery was also +made that fasting<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_167" id="VII_Page_167">[Pg 167]</a></span> produced an exaltation of the "spiritual essence that +was extremely favorable to writing good poetry."</p> + +<p>Burke had wit, and what Johnson called a "mighty affluence of +conversation"; so his presence was welcome at the Turk's Head. Burke and +Johnson were so thoroughly well matched as talkers that they respected +each other's prowess and never with each other clinched in wordy +warfare. Johnson was an arch Tory, Burke the leader of the Whigs; but +Ursa was wise enough to say, "I'll talk with him on any subject but +politics." This led Goldsmith to remark, "Doctor Johnson browbeats us +little men, but makes quick peace with those he can not down." Then +there were debating societies, from one of which he resigned because the +limit of a speech was seven minutes; but finally the time was extended +to fifteen minutes in order to get the Irish orator back.</p> + +<p>During these nine years, once referred to by Burke as the "Dark Ages," +he had four occupations: book-browsing at Dodsley's, debating in the +clubs, attending the theater on tickets probably supplied by Garrick, +who had taken a great fancy to him, and his writing.</p> + +<p>No writing man could wish a better environment than this: the friction +of mind with strong men, books and the drama stirred his emotions to the +printing-point.</p> + +<p>Burke's personality made a swirl in the social sea that brought the best +straight to him.</p> + +<p>One of the writers that Burke most admired was<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_168" id="VII_Page_168">[Pg 168]</a></span> Bolingbroke, that man of +masterly mind and mighty tread. His paragraphs move like a phalanx, and +in every sentence there is an argument. No man in England influenced his +time more than Bolingbroke. He was the inspirer of writers. Burke +devoured Bolingbroke, and when he took up his pen, wrote with the same +magnificent, stately minuet step. Finally he was full of the essence of +Bolingbroke to the point of saturation, and then he began to criticize +him. Had Bolingbroke been alive Burke would have quarreled with +him—they were so much alike. As it was, Burke contented himself by +writing a book after the style of Bolingbroke, carrying the great man's +arguments one step further with intent to show their fallacy. The +paraphrase is always a complement, and is never well done except by a +man who loves the original and is a bit jealous of him.</p> + +<p>If Burke began his "Vindication of Natural Society," with intent to +produce a burlesque, he missed his aim, and came very near convincing +himself of the truth of his proposition. And in fact, the book was +hailed by the rationalists as a vindication of Rousseau's philosophy.</p> + +<p>Burke was a conservative rationalist, which is something like an +altruistic pessimist. In the society of rationalists Burke was a +conservative, and when with the conservatives he was a rationalist. That +he was absolutely honest and sincere there is not a particle of doubt,<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_169" id="VII_Page_169">[Pg 169]</a></span> +and we will have to leave it to the psychologists to tell us why men +hate the thing they love.</p> + +<p>"The Vindication of Natural Society" is a great book, and the fact that +in the second edition Burke had to explain that it was an ironical +paraphrase does not convince us it was. The things prophesied have come +about and the morning stars still sing together. Wise men are more and +more learning by inclining their hearts toward Nature. Not only is this +true in pedagogics, but in law, medicine and theology as well. Dogma has +less place now in religion than ever before; many deeply religious men +eschew the creed entirely; and in all pulpits may be heard that the +sublime truths of simple honesty and kindness are quite enough basis for +a useful career. That is good which serves. Religions are many and +diverse, but reason and goodness are one.</p> + +<p>Burke's attempt to prove that without "revealed religion" mankind would +sit in eternal darkness makes us think of the fable of the man who +planted potatoes, hoed them, and finally harvested the crop. Every day +while this man toiled, there was another man who sat on the fence, +chewed a straw and looked on. And the author of the story says that if +it were not for the Bible, no one would have ever known to whom the +potatoes belonged.</p> + +<p>Burke wrote and talked as all good men do, just to clear the matter up +in his own mind. Our wisest moves are accidents. Burke's first book was +of a sort so striking<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_170" id="VII_Page_170">[Pg 170]</a></span> that both sides claimed it. Men stopped other men +on the street and asked if they had read the "Vindication"; at the +coffeehouses they wrangled and jangled over it; and all the time Dodsley +smiled and rubbed his hands in glee.</p> + +<p>Burke soon blossomed out in clean ruffled shirt every morning, and +shortly moved to a suite of rooms, where before he had received his mail +and his friends at a coffeehouse.</p> + +<p>Then came William Burke, a distant cousin, and together they tramped off +through rural England, loitering along flowering hedgerows, and stopping +at quaint inns, where the villagers made guesses as to whether the two +were gentlemen out for a lark, smugglers or Jesuits in disguise.</p> + +<p>One of these trips took our friends to Bath, and there we hear they were +lodged at the house of a Doctor Nugent, an excellent and scholarly man. +William Burke went back to London and left Edmund at Bath deep in the +pursuit of the Sublime. Doctor Nugent had a daughter, aged twenty, +beautiful, gentle and gracious. The reader can guess the rest.</p> + +<p>That Burke's wife was a most amiable and excellent woman there is no +doubt. She loved her lord, believed in him and had no other gods before +him. But that she influenced his career directly or through antithesis, +there is no trace. Her health was too frail to follow him—his stride +was terrific—so she remained at home,<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_171" id="VII_Page_171">[Pg 171]</a></span> and after every success he came +back and told her of it, and rested his great, shaggy head in her lap.</p> + +<p>Only one child was born to them, and this boy closely resembled his +mother in intellect and physique. This son passed out early in life, and +so with Edmund died the name.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_172" id="VII_Page_172">[Pg 172]</a></span>The next book Burke launched was the one we know best, "On the Sublime." +The original bore the terrifying title, "A Philosophical Inquiry Into +the Origin of Our Ideas Concerning the Sublime and Beautiful." This book +consists of one hundred seventeen chapters, each chapter dealing with +some special phase of the subject.</p> + +<p>It is the most searching and complete analysis of an abstract theme of +which I know. It sums the subject up like an essay by Herbert Spencer, +and disposes of the case once and forever. It is so learned that only a +sophomore could have written it, and we quite forgive the author when we +are told that it was composed when he was nineteen.</p> + +<p>The book proved Burke's power to follow an idea to its lair, and its +launching also launched the author upon the full tide of polite society. +Goldsmith said, "We will lose him now," but Burke still stuck by his +coffeehouse companions and used them as a pontoon to bridge the gulf +'twixt Bohemia and Piccadilly.</p> + +<p>In the meantime he had written a book for Dodsley on "English +Settlements in North America," and this did Burke more good than any one +else, as it caused him to focus his inquiring mind on the New World. +After this man began to write on a subject, his intellect became +luminous on the theme, and it was his forevermore.</p> + +<p>At routs and fetes and four-o'-clocks, Burke was sought<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_173" id="VII_Page_173">[Pg 173]</a></span> as an authority +on America. He had never been there—he had but promised himself that he +would go—for a sick wife held him back. In the meantime he had seen +every man of worth who had been to America, and had sucked the orange +dry. Macaulay gives the idea when he describes Burke's speech at the +Warren Hastings trial. Burke had never been to India; Macaulay had, but +that is nothing.</p> + +<p>Says Macaulay:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>When Burke spoke, the burning sun, the strange vegetation of the +palm and cocoa-tree, the rice-field, the tank, the huge trees, +older than the Mogul Empire, under which the village crowds +assemble, the thatched roof of the peasant's hut, the rich tracery +of the mosque where the Imam prays with his face to Mecca, the +drums, the banners and gaudy idols, the devotee swinging in the +air, the graceful maiden with the pitcher on her head, descending +the steps to the riverside, the black faces, the long beards, the +yellow streaks of sect, the turbans and the flowing robes, the +spears and silver maces, the elephants with their canopies of +state, the gorgeous palanquin of the prince, and the close litter +of the noble lady—all these things were to him as familiar as the +subjects which lay on the road between Beaconsfield and Saint James +Street. All India was present to the eye of his mind, from the +halls where suitors laid gold and perfumes at the feet of the +sovereign, to the wild moor where the gipsy camp was pitched; from +the bazar, humming like a beehive with the crowd of buyers and +sellers, to the jungle where the lonely courier shakes his bunch of +iron rings to scare away the hyenas. He had just as lively an idea<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_174" id="VII_Page_174">[Pg 174]</a></span> +of the insurrection at Benares as of Lord George Gordon's riots, +and of the execution of Numcomar as of Doctor Dodd. Oppression in +Bengal was to him the same thing as oppression in the streets of +London.</p></div> + +<p>The wide encompassing quality of Burke's mind made him a man among men. +Just how much he lent his power in those early days to assist those in +high places who needed him, we do not know. Such services were sacred to +him—done in friendship and in confidence, and held as steadfast as a +good lawyer holds the secrets of his client.</p> + +<p>No doubt, though, that the one speech which gave glory and a nickname to +Single-Speech Hamilton was written by Burke. It was wise, witty and +profound—and never again did Hamilton do a thing that rose above the +dull and deadly mediocre.</p> + +<p>It was a rival of Burke's who said, "He is the only man since Cicero who +is a great orator, and who can write as well as he can talk."</p> + +<p>That Burke wrote the lectures of Sir Joshua Reynolds is now pretty +generally believed; in fact, that he received the goodly sum of four +thousand pounds for writing these lectures has been proved to the +satisfaction of a jury. Burke never said he wrote the Reynolds lectures, +and Sir Joshua left it to his valet to deny it. But read the lectures +now and you will see the stately step of Bolingbroke, and the insight, +wit and gravity of the man who said: "Mr. Speaker, I<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_175" id="VII_Page_175">[Pg 175]</a></span> rise to a question +of privilege. If it is the pleasure of the House that all the heaviest +folios known to us should be here read aloud, I am in honor bound to +graciously submit, but only this I ask, that proceedings shall be +suspended long enough for me to send home for my nightcap."</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_176" id="VII_Page_176">[Pg 176]</a></span>Presently Burke graduated from doing hack-work for William Gerard +Hamilton to the position of his private secretary—Hamilton had been +appointed Lord Lieutenant of Ireland, and so highly did he prize Burke's +services that he had the Government vote him a pension of three hundred +pounds a year. This was the first settled income Burke had ever +received, and he was then well past thirty years of age. But though he +was in sore straits financially, when he perceived that the intent of +the income was to bind him into the exclusive service of his patron, he +resigned his office and refused the pension.</p> + +<p>Without knowing how wisely he was acting, Burke, by declining the +pension and affronting Lord Hamilton, had done the very thing that it +was most expedient to do.</p> + +<p>When Hamilton could not buy his man, he foolishly sought to crush him, +and this brought Burke for the first time into the white light of +publicity.</p> + +<p>I suppose it is fully understood that the nobility of England are not +necessarily either cultured or well-read. Literature to most of the +titled gentry is a blank, my lord—it is so now and always has been so. +Burke's brilliant books were not sufficient to make him famous except +among the Elect Few; but the episode with Lord Hamilton set the gossips +by the ears, and all who had never read Burke's books now pretended they +had.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_177" id="VII_Page_177">[Pg 177]</a></span>Burke was a national character—such a man merely needs to be known to +be wanted—strong men are always needed. The House of Commons opened its +doors to him—several boroughs competing with each other for the favor +of being represented by him.</p> + +<p>A political break-up with opportunity came along, and we find the +Marquis of Rockingham made Premier, and Edmund Burke his secretary. It +was Fitzherbert who recommended Burke to Rockingham, and Fitzherbert is +immortal for this and for the fact that Johnson used him to point a +moral. Said Doctor Johnson: "A man is popular more through negative +qualities than positive ones. Fitzherbert is the most acceptable man in +London because he never overpowers any one by the superiority of his +talents, makes no man think worse of himself by being his rival, seems +always ready to listen, does not oblige you to hear much from him, and +never opposes what you say."</p> + +<p>With Rockingham and Burke it was a case of the tail wagging the dog, but +Burke and Rockingham understood each other, and always remained firm +friends.</p> + +<p>I believe it was John J. Ingalls who said America had never elected but +one first-class man for President, and he was chosen only because he was +unknown.</p> + +<p>Rockingham could neither make a speech nor write a readable article; but +he was kindly disposed, honest and intelligent and had a gracious and +winning presence. He lives in history today chiefly because Edmund<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_178" id="VII_Page_178">[Pg 178]</a></span> +Burke was associated with him.</p> + +<p>Burke was too big a man for Premier—such men have to be kept in +subjection—the popular will is wise. Men like Burke make +enemies—common folks can not follow them in their flight, and in their +presence we feel "like a farmer in the presence of a sleight-of-hand +man."</p> + +<p>To have life, and life in abundance, is the prayer of every strong and +valiant soul. But men are forever running away from life—getting into +"positions," monasteries, communities, and now and again cutting the +cable of existence by suicide. The man who commits suicide usually +leaves a letter giving a reason—almost any reason is sufficient—he was +looking for a reason and when he thought he had found it, he seized upon +it.</p> + +<p>Life to Edmund Burke was the gracious gift of the gods, and he was +grateful for it. He ripened slowly. Arrested development never caught +him—all the days of his life his mind was expanding and reaching out, +touching every phase of human existence. Nothing was foreign to him; +nothing that related to human existence was small or insignificant. When +the home-thrust was made that Ireland had not suffered more through the +absenteeism of her landlords than through the absenteeism of her men of +genius, Burke made the reply that Ireland needed friends in the House of +Commons more than at home.</p> + +<p>Burke loved Ireland to the last, and his fine loyalty<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_179" id="VII_Page_179">[Pg 179]</a></span> for her people +doubtless cost him a seat in the Cabinet. In moments of passion his +tongue took on a touch of the old sod, which gave Fox an opportunity of +introducing a swell bull, "Burke's brogue is worth going miles to see." +And once when Burke was speaking of America he referred to the wondrous +forests "where the hand of man had never trod," Fox arose to a point of +order. And this was a good deal easier on the part of Fox than to try to +meet his man in serious debate.</p> + +<p>Burke's was not the primrose path of dalliance. He fought his way inch +by inch. Often it was a dozen to one against him. In one speech he said: +"The minister comes down in state attended by beasts clean and unclean. +He opens his budget and edifies us with a speech—one-half the house +goes away. A second gentleman gets up and another half goes, and a third +gentleman launches a speech that rids the house of another half."</p> + +<p>A loud laugh here came in, and Burke stopped and said he was most happy +if a small dehorned Irish bull of his could put the House in such good +humor, and went on with his speech. Soon, however, there were cries of +"Shame!" from the Tories, who thought Burke was speaking disrespectfully +of the King.</p> + +<p>Burke paused and said: "Mr. Speaker, I have not spoken of the King +except in high esteem—I prize my head too well for that. But I do not +think it necessary that I should bow down to his manservant, nor his<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_180" id="VII_Page_180">[Pg 180]</a></span> +maidservant, nor his ox nor his ass"—and he fixed his intrepid gaze +upon the chief offender.</p> + +<p>Nature's best use for genius is to make other men think; to stir things +up so sedimentation does not take place; to break the ankylosis of +self-complacency; and start the stream of public opinion running so it +will purify itself.</p> + +<p>Burke was an agitator—not a leader. He had the great gift of +exaggeration, without which no man can be a great orator. He painted the +picture large, and put the matter in a way that compelled attention. For +thirty years he was a most prominent figure in English politics—no +great measure could be passed without counting on him. His influence +held dishonesty in check, and made oppression pause.</p> + +<p>History is usually written from one of three points of view—political, +literary or economic. Macaulay stands for the first, Taine the second, +Buckle the third. Each writer considers his subject supreme. When we +speak of the history of a country we usually refer to its statesmen.</p> + +<p>Politicians live the lives of moths as compared with the lasting +influence of commerce that feeds, houses and clothes, says Buckle.</p> + +<p>Rulers govern, but it is literature that enlightens, says Taine.</p> + +<p>Literature and commerce are made possible only through the wisdom of +statesmen, says Macaulay.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_181" id="VII_Page_181">[Pg 181]</a></span>Edmund Burke's business was statecraft; his play was letters; but he +lives for us through letters.</p> + +<p>He had two sets of ardent friends: his political associates, and that +other little group of literary cronies made up of Johnson, Goldsmith, +Boswell, Reynolds and Garrick.</p> + +<p>With these his soul was free—his sense of sublimity then found wings: +the vocabulary of Johnson, the purling poetry of Goldsmith, the grace of +Garrick's mimicry, the miracle of Reynolds' pencil and brush—these +ministered to his hungry heart.</p> + +<p>They were forms of expression.</p> + +<p>All life is an expression of spirit.</p> + +<p>Burke's life was dedicated to expression.</p> + +<p>He expressed through speech, personal presence and written words. Who +ever expressed in this way so well? And—stay!—who ever had so much +that was worth while to express?</p> + + + +<hr class="full" /> +<h2><a name="WILLIAM_PITT" id="WILLIAM_PITT"></a>WILLIAM PITT<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_182" id="VII_Page_182">[Pg 182]</a></span></h2> + + + +<div class="blockquot"><p>Time was when slaves were exported like cattle from the British<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_183" id="VII_Page_183">[Pg 183]</a></span> +Coast and exposed for sale in the Roman market. These men and women +who were thus sold were supposed to be guilty of witchcraft, debt, +blasphemy or theft. Or else they were prisoners taken in war—they +had forfeited their right to freedom, and we sold them. We said +they were incapable of self-government and so must be looked after. +Later we quit selling British slaves, but began to buy and trade in +African humanity. We silenced conscience by saying, "It's all +right—they are incapable of self-government." We were once as +obscure, as debased, as ignorant, as barbaric, as the African is +now. I trust that the time will come when we are willing to give to +Africa the opportunity, the hope, the right to attain to the same +blessings that we ourselves enjoy.</p></div> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 10em;">—<i>William Pitt, on "Abolition of Slavery in England"</i></span><br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_184" id="VII_Page_184">[Pg 184]</a></span></p> + +<div class="center"> + <a id="image0446-1"></a> + <img src="images/0446-1.jpg" width="268" height="400" + alt="" + title="" /> + + <p class="center">WILLIAM PITT</p> +</div> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_185" id="VII_Page_185">[Pg 185]</a></span></p> + + + +<p>The Law of Heredity has been described as that law of our nature which +provides that a man shall resemble his grandmother—or not, as the case +may be.</p> + +<p>What traits are inherited and what acquired—who shall say? Married +folks who resort to the happy expedient of procuring their children at +orphan-asylums can testify to the many times they have been complimented +on the striking resemblance of father to daughter, or son to mother.</p> + +<p>Possibly that is all there is of it—we resemble those with whom we +associate. Far be it from me to say the final word on this theme—I +would not, if I could, deprive men of a problem they can never solve. +When all questions are answered, it will be time to telephone the +undertaker.</p> + +<p>That men of genius do not reproduce themselves after the flesh is an +axiom; but that William Pitt, Earl of Chatham, did, is brought forth as +an exception, incident, accident or circumstance, just according to +one's mood at the moment.</p> + +<p>"Great men do have great sons!" we cry. "Just look at the Pitts, the +Adamses, the Walpoles, the Beechers, the Booths, the Bellinis, the +Disraelis!" and here we<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_186" id="VII_Page_186">[Pg 186]</a></span> begin to falter. And then the opposition takes +it up and rattles off a list of great men whose sons were spendthrifts, +gamblers, ne'er-do-wells and jackanapes.</p> + +<p>When Pitt the Younger made his first speech in the House of Commons, he +struck thirteen. The members of the House were amazed.</p> + +<p>"He's a chip off the old block," they said.</p> + +<p>"He's the block itself," said Burke.</p> + +<p>Lord Rosebery, who had the felicity to own a Derby winner, once said of +Pitt, "He was bred for speed, but not for endurance."</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_187" id="VII_Page_187">[Pg 187]</a></span>Since the subject of heredity always seems to come up when the Pitts are +mentioned, it may be proper for us to go back and trace pedigree a bit, +to see if we have here the formula for producing a genius.</p> + +<p>The grandfather of William Pitt the Elder was Thomas Pitt, a +sea-captain, trader and gentleman adventurer. In fact, he was a bold +buccaneer, but not too bold, for he gave large sums to church and +charity, and showed his zeal for virtue by once hanging three smugglers +in chains, high up on a gibbet overlooking the coast of Cornwall, and +there the bodies were left until the birds of prey and the elements had +bleached their bones.</p> + +<p>Thomas Pitt was known as "Diamond Tom" through bringing from India and +selling to the Regent Orleans the largest diamond, I believe, ever owned +in England. For this diamond, Tom received one hundred thirty-five +thousand pounds—a sum equal to one million dollars. That Diamond Tom +received this money there is no doubt, but where and how he got the +diamond nobody seems to know, and in his own time it was deemed +indelicate to inquire.</p> + +<p>Tom might have wasted that money right shortly—there are several ways +of dissipating a fortune—but he wisely decided to found a house. That +is to say, he bought a borough—the borough of Old Sarum, the locality +that was to become famous as the "rotten borough" of the Reform Bill.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_188" id="VII_Page_188">[Pg 188]</a></span>He bought this borough and all the tenants outright from the Government, +just as we bought the Filipinos at two dollars a head. All the people +who lived in the borough had to pay tribute, taxes or rent to Tom, for +Tom owned the tenures. They had to pay, hike or have their heads cut +off. Most of them paid.</p> + +<p>If the time were at our disposal, it might be worth while to let this +story extend itself into a picture of how all the land in England once +belonged to the Crown, and how this land was transferred at will to +Thomas, Richard and Henry for cash or as reward for services rendered. +It was much the same in America—the Government once owned all the land, +and then this land was sold, given out to soldiers, or to homesteaders +who would clear the land of trees; and later we reversed the proposition +and gave the land to those who would plant trees.</p> + +<p>There was this similarity, too, between English and American land-laws: +the Indians on the land in America had to pay, move or be perforated. +For them to pay rent or work out a road-tax was quite out of the +question. Indians, like the Irish, will not pay rent, so we were +compelled to evict them.</p> + +<p>But there was this difference in America: the owner of the land could +sell it; in England he could not. The law of entail has been much +modified, but as a general proposition the landowner in England has the +privilege of collecting the rent, and warning off poachers, but he<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_189" id="VII_Page_189">[Pg 189]</a></span> can +not mortgage the land and eat it up. This keeps the big estates intact, +and is a very good scheme. Under a similar law in the United States, +Uncle Billy Bushnell or Ali Baba might live in Hot Springs, Arkansas, +and own every foot of East Aurora, and all of us would then vote as +Baron Bushnell or Sir Ali dictated, thus avoiding much personal animus +at Town-Meetin' time.</p> + +<p>But no tenure can be made with death—he can neither be bought, bribed, +cajoled nor intimidated. Diamond Tom died and his eldest son Robert came +into possession of the estate.</p> + +<p>Now, Robert was commonplace and beautifully mediocre. It is one of +Nature's little ironies at the expense of the Law of Entail that she +will occasionally send out of the spirit-realm, into a place of worldly +importance, a man who is a regular chibot, chitterling and chump. Robert +Pitt, son of Diamond Tom, escaped all censure and unkind criticism by +doing nothing, saying nothing and being nothing.</p> + +<p>But he proved procreant and reared a goodly brood of sons and +daughters—all much like himself, save one, the youngest son.</p> + +<p>This son, by name William Pitt, very much resembled Diamond Tom, his +illustrious grandfather—Nature bred back. William was strong in body, +firm in will, active, alert, intelligent. Times had changed or he might +have been a bold buccaneer, too. He was all his grandfather was, only +sandpapered, buffed and polished<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_190" id="VII_Page_190">[Pg 190]</a></span> by civilization.</p> + +<p>He was sent to Eton, and then to Trinity College, Oxford, where +buccaneer instincts broke out and he left without a degree. Two careers +were open to him, as to all aspiring sons of Noble Beef-eaters—he could +enter the Church or the Army.</p> + +<p>He chose the Army, and became in due course the first cornet of his +company.</p> + +<p>His elder brother Thomas was very naturally a member of the House of +Commons for Old Sarum, and later sat for Oakhampton. Another of Nature's +little ironies here outcrops: Thomas, who was named for his illustrious +grandfather—he of the crystallized carbon—didn't resemble his +grandfather nearly so much as did his younger brother William. So Thomas +with surprising good sense named his brother for a seat in the House of +Commons from Old Sarum.</p> + +<p>William was but twenty-seven years of age when he began his official +career, but he seemed one who had leaped into life full-armed. He +absorbed knowledge on every hand. Demosthenes was his idol, and he, too, +declaimed by the seashore with his mouth full of pebbles. His splendid +command of language was acquired by the practise of translation and +retranslation. Whether Greek or Latin ever helped any man to become a +better thinker is a mooted question, but the practise of talking off in +your own tongue a page of a foreign language is a mighty good way to +lubricate your English.</p> + +<p>William Pitt had all the graces of a<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_191" id="VII_Page_191">[Pg 191]</a></span> great orator—he was deliberate, +self-possessed, positive. In form he was rather small, but he had a way +of carrying himself that gave an impression of size. He was one of the +world's big little men—the type of Aaron Burr, Alexander Hamilton, +Benjamin Harrison and John D. Long. In the House of Commons he lost no +time in making his presence felt. He was assertive, theatrical, +declamatory—still, he usually knew what he was talking about. His +criticisms of the Government so exasperated Sir Robert Walpole that +Walpole used to refer to him as "that terrible cornet of horse." +Finally, Walpole had him dismissed from the Army. This, instead of +silencing the young man, really made matters worse, and George the +Second, who patronized the Opposition when he could not down it, made +him groom of the bedchamber to the Prince of Wales. This was an office +lined with adipose, with no work to speak of.</p> + +<p>The feeling is that Pitt revealed his common clay by accepting the +favor. He was large enough to get along without such things.</p> + +<p>In most of the good old "School Speakers" was an extract from a speech +supposed to have been delivered by Pitt on the occasion of his being +taunted by Horace Walpole on account of his youth. Pitt replied in +language something like this: "It is true that I am young, yet I'll get +over that; but the man who is a fool will probably remain one all his +days."</p> + +<p>The speech was reported by a lout of a countryman,<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_192" id="VII_Page_192">[Pg 192]</a></span> Samuel Johnson by +name, who had come up to London to make his fortune, and found his first +work in reporting speeches in the House of Commons. Pitt did not write +out his speeches for the press, weeks in advance, according to +latter-day methods; the man who reported them had to have a style of his +own—and certainly Johnson had. Pitt was much pleased with Johnson's +reports of his speeches, but on one occasion mildly said, "Ah, Mr. +Johnson—you know—I do not exactly remember using that expression!"</p> + +<p>And Samuel Johnson said, "Sir, it is barely possible that you did not +use the language as I have written it out; but you should." Just how +much Johnson we get in Pitt's printed speeches, is still a topic for +debate.</p> + +<p>Pitt could think on his feet, while Samuel Johnson never made but one +speech and broke down in that. But Johnson could write, and the best of +Pitt's speeches are those reported by Ursa Major in a style superbly +Johnsonese. The member from Old Sarum once sent Johnson two butts of +Canary and a barrel of whitebait, as a token of appreciation for his +skill in accurate reporting.</p> + +<p>Pitt followed the usual course of successful reformers, and in due time +lined up on the side of the conservatives, and gradually succumbed to a +strictly aristocratic disease, gout. Whether genius is transmissible or +not is a question, but all authorities agree as to gout.</p> + +<p>Pitt's opposition to the Walpoles was so very firmly<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_193" id="VII_Page_193">[Pg 193]</a></span> rooted that it +continued for life, and for this he was rewarded by the Duchess of +Marlborough with a legacy of ten thousand pounds. Her Grace was the +mother of the lady who had the felicity to have her picture painted by +Gainsborough, which picture was brought to America and secreted here for +many years and finally was purchased for sixty-five thousand dollars by +Pierpont Morgan, through the kind offices of my friend Patricius Sheedy, +Philistine-at-Large.</p> + +<p>The Duchess in her will said she gave the money to Pitt as "an +acknowledgment of the noble defense he had made for the support of the +laws of England." But the belief is that it was her hatred for Walpole +that prompted her admiration for Pitt. And her detestation of Walpole +was not so much political as sentimental—a woman's love-affairs being +much more to her than patriotism—but the Duchess being a woman deceived +herself as to reasons. Our acts are right, but our reasons seldom are. I +leave this Marlborough matter with those who are interested in the +psychology of the heart—merely calling attention to the fact that +although the Duchess was ninety when she passed out, the warm +experiences of her early womanhood were very vivid in her memory. If you +wish to know when love dies out of a woman's brain, you will have to ask +some one who is older than was the Duchess of Marlborough.</p> + +<p>When George the Second died, and his grandson George the Third came into +power, Pitt resigned his office in the<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_194" id="VII_Page_194">[Pg 194]</a></span> Cabinet and abandoned politics.</p> + +<p>At last he found time to get married. He was then forty-six years of +age.</p> + +<p>Men retire from active life, but seldom remain upon the shelf—either +life or death takes them down. In five years' time we find the King +offering Pitt anything in sight, and Mr. Pitt, the Great Commoner, +became Viscount Pitt, Earl of Chatham.</p> + +<p>By this move Pitt lost in popularity more than he had gained in +dignity—there was a complete revulsion of feeling toward him by the +people, and he never again attained the influence and power he had once +known.</p> + +<p>Burke once referred to a certain proposed bill as "insignificant, +irrelevant, pompous, creeping, explanatory and ambiguous—done in the +true Chathamic style."</p> + +<p>But the disdain of Burke was really complimentary—it took a worthy foe +to draw his fire. Chatham's faults were mostly on the surface, and were +more a matter of manner than of head or heart. America has cause to +treasure the memory of Chatham. He opposed the Stamp Act with all the +vigor of his tremendous intellect, and in the last speech of his life he +prophesied that the Americans would never submit to taxation without +representation, and that all the power of England was not great enough +to subdue men who were fighting for their country. Yet his appeal to +George the Third and his minions was like bombarding a fog. But all he +said proved true.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_195" id="VII_Page_195">[Pg 195]</a></span>On the occasion of this last great speech Chatham was attended by his +favorite son William, then nineteen years old. Proud as was this father +of his son, he did not guess that in four short years this boy would, +through his brilliancy, cast his own splendid efforts into the shadow; +and that Burke, the querulous, would give the son a measure of +approbation he never vouchsafed to the father.</p> + +<p>William Pitt, the Younger, is known as the "Great Pitt," to distinguish +him from his father, who in his day was known as the greatest man in +England.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_196" id="VII_Page_196">[Pg 196]</a></span>William Pitt, the second son of the Earl of Chatham, was born of poor +but honest parents, in the year Seventeen Hundred Fifty-nine. That was +the year that gave us Robert Burns—between whom and Pitt, in some +respects, averages were held good. The same year was born William +Wilberforce, philanthropist and emancipator, father of Canon +Wilberforce.</p> + +<p>At this time the fortunes of William Pitt the Elder were at full flood. +England was in a fever of exultation—drunk with success. Just where the +thought got abroad that the average Englishman is moderate in success +and in defeat not cast down, I do not know. But this I have seen: all +London mad, howling, exultant, savage drunk, because of the report that +the Redcoats had subjugated this colony or that. To subdue, crush, slay +and defeat, has caused shrieking shouts of joy in London since London +began—unless the slain were Englishmen.</p> + +<p>This is patriotism, concerning which Samuel Johnson, reporter in the +House of Commons, once made a remark slightly touched with acerbity.</p> + +<p>In the years Seventeen Hundred Fifty-eight and Seventeen Hundred +Fifty-nine not a month passed but bonfires burned bright from Cornwall +to Scotland in honor of English victories on land and sea. In +Westphalia, British Infantry defeated the armies of Louis the Fifteenth; +Boscawen had sunk a French fleet; Hawke put to flight another; Amherst +took Ticonderoga; Clive<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_197" id="VII_Page_197">[Pg 197]</a></span> destroyed a Dutch armament; Wolfe achieved +victory and a glorious death at Quebec. English arms had marched +triumphant through India and secured for the tight little island an +empire, while another had been gained on the shores of Ontario.</p> + +<p>For all this the Great Commoner received most of the glory; and that +this tremendous popularity was too great to last is but a truism.</p> + +<p>But in such a year it was that William Pitt was born. His father was +fifty years old, his mother about thirty. This mother was a woman of +rare grace, intellect and beauty, the only sister of two remarkable +brothers—George Grenville, the obstinate adviser of George the Third, +the man who did the most to make America free—unintentionally—and the +other brother was Richard Earl Temple, almost equally potent for right +or wrong.</p> + +<p>That the child of a sensitive mother, born amid such a crash of +excitement, should be feeble was to be expected. No one at first +expected the baby to survive.</p> + +<p>But tenderness and care brought him through, and he grew into a tall, +spindling boy whose intellect far outmatched his body. He was too weak +to be sent to take his place at a common school, and so his father and +mother taught him.</p> + +<p>Between the father and the son there grew up a fine bond of affection. +Whenever the father made a public address the boy was there to admire +and applaud.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_198" id="VII_Page_198">[Pg 198]</a></span>The father's declining fortunes drove him back to his family for repose, +and all of his own ambitions became centered in his son. With a younger +man this might not have been the case, but the baby boy of an old man +means much more to him than a brood coming early.</p> + +<p>Daily, this boy of twelve or fourteen would go to his father's study to +recite. Oratory was his aim, and the intent was that he should become +the greatest parliamentarian of his time.</p> + +<p>This little mutual-admiration society, composed of father and son, +speaks volumes for both. Boys reaching out toward manhood, when they are +neither men nor boys, often have little respect for their fathers—they +consider the pater to be both old-fashioned and tyrannical. And the +father, expecting too much of the son, often fails in faith and +patience. But there was no such failure here. Chatham personally +superintended the matter of offhand translation, and this practise was +kept up daily from the time the boy was eight years old until he was +nineteen, when his father died.</p> + +<p>Then there was the tutor Pretyman who must not be left out. He was a +combination valet and teacher, and the most pedantic and idolatrous +person that ever moused through dusty tomes. With a trifle more adipose +and a little less intellect, he would have made a most successful and +awful butler. He seemed a type of the English waiter who by some chance +had acquired<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_199" id="VII_Page_199">[Pg 199]</a></span> a college education, and never said a wrong thing, nor did +a right one, during his whole life.</p> + +<p>Pretyman wrote a life of Pitt, and according to Macaulay it enjoys the +distinction of being the worst biography ever written. Lord Rosebery, +however, declares the book is not so bad as it might be. I believe there +are two other biographies equally stupid: Weems' "Life of Washington," +and the book on Gainsborough, by Thicknesse. Weems' book was written to +elevate his man into a demigod; Thicknesse was intent on lowering his +subject and exalting himself; while Pretyman extols himself and his +subject equally, revealing how William Pitt could never have been +William Pitt were it not for his tutor. Pretyman emphasizes trifles, +slights important matters, and waxes learned concerning the irrelevant.</p> + +<p>A legacy coming to Pretyman, he changed his name to Tomline, as women +change their names when they marry or enter a convent.</p> + +<p>Religion to Pitt was quite a perfunctory affair, necessary, of course; +but a bishop in England was one who could do little good and, +fortunately, not much harm. With an irony too subtle to be seen by but +very few, Pitt when twenty-seven years of age made his old tutor Bishop +of Winchester. Tomline proved an excellent and praiseworthy bishop; and +his obsequious loyalty to Pitt led to the promise that if the Primacy +should become vacant, Tomline was to be made Archbishop of Canterbury.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_200" id="VII_Page_200">[Pg 200]</a></span>This promise was told by the unthinking Tomline, and reached the ears of +George the Third, a man who at times was very much alert.</p> + +<p>There came a day when the Primacy was vacant, and to head off the +nomination by Pitt, the King one morning at eight o'clock walked over to +the residence of Bishop Manners Somers and plied the knocker.</p> + +<p>The servant who answered the summons explained that the Bishop was +taking his bath and could not be seen until he had had breakfast.</p> + +<p>But the visitor was importunate.</p> + +<p>The servant went back to his master and explained that the stout man at +the door would neither go away nor tell his name, but must see his +lordship at once.</p> + +<p>When the Bishop appeared in his dressing-gown and saw the King, he +nearly had apoplexy. But the King quickly told his errand and made his +friend Primate on the doorstep, with the butler and the housemaid for +witnesses.</p> + +<p>Later in the day when Pitt appeared at the palace he was told that a +Primate had been appointed—the King was very sorry, but the present +incumbent could not be removed unless charges were preferred. Pitt +smilingly congratulated the King on the wisdom of his choice, but +afterward referred to the transaction as "a rather scurvy trick."</p> + +<p>At twenty-three years of age, William Pitt entered the House of Commons +from the same borough that<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_201" id="VII_Page_201">[Pg 201]</a></span> his father had represented at twenty-seven. +His elder brother made way, just as had the elder brother of his father.</p> + +<p>The first speech he made in Parliament fixed his place in that body. His +fame had preceded him, and when he arose every seat was taken to hear +the favorite son of the Earl of Chatham, the greatest orator England had +ever seen.</p> + +<p>The subject was simply a plan of finance, and lacked all excuse for fine +phrasing or flavor of sentiment. And what should a boy of twenty-three +know about a nation's financial policy?</p> + +<p>Yet this boy knew all about it. Figures, statistics, results, +conclusions, were shown in a steady, flowing, accurate, lucid manner. +The young man knew his theme—every byway, highway and tracing of it. By +that speech he proved his mathematical genius, and blazed the way +straight to the office of Chancellor of the Exchequer.</p> + +<p>Not only did he know his theme, but he had the ability to explain it. He +spoke without hesitation or embarrassment, and revealed the same +splendid dignity that his father had shown, all flavored by the same +dash of indifference for the auditor. But the discerning ones saw that +he surpassed his father, in that he carried more reserve and showed a +suavity that was not the habit of Chatham.</p> + +<p>And the man was there—mighty and self-reliant.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_202" id="VII_Page_202">[Pg 202]</a></span>The voice is the index of the soul. The voice of the two Pitts was the +same voice, we have been told—a deep, rich, cultivated lyric-barytone. +It was a trained voice, a voice that came from a full column of air, +that never broke into a screech, rasping the throat of the speaker and +the ear of the listener. It was the natural voice carefully developed by +right use. The power of Pitt lay in his cold, calculating intellect, but +the instrument that made manifest this intellect was his deep, resonant, +perfectly controlled voice.</p> + +<p>Pitt never married, and according to the biting phrase of Fox, all he +knew of love was a description of it he got from the Iliad. That is to +say, he was separated from it about three thousand years. This is a +trifle too severe, for when twenty-one years of age he met the daughter +of Necker at Paris—she who was to give the world of society a thrill as +Madame de Stael. And if the gossips are right it was not the fault of +Pitt that a love-match did not follow. But the woman gauged the man, and +she saw that love to him would be merely an incident, not a consuming +passion, and she was not the woman to write a book on Farthest North. +She dallied with the young man a day, and then sent him about his +business, exasperated and perplexed. He could strike fire with men as +flint strikes on steel, but women were outside his realm.</p> + +<p>Yet he followed the career of Madame de Stael, and never managed to +quite get her out of his life. Once,<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_203" id="VII_Page_203">[Pg 203]</a></span> in his later years, he referred to +her as that "cold and trifling daughter of France's greatest financier." +He admired the father more than he loved the daughter.</p> + +<p>For twenty-four years Pitt piloted England's Ship of State. There were +constant head-winds, and now and again shifting gales of fierce +opposition, and all the time a fat captain to pacify and appease. This +captain was stupid, sly, obstinate and insane by turns, and to run the +ship and still allow the captain to believe that he was in command was +the problem that confronted Pitt. And that he succeeded as well as any +living man could, there is no doubt.</p> + +<p>During the reign of Pitt, England lost the American Colonies. This was +not a defeat for England: it was Destiny. England preserved her +independence by cutting the cable that bound her to us.</p> + +<p>The life of Pitt was a search for power—to love, wealth and fame he was +indifferent.</p> + +<p>He was able to manage successfully the finances of a nation, but his own +were left in a sorry muddle: at his death it took forty thousand pounds +to cause him to be worth nothing. His debts were paid by the nation. And +this indifference to his own affairs was put forth at the time as proof +of his probity and excellence. We think now that it marked his +limitations. His income for twenty years preceding his death was about +fifty thousand dollars a year. One hour a day in auditing accounts with +his butler would have made all secure. He had<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_204" id="VII_Page_204">[Pg 204]</a></span> neither wife, child nor +dependent kinsmen, yet it was found that his household consumed nine +hundred pounds of meat a week and enough beer to float a ship. For a man +to waste his own funds in riotous living is only a trifle worse than to +allow others to do the same.</p> + +<p>Literature, music and art owe little to Pitt: only lovers care for +beauty—the sensuous was not for him. He knew the Classics, spoke French +like a Parisian, reveled in history, had no confidants, and loved one +friend—Wilberforce.</p> + +<p>Pictures of Pitt by Reynolds and Gainsborough reveal a face commonplace +in feature save for the eye—"the most brilliant eye ever seen in a +human face." In describing the man, one word always seems to creep in, +the word "haughty." That the man was gentle, kind and even playful among +the few who knew him best, there is no doubt. The austerity of his +manner was the inevitable result of an ambition the sole aim of which +was to dictate the policy of a great nation. All save honor was +sacrificed to this end, and that the man was successful in his ambition, +there is no dispute.</p> + +<p>When he died, aged forty-seven, he was by popular acclaim the greatest +Englishman of his time, and the passing years have not shaken that proud +position.</p> + + + +<hr class="full" /> +<h2><a name="JEAN_PAUL_MARAT" id="JEAN_PAUL_MARAT"></a>JEAN PAUL MARAT<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_205" id="VII_Page_205">[Pg 205]</a></span></h2> + + + +<div class="blockquot"><p>Citizens: You see before you the widow of Marat. I do not come here +to ask your favors, such as cupidity would covet, or even such as +would relieve indigence—Marat's widow needs no more than a tomb. +Before arriving at that happy termination to my existence, however, +I come to ask that justice may be done in respect to the reports +recently put forth in this body against the memory of at once the +most intrepid and the most outraged defender of the people.</p></div> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 15em;">—<i>Simonne Evrard Marat, to the Convention</i></span><br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_206" id="VII_Page_206">[Pg 206]</a></span></p> + +<div class="center"> + <a id="image0447-1"></a> + <img src="images/0447-1.jpg" width="271" height="400" + alt="" + title="" /> + + <p class="center">JEAN PAUL MARAT</p> +</div> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_207" id="VII_Page_207">[Pg 207]</a></span></p> + + + +<p>The French Revolution traces a lineal descent direct from Voltaire and +Jean Jacques Rousseau. These men were contemporaries; they came to the +same conclusions, expressing the same thought, each in his own way, +absolutely independent of the other. And as genius seldom recognizes +genius, neither knew the greatness of the other.</p> + +<p>Voltaire was an aristocrat—the friend of kings and courtiers, the +brilliant cynic, the pet of the salons and the center of the culture and +brains of his time.</p> + +<p>Rousseau was a man of the people, plain and unpretentious—a man without +ambition—a dreamer. His first writings were mere debating-society +monologs, done for his own amusement and the half-dozen or so cronies +who cared to listen.</p> + +<p>But, as he wrote, things came to him; the significance of his words +became to him apparent. Opposition made it necessary to define his +position, and threat made it wise to amplify and explain. He grew +through exercise, as all men do who grow at all; the spirit of the times +acted upon him, and knowledge unrolled as a scroll.</p> + +<p>The sum of Rousseau's political philosophy found embodiment in his book, +"The Social Contract," and his ideas on education in "Emile." "The +Social<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_208" id="VII_Page_208">[Pg 208]</a></span> Contract" became the Bible of the Revolution, and as Emerson +says all of our philosophy will be found in Plato, so in a more exact +sense can every argument of the men of the Revolution be found in "The +Social Contract." But Rousseau did not know what firebrands he was +supplying. He was essentially a man of peace—he launched these children +of his brain, indifferently, like his children of the flesh, upon the +world and left their fate to the god of Chance.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_209" id="VII_Page_209">[Pg 209]</a></span>Out of the dust and din of the French Revolution, now seen by us on the +horizon of time, there emerge four names: Robespierre, Mirabeau, Danton +and Marat.</p> + +<p>Undaunted men all, hated and loved, feared and idolized, despised and +deified—even yet we find it hard to gauge their worth, and give due +credit for the good that was in each.</p> + +<p>Oratory played a most important part in bringing about the explosion. +Oratory arouses passion—fear, vengeance, hate—and draws a beautiful +picture of peace and plenty just beyond.</p> + +<p>Without oratory there would have been no political revolution in France, +nor elsewhere.</p> + +<p>Politics, more than any other function of human affairs, turns on +oratory. Orators make and unmake kings, but kings are seldom orators, +and orators never secure thrones. Orators are made to die—the cross, +the torch, the noose, the guillotine, the dagger, awaits them. They die +through the passion that they fan to flame—the fear they generate turns +upon themselves, and they are no more.</p> + +<p>But they have their reward. Their names are not writ in water; rather +are they traced in blood on history's page. We know them, while the +ensconced smug and successful have sunk into oblivion; and if now and +then a name like that of Pilate or Caiaphas or Judas comes to us, it is +only because Fate has linked the<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_210" id="VII_Page_210">[Pg 210]</a></span> man to his victim, like unto that +Roman soldier who thrust his spear into the side of the Unselfish Man.</p> + +<p>In the qualities that mark the four chief orators of the French +Revolution, there is much alloy—much that seems like clay. Each had +undergone an apprenticeship to Fate—each had been preparing for his +work; and in this preparation who shall say what lessons could have been +omitted and what not! Explosions require time to prepare: revolutions, +political and domestic, are a long time getting ready. Orators, like +artists, must go as did Dante, down into the nether regions and get a +glimpse of hell.</p> + +<p>Jean Paul Marat was exactly five feet high, and his weight when at his +best was one hundred twenty pounds—just the weight of Shakespeare. Jean +Paul had a nose like the beak of a hawk, an eye like an eagle, a mouth +that matched his nose, and a chin that argued trouble. Not only did he +have red hair, but Carlyle refers to him as "red-headed."</p> + +<p>His parents were poor and obscure people, and his relationship with them +seems a pure matter of accident. He was born at the village of Boudry, +Switzerland, in Seventeen Hundred Forty-three. His childhood and boyhood +were that of any other peasant boy born into a family where poverty held +grim sway, and toil and hardship never relaxed their chilling grasp.</p> + +<p>His education was of the chance kind—but education anyway depends upon +yourself—colleges only supply<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_211" id="VII_Page_211">[Pg 211]</a></span> a few opportunities, and it lies with +the student whether he will improve them or not.</p> + +<p>The ignorance of his parents and the squalor of his surroundings acted +upon Jean Paul Marat as a spur, and from his fourteenth year the idea of +cultivating his mental estate was strong upon him.</p> + +<p>Switzerland has ever been the refuge of the man who dares to think. It +was there John Calvin lived, demanding the right to his own belief, but +occasionally denying others that precious privilege; a few miles away, +at beautiful Coppet, resided Madame de Stael, the daughter of Necker; at +Geneva, Rousseau wrote, and to name that beautiful little island in the +Rhone after him was not necessary to make his fame endure; but a little +way from Boudry lived Voltaire, pointing his bony finger at every +hypocrite in Christendom.</p> + +<p>But as in Greece, in her days of glory, the thinkers were few; so in +Switzerland, the land of freedom, the many have been, and are, chained +to superstition. Jean Paul Marat saw their pride was centered in a +silver crucifix, "that keeps a man from harm"; their conscience +committed to a priest; their labors for the rich; their days the same, +from the rising of the sun to its going down. They did not love, and +their hate was but a peevish dislike. They followed their dull routine +and died the death, hopeful that they would get the reward in another +world which was denied them in this.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_212" id="VII_Page_212">[Pg 212]</a></span>And Jean Paul Marat grew to scorn the few who would thus enslave the +many. For priest and publican he had only aversion.</p> + +<p>Jean Paul Marat, the bantam, read Voltaire and steeped himself in +Rousseau, and the desire grew strong upon him to do, to dare and to +become.</p> + +<p>Tourists had told him of England, and like all hopeful and childlike +minds, he imagined the excellent to be far off, and the splendid at a +distance: Great Britain was to him the Land of Promise.</p> + +<p>In the countenance of young Marat was a strange mixture of the ludicrous +and the terrible. This, with his insignificant size, and a bodily +strength that was a miracle of surprise, won the admiration of an +English gentleman; and when the tourist started back for Albion, the +lusty dwarf rode on the box, duly articled, without consent of his +parents, as a valet.</p> + +<p>As a servant he was active, alert, intelligent, attentive. He might have +held his position indefinitely, and been handed down to the next +generation with the family plate, had he kept a civil tongue in his red +head and not quoted Descartes and Jean Jacques.</p> + +<p>He had ideas, and he expressed them. He was the central sun below +stairs, and passed judgment upon the social order without stint, even +occasionally to argufying economics with his master, the Baron, as he +brushed his breech.</p> + +<p>This Baron is known to history through two facts:<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_213" id="VII_Page_213">[Pg 213]</a></span> first, that Jean Paul +Marat brushed his breeches, and second, that he evolved a new breed of +fices.</p> + +<p>Now, the master was rich, with an entail of six thousand acres and an +income of five thousand pounds, and very naturally he was +surprised—amazed—to hear that any one should question the divine +origin of the social order.</p> + +<p>Religion and government being at that time not merely second cousins, +but Siamese twins, Jean Paul had expressed himself on things churchly as +well as secular.</p> + +<p>And now, behold, one fine day he found himself confronted with a charge +of blasphemy, not to mention another damning count of contumacy and +contravention.</p> + +<p>In fact, he was commanded not to think, and was cautioned as to the sin +of having ideas. The penalties were pointed out to Jean Paul, and in all +kindness he was asked to make choice between immediate punishment and +future silence.</p> + +<p>Thus was the wee philosopher raised at once to the dignity of a martyr; +and the sweet satisfaction of being persecuted for what he believed, was +his.</p> + +<p>The city of Edinburgh was not far away, and thither by night the victim +of persecution made his way. There is a serio-comic touch to this +incident that Marat was never quite able to appreciate—the man was not +a humorist. In fact, men headed for the noose, the block, or destined +for immortality by the assassin's dagger, very seldom are jokers—John +Brown and his like do<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_214" id="VII_Page_214">[Pg 214]</a></span> not jest. Of all the emancipators of men, Lincoln +alone stands out as one who was perfectly sane. An ability to see the +ridiculous side of things marks the man of perfect balance.</p> + +<p>The martyr type, whose blood is not only the seed of the church, but +also of heresy, is touched with madness. To get the thing done, Nature +sacrifices the man.</p> + +<p>Arriving in Edinburgh, Marat thought it necessary for a time to live in +hiding, but finally he came out and was duly installed as barkeep at a +tavern, and a student in the medical department of the University of +Saint Andrews—a rather peculiar combination.</p> + +<p>Marat's sister and biographer, Albertine, tells us that Jean Paul was +never given to the use of stimulants, and in fact, for the greater part +of his career, was a total abstainer. And the man who knows somewhat of +the eternal paradox of things can readily understand how this little +tapster, proud and defiant, had a supreme contempt for the patrons who +gulped down the stuff that he handed out over the bar. He dealt in that +for which he had no use; and the American bartender today who wears his +kohinoor and draws the pay of a bank cashier is one who "never touches a +drop of anything." The security with which he holds his position is on +that very account.</p> + +<p>Marat was hungry for knowledge and thirsty for truth, and in his daily +life he was as abstemious as was Benjamin Franklin, whom he was to meet, +know, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_215" id="VII_Page_215">[Pg 215]</a></span> reverence shortly afterward.</p> + +<p>Jean Paul was studying medicine at the same place where Oliver +Goldsmith, another exile, studied some years before. Each got his +doctor's degree—just how we do not know. No one ever saw Goldsmith's +diploma—Doctor Johnson once hinted that it was an astral one—but +Marat's is still with us, yellow with age, but plain and legible with +all of its signatures and the big seal with a ribbon that surely might +impress the chance sufferers waiting in an outer room to see the doctor, +who is busy enjoying his siesta on the other side of the partition.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_216" id="VII_Page_216">[Pg 216]</a></span>If it is ever your sweet privilege to clap eyes upon a diploma issued by +the ancient and honorable University of Saint Andrews, Edinburgh, you +will see that it reads thus:</p> + +<p>"Whereas: Since it is just and reasonable that one who has diligently +attained a high degree of knowledge in some great and useful science, +should be distinguished from the ignorant-vulgar," etc., etc.</p> + +<p>The intent of the document, it will be observed, is to certify that the +holder is not one of the "ignorant-vulgar," and the inference is that +those who are not possessed of like certificates probably are.</p> + +<p>A copy of the diploma issued to Doctor Jean Paul Marat is before me, +wherein, in most flattering phrase, is set forth the attainments of the +holder, in the science of medicine. And even before the ink was dry upon +that diploma, the "science" of which it boasted had been discarded as +inept and puerile, and a new one inaugurated. And in our day, within the +last twenty-five years, the entire science of healing has shifted ground +and the materia medica of the "Centennial" is now considered obsolete.</p> + +<p>In view of these things, how vain is a college degree that certifies, as +the diplomas of Saint Andrews still certify, that the holder is not one +of the "ignorant-vulgar"! Isn't a man who prides himself on not +belonging to the "ignorant-vulgar" apt to be atrociously ignorant and +outrageously vulgar?</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_217" id="VII_Page_217">[Pg 217]</a></span>Wisdom is a point of view, and knowledge, for the most part, is a +shifting product depending upon environment, atmosphere and condition. +The eternal verities are plain and simple, known to babes and sucklings, +but often unseen by men of learning, who focus on the difficult, soar +high and dive deep, but seldom pay cash. In the sky of truth the fixed +stars are few, and the shepherds who tend their flocks by night are +quite as apt to know them as are the professed and professional Wise Men +of the East—and Edinburgh.</p> + +<p>But never mind our little digression—the value of study lies in study. +The reward of thinking is the ability to think—whether one comes to +right conclusions or wrong matters little, says John Stuart Mill in his +essay, "On Liberty."</p> + +<p>Thinking is a form of exercise, and growth comes only through +exercise—that is to say, expression.</p> + +<p>We learn things only to throw them away: no man ever wrote well until he +had forgotten every rule of rhetoric, and no orator ever spake straight +to the hearts of men until he had tumbled his elocution into the Irish +Sea.</p> + +<p>To hold on to things is to lose them. To clutch is to act the part of +the late Mullah Bah, the Turkish wrestler, who came to America and +secured through his prowess a pot of gold. Going back to his native +country, the steamer upon which he had taken passage collided in +mid-ocean with a sunken derelict. Mullah<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_218" id="VII_Page_218">[Pg 218]</a></span> Bah, hearing the alarm, jumped +from his berth and strapped to his person a belt containing five +thousand dollars in gold. He rushed to the side of the sinking ship, +leaped over the rail, and went to Davy Jones' Locker like a plummet, +while all about frail women and weak men in life-preservers bobbed on +the surface and were soon picked up by the boats. The fate of Mullah Bah +is only another proof that athletes die young, and that it is harder to +withstand prosperity than its opposite.</p> + +<p>But knowledge did not turn the head of Marat. His restless spirit was +reaching out for expression, and we find him drifting to London for a +wider field.</p> + +<p>England was then, as now, the refuge of the exile. There is today just +as much liberty, and a little more free speech, in England than in +America. We have hanged witches and burned men at the stake since +England has, and she emancipated her slaves long before we did ours. +Over against the home-thrust that respectable women drink at public bars +from John O'Groat's to Land's End, can be placed the damning count that +in the United States more men are lynched every year than Great Britain +legally executes in double the time.</p> + +<p>A too-ready expression of the Rousseau philosophy had made things a bit +unpleasant for Marat in Edinburgh, but in London he found ready +listeners, and the coffeehouses echoed back his radical sentiments.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_219" id="VII_Page_219">[Pg 219]</a></span>These underground debating-clubs of London started more than one man off +on the oratorical transverse. Swift, Johnson, Reynolds, Goldsmith, +Garrick, Burke—all sharpened their wits at the coffeehouses. I see the +same idea is now being revived in New York and Chicago: little clubs of +a dozen or so will rent a room in some restaurant, and fitting it up for +themselves, will dine daily and discuss great themes, or small, +according to the mental caliber of the members.</p> + +<p>During the latter part of the Eighteenth Century, these clubs were very +popular in London. Men who could talk or speak were made welcome, and if +the new member generated caloric, so much the better—excitement was at +a premium.</p> + +<p>Marat was now able to speak English with precision, and his slight +French accent only added a charm to his words. He was fiery, direct, +impetuous. He was a fighter by disposition, and care was taken never to +cross him beyond a point where the sparks began to fly. The man was +immensely diverting, and his size was to his advantage—orators should +be very big or very little—anything but commonplace. The Duke of Mantua +would have gloried in Jean Paul, and later might have cut off his head +as a precautionary measure.</p> + +<p>Among the visitors at one of the coffeehouse clubs was one B. Franklin, +big, patient, kind. He weighed twice as much as Marat: and his years +were sixty, while Marat's were thirty.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_220" id="VII_Page_220">[Pg 220]</a></span>Franklin listened with amused smiles at the little man, and the little +man grew to have an idolatrous regard for the big 'un. Franklin carried +copies of a pamphlet called "Common Sense," written by one T. Paine. +Paine was born in England, but was always pleased to be spoken of as an +American, yet he called himself "A Citizen of the World."</p> + +<p>Paine's pamphlet, "The Crisis," was known by heart to Marat, and the +success of Franklin and Paine as writers had fired him to write as well +as to orate. As a result, we have "The Chains of Slavery." The work +today has no interest to us except as a literary curiosity. It is a +composite of Rousseau and Paine, done by a sophomore in a mood of +exaltation, and might serve acceptably well as a graduation essay, done +in F major. It lacks the poise of Paine and the reserve of Rousseau, and +all the fine indifference of Franklin is noticeable by its absence.</p> + +<p>They say that Marat's name was "Mara" and his ancestors came from County +Down. But never mind that—his heart was right. Of all the inane +imbecilities and stupid untruths of history, none is worse than the +statement that Jean Paul Marat was a demagog, hotly intent on the main +chance.</p> + +<p>In this man's character there was nothing subtle, secret nor untrue. He +was simplicity itself, and his undiplomatic bluntness bears witness to +his honesty.</p> + +<p>In London, he lived as the Mayor of Boston said<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_221" id="VII_Page_221">[Pg 221]</a></span> William Lloyd Garrison +lived—in a hole in the ground. His services as a physician were free to +all—if they could pay, all right; if not, it made no difference. He +looked after the wants of political refugees, and head, heart and +pocketbook were at the disposal of those who needed them. His +lodging-place was a garret, a cellar—anywhere: he was homeless, and his +public appearances were only at the coffeehouse clubs, or in the parks, +where he would stand on a barrel and speak to the crowd on his one theme +of liberty, fraternity and equality. His plea was for the individual. In +order to have a strong and excellent society, we must have strong and +excellent men and women. That phrase of Paine's, "The world is my +country: to do good is my religion," he repeated over and over again.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_222" id="VII_Page_222">[Pg 222]</a></span>In the year Seventeen Hundred Seventy-nine, Marat moved to Paris. He was +then thirty-six years old. In Paris he lived very much the same life +that he had in London. He established himself as a physician, and might +have made a decided success had he put all his eggs in one basket and +then watched the basket.</p> + +<p>But he didn't. Franklin had inspired him with a passion for invention: +he rubbed amber with wool, made a battery and applied the scheme in a +crude way to the healing art. He wrote articles on electricity and even +foreshadowed the latter-day announcement that electricity is life. And +all the time he discussed economics, and gave out through speech and +written word his views as to the rights of the people. He saw the needs +of the poor—he perceived how through lack of nourishment there +developed a craving for stimulants, and observed how disease and death +fasten themselves upon the ill-fed and the ill-taught. To alleviate the +suffering of the poor, he opened a dispensary as he had done in London, +and gave free medical attendance to all who applied. At this dispensary, +he gave lectures on certain days upon hygiene, at which times he never +failed to introduce his essence of Rousseau and Voltaire.</p> + +<p>Some one called him "the people's friend." The name stuck—he liked it.</p> + +<p>In August, Seventeen Hundred Eighty-nine, this<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_223" id="VII_Page_223">[Pg 223]</a></span> "terrible dwarf" was +standing on his barrel in Paris haranguing crowds with an oratory that +was tremendous in its impassioned quality. Men stopped to laugh and +remained to applaud.</p> + +<p>Not only did he denounce the nobility, but he saw danger in the liberal +leaders, and among others, Mirabeau came in for scathing scorn. Of all +the insane paradoxes this one is the most paradoxical—that men will +hate those who are most like themselves. Family feuds, and the wrangles +of denominations that, to outsiders, hold the same faith, are common. +When churches are locked in America, it is done to keep Christians out. +Christians fight Christians much more than they fight the devil.</p> + +<p>Marat had grown to be a power among the lower classes—he was their +friend, their physician, their advocate. He had no fear of interruption +and never sought to pacify. At his belt, within easy reach, and in open +sight, he carried a dagger.</p> + +<p>The crowds that hung upon his words were swayed to rank unreason by his +impassioned eloquence.</p> + +<p>Marat fell a victim to his own eloquence, and the madness of the mob +reacted upon him. Like the dyer's hand, he became subdued to that in +which he worked. Suspicion and rebellion filled his soul. Wealth to him +was an offense—he had not the prophetic vision to see the rise of +capitalism and all the splendid industrial evolution which the world is +today working out.<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_224" id="VII_Page_224">[Pg 224]</a></span> Society to him was all founded on wrong premises, +and he would uproot it.</p> + +<p>In bitter words he denounced the Assembly and declared that all of its +members, including Mirabeau, should be hanged for their inaction in not +giving the people relief from their oppressors.</p> + +<p>Mirabeau was very much like Marat. He, too, was working for the people, +only he occupied a public office, while Marat was a private citizen. +Mirabeau and his friends became alarmed at the influence Marat was +gaining over the people, and he was ordered to cease public speaking. As +he failed to comply, a price was put upon his head.</p> + +<p>Then it was that he began putting out a daily address in the form of a +tiny pamphlet. This was at first called "The Publiciste," but was soon +changed to "The People's Friend."</p> + +<p>Marat was now in hiding, but still his words were making their impress.</p> + +<p>In Seventeen Hundred Ninety-one, Mirabeau, the terrible, died—died +peacefully in his bed.</p> + +<p>Paris went into universal mourning, and the sky of Marat's popularity +was darkened.</p> + +<p>Marat lived in hiding until August of Seventeen Hundred Ninety-two, when +he again publicly appeared and led the riots. The people hailed him as +their deliverer. The insignificant size of the man made him conspicuous. +His proud defiance, the haughtiness of his<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_225" id="VII_Page_225">[Pg 225]</a></span> countenance, his stinging +words, formed a personality that made him the pet of the people.</p> + +<p>Danton, the Minister of Justice, dared not kill him, and so he did the +next best thing—he took him to his heart and made him his right-hand +man. It was a great diplomatic move, and the people applauded. Danton +was tall, powerful, athletic and commanding, just past his thirtieth +year. Marat was approaching fifty, and his sufferings while in hiding in +the sewers had told severely on his health, but he was still the +fearless agitator. When Marat and Danton appeared upon the balcony of +the Hotel de Ville, the hearts of the people were with the little man.</p> + +<p>But behold, another man had forged to the front, and this was +Robespierre. And so it was that Danton, Marat and Robespierre formed a +triumvirate, and ruled Paris with hands of iron. Coming in the name of +the people, proclaiming peace, they held their place only through a +violence that argued its own death.</p> + +<p>Marat was still full of the desire to educate—to make men think. +Deprivation and disease had wrecked his frame until public speaking was +out of the question—the first requisite of oratory is health. But he +could write, and so his little paper, "The People's Friend," went +fluttering forth with its daily message.</p> + +<p>So scrupulous was Marat in money matters that he would accept no help +from the Government. He neither drew a salary nor would he allow any but +private<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_226" id="VII_Page_226">[Pg 226]</a></span> citizens to help issue his paper. He lived in absolute poverty +with his beloved wife, Simonne Evrard.</p> + +<p>They had met about Seventeen Hundred Eighty-eight, and between them had +grown up a very firm and tender bond. He was twenty years older than +she, but Danton said of her, "She has the mind of a man."</p> + +<p>Simonne had some property and was descended from a family of note. When +she became the wife of Marat, her kinsmen denounced her, refused to +mention her name, but she was loyal to the man she loved.</p> + +<p>The Psalmist speaks of something "that passeth the love of woman," but +the Psalmist was wrong—nothing does.</p> + +<p>Simonne Evrard gave her good name, her family position, her money, her +life—her soul into the keeping of Jean Paul Marat. That his love and +gratitude to her was great and profound, there is abundant proof. She +was his only servant, his secretary, his comrade, his friend, his wife. +Not only did she attend him in sickness, but in banishment and disgrace +she never faltered. She even set the type, and at times her arm pulled +the lever of the press that printed the daily message.</p> + +<p>Let it stand to the eternal discredit of Thomas Carlyle that he +contemptuously disposes of Simonne Evrard, who represents undying love +and unflinching loyalty, by calling her a "washerwoman." Carlyle, with a +savage strain of Scotch Calvinism in his cold blood,<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_227" id="VII_Page_227">[Pg 227]</a></span> never knew the +sacredness of the love of man and woman—to him sex was a mistake on the +part of God. Even for the sainted Mary of Galilee he has only a grim and +patronizing smile, removing his clay pipe long enough to say to Milburn, +the blind Preacher, "Oh, yes; a country lass elevated by Catholics into +a wooden image and worshiped as a deity!"</p> + +<p>Carlyle never held in his arms a child of his own and saw the light of +love reflected in a baby's eyes; and nowhere in his forty-odd volumes +does he recognize the truth that love, art and religion are one. And +this limitation gives Taine excuse for saying, "He writes splendidly, +but it is neither truth nor poetry."</p> + +<p>When Charlotte Corday, that poor, deluded rustic, reached the rooms of +Marat, under a friendly pretense, and thrust her murderous dagger to the +sick man's heart, his last breath was a cry freighted with love, "A moi, +chere amie!"</p> + +<p>And death-choked, that proud head drooped, and Simonne, seeing the +terrible deed was done, blocked the way and held the murderess at bay +until help arrived.</p> + +<p>Hardly had Marat's tired body been laid to rest in the Pantheon, before +Charlotte Corday's spirit had gone across the Border to meet his—gone +to her death by the guillotine that was so soon to embrace both Danton +and Robespierre, the men who had inaugurated and popularized it.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_228" id="VII_Page_228">[Pg 228]</a></span>All Paris went into mourning for Marat—the public buildings were draped +with black, and his portrait was displayed in the Pantheon with the +great ones gone. A pension for life was bestowed upon his widow, and +lavish resolutions of gratitude were laid at her feet in loving token of +what she had done in upholding the hands of this strong man.</p> + +<p>But Paris, the fickle, in two short years repudiated the pension, the +portrait of Marat was removed from the Pantheon, and his body taken by +night to another resting-place.</p> + +<p>Simonne the widow, and Albertine the sister, sisters now in sorrow, +uniting in a mutual love for the dead, lived but in memory of him.</p> + +<p>But Carlyle was right—this was a "washerwoman." She spent all of her +patrimony in aiding her husband to publish and distribute his writings, +and after his death, when friends proved false and even the obdurate +kinsmen still considered her name pollution, she took in washing to earn +money that she might defend the memory of the man she loved.</p> + +<p>She was a washerwoman.</p> + +<p>I uncover in her presence, and stand with bowed head in admiration of +the woman who gave her life for liberty and love, and who chose a life +of honest toil rather than accept charity or all that selfishness and +soft luxury had to offer. She was a washerwoman, but she was more—she +was a Woman.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_229" id="VII_Page_229">[Pg 229]</a></span>Let Carlyle have the credit of using the word "washerwoman" as a term of +contempt, as though to do laundry-work were not quite as necessary as to +produce literature.</p> + +<p>The sister and the widow wrote his life, republished very much that he +had written, and lived but to keep alive the name and fame of Jean Paul +Marat, whose sole crime seemed to be that he was a sincere and honest +man, and was, throughout his life—often unwisely—the People's Friend.</p> + + + +<hr class="full" /> +<h2><a name="ROBERT_INGERSOLL" id="ROBERT_INGERSOLL"></a>ROBERT INGERSOLL<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_230" id="VII_Page_230">[Pg 230]</a></span></h2> + + + +<div class="blockquot"><p>Love is the only bow on life's dark cloud. It is the morning and<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_231" id="VII_Page_231">[Pg 231]</a></span> +the evening star. It shines upon the babe, and sheds its radiance +on the quiet tomb. It is the Mother of Art, inspirer of poet, +patriot and philosopher. It is the air and light to tired +souls—builder of every home, kindler of every fire on every +hearth. It was the first to dream of immortality. It fills the +world with melody—for music is the voice of love. Love is the +magician, the enchanter that changes worthless things to joy, and +makes right-royal kings and queens of common clay. It is the +perfume of that wondrous flower, the heart, and without that sacred +passion, that divine swoon, we are less than beasts; but with it, +earth is heaven and we are gods.</p></div> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">—<i>Robert G. Ingersoll</i></span><br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_232" id="VII_Page_232">[Pg 232]</a></span></p> + +<div class="center"> + <a id="image0448-1"></a> + <img src="images/0448-1.jpg" width="273" height="400" + alt="" + title="" /> + + <p class="center">ROBERT G. INGERSOLL</p> +</div> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_233" id="VII_Page_233">[Pg 233]</a></span></p> + + + +<p>He was three years old, was Robert Ingersoll. There was a baby boy one +year old, Ebon by name; then there were John, five years, and two elder +sisters.</p> + +<p>Little Robert wore a red linsey-woolsey dress, and was a restless, +active youngster with a big head, a round face and a pug-nose. No one +ever asked. "What is it?"—there was "boy" written large in every baby +action and every feature from chubby bare feet to the two crowns of his +close-cropped tow-head.</p> + +<p>It was a morning in January, and the snow lay smooth and white over all +those York State hills. The winter sun sent long gleams of light through +the frost-covered panes upon which the children were trying to draw +pictures. Visitors began to arrive—visitors in stiff Sunday clothes, +although it wasn't Sunday. There were aunts, and uncles, and cousins, +and then just neighbors. They filled the little house full. Some of the +men went out and split wood and brought in big armfuls and piled it in +the corner. They moved on tiptoe and talked in whispers. And now and +then they would walk softly into the little parlor by twos and threes +and close the door after them.</p> + +<p>This parlor was always a forbidden place to the children;<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_234" id="VII_Page_234">[Pg 234]</a></span> on Sunday +afternoons only were they allowed to go in there, or on prayer-meeting +night.</p> + +<p>In this parlor were six haircloth chairs and a sofa to match. In the +center was a little marble-top table, and on it were two red books and a +blue one. On the mantel was a plaster-of-Paris cat at one end and a +bunch of crystallized flowers at the other. There was a "what-not" in +the corner covered with little shells and filled with strange and +wonderful things. There was a "store" carpet, bright red. It was a very +beautiful room, and to look into it was a great privilege.</p> + +<p>Little Robert had tried several times to enter the parlor this cold +winter morning, but each time he had been thrust back. Finally he clung +to the leg of a tall man, and was safely inside. It was very cold—one +of the windows was open! He looked about with wondering baby eyes to see +what the people wanted to go in there for!</p> + +<p>On two of the haircloth chairs rested a coffin. The baby hands clutched +the side—he drew himself up on tiptoe and looked down at the still, +white face—the face of his mother. Her hands were crossed just so, and +in her fingers was a spray of flowers—he recognized them as the flowers +she had always worn on her Sunday bonnet—a rusty black bonnet—not real +flowers, just "made" flowers.</p> + +<p>But why was she so quiet? He had never seen her hands that way before: +those hands were always busy—knitting,<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_235" id="VII_Page_235">[Pg 235]</a></span> sewing, cooking, weaving, +scrubbing, washing!</p> + +<p>"Mamma! Mamma!" called the boy.</p> + +<p>"Hush, little boy, hush! Your Mamma is dead," said the tall man, and he +lifted the boy in his arms and carried him from the room.</p> + +<p>Out in the kitchen, in a crib in the corner, lay the "Other Baby," and +thither little Robert made his way. He patted the sleeping baby brother, +and called aloud in lisping words, "Wake up, Baby, your Mamma is dead!"</p> + +<p>And the baby in the crib knew quite as much about it as the toddler in +the linsey-woolsey dress, and the toddler knew as much about death as we +do today. This wee youngster kept thinking how good it was that Mamma +could have such a nice rest—the first rest she had ever known—and just +lie there in the beautiful room and hold her flowers!</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Fifty years pass. These children, grown to manhood, are again together. +One, his work done, is at rest. Standing by his bier, the other voices +these deathless words:</p> + +<p>"Life is a narrow vale between the cold and barren peaks of two +eternities. We strive in vain to look beyond the heights. We call aloud, +and the only answer is the echo of our wailing cry. From the voiceless +lips of the unreplying dead there comes no word; but in the night of +death, hope sees a star and listening love can hear the rustle of a +wing.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_236" id="VII_Page_236">[Pg 236]</a></span>"He who sleeps here, when dying, mistaking the approach of death for the +return of health, whispered with his latest breath, 'I am better now.' +Let us believe, in spite of doubts and dogmas, of fears and tears, that +these dear words are true of all the countless dead."</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_237" id="VII_Page_237">[Pg 237]</a></span>The mother of Ingersoll was a Livingston—a Livingston of right-royal +lineage, tracing to that famous family of Revolutionary fame. To a great +degree she gave up family and social position to become the wife of the +Reverend John Ingersoll, of Vermont, a theolog from the Academy at +Bennington.</p> + +<p>He was young and full of zeal—he was called "a powerful preacher." That +he was a man of much strength of intellect, there is ample proof. He did +his duty, said his say, called sinners to repentance, and told what +would be their fate if they did not accept salvation. His desire was to +do good, and therefore he warned men against the wrath to come. He was +an educated man, and all of his beliefs and most of his ideas were +gathered and gleaned from his college professors and Jonathan Edwards.</p> + +<p>He loved his beautiful wife and she loved him. She loved him just as all +good women love, with a complete abandon—with heart, mind and strength. +He at first had periods of such abandon, too, but his conscience soon +made him recoil from an affection of which God might be jealous. He +believed that a man should forsake father, mother, wife and child in +order to follow duty—and duty to him was the thing we didn't want to +do. That which was pleasant was not wholly good. And so he strove to +thrust from him all earthly affections, and to love God alone. Not only +this, but<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_238" id="VII_Page_238">[Pg 238]</a></span> he strove to make others love God. He warned his family +against the pride and pomp of the world, and the family income being +something under four hundred dollars, they observed his edict.</p> + +<p>Life was a warfare—the devil constantly lay in wait—we must resist. +This man hated evil—he hated evil more than he loved the good. His wife +loved the good more than she hated evil, and he chided her—in love. She +sought to explain her position. He was amazed at her temerity. What +right had a woman to think!—what right had any one to think!</p> + +<p>He prayed for her.</p> + +<p>And soon she grew to keep her thoughts to herself. Sometimes she would +write them out, and then destroy them before any eyes but her own could +read. Once she went to a neighbor's and saw Paine's "Age of Reason." She +peeped into its pages by stealth, and then put it quickly away. The next +day she went back and read some more, and among other things she read +was this, "To live a life of love and usefulness—to benefit +others—must bring its due reward, regardless of belief."</p> + +<p>She thought about it more and more and wondered really if God could and +would damn a person who just went ahead and did the best he could. She +wanted to ask her husband about it—to talk it over with him in the +evening—but she dare not. She knew too well what his answer would +be—for her even to think such<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_239" id="VII_Page_239">[Pg 239]</a></span> thoughts was a sin. And so she just +decided she would keep her thoughts to herself, and be a dutiful wife, +and help her husband in his pastoral work as a minister's wife should.</p> + +<p>But her proud spirit began to droop, she ceased to sing at her work, her +face grew wan, yellow and sad. Yet still she worked—there were no +servants to distress her—and when her own work was done she went out +among the neighbors and helped them—she cared for the sick, the infirm, +she dressed the new-born babe, and closed the eyes of the dying.</p> + +<p>That this woman had a thirst for liberty, and the larger life, is shown +in that she herself prepared and presented a memorial to the President +of the United States praying that slavery be abolished. So far as I +know, this was the first petition ever prepared in America on the +subject by a woman.</p> + +<p>This minister's family rarely remained over two years in a place. At +first they were received with loving arms, and there were donation +parties where cider was spilled on the floors, doughnuts ground into the +carpets, and several haircloth chairs hopelessly wrecked. But the larder +was filled and there was much good-cheer.</p> + +<p>I believe I said that the Reverend John Ingersoll was a powerful +preacher: he was so powerful he quickly made enemies. He told men of +their weaknesses in phrase so pointed that necks would be craned to see<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_240" id="VII_Page_240">[Pg 240]</a></span> +how certain delinquents took their medicine. Then some would get up and +tramp out during the sermon in high dudgeon. These disaffected ones +would influence others: contributions grew less, donations ceased, and +just as a matter of bread and butter a new "call" would be angled for, +and the parson's family would pack up—helped by the faction that loved +them, and the one that didn't. Good-bys were said, blessings given—or +the reverse—and the jokers would say, "A change of pastors makes fat +calves."</p> + +<p>At one time the Reverend John Ingersoll tried to start an independent +church in New York City. For a year he preached every Sunday at the old +Lyceum Theater, and here it was, on the stage of the theater, in +Eighteen Hundred Thirty-four, that Robert G. Ingersoll was baptized.</p> + +<p>But the New York venture failed—starved out was the verdict, and a +country parish extending a call, it was gladly accepted.</p> + +<p>Such a life, to such a woman, was particularly wearing. But Mrs. +Ingersoll kept right at her work, always doing for others, until there +came a day when kind neighbors came in and cared for her, looked after +her household, attending this stricken mother—tired out and old at +thirty-one, unaware that she had blessed the world by giving to it a +man-child who was to make an epoch.</p> + +<p>The watchers one night straightened the stiffening<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_241" id="VII_Page_241">[Pg 241]</a></span> limbs, clothed the +body in the gown that had been her wedding-dress, and folded the +calloused fingers over the spray of flowers.</p> + +<p>"Hush, little boy—your Mamma is dead!" said the tall man, as he lifted +the child and carried him from the room.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_242" id="VII_Page_242">[Pg 242]</a></span>From the sleepy little village of Dresden, Yates County, New York, seven +miles from Penn Yan, where Robert Ingersoll was born, to his niche in +the Temple of Fame, was a zigzag journey. But that is Nature's plan—we +make head by tacking. And as the years go by, more and more we see the +line of Ingersoll's life stretching itself straight. Every change to him +meant progress. Success is a question of temperament—it is all a matter +of the red corpuscle. Ingersoll was a success; happy, exuberant, joying +in life, reveling in existence, he marched to the front in every fray.</p> + +<p>As a boy he was so full of life that he very often did the wrong thing. +And I have no doubt that wherever he went he helped hold good the +precedent that preachers' boys are not especially angelic. For instance, +we have it on good authority that Bob, aged fourteen, once climbed into +the belfry of a church and removed the clapper, so that the sexton +thought the bell was bewitched. At another time he placed a washtub over +the top of a chimney where a prayer-meeting was in progress, and the +smoke broke up the meeting and gave the good people a foretaste of the +place they believed in. In these stories, told to prove his depravity, +Bob was always climbing somewhere—belfries, steeples, house-tops, +trees, verandas, barn-roofs, bridges. But I have noticed that youngsters +given to the climbing habit usually do something when they grow up.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_243" id="VII_Page_243">[Pg 243]</a></span>For these climbing pranks Robert and Ebon were duly reproved with a +stout strap that hung behind the kitchen-door. Whether the parsonage was +in New York, Pennsylvania, Ohio or Illinois—and it dodged all over +these States—the strap always traveled, too. It never got lost. It need +not be said that the Reverend John Ingersoll was cruel or abusive—not +at all: he just believed with Solomon that to spare the rod was to spoil +the child. He loved his children, and if a boy could be saved by so +simple a means as "strap-oil," he was not the man to shirk his duty. He +was neither better nor worse than the average preacher of his day. No +doubt, too, the poverty and constant misunderstandings with +congregations led to much irritability—it is hard to be amiable on +half-rations.</p> + +<p>When a stepmother finally appeared upon the scene, there was more +trouble for the children. She was a worthy woman and meant to be kind, +but her heart wasn't big enough to love boys who carried live mice in +their pockets and turned turtles loose in the pantry.</p> + +<p>So we find Bob and his brother bundled off to his Grandfather +Livingston's in Saint Lawrence County, New York. Here Bob got his first +real educational advantages. The old man seems to have been a sort of +"Foxy Grandpa": he played, romped, read and studied with the boys and +possibly neutralized some of the discipline they had received.</p> + +<p>Of his childhood days Robert Ingersoll very rarely<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_244" id="VII_Page_244">[Pg 244]</a></span> spoke. There was too +much bitterness and disappointment in it all, but it is curious to note +that when he did speak of his boyhood, it was always something that +happened at "Grandfather Livingston's," Finally, the old Grandpa got to +thinking so much of the boys that he wanted to legally adopt them, and +then we find their father taking alarm and bringing them back to the +parsonage, which was then at Elyria, Ohio.</p> + +<p>The boys worked at odd jobs, on farms in Summer, clerking in country +stores, driving stage—and be it said to the credit of their father, he +allowed them to keep the money they made. Education comes through doing +things, making things, going without things, taking care of yourself, +talking about things, and when Robert was seventeen he had education +enough to teach a "Deestrick School" in Illinois.</p> + +<p>To teach is a good way to get an education. If you want to know all +about a subject, write a book on it, a wise man has said. If you wish to +know all about things, start in and teach them to others.</p> + +<p>Bob was eighteen—big and strong, with a good nature and an enthusiasm +that had no limit. There were spelling-bees in his school, and a +debating-society, that had impromptu rehearsals every night at the +grocery. Country people are prone to "argufying"—the greater and more +weighty the question, the more ready are the bucolic Solons to engage +with it. And it is all education to the youth who listens and takes +part—who<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_245" id="VII_Page_245">[Pg 245]</a></span> has the receptive mind.</p> + +<p>This love of argument and contention among country people finds vent in +lawsuits. Pigs break into a man's garden and root up the potatoes, and +straightway the owner of the potatoes "has the law" on the owner of the +pigs. This strife is urged on by kind neighbors who take sides, and by +the "setters" at the store, who fire the litigants on to unseemliness. +Local attorneys are engaged and the trial takes place at the +railroad-station, or in the schoolhouse on Saturday. Everybody has +opinions, and overrules the "jedge" next day, or not, as the case may +be.</p> + +<p>This petty strife may seem absurd to us, but it is all a part of the +Spirit of the Hive, as Maeterlinck would say. It is better than +dead-level dumbness—better than the subjection of the peasantry of +Europe. These pioneers settle their own disputes. It makes them think, +and a few at least are getting an education. This is the cradle in which +statesmen are rocked.</p> + +<p>And so it happened that no one was surprised when, in the year Eighteen +Hundred Fifty-three, there was a sign tacked up over a grocery in +Shawneetown, Illinois, and the sign read thus: "R. G. & E. C. Ingersoll, +Attorneys and Counselors at Law."</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_246" id="VII_Page_246">[Pg 246]</a></span>Shawneetown, Illinois, was once the pride and pet of Egypt. It was +larger than Chicago, and doubtless it would have become the capital of +the State had it been called Shawnee City. But the name was against it, +and dry rot set in. And so today Shawneetown has the same number of +inhabitants that it had in Eighteen Hundred Fifty-five, and in +Shawneetown are various citizens who boast that the place has held its +own.</p> + +<p>Robert Ingersoll had won a case for a certain steamboat captain, and in +gratitude the counsel had been invited by his client to go on an +excursion to Peoria, the head of navigation on the Illinois River. The +lawyer took the trip, and duly reached Peoria after many hairbreadth +'scapes on the imminently deadly sandbar. But a week must be spent at +Peoria while the boat was reloading for her return trip.</p> + +<p>There was a railroad war on in Peoria. The town had one railroad, which +some citizens said was enough for any place; others wanted the new +railroad.</p> + +<p>Whether the new company should be granted certain terminal +facilities—that was the question. The route had been surveyed, but the +company was forbidden to lay its tracks until the people said "Aye."</p> + +<p>So there the matter rested when Robert Ingersoll was waiting for the +stern-wheeler to reload. The captain of the craft had meanwhile +circulated reports about the eloquence and legal ability of his star +passenger.<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_247" id="VII_Page_247">[Pg 247]</a></span> These reports coming to the ears of the manager of the new +railroad, he sought out the visiting lawyer and advised with him.</p> + +<p>Railroad Law is a new thing, not quite so new as the Law of the Bicycle, +or the Statutes concerning Automobiling, but older than the Legal +Precedents of the Aeromotor. Railroad Law is an evolution, and the +Railroad Lawyer is a by-product: what Mr. Mantinelli would call a +demnition product.</p> + +<p>It was a railroad that gave Robert Ingersoll his first fee in Peoria. +The man was only twenty-three, but semi-pioneer life makes men early, +and Robert Ingersoll stood first in war and first in peace among the +legal lights of Shawneetown. His size made amends for his cherubic face, +and the insignificant nose was more than balanced by the forceful jaw. +The young man was a veritable Greek in form, and his bubbling wit and +ready speech on any theme made him a drawing card at the political +barbecue.</p> + +<p>"Bob" at this time didn't know much about railroads—there was no +railroad in Shawneetown—but he was an expert on barbecues. A barbecue +is a gathering where a whole ox is roasted and where there is much hard +cider and effervescent eloquence. Bob would speak to the people about +the advantages of the new railroad; and the opposition could answer if +they wished. Pioneers are always ready for a picnic—they delight in +speeches—they dote on argument and wordy<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_248" id="VII_Page_248">[Pg 248]</a></span> warfare. The barbecue was to +be across the river on Saturday afternoon.</p> + +<p>The whole city quit business to go to the barbecue and hear the +speeches.</p> + +<p>Bob made the first address. He spoke for two hours about everything and +anything—he told stories, and dealt in love, life, death, politics and +farming—all but railroading. The crowd was delighted—cheers filled the +air.</p> + +<p>When the opposition got up to speak and brought forward its profound +reasons and heavy logic, 'most everybody adjourned to the tables to eat +and drink.</p> + +<p>Finally there came rumors that something was going on across the river. +The opposition grew nervous and started to go home, but in some +mysterious way the two ferryboats were tied up on the farther bank, and +were deaf and blind to signals.</p> + +<p>It was well after dark before the people reached home, and when they got +up the next morning they found the new railroad had a full mile of track +down and engines were puffing at their doors.</p> + +<p>Bob made another speech in the public square, and cautioned everybody to +be law-abiding. The second railroad had arrived—it was a good thing—it +meant wealth, prosperity and happiness for everybody. And even if it +didn't, it was here and could not be removed except by legal means. And +we must all be law-abiding citizens—let the matter be determined by the +courts.<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_249" id="VII_Page_249">[Pg 249]</a></span> Then there were a few funny stories, and cheers were given for +the speaker.</p> + +<p>On the next trip of the little stern-wheeler the young lawyer and his +brother arrived. They hadn't much baggage, but they carried a tin sign +that they proceeded to tack up over a store on Adams Street. It read +thus: "R. G. & E. C. Ingersoll, Attorneys and Counselors at Law." And +there the sign was to remain for twenty-five years.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_250" id="VII_Page_250">[Pg 250]</a></span>At Peoria, the Ingersoll Brothers did not have to wait long for clients. +Ebon was the counselor, Robert the pleader, and some still have it that +Ebon was the stronger, just as we hear that Ezekiel Webster was a more +capable man than Daniel—which was probably the truth.</p> + +<p>The Ingersolls had not been long at Peoria before Robert had a case at +Groveland, a town only a few miles away, and a place which, like +Shawneetown, has held its own.</p> + +<p>The issue was the same old classic—hogs had rooted up the man's garden, +and then the hogs had been impounded. This time there was a tragedy, for +before the hogs were released the owner had been killed.</p> + +<p>The people for miles had come to town to hear the eloquent young lawyer +from Peoria. The taverns were crowded, and not having engaged a room, +the attorney for the defense was put to straits to find a place in which +to sleep. In this extremity 'Squire Parker, the first citizen of the +town, invited young Ingersoll to his house.</p> + +<p>Parker was a character in that neck of the woods—he was an "infidel," +and a terror to all the clergy 'round about. And strangely enough—or +not—his wife believed exactly as he did, and so did their daughter Eva, +a beautiful girl of nineteen. But 'Squire Parker got into no argument +with his guest—their belief was the same. Probably we would now call +the Parkers simply<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_251" id="VII_Page_251">[Pg 251]</a></span> radical Unitarians. Their kinsman, Theodore Parker, +expressed their faith, and they had no more use for a "personal devil" +that he had. The courage of the young woman in stating her religious +views had almost made her an outcast in the village, and here she was +saying the same things in Groveland that Robert was saying in Peoria. +She was the first woman he ever knew who had ideas.</p> + +<p>It was one o'clock before he went to bed that night—his head was in a +whirl. It was a wonder he didn't lose his case the next day, but he +didn't.</p> + +<p>He cleared his client and won a bride.</p> + +<p>In a few months Robert Ingersoll and Eva Parker were married.</p> + +<p>Never were man and woman more perfectly mated than this couple. And how +much the world owes to her sustaining love and unfaltering faith, we can +not compute; but my opinion is that if it had not been for Eva +Parker—twice a daughter of the Revolution, whose ancestors fought side +by side with the Livingstons—we should never have heard of Robert +Ingersoll as the maker of an epoch. It is love that makes the world go +'round—and it is love that makes the orator and fearless thinker, no +less than poet, painter and musician.</p> + +<p>No man liveth unto himself alone: we demand the approval and approbation +of another: we write and speak for some One; and our thought coming back +from this One approved, gives courage and that bold<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_252" id="VII_Page_252">[Pg 252]</a></span> determination which +carries conviction home. Before the world believes in us we must believe +in ourselves, and before we fully believe in ourselves this some One +must believe in us. Eva Parker believed in Robert Ingersoll, and it was +her love and faith that made him believe in himself and caused him to +fling reasons into the face of hypocrisy and shower with sarcasm and +ridicule the savage and senseless superstitions that paraded themselves +as divine.</p> + +<p>Wendell Phillips believed in himself because Ann never doubted him. +Without Ann he would not have had the courage to face that twenty years' +course of mobs. If it had ever occurred to him that the mob was right he +would have gone down in darkness and defeat; but with Ann such a +suspicion was not possible. He pitted Ann's faith against the prejudice +of centuries—two with God are a majority.</p> + +<p>It was Eva's faith that sustained Robert. In those first years of +lecturing she always accompanied him, and at his lectures sat on the +stage in the wings and gloried in his success. He did not need her to +protect him from the mob, but he needed her to protect him from himself. +It is only perfect love that casteth out fear.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_253" id="VII_Page_253">[Pg 253]</a></span>There is a little book called, "Ingersoll as He Is," which is being +circulated by some earnest advocates of truth.</p> + +<p>The volume is a vindication, a refutation and an apology. It takes up a +goodly list of zealous calumniators and cheerful prevaricators and tacks +their pelts on the barn-door of obliquity.</p> + +<p>That Ingersoll won the distinction of being more grossly misrepresented +than any other man of his time, there is no doubt. This was to his +advantage—he was advertised by his rabid enemies no less than by his +loving friends. But his good friends who are putting out this +vindication should cultivate faith, and know that there is a God, or +Something, who looks after the lies and the liars—we needn't.</p> + +<p>A big man should never be cheapened by a defense. Life is its own excuse +for being, and every life is its own apology. Silence is better than +wordy refutation. People who want to believe the falsehoods told of this +man, or any other, will continue to believe them until the crack o' +doom.</p> + +<p>Most accusations contain a certain basis of truth, but they may be no +less libels on that account. One zealous advocate, intent on loving his +supposed enemy, printed a thrilling story about Ingersoll being taken +prisoner during the war, while taking refuge in a pig-pen. To this some +of Bob's friends interposed a fierce rejoinder declaring that Bob stood +like Falstaff at Gadshill and<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_254" id="VII_Page_254">[Pg 254]</a></span> fought the rogues in buckram to a +standstill.</p> + +<p>Heaven forfend me from my friends—I can withstand mine enemies alone!</p> + +<p>I am quite ready to believe that Bob, being attacked by an overwhelming +force, suddenly bethought him of an engagement, and made a swift run for +safety. The impeccable man who has never done a cowardly thing, nor a +mean thing, is no kinsman of mine! The saintly hero who has not had his +heels run away with his head, and sought safety in a friendly +pig-pen—aye! and filled his belly with the husks that the swine did +eat—has dropped something out of his life that he will have to go back +for and pick up in another incarnation. We love men for their +limitations and weaknesses, no less than for their virtues. A fault may +bring a man very close to us. Have we, too, not sought safety in +pig-pens! The people who taunt other people with having taken temporary +refuge in a pig-pen are usually those who live in pig-pens the whole +year 'round.</p> + +<p>The one time in the life of Savonarola when he comes nearest to us is +when his tortured flesh wrenched from his spirit a recantation. And who +can forget that cry of Calvary, "My God, my God! Why hast thou forsaken +me!" That call for help, coming to us across twenty centuries, makes the +man, indeed, our Elder Brother.</p> + +<p>And let it here be stated that even Bob's bitterest foe never declared +that the man was a coward by nature,<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_255" id="VII_Page_255">[Pg 255]</a></span> nor that the business of his life +was hiding in pig-pens. The incident named was exceptional and therefore +noteworthy; let us admit it, at least not worry ourselves into a passion +denying it. Let us also stipulate the truth that Bob could never quite +overcome the temptation to take an unfair advantage of his opponent in +an argument. He laid the fools by the heels and suddenly, 'gainst all +the rules of either Roberts or Queensbury.</p> + +<p>To go after the prevaricators, and track them to their holes, is to make +much of little, and lift the liars into the realm of equals. This story +of the pig-pen I never heard of until Ingersoll's friends denied it in a +book.</p> + +<p>Just one instance to show how trifles light as air are to the zealous +confirmation strong as holy writ. In April, Eighteen Hundred +Ninety-four, Ingersoll lectured at Utica, New York. The following Sunday +a local clergyman denounced the lecturer as a sensualist, a +gourmand—one totally indifferent to decency and the feelings and rights +of others. Then the preacher said, "At breakfast in this city last +Thursday, Ingersoll ordered everything on the bill of fare, and then +insulted and roundly abused the waiter-girl because she did not bring +things that were not in the hotel."</p> + +<p>I happened to be present at that meal. It was an "early-train +breakfast," and the bill of fare for the day had not been printed. The +girl came in, and standing at the Colonel's elbow, in genuine +waiter-girl style, mumbled this: "Ham and eggs, mutton-chops,<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_256" id="VII_Page_256">[Pg 256]</a></span> +beefsteak, breakfast bacon, codfish balls and buckwheat cakes."</p> + +<p>And Bob solemnly said: "Ham and eggs, mutton-chops, beefsteak, breakfast +bacon, codfish balls and buckwheat cakes."</p> + +<p>In amazement the girl gasped, "What?" And then Bob went over it +backward: "Buckwheat cakes, codfish balls, breakfast bacon, beefsteak, +mutton-chops, and ham and eggs."</p> + +<p>This memory test raised a laugh that sent a shout of mirth all through +the room, in which even the girl joined.</p> + +<p>"Haven't you anything else, my dear?" asked the great man in a sort of +disappointed way.</p> + +<p>"I think we have tripe and pig's feet," said the girl.</p> + +<p>"Bring a bushel," said Bob; "and say, tell the cook I'd like a dish of +peacock-tongues on the side." The infinite good nature of it all caused +another laugh from everybody.</p> + +<p>The girl brought everything Bob ordered except the peacock-tongues, and +this order supplied the lecturer and his party of four. The waitress +found a dollar-bill under Bob's plate, and the cook who stood in the +kitchen-door and waved a big spoon, and called, "Good-by, Bob!" got +another dollar for himself.</p> + +<p>Ingersoll carried mirth, and joy, and good-cheer, and radiated a feeling +of plenitude wherever he went. He was a royal liver and a royal spender. +"If I had but a<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_257" id="VII_Page_257">[Pg 257]</a></span> dollar," he used to say, "I'd spend it as though it +were a dry leaf, and I were the owner of an unbounded forest." He +maintained a pension-list of thirty persons or more for a decade, spent +upwards of forty thousand dollars a year, and while the fortune he left +for his wife and children was not large, as men count things on 'Change, +yet it is ample for their ease and comfort. His family always called him +"Robert" with an almost idolatrous flavor of tender love in the word. +But to the world who hated him and the world who loved him, he was just +plain "Bob." To trainmen, hackdrivers, and the great singers, poets and +players, he was "Bob." "Dignity is the mask behind which we hide our +ignorance." When half a world calls a man by a nickname, it is a patent +to nobility—small men are never so honored.</p> + +<p>"Good-by, Bob," called the white-aproned cook as he stood in the +kitchen-door and waved his big spoon.</p> + +<p>"Good-by, Brother, and mind you get those peacock-tongues by the time I +get back," answered Bob.</p> + +<p>As to Ingersoll's mental evolution we can not do better than to let him +tell the story himself:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>Like the most of us, I was raised among people who knew—who were +certain. They did not reason or investigate. They had no doubts. +They knew they had the truth. In their creed there was no guess—no +perhaps. They had a revelation from God. They knew the beginning of +things. They knew that God commenced<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_258" id="VII_Page_258">[Pg 258]</a></span> to create one Monday morning +and worked until Saturday night, four thousand and four years +before Christ. They knew that in the eternity—back of that +morning, He had done nothing. They knew that it took Him six days +to make the earth—all plants, all animals, all life, and all the +globes that wheel in space. They knew exactly what He did each day +and when He rested. They knew the origin, the cause, of evil, of +all crime, of all disease and death.</p> + +<p>They not only knew the beginning, but they knew the end. They knew +that life had one path and one road. They knew that the path, +grass-grown and narrow, filled with thorns and nettles, infested +with vipers, wet with tears, stained by bleeding feet, led to +heaven, and that the road, broad and smooth, bordered with fruits +and flowers, filled with laughter and song, and all the happiness +of human love, led straight to hell. They knew that God was doing +His best to make you take the path and that the Devil used every +art to keep you in the road.</p> + +<p>They knew that there was a perpetual battle waged between the great +Powers of good and evil for the possession of human souls. They +knew that many centuries ago God had left His throne and had been +born a babe into this poor world—that He had suffered death for +the sake of man—for the sake of saving a few. They also knew that +the human heart was utterly depraved, so that man by nature was in +love with wrong and hated God with all his might.</p> + +<p>At the same time they knew that God created man in His own image +and was perfectly satisfied with His work. They also knew that He +had been thwarted by<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_259" id="VII_Page_259">[Pg 259]</a></span> the Devil—who with wiles and lies had +deceived the first of human kind. They knew that in consequence of +that, God cursed the man and woman; the man with toil, the woman +with slavery and pain, and both with death; and that He cursed the +earth itself with briars and thorns, brambles and thistles. All +these blessed things they knew. They knew too all that God had done +to purify and elevate the race. They knew all about the Flood—knew +that God, with the exception of eight, drowned all His +children—the old and young—the bowed patriarch and the dimpled +babe—the young man and the merry maiden—the loving mother and the +laughing child—because His mercy endureth forever. They knew, too, +that He drowned the beasts and birds—everything that walked or +crawled or flew—because His loving-kindness is over all His works. +They knew that God, for the purpose of civilizing His children, had +devoured some with earthquakes, destroyed some with storms of fire, +killed some with his lightnings, millions with famine, with +pestilence, and sacrificed countless thousands upon the fields of +war. They knew that it was necessary to believe these things and to +love God. They knew that there could be no salvation except by +faith, and through the atoning blood of Jesus Christ.</p> + +<p>All who doubted or denied would be lost. To live a moral and honest +life—to keep your contracts, to take care of wife and child—to +make a happy home—to be a good citizen, a patriot, a just and +thoughtful man, was simply a respectable way of going to hell.</p> + +<p>God did not reward men for being honest, generous and brave, but +for the act of faith—without faith, all<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_260" id="VII_Page_260">[Pg 260]</a></span> the so-called virtues +were sins, and the men who practised these virtues, without faith, +deserved to suffer eternal pain.</p> + +<p>All of these comforting and reasonable things were taught by the +ministers in their pulpits—by teachers in Sunday schools and by +parents at home. The children were victims. They were assaulted in +the cradle—in their mother's arms. Then, the schoolmaster carried +on the war against their natural sense, and all the books they read +were filled with the same impossible truths. The poor children were +helpless. The atmosphere they breathed was filled with lies—lies +that mingled with their blood.</p> + +<p>In those days ministers depended on revivals to save souls and +reform the world.</p> + +<p>In the Winter, navigation having closed, business was mostly +suspended. There were no railways, and the only means of +communication were wagons and boats. Generally the roads were so +bad that the wagons were laid up with the boats. There were no +operas, no theaters, no amusements except parties and balls. The +parties were regarded as worldly and the balls as wicked. For real +and virtuous enjoyment the good people depended on revivals.</p> + +<p>The sermons were mostly about the pains and agonies of hell, the +joys and ecstasies of heaven, salvation by faith, and the efficacy +of the atonement. The little churches, in which the services were +held, were generally small, badly ventilated, and exceedingly warm. +The emotional sermons, the sad singing, the hysterical amens, the +hope of heaven, the fear of hell, caused many to lose the little +sense they had. They became<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_261" id="VII_Page_261">[Pg 261]</a></span> substantially insane. In this +condition they flocked to the "mourners' bench"—asked for the +prayers of the faithful—had strange feelings, prayed and wept and +thought they had been "born again." Then they would tell their +experience—how wicked they had been—how evil had been their +thoughts, their desires, and how good they had suddenly become.</p> + +<p>They used to tell the story of an old woman who, in telling her +experience, said, "Before I was converted, before I gave my heart +to God, I used to lie and steal; but now, thanks to the grace and +blood of Jesus Christ, I have quit 'em both, in a great measure."</p> + +<p>Of course, all the people were not exactly of one mind. There were +some scoffers, and now and then, some man had sense enough to laugh +at the threats of priests and make a jest of hell. Some would tell +of unbelievers who had lived and died in peace.</p> + +<p>When I was a boy I heard them tell of an old farmer in Vermont. He +was dying. The minister was at his bedside—asked him if he was a +Christian—if he was prepared to die. The old man answered that he +had made no preparations, that he was not a Christian—that he had +never done anything but work. The preacher said that he could give +him no hope unless he had faith in Christ, and that if he had no +faith his soul would certainly be lost.</p> + +<p>The old man was not frightened. He was perfectly calm. In a weak +and broken voice he said: "Mr. Preacher, I suppose you noticed my +farm. My wife and I came here more than fifty years ago. We were +just married. It was a forest then and the land was covered with +stones. I cut down the trees, burned the<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_262" id="VII_Page_262">[Pg 262]</a></span> logs, picked up the +stones and laid the walls. My wife spun and wove and worked every +moment. We raised and educated our children—denied ourselves. +During all those years my wife never had a good dress, or a decent +bonnet. I never had a good suit of clothes. We lived on the +plainest food. Our hands, our bodies, are deformed by toil. We +never had a vacation. We loved each other and the children. That is +the only luxury we ever had. Now, I am about to die and you ask me +if I am prepared. Mr. Preacher, I have no fear of the future, no +terror of any other world. There may be such a place as hell—but +if there is, you never can make me believe that it's any worse than +old Vermont."</p> + +<p>So they told of a man who compared himself with his dog. "My dog," +he said, "just barks and plays—has all he wants to eat. He never +works—has no trouble about business. In a little while he dies, +and that is all. I work with all my strength. I have no time to +play. I have trouble every day. In a little while I will die, and +then I go to hell. I wish that I had been a dog."</p> + +<p>Well, while the cold weather lasted, while the snows fell, the +revival went on, but when the Winter was over, when the steamboat's +whistle was heard, when business started again, most of the +converts "back-slid" and fell again into their old ways. But the +next Winter they were on hand, ready to be "born again." They +formed a kind of stock company, playing the same parts every Winter +and backsliding every Spring.</p> + +<p>The ministers who preached at these revivals were in earnest. They +were zealous and sincere. They were not philosophers. To them +science was the name of a vague dread—a dangerous enemy. They did +not know<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_263" id="VII_Page_263">[Pg 263]</a></span> much, but they believed a great deal. To them hell was a +burning reality—they could see the smoke and flames. The Devil was +no myth. He was an actual person, a rival of God, an enemy of +mankind. They thought that the important business of this life was +to save your soul—that all should resist and scorn the pleasures +of sense, and keep their eyes steadily fixed on the golden gate of +the New Jerusalem. They were unbalanced, emotional, hysterical, +bigoted, hateful, loving, and insane. They really believed the +Bible to be the actual word of God—a book without mistake or +contradiction. They called its cruelties, justice—its absurdities, +mysteries—its miracles, facts, and the idiotic passages were +regarded as profoundly spiritual. They dwelt on the pangs, the +regrets, the infinite agonies of the lost, and showed how easily +they could be avoided, and how cheaply heaven could be obtained. +They told their hearers to believe, to have faith, to give their +hearts to God, their sins to Christ, who would bear their burdens +and make their souls as white as snow.</p> + +<p>All this the ministers really believed. They were absolutely +certain. In their minds the Devil had tried in vain to sow the +seeds of doubt.</p> + +<p>I heard hundreds of these evangelical sermons—heard hundreds of +the most fearful and vivid descriptions of the tortures inflicted +in hell, of the horrible state of the lost. I supposed that what I +heard was true and yet I did not believe it. I said, "It is," and +then I thought, "It can not be."</p> + +<p>From my childhood I had heard read, and read the Bible. Morning and +evening the sacred volume was opened and prayers were said. The +Bible was my first history, the Jews were the first people, and +the<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_264" id="VII_Page_264">[Pg 264]</a></span> events narrated by Moses and the other inspired writers, and +those predicted by prophets, were the all-important things. In +other books were found the thoughts and dreams of men, but in the +Bible were the sacred truths of God.</p> + +<p>Yet, in spite of my surroundings, of my education, I had no love +for God. He was so saving of mercy, so extravagant in murder, so +anxious to kill, so ready to assassinate, that I hated Him with all +my heart. At His command, babes were butchered, women violated, and +the white hair of trembling age stained with blood. This God +visited the people with pestilence—filled the houses and covered +the streets with the dying and the dead—saw babes starving on the +empty breasts of pallid mothers, heard the sobs, saw the tears, the +sunken cheeks, the sightless eyes, the new-made graves, and +remained as pitiless as the pestilence.</p> + +<p>This God withheld the rain—caused the famine—saw the fierce eyes +of hunger—the wasted forms, the white lips, saw mothers eating +babes, and remained ferocious as famine.</p> + +<p>It seems to me impossible for a civilized man to love or worship or +respect the God of the Old Testament. A really civilized man, a +really civilized woman, must hold such a God in abhorrence and +contempt.</p> + +<p>But in the old days the good people justified Jehovah in His +treatment of the heathen. The wretches who were murdered were +idolators and therefore unfit to live.</p> + +<p>According to the Bible, God had never revealed Himself to these +people and He knew that without a revelation they could not know +that He was the true God. Whose fault was it, then, that they were +heathen?</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_265" id="VII_Page_265">[Pg 265]</a></span>The Christians said that God had the right to destroy them because +He created them. What did He create them for? He knew when He made +them that they would be food for the sword. He knew that He would +have the pleasure of seeing them murdered.</p> + +<p>As a last answer, as a final excuse, the worshipers of Jehovah said +that all these horrible things took place under the "old +dispensation" of unyielding law, and absolute justice, but that +now, under the "new dispensation," all had been changed—the sword +of justice had been sheathed and love enthroned. In the Old +Testament, they said, God is the judge—but in the New, Christ is +the merciful. As a matter of fact, the New Testament is infinitely +worse than the Old. In the Old there is no threat of eternal pain. +Jehovah had no eternal prison—no everlasting fire. His hatred +ended at the grave. His revenge was satisfied when his enemy was +dead.</p> + +<p>In the New Testament, death is not the end, but the beginning of +punishment that has no end. In the New Testament the malice of God +is infinite and the hunger of His revenge eternal.</p> + +<p>The orthodox God, when clothed in human flesh, told His disciples +not to resist evil, to love their enemies, and when smitten on one +cheek to turn the other; and yet we are told that this same God, +with the same loving lips, uttered these heartless, these fiendish +words: "Depart, ye cursed, into everlasting fire, prepared for the +Devil and his angels."</p> + +<p>These are the words of "eternal love."</p> + +<p>No human being has imagination enough to conceive of this infinite +horror.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_266" id="VII_Page_266">[Pg 266]</a></span>All that the human race has suffered in war and want, in pestilence +and famine, in fire and flood—all the pangs and pains of every +disease and every death—all this is as nothing compared with the +agonies to be endured by one lost soul.</p> + +<p>This is the consolation of the Christian religion. This is the +justice of God—the mercy of Christ.</p> + +<p>This frightful dogma, this infinite lie, made me the implacable +enemy of Christianity. The truth is that this belief in eternal +pain has been the real persecutor. It founded the Inquisition, +forged the chains, and furnished the fagots. It has darkened the +lives of many millions. It made the cradle as terrible as the +coffin. It enslaved nations and shed the blood of countless +thousands. It sacrificed the wisest, the bravest and the best. It +subverted the idea of justice, drove mercy from the heart, changed +men to fiends, and banished reason from the brain.</p> + +<p>Like a venomous serpent it crawls and coils and hisses in every +orthodox creed.</p> + +<p>It makes man an eternal victim and God an eternal fiend. It is the +one infinite horror. Every church in which it is taught is a public +curse. Every preacher who teaches it is an enemy of mankind. Below +this Christian dogma, savagery can not go. It is the infinite of +malice, hatred and revenge.</p> + +<p>Nothing could add to the horror of hell, except the presence of its +creator, God.</p> + +<p>While I have life, as long as I draw breath, I shall deny with all +my strength, and hate with every drop of my blood, this infinite +lie.</p> + +<p>Nothing gives me greater joy than to know that this<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_267" id="VII_Page_267">[Pg 267]</a></span> belief in +eternal pain is growing weaker every day—that thousands of +ministers are ashamed of it. It gives me joy to know that +Christians are becoming merciful, so merciful that the fires of +hell are burning low—flickering, choked with ashes, destined in a +few years to die out forever.</p> + +<p>For centuries Christendom was a madhouse. Popes, cardinals, +bishops, priests, monks and heretics were all insane.</p> + +<p>Only a few—four or five in a century—were sound in heart and +brain. Only a few, in spite of the roar and din, in spite of the +savage cries, heard Reason's voice. Only a few, in the wild rage of +ignorance, fear and zeal, preserved the perfect calm that wisdom +gives.</p> + +<p>We have advanced. In a few years the Christians will become humane +and sensible enough to deny the dogma that fills the endless years +with pain.</p></div> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_268" id="VII_Page_268">[Pg 268]</a></span>The world is getting better. We are gradually growing honest, and men +everywhere, even in the pulpit, are acknowledging they do not know all +about things. There was little hope for the race so long as an +individual was disgraced if he did not pretend to believe a thing at +which his reason revolted. We are simplifying life—simplifying truth. +The man who serves his fellowmen best is he who simplifies. The learned +man used to be the one who muddled things, who scrambled thought, who +took reason away, and instead, thrust upon us faith, with a threat of +punishment if we did not accept it, and an offer of reward if we did.</p> + +<p>We have now discovered that the so-called learned man had no authority, +either for his threat of punishment or his offer of reward. Hypocrisy +will not now pass current, and sincerity, frozen stiff with fright, is +no longer legal tender for truth. In the frank acknowledgment of +ignorance there is much promise. The man who does not know, and is not +afraid to say so, is in the line of evolution. But for the head that is +packed with falsehood and the heart that is faint with fear, there is no +hope. That head must be unloaded of its lumber, and the heart given +courage before the march of progress can begin.</p> + +<p>Now, let us be frank, and let us be honest, just for a few moments. Let +us acknowledge that this revolution in thought that has occurred during +the last twenty-five<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_269" id="VII_Page_269">[Pg 269]</a></span> years was brought about mainly by one individual. +The world was ripe for this man's utterance, otherwise he would not have +gotten the speaker's eye. A hundred years before we would have snuffed +him out in contumely and disgrace. But men listened to him and paid high +for the privilege. And those who hated this man and feared him most, +went, too, to listen, so as to answer him and thereby keep the planet +from swinging out of its orbit and sweeping on to destruction.</p> + +<p>Wherever this man spoke, in towns and cities or country, for weeks the +air was heavy with the smoke of rhetoric, and reasons, soggy and solid, +and fuzzy logic and muddy proof were dragged like siege-guns to the +defense.</p> + +<p>They dared the man to come back and fight it out. The clouds were +charged with challenges, and the prophecy was made and made again that +never in the same place could this man go back and get a second hearing. +Yet he did go back year after year, and crowds hung upon his utterances +and laughed with him at the scarecrow that had once filled their +day-dreams, made the nights hideous, and the future black with terror. +Through his influence the tears of pity put out the fires of hell; and +he literally laughed the devil out of court. This man, more than any +other man of his century, made the clergy free. He raised the standard +of intelligence in both pew and pulpit, and the preachers who denounced +him most, often were, and are, the most<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_270" id="VII_Page_270">[Pg 270]</a></span> benefited by his work.</p> + +<p>This man was Robert G. Ingersoll.</p> + +<p>On the urn that encloses his ashes should be these words: Liberator of +Men. When he gave his lecture on "The Gods" at Cooper Union, New York +City, in Eighteen Hundred Seventy-two, he fired a shot heard 'round the +world.</p> + +<p>It was the boldest, strongest, and most vivid utterance of the century.</p> + +<p>At once it was recognized that the thinking world had to deal with a man +of power. Efforts were made in dozens of places to bring statute law to +bear upon him, and the State of Delaware held her whipping-post in +readiness for his benefit; but blasphemy enactments and laws for the +protection of the Unknown were inoperative in his gracious presence. +Ingersoll was a hard hitter, but the splendid good nature of the man, +his freedom from all personal malice, and his unsullied character, saved +him, in those early days, from the violence that would surely have +overtaken a smaller person.</p> + +<p>The people who now seek to disparage the name and fame of Ingersoll +dwell on the things he was not, and give small credit for that which he +was.</p> + +<p>They demand infinity and perfection, not quite willing yet to +acknowledge that perfection has never been incorporated in a single +soul.</p> + +<p>Let us acknowledge freely that Ingersoll was not a<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_271" id="VII_Page_271">[Pg 271]</a></span> pioneer in science. +Let us admit, for argument's sake, that Rousseau, Voltaire, Paine and +Renan voiced every argument that he put forth. Let us grant that he was +often the pleader, and that the lawyer habit of painting his own side +large, never quite forsook him, and that he was swayed more by his +feelings than by his intellect. Let us further admit that in his own +individual case there was small evolution, and that for thirty years he +threshed the same straw. And these things being said and admitted, +nothing more in truth can be said against the man.</p> + +<p>But these points are neither to his discredit nor his disgrace. On them +you can not construct an indictment—they mark his limitations, that is +all.</p> + +<p>Ingersoll gave superstition such a jolt that the consensus of +intelligence has counted it out. Ingersoll did not destroy the good—all +that is vital and excellent and worthy in religion we have yet, and in +such measure as it never existed before.</p> + +<p>In every so-called "Orthodox" pulpit you can now hear sermons calling +upon men to manifest their religion in their work; to show their love +for God in their attitude toward men; to gain the kingdom of heaven by +having the kingdom of heaven in their own hearts.</p> + +<p>Ingersoll pleaded for the criminal, the weak, the defenseless and the +depraved. Our treatment toward all these has changed marvelously within +a decade. When we ceased to believe that God was going to damn folks,<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_272" id="VII_Page_272">[Pg 272]</a></span> +we left off damning them ourselves. We think better now of God and we +think better of men and women. Who dares now talk about the "hopelessly +lost"?</p> + +<p>You can not afford to indict a man who practised every so-called +Christian virtue, simply because there was a flaw or two in his +"belief"—the world has gotten beyond that. Everybody now admits that +Ingersoll was quite as good a man as those who denounced him most. His +life was full of kind deeds and generous acts, and his daily walk was +quite as blameless as the life of the average priest and preacher.</p> + +<p>Those who seek to cry Ingersoll down reveal either density or malice. He +did a great and necessary work, and did it so thoroughly and well that +it will never have to be done again. His mission was to liberalize and +to Christianize every church in Christendom; and no denomination, be its +creed never so ossified, stands now where it stood before Ingersoll +began his crusade. He shamed men into sanity.</p> + +<p>Ingersoll uttered in clarion tones what thousands of men and women +believed, but dared not voice. He was the spokesman for many of the best +thinkers of his time. He abolished fear, gave courage in place of +cringing doubt, and lived what he believed was truth. His was a brave, +cheerful and kindly life. He was loved most by those who knew him best, +for in his nature there was neither duplicity nor concealment. He had +nothing to hide. We know and acknowledge<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_273" id="VII_Page_273">[Pg 273]</a></span> the man's limitations, yet we +realize his worth: his influence in the cause of simplicity and honesty +has been priceless.</p> + +<p>The dust of conflict has not yet settled; prejudice still is in the air; +but time, the great adjuster, will give Ingersoll his due. The history +of America's thought evolution can never be written and the name of +Ingersoll left out. In his own splendid personality he had no rivals, no +competitors. He stands alone; and no name in liberal thought can ever +eclipse his. He prepared the way for the thinkers and the doers who +shall come after, and in insight surpass him, reaching spiritual heights +which he, perhaps, could never attain.</p> + +<p>This earth is a better place, and life and liberty are safer, because +Robert G. Ingersoll lived.</p> + +<p>The last words of Ingersoll were, by a strange coincidence, the dying +words of his brother Ebon: "I am better!"—words of hope, words of +assurance to the woman he loved.</p> + +<p>Sane to the last! And let us, too, hope that these dear words are true +of all the countless dead.</p> + + + +<hr class="full" /> +<h2><a name="PATRICK_HENRY" id="PATRICK_HENRY"></a>PATRICK HENRY<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_274" id="VII_Page_274">[Pg 274]</a></span></h2> + + + +<div class="blockquot"><p>It is in vain, sir, to extenuate the matter. Gentlemen may cry,<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_275" id="VII_Page_275">[Pg 275]</a></span> +Peace, peace; but there is no peace. The war is actually begun. The +next gale that sweeps from the North will bring to our ears the +clash of resounding arms. Our brethren are already in the field. +Why stand we here idle? What is it that gentlemen wish? What would +they have? Is life so dear, or peace so sweet, as to be purchased +at the price of chains and slavery? Forbid it, Almighty God!—I +know not what course others may take; but as for me, give me +liberty or give me death!</p></div> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">—<i>Patrick Henry</i></span><br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_276" id="VII_Page_276">[Pg 276]</a></span></p> + +<div class="center"> + <a id="image0449-1"></a> + <img src="images/0449-1.jpg" width="277" height="400" + alt="" + title="" /> + + <p class="center">PATRICK HENRY</p> +</div> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_277" id="VII_Page_277">[Pg 277]</a></span></p> + + + +<p>Sarah Syme was a blooming widow, thirty-two in June—such widows are +never over thirty-two—and she managed her estate of a thousand acres in +Hanover County, Virginia, with business ability. That such a widow, and +thirty-two, should remain a widow in a pioneer country was out of the +question.</p> + +<p>She had suitors. Their horses were tied to the pickets all day long.</p> + +<p>One of these suitors has described the widow for us. He says she was +"lively in disposition," and he also uses the words "buxom" and +"portly." I do not like these expressions—they suggest too much, so I +will none of them. I would rather refer to her as lissome and willowy, +and tell how her sorrow for the dead wrapped her 'round with weeds and +becoming sable—but in the interests of truth I dare not.</p> + +<p>Some of her suitors were widowers—ancient of days, fat and Falstaffian. +Others were lean and lacrimose, with large families, fortunes impaired +and futures mostly behind. Then there were gay fox-hunting +holluschickies, without serious intent and minus both future and past +worth mentioning, who called and sat on the front porch because they +thought their presence would be<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_278" id="VII_Page_278">[Pg 278]</a></span> pleasing and relieve the tedium of +widowhood.</p> + +<p>Then there was a young Scotch schoolmaster, educated, temperate and +gentlemanly, who came to instruct the two children of the widow in long +division, and who blushed to the crown of his red head when the widow +invited him to tea.</p> + +<p>Have a care, Widow Syme! Destiny has use for you with your lively ways +and portly form. You are to make history, help mold a political policy, +fan the flames of war, and through motherhood make yourself immortal. +Choose your casket wisely, O Widow Syme! It is the hour of Fate!</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_279" id="VII_Page_279">[Pg 279]</a></span>The widow was a Queen Bee and so had a perfect right to choose her mate. +The Scotchman proved to be it. He was only twenty-five, they say, but he +was man enough when standing before the Registrar to make it thirty. +When he put his red head inside the church-door some one cried, +"Genius!" And so they were married and lived happily ever after.</p> + +<p>And the name of the Scotchman was John Henry—I'll not deceive you, +Sweet!</p> + +<p>John and Sarah were well suited to each other. John was exact, +industrious, practical. The wife had a lively sense of humor, was +entertaining and intelligent. Under the management of the canny Scot the +estate took on a look of prosperity. The man was a model citizen—honors +traveled his way: he became colonel of the local militia, county +surveyor, and finally magistrate. Babies arrived as rapidly as Nature +would allow and with the regularity of an electric clock—although, of +course, there wasn't any electricity then.</p> + +<p>The second child was named Patrick, Junior, in honor of and in deference +to a brother of the happy father—a clergyman of the Established Church. +Patrick Henry always subscribed himself "P. Henry, Junior," and whether +he was ever aware that there was only one Patrick Henry is a question.</p> + +<p>There were nine altogether in the brood—eight of them good, honest, +barnyard fowls.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_280" id="VII_Page_280">[Pg 280]</a></span>And one was an eagle.</p> + +<p>Why this was so no one knew—the mother didn't know and the father could +not guess. All of them were born under about the same conditions, all +received about the same training—or lack of it.</p> + +<p>However, no one at first suspected that the eagle was an eagle—more +than a score of years were to pass before he was suddenly to spread out +strong, sinewy wings and soar to the ether.</p> + +<p>Patrick Henry caused his parents more trouble and anxiety than all the +rest of the family combined. Patrick and culture had nothing in common. +As a youngster he roamed the woods, bare of foot and bare of head, his +only garments a shirt and trousers held in place by a single gallus. He +was indolent, dreamy, procrastinating, frolicsome, with a beautiful +aversion to books, and a fondness for fishing that was carried to the +limit. The boy's mother didn't worry very much about the youngster, but +the father had spells when he took the matter to the Lord in prayer, and +afterward, growing impatient of an answer, fell to and used the taws +without mercy. John Henry probably did this as much to relieve his own +feelings as for the good of the boy, but doubtless he did not reason +quite that far.</p> + +<p>Patrick nursed his black-and-blue spots and fell back on his flute for +solace.</p> + +<p>After one such seance, when he was twelve years of age, he disappeared +with a colored boy about his own age. They took a shotgun, +fishing-tackle and a violin.<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_281" id="VII_Page_281">[Pg 281]</a></span> They were gone three weeks, during which +time Patrick had not been out of his clothes, nor once washed his face. +They had slept out under the sky by campfires. The smell of smoke was +surely on his garments, and his parents were put to their wits to +distinguish between the bond and the free.</p> + +<p>Had Patrick been an only child he would have driven his mother into +hysteria and his father to the flowing bowl (I trust I use the right +expression). If not this, then it would have been because the fond +parents had found peace by transforming their son into a Little Lord +Fauntleroy. Nature shows great wisdom in sending the young in +litters—they educate each other, and so divide the time of the mother +that attention to the individual is limited to the actual needs. Too +much interference with children is a grave mistake.</p> + +<p>Patrick Henry quit school at fifteen, with a love for 'rithmetic—it was +such a fine puzzle—and an equal regard for history—history was a lot +o' good stories. For two years he rode wild horses, tramped the woods +with rod and gun, and played the violin at country dances.</p> + +<p>Another spasm of fear, chagrin and discouragement sweeping over the +father, on account of the indifference and profligacy of his son, he +decided to try the youth in trade, and if this failed, to let him go to +the devil. So a stock of general goods was purchased, and Patrick and +William, the elder brother, were shoved off upon<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_282" id="VII_Page_282">[Pg 282]</a></span> the uncertain sea of +commerce.</p> + +<p>The result was just what might have been expected. The store was a +loafing-place for all the ne'er-do-wells in the vicinity. Patrick +trusted everybody—those who could not get trusted elsewhere patronized +Patrick.</p> + +<p>Things grew worse. In a year, when just eighteen years old, P. Henry, +Junior, got married—married a rollicking country lass, as foolish as +himself—done in bravado, going home from a dance, calling a minister +out on his porch, in a crazy-quilt, to perform the ceremony. John Henry +would have applied the birch to this hare-brained bridegroom, and the +father of the girl would have stung her pink-and-white anatomy, but +Patrick coolly explained that the matter could not be undone—they were +duly married for better or for worse, and so the less fuss the better. +Patrick loved his Doxey, and Doxey loved her Patrick, and together they +made as precious a pair of beggars as ever played Gipsy music at a +country fair.</p> + +<p>Most of the time they were at the home of the bride's parents—not by +invitation—but they were there. The place was a wayside tavern. The +girl made herself useful in the kitchen, and Patrick welcomed the +traveler and tended bar.</p> + +<p>So things drifted, until Patrick was twenty-four, when one fine day he +appeared on the streets of Williamsburg. He had come in on horseback, +and his boots, clothing, hair and complexion formed a chromatic ensemble +the<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_283" id="VII_Page_283">[Pg 283]</a></span> color of Hanover County clay. The account comes from his old-time +comrade, Thomas Jefferson, who was at Williamsburg attending college.</p> + +<p>"I've come up here to be admitted to the bar," gravely said P. Henry to +T. Jefferson.</p> + +<p>"But you are a barkeeper now, I hear."</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Patrick; "but that's the other kind. You see, I've been +studying law, and I want to be admitted to practise."</p> + +<p>It took several minutes for the man who was to write the Declaration of +Independence to get it through his head that the matter wasn't a joke. +Then he conducted the lean, lank, rawboned rustic into the presence of +the judges. There were four of these men: Wythe, Pendleton, Peyton and +John Randolph. These men were all to be colleagues of the bumpkin at the +First Continental Congress at Philadelphia, but that lay in the misty +future.</p> + +<p>They looked at the candidate in surprise; two of them laughed and two +looked needlessly solemn. However, after some little parley, they +consented to examine the clown as to his fitness to practise law.</p> + +<p>In answer to the first question as to how long he had studied, his reply +was, "About six weeks."</p> + +<p>One biographer says six months, and still another, with anxious intent +to prove the excellence of his man, says six years.</p> + +<p>We had better take Jefferson's word—"Patrick Henry's<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_284" id="VII_Page_284">[Pg 284]</a></span> reply was six +weeks." As much as to say: "What difference is it about how long I have +studied? You are here to find out how much I know. There are men who can +get more in six weeks than others can in six years—I may be one of +these."</p> + +<p>The easy indifference of the fellow was sublime. But he did know a +little law, and he also knew a deal of history. The main thing against +him was his unkempt appearance. After some hesitation the judges gave +the required certificate, with a little lecture on the side concerning +the beauties of etiquette and right attire as an adjunct to excellence +in the learned professions.</p> + +<p>Young Mr. Jefferson didn't wait to witness the examination of his +friend—it was too painful—and besides he did not wish to be around so +as to get any of the blame when the prayer for admission was denied.</p> + +<p>So Patrick had to find Thomas. "I've got it!" said Patrick, and smiled +grimly as he tapped his breast-pocket where the certificate was safely +stowed.</p> + +<p>Then he mounted his lean, dun horse and rode away, disappearing into the +forest.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_285" id="VII_Page_285">[Pg 285]</a></span>As a pedagogic policy the training that Patrick Henry received would be +rank ruin. Educational systems are designed for average intellects, but +as if to show us the littleness of our little schemes, Destiny seems to +give her first prizes to those who have evaded all rules and ignored +every axiom. Rules and regulations are for average men—and so are +average prizes.</p> + +<p>Speak it softly: There are several ways of getting an education. Patrick +Henry got his in the woods, following winding streams or lying at night +under the stars; by mastering horses and wild animals; by listening to +the wrangling of lawyers at country lawsuits, and the endless talk of +planters who sat long hours at the tavern, perfectly willing to leave +the labors of the field to the sons of Ham.</p> + +<p>Thus, at twenty-four, Patrick Henry had first of all a physical +constitution like watch-spring steel; he had no nerves; fatigue was +unknown to him; he was not aware that he had a stomach. His intellectual +endowment lay in his close intimacy with Nature—he knew her and was so +a part of her that he never thought of her, any more than the fishes +think of the sea. The continual dwelling on a subject proves our +ignorance of it—we discuss only that for which we are reaching out.</p> + +<p>Then, Patrick Henry knew men—he knew the workers, the toilers, the +young, the old, the learned and the ignorant. He had mingled with +mankind from behind<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_286" id="VII_Page_286">[Pg 286]</a></span> the counter, the tavern-bar, in court and school +and in church—by the roadside, at horse-races, camp-meetings, dances +and social gatherings. He was light of foot, ready of tongue, and with +no thought as to respectability, and no doubts and fears regarding the +bread-and-butter question. He had no pride, save possibly a pride in the +fact that he had none. He played checkers, worked out mathematical +problems in his mind to astonish the loafers, related history to +instruct them—and get it straight in his own mind—and told them +stories to make them laugh. It is a great misfortune to associate only +with cultured people. "God loves the common people," said Lincoln, +"otherwise He would not have made so many of them." Patrick Henry knew +them; and is not this an education—to know Life?</p> + +<p>He knew he could move men; that he could mold their thoughts; that he +could convince them and bring them over to his own way of thinking. He +had done it by the hour. In the continual rural litigations, he had +watched lawyers make their appeal to the jury; he had sat on these +juries, and he knew he could do the trick better. Therefore, he wanted +to become a lawyer.</p> + +<p>The practise of law to him was to convince, befog or divert the jury; he +could do it, and so he applied for permission to practise law.</p> + +<p>He was successful from the first. His clownish ways pleased the judge, +the jury and the spectators. His ready tongue and infinite good humor +made him a favorite.<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_287" id="VII_Page_287">[Pg 287]</a></span> There may not be much law in Justice-of-the-Peace +proceedings, but there is a certain rude equity which possibly answers +the purpose better. And surely it is good practise for the fledglings: +the best way to learn law is to practise it. And the successful practise +of the law lies almost as much in evading the law as in complying with +it—I suppose we should say that softly, too. In support of the last +proposition, let me say that we are dealing with P. Henry, Junior, of +Virginia, arch-rebel, and a defier of law and precedent. Had he +reverenced law as law, his name would have been writ in water. The +reputation of the man hinges on the fact that he defied authority.</p> + +<p>The first great speech of Patrick Henry was a defiance of the Common Law +of England when it got in the way of the rights of the people. Every +immortal speech ever given has been an appeal from the law of man to the +Higher Law.</p> + +<p>Patrick Henry was twenty-seven—the same age that Wendell Phillips was +when he discovered himself. No one had guessed the genius of the +man—least of all his parents. He himself did not know his power. The +years that had gone had been fallow years—years of failure—but it was +all a getting together of his forces for the spring. Relaxation is the +first requisite of strength.</p> + +<p>The case was a forlorn hope, and Patrick Henry, the awkward but clever +country pettifogger, was retained<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_288" id="VII_Page_288">[Pg 288]</a></span> to defend the "Parsons' Cause," +because he had opinions in the matter and no reputation to lose.</p> + +<p>First, let it be known that Virginia had an Established Church, which +was really the Church of England. The towns were called parishes, and +the selectmen, or supervisors, were vestrymen. These vestrymen hired the +rectors or preachers, and the money which paid the preachers came from +taxes levied on the people.</p> + +<p>Now, the standard of value in Virginia was tobacco, and the vestrymen, +instead of paying the parsons in money, agreed to pay each parson +sixteen thousand pounds of tobacco, with curates and bishops in +proportion.</p> + +<p>But there came a bad year; the tobacco-crop was ruined by a drought, and +the value of the weed doubled in price.</p> + +<p>The parsons demanded their tobacco; a bargain was a bargain; when +tobacco was plentiful and cheap they had taken their quota and said +nothing. Now that tobacco was scarce and high, things were merely +equalized; a contract was a contract.</p> + +<p>But the people complained. The theme was discussed in every tavern and +store. There were not wanting infidels to say that the parsons should +have prayed for rain, and that as they did not secure the moisture, they +were remiss. Others asked by what right shall men who do not labor +demand a portion of the crop from those who plant, hoe and harvest?</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_289" id="VII_Page_289">[Pg 289]</a></span>Of course, all good Church people, all of the really loyal citizens, +argued that the Parsons were a necessary part of the State—without them +Society would sink into savagery—and as they did their duties, they +should be paid by the people; they served, and all contracts made with +them should be kept.</p> + +<p>But the mutterings of discontent continued, and to appease the people, +the House of Burgesses passed a law providing that, instead of tobacco +being a legal tender, all debts could be paid in money; figuring tobacco +at the rate of two cents a pound. As tobacco was worth about three times +this amount, it will be seen at once that this was a law made in favor +of the debtor class. It cut the salaries of the rectors down just +two-thirds, and struck straight at English Common Law, which provides +for the sacredness of contract.</p> + +<p>The rectors combined and decided to make a test case. The Parsons versus +the People—or, more properly, "The Reverend John Maury versus The +Colony of Virginia."</p> + +<p>Both law and equity were on the side of the Parsons. Their case was +clear; only by absolutely overriding the law of England could the people +win. The array of legal talent on the side of the Church included the +best lawyers in the Colony—the Randolphs and other aristocrats were +there.</p> + +<p>And on the other side was Patrick Henry, the tall, lean, lank, sallow +and uncouth representative of the people. Five judges were on the bench, +one of whom<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_290" id="VII_Page_290">[Pg 290]</a></span> was the father of Patrick Henry.</p> + +<p>The matter was opened in a logical, lucid, judicial speech by the +Honorable Jeremiah Lyon. He stated the case without passion or +prejudice—there was only one side to it.</p> + +<p>Then Patrick Henry arose. He began to speak; stopped, hesitated, began +again, shuffled his feet, cleared his throat, and his father, on the +bench, blushed for shame. The auditors thought he was going to break +down—even the opposition pitied him.</p> + +<p>Suddenly, his tall form shot up, he stepped one step forward and stood +like a statue of bronze: his own father did not recognize him, he had so +changed. His features were transformed from those of a clown into those +of command and proud intelligence. A poise so perfect came upon him that +it was ominous. He began to speak—his sentences were crystalline, +sharp, clear, direct. The judges leaned forward, the audience hung +breathless upon his words.</p> + +<p>He began by showing how all wealth comes from labor applied to the land. +He pictured the people at their work, showed the laborer in the field in +the rains of Spring, under the blaze of the Summer sun, amid the frosts +of Autumn—bond and free working side by side with brain and brawn, to +wring from the earth a scanty sustenance. He showed the homes of the +poor, the mother with babe at her breast, the girls cooking at the fire, +others tending the garden—all the process of toil and travail, of +patient labor and endless effort,<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_291" id="VII_Page_291">[Pg 291]</a></span> were rapidly marshaled forth. Over +against this, he unveiled the clergy in broadcloth and silken gowns, +riding in carriages, seated on cushions and living a life of luxury. He +turned and faced the opposition, and shook his bony finger at them in +scorn and contempt. The faces of the judges grew livid; many of the +Parsons, unable to endure his withering rebuke, sneaked away: the people +forgot to applaud; only silence and the stinging, ringing voice of the +speaker filled the air.</p> + +<p>He accused the Parsons of being the defiers of the law; the people had +passed the statute; the preachers had come, asking that it be annulled. +And then was voiced, I believe, for the first time in America, the truth +that government exists only by the consent of the governed—that law is +the crystallized opinion of the people—that the voice of the people is +the voice of God—that the act of the Parsons, in seeking to over-ride +the will of the people, was treason, and should be punished. He defied +the Common Law of England and appealed to the Law of God—the question +of right—the question of justice—to whom does the fruit of labor +belong!</p> + +<p>Before the fiery, overpowering torrent of eloquence of the man, the +reason of the judges fled. There was but one will in that assembly, and +that will was the will of Patrick Henry.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_292" id="VII_Page_292">[Pg 292]</a></span>In that first great speech of his life—probably the greatest speech +then ever given in Virginia—Patrick Henry committed himself irrevocably +on the subject of human rights. The theme of taxation came to him in a +way it never had before. Men are taxed that other men may live in +idleness. Those who pay the tax must decide whether the tax is just or +not—anything else is robbery. We shall see how this thought took hold +on Patrick's very life. It was the weak many against the entrenched few. +He had said more than he had intended to say—he had expressed things +which he never before knew that he knew. As he made truth plain to his +auditors, he had clarified his own mind.</p> + +<p>The heavens had opened before him—he was as one transformed. That +outward change in his appearance marked only an inward illumination +which had come to his spirit.</p> + +<p>In great oratory the appearance of the man is always changed. Men grow +by throes and throbs, by leaps and bounds. The idea of "Cosmic +Consciousness"—being born again—is not without its foundation in fact: +the soul is in process of gestation, and when the time is ripe the new +birth occurs, and will occur again and again.</p> + +<p>Patrick Henry at once took his place among the strong men of +Virginia—his was a personality that must be reckoned with in political +affairs. His law practise doubled, and to keep it down he doubled his +prices—with<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_293" id="VII_Page_293">[Pg 293]</a></span> the usual effect. He then tried another expedient, and +very few lawyers indeed are strong enough to do this: he would accept no +case until the fee was paid in advance. "I keep no books—my fee is so +much—pay this and I will undertake your case." He accepted no +contingent cases, and if he believed his client was in the wrong, he +told him so, and brought about a compromise. Some enemies were made +through this frank advice, but when the fight was once on, Patrick Henry +was a whirlwind of wrath: he saw but one side and believed in his +client's cause as though it had been written by Deity on tables of +stone.</p> + +<p>Long years after the death of Patrick Henry, Thomas Jefferson made some +remarks about Henry's indolence, and his indisposition to write out +things. A little more insight, or less prejudice, would have shown that +Patrick Henry's plan was only Nature's scheme for the conservation of +forces, and at the last was the highest wisdom.</p> + +<p>By demanding the fee in advance, the business was simplified immensely. +It tested the good faith of the would-be litigant, cut down the number +of clients, preserved the peace, freed the secretions, aided digestion +and tended to sweet sleep o' nights.</p> + +<p>Litigation is a luxury that must be paid for—by the other fellow, we +expect when we begin, but later we find we are it. If the lawyers would +form a union and agree not to listen to any man's tale of woe until he<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_294" id="VII_Page_294">[Pg 294]</a></span> +placed a hundred dollars in the attorney's ginger-jar, it would be a +benefit untold to humanity. Contingent fees and blackmail have much in +common.</p> + +<p>A man who could speak in public like Patrick Henry was destined for a +political career. A vacancy in the State Legislature occurring, the tide +of events carried him in. Hardly had he taken the oath and been seated +before the House resolved itself into a Committee of the Whole to +consider the Stamp Act. Mutterings from New England had been heard, but +Virginia was inclined to abide by the acts of the Mother Country, +gaining merely such modifications as could be brought about by modest +argument and respectful petition. And in truth let it be stated that the +Mother Country had not shown herself blind to the rights of the +Colonies, nor deaf to their prayers—the aristocrats of Virginia usually +got what they wanted.</p> + +<p>The Stamp Act was up for discussion; the gavel rapped for order and the +Speaker declared the House in session.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Speaker," rang out a high, clear voice. It was the voice of the new +member. Inadvertently he was recognized and had the floor. There was a +little more "senatorial courtesy" then than now in deliberative bodies, +and one of the unwritten laws of the Virginia Legislature was that no +member during his first session should make an extended speech or take +an active part in the business of the House.</p> + +<p>"Sir, I present for the consideration of this House the<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_295" id="VII_Page_295">[Pg 295]</a></span> following +resolutions." And the new member read seven resolutions he had scrawled +off on the fly-leaves of a convenient law-book.</p> + +<p>As he read, the older members winced and writhed. Peyton Randolph cursed +him under his breath. This audacious youth in buckskin shirt and leather +breeches was assuming the leadership of the House. His audacity was +unprecedented! Here are Numbers Five, Six and Seven of the +Resolutions—these give the meat of the matter:</p> + +<p>"Resolved, That the general assembly of this colony has the only and +sole exclusive right and power to lay taxes and impositions upon the +inhabitants of this colony; and that every attempt to vest such power in +any person or persons whatsoever, other than the general assembly +aforesaid, has a manifest tendency to destroy British as well as +American freedom.</p> + +<p>"Resolved, That His Majesty's liege people, the inhabitants of this +colony, are not bound to yield obedience to any law or ordinance +whatever, designed to impose any taxation whatsoever upon them, other +than the laws or ordinances of the general assembly aforesaid.</p> + +<p>"Resolved, That any person who shall, by speaking or writing, assert or +maintain that any person or persons, other than the general assembly of +this colony, have any right or power to impose or lay any taxation on +the people here, shall be deemed an enemy to His Majesty's colony."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_296" id="VII_Page_296">[Pg 296]</a></span>As the uncouth member ceased to read, there went up a howl of +disapproval. But the resolutions were launched, and according to the +rules of the House they could be argued, and in order to be repudiated, +must be voted upon.</p> + +<p>Patrick Henry stood almost alone. Pitted against him was the very flower +of Virginia's age and intellect. Logic, argument, abuse, raillery and +threat were heaped upon his head. He stood like adamant and answered +shot for shot. It was the speech in the "Parsons' Cause" multiplied by +ten—the theme was the same: the right to confiscate the results of +labor. Before the debater had ceased, couriers were carrying copies of +Patrick Henry's resolutions to New England. Every press printed +them—the people were aroused, and the name of Patrick Henry became +known in every cot and cabin throughout the Colonies. He was the +mouthpiece of the plain people; what Samuel Adams stood for in New +England, Patrick Henry hurled in voice of thunder at the heads of +aristocrats in Virginia. He lighted the fuse of rebellion.</p> + +<p>One passage in that first encounter in the Virginia Legislature has +become deathless. Hackneyed though it be, it can never grow old. +Referring to the injustice of the Stamp Act, Patrick Henry reached the +climax of his speech in these words: "Cæsar had his Brutus; Charles the +First, his Cromwell; and George the Third—"</p> + +<p>"Treason!" shouted the Speaker, and the gavel splintered the desk.<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_297" id="VII_Page_297">[Pg 297]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Treason! Treason!" came in roars from all over the House.</p> + +<p>Patrick Henry paused, proud and defiant, waiting for the tumult to +subside—"And George the Third may profit by their example. If this be +treason, make the most of it!" And he took his seat.</p> + +<p>The resolutions were put to a vote and carried. Again Patrick Henry had +won.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_298" id="VII_Page_298">[Pg 298]</a></span>By a singular coincidence, on the same day that Patrick Henry, of his +own accord, introduced those resolutions at Williamsburg, a mass meeting +was held in Boston to consider the same theme, and similar resolutions +were passed. There was this difference, however: Patrick Henry flung his +reasons into the teeth of an entrenched opposition and fought the fight +single-handed, while in Boston the resolutions were read and passed by +an assembly that had met for no other purpose.</p> + +<p>Patrick Henry's triumph was heralded throughout New England and gave +strength and courage to those of feeble knees. From a Colonial he sprang +into national fame, and his own words, "I am not a Virginian—I am an +American!" went ringing through New England hills.</p> + +<p>Meantime, Patrick Henry went back to his farm and law-office. His wife +rejoiced in his success, laughed with him at his mishaps and was always +the helpful, uncomplaining comrade, and as he himself expressed it, "My +best friend." And when he would get back home from one of his trips, the +neighbors would gather to hear from his own lips about what he had done +and said. He was still the unaffected countryman, seemingly careless, +happy and indolent. It was on the occasion of one of these family +gatherings that a contemporary saw him and wrote: "In mock complaint he +exclaimed, 'How can I play the fiddle with two babies on each<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_299" id="VII_Page_299">[Pg 299]</a></span> knee and +three on my back!'"</p> + +<p>So the years went by in work, play and gradually widening fame. Patrick +Henry grew with his work—the years gave him dignity—gradually the +thought of his heart 'graved its lines upon his face. The mouth became +firm and the entire look of the man was that of earnest resolution. Fate +was pushing him on. What once was only whispered, he had voiced in +trumpet tones; the thought of liberty was being openly expressed even in +pulpits.</p> + +<p>He had been returned to the Legislature, was a member of the Continental +Congress, and rode horseback side by side with Washington and Pendleton +to Philadelphia, as told at length in Washington's diary.</p> + +<p>In his utterances he was a little less fiery, but in his heart, +everybody who knew him at all realized that there dwelt the thought of +liberty for the Colonies. John Adams wrote to Abigail that Patrick Henry +looked like a Quaker preacher turned Presbyterian.</p> + +<p>A year later came what has been rightly called the third great speech of +Henry's life, the speech at the Revolutionary Convention at Richmond. +Good people often expect to hear oratory at a banquet, a lyceum lecture, +or in a Sunday sermon; but oratory is neither lecture, talk, harangue, +declamation nor preaching. Of course we say that the great speech is the +one that has been given many times, but the fact is, the great speech is +never given but once.</p> + +<p>The time is ripe—the hour arrives—mighty issues<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_300" id="VII_Page_300">[Pg 300]</a></span> tremble in the +balances. The auditors are not there to be amused nor instructed—they +have not stopped at the box-office and paid good money to have their +senses alternately lulled and titillated. No! The question is that of +liberty or bondage, life or death—passion is in the saddle—hate and +prejudice are sweeping events into a maelstrom—and now is the time for +oratory! Such occasions are as rare as the birth of stars. A man stands +before you—it is no time for fine phrasing—no time for pose or +platitude. Self-consciousness is swallowed up in purpose. He is as calm +as the waters above the Rapids of Niagara, as composed as a lioness +before she makes her spring. Intensity measures itself in perfect poise. +And Patrick Henry arises to speak. Those who love the man pray for him +in breathless silence, and the many who hate him in their hearts curse +him. Pale faces grow paler, throats swallow hard, hands clutch at +nothing, and open and shut in nervous spasms. It is the hour of fate.</p> + +<p>Patrick Henry speaks:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>Mr. President: It is natural for man to indulge in the illusions of +hope. We are apt to shut our eyes against a painful truth, and +listen to the song of the siren until she transforms us into +beasts. Is this the part of wise men, engaged in a great and +arduous struggle for liberty? Are we disposed to be of the number +of those who having eyes see not, and having ears hear not the +things which so nearly concern their temporal salvation? For my +part, whatever anguish of spirit it may<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_301" id="VII_Page_301">[Pg 301]</a></span> cost, I am willing to know +the whole truth; to know the worst and to provide for it.</p> + +<p>I have but one lamp by which my feet are guided; and that is the +lamp of experience. I know of no way of judging of the future but +by the past. And judging by the past, I wish to know what there has +been in the conduct of the British Ministry for the last ten years, +to justify those hopes with which gentlemen have been pleased to +solace themselves and this House? Is it that insidious smile with +which our petition has been lately received? Trust it not, it will +prove a snare to your feet. Suffer not yourselves to be betrayed +with a kiss. Ask yourselves how this gracious reception of our +petition comports with those war-like preparations which cover our +waters and darken our land. Are fleets and armies necessary to a +work of love and reconciliation? Have we shown ourselves so +unwilling to be reconciled that force must be called in to win back +our love? Let us not deceive ourselves, sir. These are the +implements of war and subjugation—the last arguments to which +kings resort. I say, gentlemen, what means this martial array, if +its purpose be not to force us to submission? Can you assign any +other possible motive for it? Has Britain any enemy in this quarter +of the world, to call for all this accumulation of navies and +armies? No, sir, she has none. They are meant for us; they can be +meant for no other. They are sent over to bind and rivet upon us +those chains which the British Ministry have been so long forging. +And what have we to oppose to them? Shall we try argument? Sir, we +have been trying that for the last ten years. Have we anything new +to offer<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_302" id="VII_Page_302">[Pg 302]</a></span> upon the subject? Nothing. We have held the subject up in +every light of which it is capable; but it has been all in vain. +Shall we resort to entreaty and humble supplication? What terms +shall we find which have not been already exhausted? Let us not, I +beseech you, deceive ourselves longer.</p> + +<p>Sir, we have done everything that could be done to avert the storm +which is now coming on. We have petitioned, we have remonstrated, +we have supplicated, we have prostrated ourselves before the +throne, and have implored its interposition to arrest the +tyrannical hands of the Ministry and Parliament. Our petitions have +been slighted; remonstrances have produced additional violence and +insult; our supplications have been disregarded; and we have been +spurned with contempt from the foot of the throne. In vain, after +these things, may we indulge the fond hope of peace and +reconciliation. There is no longer any room for hope. If we wish to +be free, if we mean to preserve inviolate those inestimable +privileges for which we have been so long contending, if we mean +not basely to abandon the noble struggle in which we have been so +long engaged, and which we have pledged ourselves never to abandon +until the glorious object of our contest shall be obtained—we must +fight! I repeat it, sir, we must fight! An appeal to arms and to +the God of Hosts is all that is left us!</p> + +<p>They tell us, sir, that we are weak—unable to cope with so +formidable an adversary. But when shall we be stronger? Will it be +the next week, or the next year? Will it be when we are totally +disarmed, and when a British guard shall be stationed in every<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_303" id="VII_Page_303">[Pg 303]</a></span> +house? Shall we gather strength by irresolution and inaction? Shall +we acquire the means of effectual resistance by lying supinely on +our backs, and hugging the delusive phantom of hope until our +enemies shall have bound us hand and foot? Sir, we are not weak, if +we make a proper use of those means which the God of Nature hath +placed in our power. Three millions of people, armed in the holy +cause of liberty, and in such a country as that which we possess, +are invincible by any force which our enemy can send against us. +Besides, sir, we shall not fight our battles alone. There is a just +God who presides over the destinies of nations; and who will raise +up friends to fight our battles for us. The battle, sir, is not to +the strong alone; it is to the vigilant, the active, the brave. +Besides, sir, we have no election. If we were base enough to desire +it, it is now too late to retire from the contest. There is no +retreat but in submission and slavery! Our chains are forged; their +clanking may be heard on the plains of Boston! The war is +inevitable—and let it come! I repeat it, sir, let it come!</p> + +<p>It is in vain, sir, to extenuate the matter. Gentlemen may cry, +Peace, peace; but there is no peace. The war is actually begun. The +next gale that sweeps from the North will bring to our ears the +clash of resounding arms. Our brethren are already in the field. +Why stand we here idle? What is it that gentlemen wish? What would +they have? Is life so dear, or peace so sweet, as to be purchased +at the price of chains and slavery? Forbid it, Almighty God! I know +not what course others may take, but as for me, give me liberty or +give me death!</p></div> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_304" id="VII_Page_304">[Pg 304]</a></span>Life is a gradual death. There are animals and insects that die on the +instant of the culmination of the act for which they were created. +Success is death, and death, if you have bargained wisely with Fate, is +victory.</p> + +<p>Patrick Henry, with his panther's strength and nerves of steel, had +thrown his life into a Cause—that Cause had won, and now the lassitude +of dissolution crept into his veins. We hear of hair growing white in a +single day, and we know that men may round out a life-work in an hour. +Oratory, like all of God's greatest gifts, is bought with a price. The +abandon of the orator is the spending of his divine heritage for a +purpose.</p> + +<p>Patrick Henry had given himself. Even in his law business he was the +conscientious servant, and having undertaken a cause, he put his soul +into it. Shame upon those who call this man indolent! He often did in a +day—between the rising of the sun and its setting—what others spread +out thin over a lifetime and then fail to accomplish.</p> + +<p>And now virtue had gone out from him. Four times had Virginia elected +him Governor; he had served his State well, and on the fifth nomination +he had declined. When Washington wished to make him his Secretary of +State, he smiled and shook his head, and to the entreaty that he be +Chief Justice of the Supreme Court, he said that there were others who +could fill the place better, but he knew of no one who could manage his +farm.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_305" id="VII_Page_305">[Pg 305]</a></span>And so he again became the country lawyer, looked after his plantation, +attended to the education of his children, told stories to the neighbors +who came and sat on the veranda—now and again went to rustic parties, +played the violin, and the voice that had cried, "Give me liberty or +give me death," called off for the merry dancers as in the days of old.</p> + +<p>In Seventeen Hundred Ninety-nine, at the personal request of Washington, +who needed, or thought he needed, a strong advocate at the Capitol, +Patrick Henry ran for the Legislature. He was elected, but before the +day arrived when he was to take his seat, he sickened and died, +surrounded by his stricken family. Those who knew him, loved him—those +who did not love him, did not know him.</p> + +<p>And a Nation mourned his taking off.</p> + + + +<hr class="full" /> +<h2><a name="STARR_KING" id="STARR_KING"></a>STARR KING<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_306" id="VII_Page_306">[Pg 306]</a></span></h2> + + + +<div class="blockquot"><p>The chief difference between a wise man and an ignorant one is, not<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_307" id="VII_Page_307">[Pg 307]</a></span> +that the first is acquainted with regions invisible to the second, +away from common sight and interest, but that he understands the +common things which the second only sees.</p></div> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">—<i>Sight and Insight</i></span><br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_308" id="VII_Page_308">[Pg 308]</a></span></p> + +<div class="center"> + <a id="image0450-1"></a> + <img src="images/0450-1.jpg" width="274" height="400" + alt="" + title="" /> + + <p class="center">STARR KING</p> +</div> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_309" id="VII_Page_309">[Pg 309]</a></span></p> + + + +<p>If you had chanced to live in Boston in the early Nineties, alert for +all good things in a mental and spiritual way, you would have made the +Sundays sacred to Minot Savage, Phillips Brooks and Edward Everett Hale.</p> + +<p>Emerson says that if you know a clergyman's sect and behold his livery, +in spite of all his show of approaching the subject without prejudice, +you know beforehand exactly to what conclusions he will come. This is +what robs most sermons of their interest. Preaching, like humor, must +have in it the element of surprise. I remember with what a thrill of +delight I would sit and watch Minot Savage unwind his logic and then +gently weave it into a fabric. The man was not afraid to follow a reason +to its lair. He had a way of saying the thing for the first time—it +came as a personal message, contradicting, possibly, all that had been +said before on the subject, oblivious of precedent.</p> + +<p>I once saw a man with a line around his waist leap from a stranded ship +into the sea, and strike out boldly for the shore. The thrill of +admiration for the act was unforgetable.</p> + +<p>The joy of beholding a strong and valiant thinker plunge into a theme is +an event. Will he make the<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_310" id="VII_Page_310">[Pg 310]</a></span> shore, or shall he go down to defeat before +these thousands of spectators?</p> + +<p>When Minot Savage ceased to speak, you knew he had won—he had brought +the line safely to shore and made all secure.</p> + +<p>Or, if you have heard Rabbi Hirsch or Felix Adler, you know the feeling. +These men make a demand upon you—you play out the line for them, and +when all is secure, there is a relief which shows you have been under an +intense strain. To paraphrase Browning, they offer no substitute, to an +idle man, for a cushioned chair and cigar.</p> + +<p>Phillips Brooks made small demand upon his auditors. If I heard Minot +Savage in the morning and got wound up tight, as I always did, I went to +Vespers at Trinity Church for rest.</p> + +<p>The soft, sweet playing of the organ, the subdued lights, the far-away +voices of the choir, and finally the earnest words of the speaker, +worked a psychic spell. The sermon began nowhere and ended nowhere—the +speaker was a great, gentle personality, with a heart of love for +everybody and everything. We have heard of the old lady who would go +miles to hear her pastor pronounce the word Mesopotamia, but he put no +more soul into it than did Phillips Brooks. The service was all a sort +of lullaby for tired souls—healing and helpful.</p> + +<p>But as after every indulgence there comes a minor strain of +dissatisfaction following the awakening, so it<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_311" id="VII_Page_311">[Pg 311]</a></span> was here—it was +beautiful while it lasted. Then eight o'clock would come and I would be +at Edward Everett Hale's. This sturdy old man, with his towering form, +rugged face and echoing bass voice, would open up the stops and give his +blessed "Mesopotamia" like a trumpet call. He never worked the soft +pedal. His first words always made me think of "Boots and Saddles!" Be a +man—do something! Why stand ye here all the day idle!</p> + +<p>And there was love and entreaty, too, but it never lulled you into +forgetfulness. There was intellect, but it did not ask you to follow it. +The dear old man did not wind in and out among the sinuosities of +thought—no, he was right out on the broad prairie, under the open sky, +sounding "Boots and Saddles!"</p> + +<p>In Doctor Hale's church is a most beautiful memorial window to Thomas +Starr King, who was at one time the pastor of this church. I remember +Doctor Hale once rose and pointing to that window, said: "That window is +in memory of a man! But how vain a window, how absurd a monument if the +man had not left his impress upon the hearts of humanity! That beautiful +window only mirrors our memories of the individual."</p> + +<p>And then Doctor Hale talked, just talked for an hour about Starr King.</p> + +<p>Doctor Hale has given that same talk or sermon every year for thirty +years: I have heard it three times, but never exactly twice alike. I +have tried to get a printed<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_312" id="VII_Page_312">[Pg 312]</a></span> copy of the address, but have so far +failed. Yet this is sure: you can not hear Doctor Hale tell of Starr +King without a feeling that King was a most royal specimen of humanity, +and a wish down deep in your heart that you, too, might reflect some of +the sterling virtues that he possessed.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_313" id="VII_Page_313">[Pg 313]</a></span>Starr King died in California in Eighteen Hundred Sixty-four. In Golden +Gate Park, San Francisco, is his statue in bronze. In the First +Unitarian Church of San Francisco is a tablet to his memory; in the +Unitarian Church at Oakland are many loving tokens to his personality; +and in the State House at Sacramento is his portrait and an engrossed +copy of resolutions passed by the Legislature at the time of his death, +wherein he is referred to as "the man whose matchless oratory saved +California to the Union."</p> + +<p>"Who was Starr King?" I once asked Doctor Charles H. Leonard of Tufts +College. And the saintly old man lifted his eyes as if in prayer of +thankfulness and answered: "Starr King! Starr King! He was the gentlest +and strongest, the most gifted soul I ever knew—I bless God that I +lived just to know Starr King!"</p> + +<p>Not long after this I asked the same question of Doctor C. A. Bartol +that I had asked Doctor Leonard, and the reply was: "He was a man who +proved the possible—in point of temper and talent, the most virile +personality that New England has produced. We call Webster our greatest +orator, but this man surpassed Webster: he had a smile that was a +benediction; a voice that was a caress. We admired Webster, but Starr +King we loved: one convinced our reason, the other captured our hearts."</p> + +<p>The Oriental custom of presenting a thing to the friend<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_314" id="VII_Page_314">[Pg 314]</a></span> who admires it +symbols a very great truth. If you love a thing well enough, you make it +yours.</p> + +<p>Culture is a matter of desire; knowledge is to be had for the asking; +and education is yours if you want it. All men should have a college +education in order that they may know its worthlessness. George William +Curtis was a very prince of gentlemen, and as an orator he won by his +manner and by his gentle voice fully as much as by the orderly +procession of his thoughts.</p> + +<p>"Oh, what is it in me that makes me tremble so at voices! Whoever speaks +to me in the right voice, him or her will I follow," says Walt Whitman.</p> + +<p>If you have ever loved a woman and you care to go back to May-time and +try to analyze the why and the wherefore, you probably will not be able +to locate the why and the wherefore, but this negative truth you will +discover: you were not won by logic. Of course you admired the woman's +intellect—it sort of matched your own, and in loving her you +complimented yourself, for thus by love and admiration do we prove our +kinship with the thing loved.</p> + +<p>But intellect alone is too cold to fuse the heart. Something else is +required, and for lack of a better word we call it "personality." This +glowing, winning personality that inspires confidence and trust is a +bouquet of virtues, the chief flower of which is Right Intent—honesty +may be a bit old-fashioned, but do not try to leave it out.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_315" id="VII_Page_315">[Pg 315]</a></span>George William Curtis and Starr King had a frank, wide-open, genuine +quality that disarmed prejudice right at the start. And both were big +enough so that they never bemoaned the fact that Fate had sent them to +the University of Hard Knocks instead of matriculating them at Harvard.</p> + +<p>I once heard George William Curtis speak at Saint James Hall, Buffalo, +on Civil-Service Reform—a most appalling subject with which to hold a +"popular audience." He was introduced by the Honorable Sherman S. +Rogers, a man who was known for ten miles up the creek as the greatest +orator in Erie County. After the speech of introduction, Curtis stepped +to the front, laid on the reading-desk a bundle of manuscript, turned +one page, and began to talk. He talked for two hours, and never once +again referred to his manuscript—we thought he had forgotten it. He +himself tells somewhere of Edward Everett doing the same. It is fine to +have a thing and still show that you do not need it. The style of Curtis +was in such marked contrast to the bluegrass article represented by +Rogers that it seemed a rebuke. One was florid, declamatory, strong, +full of reasons: the other was keyed low—it was so melodious, so gently +persuasive, that we were thrown off our guard and didn't know we had +imbibed rank heresy until we were told so the next day by a man who was +not there. As the speaker closed, an old lady seated near me sighed +softly, adjusted her Paisley shawl and<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_316" id="VII_Page_316">[Pg 316]</a></span> said, "That was the finest +address I ever heard, except one given in this very hall in Eighteen +Hundred Fifty-nine by Starr King."</p> + +<p>And I said, "Well, a speech that you can remember for twenty-five years +must have been a good one!"</p> + +<p>"It wasn't the address so much as the man," answered this mother in +Israel, and she heaved another small sigh.</p> + +<p>And therein did the good old lady drop a confession. I doubt me much +whether any woman will remember any speech for a week—she just +remembers the man.</p> + +<p>And this applies pretty nearly as much to men, too. Is there sex in +spirit? Hardly! Thoreau says the character of Jesus was essentially +feminine. Herbert Spencer avers, "The high intuitive quality which we +call genius is largely feminine in character." "Starr King was the child +of his mother, and his best qualities were feminine," said the Reverend +E. H. Chapin.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_317" id="VII_Page_317">[Pg 317]</a></span>When Starr King's father died the boy was fifteen. There were five +younger children and Starr was made man of the house by Destiny's +acclaim. Responsibility ripens. This slim, slender youth became a man in +a day.</p> + +<p>The father had been the pastor of the Charlestown Universalist Church. I +suppose it is hardly necessary to take a page and prove that this +clergyman in an unpopular church did not leave a large fortune to his +family. In truth, he left a legacy of debts. Starr King, the boy of +fifteen, left school and became clerk in a drygoods-store. The mother +cared for her household and took in sewing.</p> + +<p>Joshua Bates, master of the Winthrop School, describes Starr King as he +was when the father's death cut off his schooldays: "Slight of build, +golden-haired, active, agile, with a homely face which everybody thought +was handsome on account of the beaming eyes, the winning smile and the +earnest desire of always wanting to do what was best and right."</p> + +<p>This kind of boy gets along all right anywhere—God is on his side. The +hours in the drygoods-store were long, and on Saturday nights it was +nearly midnight before Starr would reach home. But there was a light in +the window for him, even if whale-oil was scarce, and the mother was at +her sewing. Together they ate their midnight lunch, and counted the +earnings of the week.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_318" id="VII_Page_318">[Pg 318]</a></span>And the surprise of both that they were getting a living and paying off +the debts sort of cleared the atmosphere of its gloom.</p> + +<p>In Burke's "Essay on the Sublime," he speaks of the quiet joy that comes +through calamity when we discover that the calamity has not really +touched us. The death of a father who leaves a penniless widow and a +hungry brood comes at first as a shock—the heavens are darkened and +hope has fled.</p> + +<p>I know a man who was in a railroad wreck—the sleeping-car in which he +rode left the track and rolled down an embankment. There was a black +interval of horror, and then this man found himself, clad in his +underclothes, standing on the upturned car, looking up at the Pleiades +and this thought in his mind, "What beauty and peace are in these winter +heavens!" The calamity had come—he was absolutely untouched—he was +locating the constellations and surprised and happy in his ability to +enjoy them.</p> + +<p>Starr King and his mother sipped their midnight tea and grew jolly over +the thought of their comfortable home; they were clothed and fed, the +children well and sleeping soundly in baby abandon upstairs, the debts +were being paid. They laughed, did this mother and son, really laughed +aloud, when only a month before they had thought that only gloom and +misery could ever again be theirs.</p> + +<p>They laughed!</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_319" id="VII_Page_319">[Pg 319]</a></span>And soon the young man's salary was increased—people liked to trade +with him—customers came and asked that he might wait on them. He sold +more goods than anyone else in his department, and yet he never talked +things on to people. He was alert, affable, kindly, and anticipated the +wishes and wants of his customers without being subservient, fawning or +domineering.</p> + +<p>This kind of helper is needed everywhere—the one who gives a willing +hand, who puts soul into his service, who brings a glow of good-cheer +into all his relations with men.</p> + +<p>The doing things with a hearty enthusiasm is often what makes the doer a +marked person and his deeds effective. The most ordinary service is +dignified when it is performed in that spirit. Every employer wants +those who work for him to put heart and mind into the toil. He soon +picks out those whose souls are in their service, and gives them +evidence of his appreciation. They do not need constant watching. He can +trust them in his absence, and so the places of honor and profit +naturally gravitate to them.</p> + +<p>The years went by, and one fine day Starr King was twenty years of age. +All of the debts were paid, the children were going to school, and +mother and son faced the world from the vantage-ground of success. Starr +had quit the drygoods trade and gone to teaching school on less salary, +so as to get more leisure for study.</p> + +<p>Incidentally he kept books at the Navy Yard.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_320" id="VII_Page_320">[Pg 320]</a></span>About this time Theodore Parker wrote to a friend in Maiden: "I can not +come to preach for you as I would like, but with your permission I will +send Thomas Starr King. This young man is not a regularly ordained +preacher, but he has the grace of God in his heart, and the gift of +tongues. He is a rare, sweet spirit, and I know that after you have met +him you will thank me for sending him to you."</p> + +<p>Then soon we hear of Starr King's being invited to Medford to give a +Fourth of July oration, and also of his speaking in the Universalist +churches at Cambridge, Waltham, Watertown, Hingham and Salem—sent to +these places by Doctor E. H. Chapin, pastor of the Charlestown +Universalist Church, and successor to the Reverend Thomas F. King, +father of Starr King.</p> + +<p>Starr seems to have served as a sort of assistant to Chapin, and thereby +revealed his talent and won the heart of the great man. Edwin Hubbell +Chapin was only ten years older than Starr King, and at that time had +not really discovered himself, but in discovering another he found +himself. Twenty years later Beecher and Chapin were to rival each other +for first place as America's greatest pulpit orator. These men were +always fast friends, yet when they met at convention or conference folks +came for miles to see the fire fly. "Where are you going?" once asked +Beecher of Chapin when they met by chance on Broadway. "Where am I +going?" repeated Chapin. "Why, if you are right<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_321" id="VII_Page_321">[Pg 321]</a></span> in what you preach, you +know where I am going." But only a few years were to pass before Chapin +said in public in Beecher's presence, "I am jealous of Mr. Beecher—he +preaches a better Universalist sermon than I can." Chapin made his mark +upon the time: his sermons read as though they were written yesterday, +and carry with them a deal of the swing and onward sweep that are +usually lost when the orator attempts to write. But if Chapin had done +nothing else but discover Starr King, the drygoods-clerk, rescue him +from the clutch of commerce and back him on the orator's platform, he +deserves the gratitude of generations. And all this I say as a +businessman who fully recognizes that commerce is just as honorable and +a deal more necessary than oratory. But there were other men to sell +thread and calico, and God had special work for Thomas Starr King.</p> + +<p>Chapin was a graduate of Bennington Seminary, the school that also +graduated the father of Robert Ingersoll. On Chapin's request Theodore +Parker, himself a Harvard man, sent Starr King over to Cambridge to +preach. Boston was a college town—filled with college traditions, and +when one thinks of sending out this untaught stripling to address +college men, we can not but admire the temerity of both Chapin and +Parker. "He has never attended a Divinity School," writes Chapin to +Deacon Obadiah B. Queer of Quincy, "but he is educated just the same. He +speaks Greek, Hebrew,<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_322" id="VII_Page_322">[Pg 322]</a></span> French, German, and fairly good English, as you +will see. He knows natural history and he knows humanity; and if one +knows man and Nature, he comes pretty close to knowing God."</p> + +<p>Where did this drygoods-clerk get his education? Ah, I'll tell you—he +got his education as the lion's whelp gets his. The lioness does not +send her cub away to a lioness that has no cubs in order that he may be +taught. The lion nature gets what it needs with its mother's milk and by +doing.</p> + +<p>Schools and colleges are cumbrous makeshifts, often forcing truth on +pupils out of season, and thus making lessons grievous. "The soul knows +all things," says Emerson, "and knowledge is only a remembering." "When +the time is ripe, men know," wrote Hegel. At the last we can not teach +anything—nothing is imparted. We can not make the plants and +flowers grow—all we can do is to supply the conditions, and God +does the rest. In education we can only supply the conditions for +growth—we can not impart, nor force the germs to unfold.</p> + +<p>Starr King's mother was his teacher. Together they read good books, and +discussed great themes. She read for him and he studied for her. She did +not treat him as a child—things that interested her she told to him. +The sunshine of her soul was reflected upon his, and thus did he grow. I +know a woman whose children will be learned, even though they never +enter a schoolroom. This<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_323" id="VII_Page_323">[Pg 323]</a></span> woman is a companion to her children and her +mind vitalizes theirs. This does not mean that we should at once do away +with schools and colleges, but it does reveal the possible. To read and +then discuss with a strong and sympathetic intellect what you read is to +make the thought your own—it is a form of exercise that brings growth.</p> + +<p>Starr King's mother was not a wonderful nor a famous person—I find no +mention of her in Society's Doings of the day—nothing of her dress or +equipage. If she was "superbly gowned," we do not know it; if she was +ever one of the "unbonneted," history is silent. All we know is, that +together they read Bulfinch's "Mythology," Grote's "History of Greece," +Plutarch, Dante and Shakespeare. We know that she placed a light in the +window for him to make his home-coming cheerful, that together they +sipped their midnight tea, that together they laughed, and sometimes +wept—but not for long.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_324" id="VII_Page_324">[Pg 324]</a></span>In Eighteen Hundred Forty-six Chapin was thirty-two years old. Starr +King was twenty-two. A call had reached Chapin to come up higher; but he +refused to leave the old church at Charlestown unless Starr King was to +succeed him. To place a young man in the position of pastor where he has +sat in the pews, his feet not reaching the floor, is most trying. Starr +King knew every individual man, woman and child in the church, and they +had known him since babyhood. In appearance he was but a boy, and the +dignity that is supposed to send conviction home was entirely wanting.</p> + +<p>But Chapin had his way and the boy was duly ordained and installed as +pastor of the First Universalist Church of Charlestown.</p> + +<p>The new pastor fully expected his congregation to give him "absent +treatment," but instead, the audience grew—folks even came over from +Boston to hear the boy-preacher. His sermons were carefully written, and +dealt in the simple, every-day lessons of life. To Starr King this world +is paradise enow; it's the best place of which we know, and the way for +man to help himself is to try and make it a better place. There is a +flavor of Theodore Parker in those early sermons, a trace of Thoreau and +much tincture of Emerson—and all this was to the credit of the +boy-preacher. His woman's mind absorbed things.</p> + +<p>About that time Boston was in very fact the intellectual<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_325" id="VII_Page_325">[Pg 325]</a></span> hub of +America. Emerson was forty-three, his "Nature" had been published +anonymously, and although it took eight years to sell this edition of +five hundred copies, the author was in demand as a lecturer, and in some +places society conceded him respectable. Wendell Phillips was addressing +audiences that alternately applauded and jeered. Thoreau had discovered +the Merrimac and explored Walden Woods; little Doctor Holmes was +peregrinating in his One-Hoss Shay, vouchsafing the confidences of his +boarding-house; Lowell was beginning to violate the rules of rhetoric; +Whittier was making his plea for the runaway slave; and throughout New +England the Lecture Lyceum was feeling its way.</p> + +<p>A lecture course was then no vaudeville—five concerts and two lectures +to take off the curse—not that! The speakers supplied strong meat for +men. The stars in the lyceum sky were Emerson, Chapin, Beecher, Holmes, +Bartol, Phillips, Ballou, Everett and Lowell. These men made the New +England Lyceum a vast pulpit of free speech and advanced thought. And to +a degree the Lyceum made these men what they were. They influenced the +times and were influenced by the times. They were in competition with +each other. A pace had been set, a record made, and the audiences that +gathered expected much. An audience gets just what it deserves and no +more. If you have listened to a poor speech, blame yourself.</p> + +<p>In the life of George Francis Train, he tells that in<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_326" id="VII_Page_326">[Pg 326]</a></span> Eighteen Hundred +Forty Emerson spoke in Waltham for five dollars and four quarts of oats +for his horse—now he received twenty-five dollars. Chapin got the same, +and when the Committee could not afford this, he referred them to Starr +King, who would lecture for five dollars and supply his own horse-feed.</p> + +<p>Two years went by and calls came for Starr King to come up higher. +Worcester would double his salary if he would take a year's course at +the Harvard Divinity School. Starr showed the letter to Chapin, and both +laughed. Worcester was satisfied with Starr King as he was, but what +would Springfield say if they called a man who had no theological +training? And then it was that Chapin said, "Divinity is not taught in +the Harvard Divinity School," which sounds like a paraphrase of Ernest +Renan's, "You will find God anywhere but in a theological seminary."</p> + +<p>King declined the call to Worcester, but harkened to one from the Hollis +Street Church of Boston. He went over from Universalism to Unitarianism +and still remained a Universalist—and this created quite a dust among +the theologs. Little men love their denomination with a jealous +love—truth is secondary—they see microscopic difference where big men +behold only unity.</p> + +<p>It was about this time that Starr King pronounced this classic: "The +difference between Universalism and Unitarianism is that Universalists +believe that God is too good to damn them; and the Unitarians believe +that<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_327" id="VII_Page_327">[Pg 327]</a></span> they are too good to be damned."</p> + +<p>At the Hollis Street Church this stripling of twenty-four now found +himself being compared with the foremost preachers of America. And the +man grew with his work, rising to the level of events. It was at the +grave of Oliver Wendell Holmes that Edward Everett Hale said, "The five +men who have influenced the literary and intellectual thought of America +most, believed in their own divinity no less than in the divinity of +Jesus of Nazareth."</p> + +<p>The destiny of the liberal church is not to become strong and powerful, +but to make all other denominations more liberal. When Chapin accused +Beecher of preaching Universalist sermons, it was a home thrust, because +Beecher would never have preached such sermons had not Murray, Ballou, +Theodore Parker, Chapin and Starr King done so first—and Beecher +supplied the goods called for.</p> + +<p>Starr King's voice was deep, melodious and far-reaching, and it was not +an acquired "bishop's voice"—it was his own. The biggest basso I ever +heard was just five feet high and weighed one hundred twenty in his +stockings; Brignoli, the tenor, weighed two hundred forty. Avoirdupois +as a rule lessens the volume of the voice and heightens the +register—you can't have both adipose and chest tone. Webster and Starr +King had voices very much alike, and Webster, by the way, wasn't the big +man physically that the school readers proclaim. It was his gigantic +head and the royal way<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_328" id="VII_Page_328">[Pg 328]</a></span> he carried himself that made the Liverpool +stevedores say, "There goes the King of America."</p> + +<p>There was no pomposity about Starr King. Doctor Bartol has said that +when King lectured in a new town his homely, boyish face always caused a +small spasm of disappointment or merriment to sweep over the audience. +But when he spoke he was a transformed being, and his deep, mellow voice +would hush the most inveterate whisperers.</p> + +<p>For eleven years Starr King remained pastor of the Hollis Street Church. +During the last years of his pastorate he was much in demand as a +lecturer, and his voice was heard in all the principal cities as far +west as Chicago.</p> + +<p>His lecture, "Substance and Show," deserves to rank with Wendell +Phillips' "The Lost Arts." In truth it is very much like Phillips' +lecture. In "The Lost Arts" Phillips tells in easy conversational way of +the wonderful things that once existed; and Starr King relates in the +same manner the story of some of the wonderful things that are right +here and all around us. It reveals the mind of the man, his manner and +thought, as well as any of his productions. The great speech is an +evolution, and this lecture, given many times in the Eastern States +under various titles, did not touch really high-water mark until King +reached California and had cut loose from manuscript and tradition. An +extract seems in order:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_329" id="VII_Page_329">[Pg 329]</a></span><p>Most persons, doubtless, if you place before them a paving-stone +and a slip of paper with some writing on it, would not hesitate to +say that there is as much more substance in the rock than in the +paper as there is heaviness. Yet they might make a great mistake. +Suppose that the slip of paper contains the sentence, "God is +love"; or, "Thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself"; or, "All men +have moral rights by reason of heavenly parentage," then the paper +represents more force and substance than the stone. Heaven and +earth may pass away, but such words can never die out or become +less real.</p> + +<p>The word "substance" means that which stands under and supports +anything else. Whatever then creates, upholds, classifies anything +which our senses behold, though we can not handle, see, taste or +smell it, is more substantial than the object itself. In this way +the soul which vivifies, moves and supports the body is a more +potent substance than the hard bones and heavy flesh which it +vitalizes. A ten-pound weight falling on your head affects you +unpleasantly as substance, much more so than a leaf of the New +Testament, if dropped in the same direction; but there is a way in +which a page of the New Testament may fall upon a nation and split +it, or infuse itself into its bulk and give it strength and +permanence. We should be careful, therefore, what test we adopt in +order to decide the relative stability of things.</p> + +<p>There is a very general tendency to deny that ideal forces have any +practical power. But there have been several thinkers whose +skepticism has an opposite direction. "We can not," they say, +"attribute external<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_330" id="VII_Page_330">[Pg 330]</a></span> reality to the sensations we feel." We need +not wonder that this theory has failed to convince the +unmetaphysical common-sense of people that a stone post is merely a +stubborn thought, and that the bite of a dog is nothing but an +acquaintance with a pugnacious, four-footed conception. When a man +falls downstairs it is not easy to convince him that his thought +simply tumbles along an inclined series of perceptions and comes to +a conclusion that breaks his head; least of all, can you induce a +man to believe that the scolding of his wife is nothing but the +buzzing of his own waspish thoughts, and her too free use of his +purse only the loss of some golden fancies from his memory. We are +all safe against such idealism as Bishop Berkeley reasoned out so +logically. Byron's refutation of it is neat and witty:</p> + +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">"When Bishop Berkeley says there is no matter,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">It is no matter what Bishop Berkeley says."</span><br /> + +<p>And yet, by more satisfactory evidence than that which the +idealists propose, we are warned against confounding the conception +of substance with matter, and confining it to things we can see and +grasp. Science steps in and shows us that the physical system of +things leans on spirit. We talk of the world of matter, but there +is no such world. Everything about us is a mixture or marriage of +matter and spirit. A world of matter—there would be no motion, no +force, no form, no order, no beauty, in the universe as it now is; +organization meets us at every step and wherever we look; +organization implies spirit—something that rules, disposes, +penetrates and vivifies matter.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_331" id="VII_Page_331">[Pg 331]</a></span>See what a sermon astronomy preaches as to the substantial power of +invisible things. If the visible universe is so stupendous, what +shall we think of the unseen force and vitality in whose arms all +its splendors rest? It is no gigantic Atlas, as the Greeks fancied, +that upholds the celestial sphere; all the constellations are kept +from falling by an impalpable energy that uses no muscles and no +masonry. The ancient mathematician, Archimedes, once said, "Give me +a foot of ground outside the globe to stand upon, and I will make a +lever that will lift the world." The invisible lever of +gravitation, however, without any fulcrum or purchase, does lift +the globe, and makes it waltz, too, with its blonde lunar partner, +twelve hundred miles a minute to the music of the sun—ay, and +heaves sun and systems and Milky Way in majestic cotillions on its +ethereal floor.</p> + +<p>You grasp an iron ball, and call it hard; it is not the iron that +is hard, but cohesive force that packs the particles of metal into +intense sociability. Let the force abate, and the same metal +becomes like mush; let it disappear, and the ball is a heap of +powder which your breath scatters in the air. If the cohesive +energy in Nature should get tired and unclench its grasp of matter, +our earth would instantly become "a great slump"; so that which we +tread on is not material substance, but matter braced up by a +spiritual substance, for which it serves as the form and show.</p> + +<p>All the peculiarities of rock and glass, diamond, ice and crystal +are due to the working of unseen military forces that employ +themselves under ground—in caverns, beneath rivers, in mountain +crypts, and through<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_332" id="VII_Page_332">[Pg 332]</a></span> the coldest nights, drilling companies of +atoms into crystalline battalions and squares, and every caprice of +a fantastic order.</p> + +<p>When we turn to the vegetable kingdom, is not the revelation still +more wonderful? The forms which we see grow out of substances and +are supported by forces which we do not see. The stuff out of which +all vegetable appearances are made is reducible to oxygen, +hydrogen, carbon and nitrogen. How does it happen that this common +stock is worked up in such different ways? Why is a lily woven out +of it in one place and a dahlia in another, a grapevine here, and a +honeysuckle there—the orange in Italy, the palm in Egypt, the +olive in Greece and the pine in Maine? Simply because a subtile +force of a peculiar kind is at work wherever any vegetable +structure adorns the ground, and takes to itself its favorite robe. +We have outgrown the charming fancy of the Greeks that every tree +has its Dryad that lives in it, animates it, and dies when the tree +withers. But we ought, for the truth's sake, to believe that a +life-spirit inhabits every flower and shrub, and protects it +against the prowling forces of destruction. Look at a full-sized +oak, the rooted Leviathan of the fields. Judging by your senses and +by the scales, you would say that the substance of the noble tree +was its bulk of bark and bough and branch and leaves and sap, the +cords of woody and moist matter that compose it and make it heavy. +But really its substance is that which makes it an oak, that which +weaves its bark and glues it to the stem, and wraps its rings of +fresh wood around the trunk every year, and pushes out its boughs +and clothes its twigs with breathing<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_333" id="VII_Page_333">[Pg 333]</a></span> leaves and sucks up nutriment +from the soil continually, and makes the roots clench the ground +with their fibrous fingers as a purchase against the storm, and at +last holds aloft its tons of matter against the constant tug and +wrath of gravitation, and swings its Briarean arms in triumph, in +defiance of the gale. Were it not for this energetic essence that +crouches in the acorn and stretches its limbs every year, there +would be no oak; the matter that clothes it would enjoy its stupid +slumber; and when the forest monarch stands up in his sinewy, +lordliest pride, let the pervading life-power, and its vassal +forces that weigh nothing at all, be annihilated, and the whole +structure would wither in a second to inorganic dust. So every +gigantic fact in Nature is the index and vesture of a gigantic +force. Everything which we call organization that spots the +landscape of Nature is a revelation of secret force that has been +wedded to matter, and if the spiritual powers that have thus +domesticated themselves around us should be canceled, the whole +planet would be a huge Desert of Sahara—a bleak sand-ball, without +shrub, grass-blade or moss.</p> + +<p>As we rise in the scale of forces towards greater subtility, the +forces become more important and efficient. Water is more +intimately concerned with life than rock, air higher in the rank of +service than water, electric and magnetic agencies more powerful +than air; and light, the most delicate, is the supreme magician of +all. Just think how much expenditure of mechanical strength is +necessary to water a city in the hot summer months. What pumping +and tugging and wearisome trudging of horses with the great +sprinklers<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_334" id="VII_Page_334">[Pg 334]</a></span> over the tedious pavement! But see by what beautiful +and noiseless force Nature waters the world! The sun looks steadily +on the ocean, and its beams lift lakes of water into the air, +tossing it up thousands of feet with their delicate fingers, and +carefully picking every grain of salt from it before they let it +go. No granite reservoirs are needed to hold in the Cochituates and +Crotons of the atmosphere, but the soft outlines of the clouds hem +in the vast weight of the upper tides that are to cool the globe, +and the winds harness themselves as steeds to the silken caldrons +and hurry them along through space, while they disburse their +rivers of moisture from their great height so lightly that seldom a +violet is crushed by the rudeness with which the stream descends.</p> + +<p>Our conceptions of strength and endurance are so associated with +visible implements and mechanical arrangements that it is hard to +divorce them, and yet the stream of electric fire that splits an +ash is not a ponderable thing, and the way in which the lodestone +reaches the ten-pound weight and makes it jump is not perceptible. +You would think the man had pretty good molars that should gnaw a +spike like a stick of candy, but a bottle of innocent-looking +hydrogen-gas will chew up a piece of bar-iron as though it were +some favorite Cavendish.</p> + +<p>The prominent lesson of science to men, therefore, is faith in the +intangible and invisible. Shall we talk of matter as the great +reality of the world, the prominent substance? It is nothing but +the battleground of terrific forces. Every particle of matter, the +chemists tell us, is strained up to its last degree of endurance. +The<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_335" id="VII_Page_335">[Pg 335]</a></span> glistening bead of dew from which the daisy gently nurses its +strength, and which a sunbeam may dissipate, is the globular +compromise of antagonistic powers that would shake this building in +their unchained rage. And so every atom of matter is the slave of +imperious masters that never let it alone. It is nursed and +caressed, next bandied about, and soon cuffed and kicked by its +invisible overseers. Poor atoms! No abolition societies will ever +free them from their bondage, no colonization movement waft them to +any physical Liberia. For every particle of matter is bound by +eternal fealty to some spiritual lords, to be pinched by one and +squeezed by another and torn asunder by a third; now to be painted +by this and now blistered by that; now tormented with heat and soon +chilled with cold; hurried from the Arctic Circle to sweat at the +Equator, and then sent on an errand to the Southern Pole; forced +through transmigrations of fish, fowl and flesh; and, if in some +corner of creation the poor thing finds leisure to die, searched +out and whipped to life again and kept in its constant round.</p> + +<p>Thus the stuff that we weigh, handle and tread upon is only the +show of invisible substances, the facts over which subtle and +mighty forces rule.</p></div> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_336" id="VII_Page_336">[Pg 336]</a></span>Starr King was that kind of plant which needs to be repotted in order to +make it flower at its very best. Events kept tugging to loosen his +tendrils from his early environments. People who live on Boston Bay like +to remain there. We have all heard of the good woman who died and went +to Heaven, and after a short sojourn there was asked how she liked it, +and she sighed and said, "Ah, yes, it is very beautiful, but it isn't +East Somerville!"</p> + +<p>Had Starr King consented to remain in Boston he might have held his +charge against the ravages of time, secreted a curate, taken on a +becoming buffer of adipose, and glided off by imperceptible degrees on +to the Superannuated List.</p> + +<p>But early in that historic month of April, Eighteen Hundred Sixty-one, +he set sail for California, having accepted a call from the First +Unitarian Church of San Francisco. This was his first trip to the +Pacific Coast, but New England people had preceded him, and not being +able to return, they wanted Boston to come to them. The journey was made +by the way of Panama, without any special event. The pilot who met the +ship outside of Golden Gate bore them the first news that Sumter had +been fired upon, and the bombardment was at the time when the ship that +bore Starr King was only a few miles from South Carolina's coast.</p> + +<p>With prophetic vision Starr King saw the struggle<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_337" id="VII_Page_337">[Pg 337]</a></span> that was to come, and +the words of Webster, uttered many years before, rushed to his lips:</p> + +<p>"When my eyes shall be turned to behold for the last time the sun in +heaven, may I not see him shining on the broken and dishonored fragments +of a once glorious Union; on States dissevered, discordant, belligerent; +on a land rent with civil feuds, or drenched, it may be, in fraternal +blood! Let their last feeble and lingering glance rather behold the +gorgeous ensign of the republic now known and honored throughout the +earth, still full high advanced, its arms and trophies streaming in +their original luster, not a stripe erased nor polluted, nor a single +star obscured, bearing for its motto no such miserable interrogatory as +'What is all this worth?' nor those other words of delusion and folly, +'Liberty first and Union afterwards'; but everywhere, spread over all in +characters of living light, blazing on all its ample folds, as they +float over the sea and over the land, and in every wind under the whole +heavens, that other sentiment, dear to every true American +heart—Liberty and Union, now and forever, one and inseparable!"</p> + +<p>The landing was made on Saturday, and the following day Starr King spoke +for the first time in California. An hour before the service was to +begin, the church was wedged tight. The preacher had much difficulty in +making his way through the dense mass of humanity to reach the pulpit. +"Is that the man?" went up the<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_338" id="VII_Page_338">[Pg 338]</a></span> smothered exclamation, as Starr King +reached the platform and faced his audience. His slight, slender figure +and boyish face were plainly a disappointment, but this was not to last. +The preacher had prepared a sermon—such a sermon as he had given many +times to well-dressed, orderly and cultured Boston.</p> + +<p>And if this California audience was surprised, the speaker also was no +less. The men to women were as seven to one. He saw before him a sea of +bronzed and bearded faces, earnest, attentive and hungry for truth. +There were occasional marks of dissipation and the riot of the senses, +softened by excess into penitence—whipped out and homesick. Here were +miners in red-flannel shirts, sailors, soldiers in uniform and soldiers +of fortune. The preacher looked at the motley mass in a vain attempt to +pick out his old friends from New England. The genteel, slightly blasé +quality of culture that leans back in its cushioned pew and courteously +waits to be instructed, was not there. These people did not lean back: +they leaned forward, and with parted lips they listened for every word. +There was no choir, and when "an old familiar hymn" was lined off by a +volunteer who knew his business, that great audience arose and sang as +though it would shake the rafters of heaven.</p> + +<p>Those who go down to the sea in ships, sing; shepherds who tend their +flocks by night, sing; men in the forest or those who follow the +trackless plains, sing.<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_339" id="VII_Page_339">[Pg 339]</a></span> Congregational singing is most popular among +those who live far apart—to get together and sing is a solace. +Loneliness, separation and heart-hunger all drive men into song.</p> + +<p>These men, many of them far from home, lifted up their voices, and the +sounds surged through that church and echoed, surged again and caught +even the preacher in their winding waves. He started in to give one +sermon and gave another. The audience, the time, the place, acted upon +him.</p> + +<p>Oratory is essentially a pioneer product, a rustic article. Great +sermons and great speeches are given only to people who have come from +afar.</p> + +<p>Starr King forgot his manuscript and pulpit manners. His deep voice +throbbed and pulsed with emotion, and the tensity of the times was upon +him. Without once referring directly to Sumter, his address was a call +to arms.</p> + +<p>He spoke for an hour, and when he sat down he knew that he had won. The +next Sunday the place was again packed, and then followed urgent +invitations that he should speak during the week in a larger hall.</p> + +<p>California was trembling in the balances, and orators were not wanting +to give out the arguments of Calhoun. They showed that the right of +secession was plainly provided for in the Constitution. Lincoln's call +for troops was coldly received, and from several San Francisco pulpits +orthodox clergymen were expressing<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_340" id="VII_Page_340">[Pg 340]</a></span> deep regret that the President was +plunging the country into civil war.</p> + +<p>The heart of Starr King burned with shame—to him there was but one side +to this question—the Union must be preserved.</p> + +<p>One man who had known King in Massachusetts wrote back home saying: "You +would not know Starr King—he is not the orderly man of genteel culture +you once had in Boston. He is a torrent of eloquence, so heartfelt, so +convincing, so powerful, that when he speaks on Sunday afternoon out on +the sand-hills, he excites the multitude into a whirlwind of applause, +with a basso undertone of dissent, which, however, seems to grow +gradually less."</p> + +<p>Loyalty to the Union was to him the one vital issue. His fight was not +with individuals—he made no personal issues. And in several joint +debates his courteous treatment of his adversary won converts for his +cause. He took pains to say that personally he had only friendship and +pity for the individuals who upheld secession and slavery—"The man in +the wrong needs friends as never before, since he has ceased to be his +own. Do we blame a blind man whom we see rushing towards a precipice?"</p> + +<p>From that first Sunday he preached in San Francisco, his life was an +ovation wherever he went. Wherever he was advertised to speak, +multitudes were there to hang upon his words. He spoke in all the +principal towns of<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_341" id="VII_Page_341">[Pg 341]</a></span> California; and often on the plains, in the +mountains, or by the seashore, men would gather from hundreds of miles +to hear him.</p> + +<p>He gave himself, and before he had been in California a year, the State +was safe for the Union, and men and treasure were being sent to +Lincoln's aid. The fame of Starr King reached the President, and he +found time to write several letters to the orator, thanking him for what +he had done. It was in one of these letters that Lincoln wrote, "The +only sermons I have ever been able to read and enjoy are those of John +Murray"—a statement which some have attempted to smile away as showing +the Rail-Splitter's astute diplomacy.</p> + +<p>Starr King gave his life to the Cause. He as much died for the Union as +though he had fallen stricken by flying lead upon the field. And he knew +what he was doing, but in answer to his warning friends he said, "I have +only one life to live and now is my time to spend it."</p> + +<p>For three years, lacking two months, he spoke and preached several times +every week. All he made and all he was he freely gave.</p> + +<p>For that frail frame this life of intensity had but one end.</p> + +<p>The Emancipation Proclamation had been issued, but Lee's surrender was +yet to be.</p> + +<p>"May I live to see unity and peace for my country," was the constant +prayer of the devoted preacher.</p> + +<p>Starr King died March Fourth, Eighteen Hundred<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_342" id="VII_Page_342">[Pg 342]</a></span> Sixty-four, aged forty +years. The closing words of his lecture on Socrates might well be +applied to himself: "Down the river of Life, by its Athenian banks, he +had floated upon his raft of reason serene, in cloudy as in smiling +weather. And now the night is rushing down, and he has reached the mouth +of the stream, and the great ocean is before him, dim-heaving in the +dusk. But he betrays no fear. There is land ahead, he thought; eternal +continents there are, that rise in constant light beyond the gloom. He +trusted still in the raft his soul had built, and with a brave farewell +to the true friends who stood by him on the shore, he put out into the +darkness, a moral Columbus, trusting in his haven on the faith of an +idea."</p> + + + +<hr class="full" /> +<h2><a name="HENRY_WARD_BEECHER" id="HENRY_WARD_BEECHER"></a>HENRY WARD BEECHER<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_343" id="VII_Page_343">[Pg 343]</a></span></h2> + + + +<div class="blockquot"><p>You know how the heart is subject to freshets; you know how the +mother, always loving her child, yet seeing in it some new wile of +affection, will catch it up and cover it with kisses and break +forth in a rapture of loving. Such a kind of heart-glow fell from +the Savior upon that young man who said to him, "Good Master, what +good thing shall I do that I may inherit eternal life?" It is said, +"Then Jesus, beholding him, loved him."</p></div> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">—<i>Henry Ward Beecher</i></span><br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_344" id="VII_Page_344">[Pg 344]</a></span></p> + +<div class="center"> + <a id="image0451-1"></a> + <img src="images/0451-1.jpg" width="295" height="400" + alt="" + title="" /> + + <p class="center">HENRY WARD BEECHER</p> +</div> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_345" id="VII_Page_345">[Pg 345]</a></span></p> + + + +<p>The influence of Henry Ward Beecher upon his time was marked. And now +the stream of his life is lost amid the ocean of our being. As a single +drop of aniline in a barrel of water will tint the whole mass, so has +the entire American mind been colored through the existence of this one +glowing personality. He placed a new interpretation on religion, and we +are different people because he lived.</p> + +<p>He was not constructive, not administrative—he wrote much, but as +literature his work has small claim on immortality. He was an orator, +and the business of the orator is to inspire other men to think and act +for themselves.</p> + +<p>Orators live but in memory. Their destiny is to be the sweet, elusive +fragrance of oblivion—the thyme and mignonette of things that were.</p> + +<p>The limitations in the all-around man are by-products which are used by +destiny in the making of orators. The welling emotions, the vivid +imagination, the forgetfulness of self, the abandon to feeling—all +these things in Wall Street are spurious coin. No prudent man was ever +an orator—no cautious man ever made a multitude change its mind, when +it had vowed it would not.</p> + +<p>Oratory is indiscretion set to music.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_346" id="VII_Page_346">[Pg 346]</a></span>The great orator is great on account of his weaknesses as well as on +account of his strength. So why should we expect the orator to be the +impeccable man of perfect parts?</p> + +<p>These essays attempt to give the man—they are neither a vindication nor +an apology.</p> + +<p>Edmund Gosse has recently said something so wise and to the point on the +subject of biography that I can not resist the temptation to quote him:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>If the reader will but bear with me so far as to endure the thesis +that the first theoretical object of the biographer should be +indiscretion, not discretion, I will concede almost everything +practical to delicacy. But this must be granted to me: that the aim +of all portraiture ought to be the emphasizing of what makes the +man different from, not like, other men. The widow almost always +desires that her deceased hero should be represented as exactly +like all other respectable men, only a little grander, a little +more glorified. She hates, as only a bad biographer can hate, the +telling of the truth with respect to those faults and foibles which +made the light and shade of his character. This, it appears, was +the primitive view of biography. The mass of medieval memorials was +of the "expanded-tract" order: it was mainly composed of lives of +the saints, tractates in which the possible and the impossible were +mingled in inextricable disorder, but where every word was intended +directly for edification. Here the biographer was a moralist whose +hold upon exact truth of statement was very loose indeed, but who<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_347" id="VII_Page_347">[Pg 347]</a></span> +was determined that every word he wrote should strengthen his +readers in the faith. Nor is this generation of biographers dead +today. Half the lives of the great and good men, which are +published in England and America, are expanded tracts. Let the +biographer be tactful, but do not let him be cowardly; let him +cultivate delicacy, but avoid its ridiculous parody, prudery.</p></div> + +<p>And I also quote this from James Anthony Froude:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>The usual custom in biography is to begin with the brightest side +and to leave the faults to be discovered afterwards. It is +dishonest and it does not answer. Of all literary sins, Carlyle +himself detested most a false biography. Faults frankly +acknowledged are frankly forgiven. Faults concealed work always +like poison. Burns' offenses were made no secret of. They are now +forgotten, and Burns stands without a shadow on him, the idol of +his countrymen.</p> + +<p>Byron's diary was destroyed, and he remains and will remain with a +stain of suspicion about him, which revives and will revive, and +will never be wholly obliterated. "The truth shall make you free" +in biography as in everything else. Falsehood and concealment are a +great man's worst enemy.</p></div> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_348" id="VII_Page_348">[Pg 348]</a></span>Henry Ward Beecher was born at Litchfield, Connecticut, June +Twenty-third, Eighteen Hundred Thirteen. He was the eighth child of +Lyman and Roxana Foote Beecher. Like Lincoln and various other great +men, Beecher had two mothers: the one who gave him birth, and the one +who cared for him as he grew up. Beecher used to take with him on his +travels an old daguerreotype of his real mother, and in the cover of the +case, beneath the glass, was a lock of her hair—fair in color, and +bright as if touched by the kiss of the summer sun. Often he would take +this picture out and apostrophize it, just as he would the uncut gems +that he always carried in his pockets. "My first mother," he used to +call her; and to him she stood as a sort of deity. "My first mother +stands to me for love; my second mother for discipline; my father for +justice," he once said to Halliday.</p> + +<p>I am not sure that Beecher had a well-defined idea of either discipline +or justice, but love to him was a very vivid and personal reality. He +knew what it meant—infinite forgiveness, a lifelong, yearning +tenderness, a Something that suffereth long and is kind. This he +preached for fifty years, and he preached little else. Lyman Beecher +proclaimed the justice of God; Henry Ward Beecher told of His love. +Lyman Beecher was a logician, but Henry Ward was a lover. There is a +task on hand for the man who attempts to prove<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_349" id="VII_Page_349">[Pg 349]</a></span> that Nature is kind, or +that God is love. Perhaps man himself, with all his imperfections, gives +us the best example of love that the universe has to offer. In preaching +the love of God, Henry Ward Beecher revealed his own; for oratory, like +literature, is only a confession.</p> + +<p>"My first mother is always pleading for me—she reaches out her arms to +me—her delicate, long, tapering fingers stroke my hair—I hear her +voice, gentle and low!" Do you say this is the language of o'erwrought +emotion? I say to you it is simply the language of love. This mother, +dead and turned to dust, who passed out when the boy was scarce three +years old, stood to him for the ideal. Love, anyway, is a matter of the +imagination, and he who can not imagine can not love, and love is from +within. The lover clothes the beloved in the garments of his fancy, and +woe to him if he ever loses the power to imagine.</p> + +<p>Have you not often noticed how the man or woman whose mother died before +a time that the child could recall, and whose memory clusters around a +faded picture and a lock of hair—how this person is thrice blessed in +that the ideal is always a shelter when the real palls? Love is a refuge +and a defense. The Law of Compensation is kind: Lincoln lived, until the +day of his death, bathed in the love of Nancy Hanks, that mother, worn, +yellow and sad, who gave him birth, and yet whom he had never known. No +child ever<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_350" id="VII_Page_350">[Pg 350]</a></span> really lost its mother—nothing is ever lost. Men are really +only grown-up children, and the longing to be mothered is not effaced by +the passing years. The type is well shown in the life of Meissonier, +whose mother died in his childhood, but she was near him to the last. In +his journal he wrote this: "It is the morning of my seventieth birthday. +What a long time to look back upon! This morning, at the hour my mother +gave me birth, I wished my first thoughts to be of her. Dear Mother, how +often have the tears risen at the remembrance of you! It was your +absence—my longing for you—that made you so dear to me. The love of my +heart goes out to you! Do you hear me, Mother, crying and calling for +you? How sweet it must be to have a mother!"</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_351" id="VII_Page_351">[Pg 351]</a></span>One might suppose that a childless woman suddenly presented by Fate with +an exacting husband and a brood of nine would soon be a candidate for +nervous prostration; Sarah Porter Beecher, however, rose to the level of +events, and looked after her household with diligence and a +conscientious heart. Little Henry Ward was four years old and wore a +red-flannel dress, outgrown by one of the girls. He was chubby, with a +full-moon face and yellow curls, which were so much trouble to take care +of that they were soon cut off, after he had set the example of cutting +off two himself. He talked as though his mouth were full of hot mush. If +sent to a neighbor's on an errand, he usually forgot what he was sent +for, or else explained matters in such a way that he brought back the +wrong thing. His mother meant to be kind; her patience was splendid; and +one's heart goes out to her in sympathy when we think of her faithful +efforts to teach the lesser catechism to this baby savage who much +preferred to make mud-pies.</p> + +<p>Little Henry Ward had a third mother who did him much gentle benefit, +and that was his sister Harriet, two years his senior. These little +child-mothers who take care of the younger members of the family deserve +special seats in Paradise. Harriet taught little Henry Ward to talk +plainly, to add four and four, and to look solemn when he did not feel +so—and thus escape the strap behind the kitchen-door. His bringing-up +was of<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_352" id="VII_Page_352">[Pg 352]</a></span> the uncaressing, let-alone kind.</p> + +<p>Lyman Beecher was a deal better than his religion; for his religion, +like that of most people, was an inheritance, not an evolution. Piety +settled down upon the household like a pall every Saturday at sundown; +and the lessons taught were largely from the Old Testament.</p> + +<p>These big, bustling, strenuous households are pretty good life-drill for +the members. The children are taught self-reliance, to do without each +other, to do for others, and the older members educate the younger ones. +It is a great thing to leave children alone. Henry Ward Beecher has +intimated in various places in his books how the whole Beecher brood +loved their father, yet as precaution against misunderstanding they made +the sudden sneak and the quick side-step whenever they saw him coming.</p> + +<p>Village life with a fair degree of prosperity, but not too much, is an +education in itself. The knowledge gained is not always classic, nor +even polite, but it is all a part of the great, seething game of life. +Henry Ward Beecher was not an educated man in the usual sense of the +word. At school he carved his desk, made faces at the girls, and kept +the place in a turmoil generally: doing the wrong thing, just like many +another bumpkin. At home he carried in the wood, picked up chips, worked +in the garden in Summer, and shoveled out the walks in Winter. He knew +when the dishwater was worth saving to mix up with meal for the +chickens,<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_353" id="VII_Page_353">[Pg 353]</a></span> and when it should be put on the asparagus-bed or the +rosebushes. He could make a lye-leach, knew that it was lucky to set +hens on thirteen eggs, realized that hens' eggs hatched in three weeks, +and ducks' in four. He knew when the berries ripened, where the crows +nested, and could find the bee-trees by watching the flight of the bees +after they had gotten their fill on the basswood-blossoms. He knew all +the birds that sang in the branches—could tell what birds migrated and +what not—was acquainted with the flowers and weeds and fungi—knew +where the rabbits burrowed—could pick the milkweed that would cure +warts, and tell the points of the compass by examining the bark of the +trees. He was on familiar terms with all the ragamuffins in the village, +and regarded the man who kept the livery-stable as the wisest person in +New England, and the stage-driver as the wittiest.</p> + +<p>Lyman Beecher was a graduate of Yale, and Henry Ward would have been, +had he been able to pass the preparatory examinations. But he couldn't, +and finally he was bundled off to Amherst, very much as we now send boys +to a business college when they get plucked at the high school. But it +matters little—give the boys time—some of them ripen slowly, and +others there be who know more at sixteen than they will ever know again, +like street gamins with the wit of debauchees, rareripes at ten, and +rotten at the core. "Delay adolescence," wrote Doctor Charcot to an +anxious mother;<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_354" id="VII_Page_354">[Pg 354]</a></span> "delay adolescence, and you bank energy until it is +needed. If your boy is stupid at fourteen, thank God! Dulness is a +fulcrum and your son is getting ready to put a lever under the world."</p> + +<p>At Amherst, Henry Ward stood well at the foot of his class. He read +everything except what was in the curriculum, and never allowed his +studies to interfere with his college course. He reveled in the debating +societies, and was always ready to thrash out any subject in wordy +warfare against all comers. His temper was splendid, his good-nature +sublime. If an opponent got the best of him he enjoyed it as much as the +audience—he could wait his turn. The man who can laugh at himself, and +who is not anxious to have the last word, is right in the suburbs of +greatness.</p> + +<p>However, the Beechers all had a deal of positivism in their characters. +Thomas K. Beecher of Elmira, in Eighteen Hundred Fifty-six, declared he +would not shave until John C. Fremont was elected President. It is +needless to add that he wore whiskers the rest of his life.</p> + +<p>When Henry Ward was nineteen his father received a call to become +President of Lane Theological Seminary at Cincinnati, and Henry Ward +accompanied him as assistant. The stalwart old father had now come to +recognize the worth of his son, and for the first time parental +authority was waived and they were companions. They were very much +alike—exuberant health, energy plus, faith and hope to spare. And<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_355" id="VII_Page_355">[Pg 355]</a></span> +Henry Ward now saw that there was a gentle, tender and yearning side to +his father's nature, into which the world caught only glimpses. Lyman +Beecher was not free—he was bound by a hagiograph riveted upon his +soul; and so to a degree his whole nature was cramped and tortured in +his struggles between the "natural man" and the "spiritual." The son was +taught by antithesis, and inwardly vowed he would be free. The one word +that looms large in the life of Beecher is Liberty.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_356" id="VII_Page_356">[Pg 356]</a></span>Henry Ward Beecher died aged seventy-four, having preached since he was +twenty-three. During that time he was pastor of three churches—two +years at Lawrenceburg, Indiana, six years at Indianapolis, and +forty-three years in Brooklyn. It was in Eighteen Hundred Thirty-seven +that he became pastor of the Congregational Church at Lawrenceburg. This +town was then a rival of Cincinnati. It had six churches—several more +than were absolutely needed. The Baptists were strong, the Presbyterians +were strenuous, the Episcopalians were exclusive, while the +Congregationalists were at ebb-tide through the rascality of a preacher +who had recently decamped and thrown a blanket of disgrace over the +whole denomination for ten miles up the creek. Thus were things when +Henry Ward Beecher assumed his first charge. The membership of the +church was made up of nineteen women and one man. The new pastor was +sexton as well as preacher—he swept out, rang the bell, lighted the +candles and locked up after service.</p> + +<p>Beecher remained in Lawrenceburg two years. The membership had increased +to one hundred six men and seventy women. I suppose it will not be +denied as an actual fact that women bolster the steeples so that they +stay on the churches. From the time women held the rope and let Saint +Paul down in safety from the wall in a basket, women have maintained the +faith. But Beecher was a man's preacher from first to last. He<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_357" id="VII_Page_357">[Pg 357]</a></span> was a +bold, manly man, making his appeal to men.</p> + +<p>Two years at Lawrenceburg and he moved to Indianapolis, the capital of +the State, his reputation having been carried thither by the member from +Posey County, who incautiously boasted that his "deestrick" had the most +powerful preacher of any town on the Ohio River.</p> + +<p>At Indianapolis, Beecher was a success at once. He entered into the +affairs of the people with an ease and a good nature that won the hearts +of this semi-pioneer population. His "Lectures to Young Men," delivered +Sunday evenings to packed houses, still have a sale. This bringing +religion down from the lofty heights of theology and making it a matter +of every-day life was eminently Beecheresque. And the reason it was a +success was because it fitted the needs of the people. Beecher expressed +what the people were thinking. Mankind clings to the creed; we will not +burn our bridges—we want the religion of our mothers, yet we crave the +simple common-sense we can comprehend as well as the superstition we +can't. Beecher's task was to rationalize orthodoxy so as to make it +palatable to thinking minds. "I can't ride two horses at one time," once +said Robert Ingersoll to Beecher, "but possibly I'll be able to yet, for +tomorrow I am going to hear you preach." Then it was that Beecher +offered to write Ingersoll's epitaph, which he proceeded to do by +scribbling two words on the back of an envelope,<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_358" id="VII_Page_358">[Pg 358]</a></span> thus: "Robert Burns."</p> + +<p>But these men understood and had a thorough respect for each other. Once +at a mass-meeting at Cooper Union, Beecher introduced Ingersoll as the +"first, foremost and most gifted of all living orators."</p> + +<p>And Ingersoll, not to be outdone, referred in his speech to Beecher as +the "one orthodox clergyman in the world who has eliminated hell from +his creed and put the devil out of church, and still stands in his +pulpit."</p> + +<p>Six years at Indianapolis put Beecher in command of his armament. And +Brooklyn, seeking a man of power, called him thither. His first sermon +in Plymouth Church outlined his course; and the principles then laid +down he was to preach for fifty years: the love of God; the life of +Christ, not as a sacrifice, but as an example—our Elder Brother; and +Liberty—liberty to think, to express, to act, to become.</p> + +<p>It would have been worth going miles to see this man as he appeared at +Plymouth Church those first years of his ministry. Such a specimen of +mental, spiritual and physical manhood Nature produces only once in a +century. Imagine a man of thirty-five, when manhood has not yet left +youth behind, height five feet ten, weight one hundred eighty, a body +like that of a Greek god, and a mind poised, sure, serene, with a fund +of good nature that could not be overdrawn; a face cleanly shaven; a +wealth of blond hair falling to his broad shoulders; eyes of infinite +blue—eyes like the<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_359" id="VII_Page_359">[Pg 359]</a></span> eyes of Christ when He gazed upon the penitent +thief on the cross, or eyes that flash fire, changing their color with +the mood of the man—a radiant, happy man, the cheeriest, sunniest +nature that ever dwelt in human body, with a sympathy that went out to +everybody and everything—children, animals, the old, the feeble, the +fallen—a man too big to be jealous, too noble to quibble, a man so +manly that he would accept guilt rather than impute it to another. If he +had been possessed of less love he would have been a stronger man. The +generous nature lies open and unprotected—through its guilelessness it +allows concrete rascality to come close enough to strike it. "One reason +why Beecher had so many enemies was because he bestowed so many +benefits," said Rufus Choate.</p> + +<p>Talmage did not discover himself until he was forty-six; Beecher was +Beecher at thirty-five. He was as great then as he ever was—it was too +much to ask that he should evolve into something more—Nature has to +distribute her gifts. Had Beecher grown after his thirty-fifth year, as +he grew from twenty-five to thirty-five, he would have been a Colossus +that would have disturbed the equilibrium of the thinking world, and +created revolution instead of evolution. The opposition toward great men +is right and natural—it is a part of Nature's plan to hold the balance +true, "lest ye become as gods!"</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_360" id="VII_Page_360">[Pg 360]</a></span>I traveled with Major James B. Pond one lecture season, and during that +time heard only two themes discussed, John Brown and Henry Ward Beecher. +These were his gods. Pond fought with John Brown in Kansas, shoulder to +shoulder, and it was only through an accident that he was not with Brown +at Harpers Ferry, in which case his soul would have gone marching on +with that of Old John Brown. From Eighteen Hundred Sixty to Eighteen +Hundred Sixty-six Pond belonged to the army, and was stationed in +Western Missouri, where there was no commissariat, where they took no +prisoners, and where men like Jesse James lived, who never knew the war +was over. Pond had so many notches cut on the butt of his pistol that he +had ceased to count them.</p> + +<p>He was big, brusk, quibbling, insulting, dictatorial, painstaking, +considerate and kind. He was the most exasperating and lovable man I +ever knew. He left a trail of enemies wherever he traveled, and the +irony of fate is shown in that he was allowed to die peacefully in his +bed.</p> + +<p>I cut my relationship with him because I did not care to be pained by +seeing his form dangling from the crossbeam of a telegraph-pole. When I +lectured at Washington a policeman appeared at the box-office and +demanded the amusement-license fee of five dollars. "Your authority?" +roared Pond. And the policeman not being able to explain, Pond kicked +him down<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_361" id="VII_Page_361">[Pg 361]</a></span> the stairway, and kept his club as a souvenir. We got out on +the midnight train before warrants could be served.</p> + +<p>He would often push me into the first carriage when we arrived at a +town, and sometimes the driver would say, "This is a private carriage," +or, "This rig is engaged," and Pond would reply, "What's that to +me?—drive us to the hotel—you evidently don't know whom you are +talking to!" And so imperious was his manner that his orders were +usually obeyed. Arriving at the hotel, he would hand out double fare. It +was his rule to pay too much or too little. Yet as a manager he was +perfection—he knew the trains to a minute, and always knew, too, what +to do if we missed the first train, or if the train was late. At the +hall he saw that every detail was provided for. If the place was too +hot, or too cold, somebody got thoroughly damned. If the ventilation was +bad, and he could not get the windows open, he would break them out. If +you questioned his balance-sheet he would the next day flash up an +expense-account that looked like a plumber's bill and give you fifty +cents as your share of the spoils. At hotels he always got a room with +two beds, if possible. I was his prisoner—he was despotically kind—he +regulated my hours of sleep, my meals, my exercise. He would throw +intruding visitors downstairs as average men shoo chickens or scare +cats. He was a bundle of profanity and unrest until after the lecture.<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_362" id="VII_Page_362">[Pg 362]</a></span> +Then we would go to our room, and he would talk like a windmill. He +would crawl into his bed and I into mine, and then he would continue +telling Beecher stories half the night, comparing me with Beecher to my +great disadvantage. A dozen times I have heard him tell how Beecher +would say, "Pond, never consult me about plans or explain details—if +you do, our friendship ceases." Beecher was glad to leave every detail +of travel to Pond, and Pond delighted in assuming sole charge. Beecher +never audited an account—he just took what Pond gave him and said +nothing. In this Beecher was very wise—he managed Pond and Pond never +knew it. Pond had a pride in paying Beecher as much as possible, and +found gratification in giving the money to Beecher instead of keeping +it. He was immensely proud of his charge and grew to have an idolatrous +regard for Beecher. Pond's brusk ways amused Beecher, and the Osawatomie +experience made him a sort of hero in Beecher's eyes.</p> + +<p>Beecher took Pond at his true value, regarded his wrath as a child's +tantrum, and let him do most of the talking as well as the business. And +Beecher's great welling heart touched a side of Pond's nature that few +knew existed at all—a side that he masked with harshness; for, in spite +of his perversity, Pond had his virtues—he was simple as a child, and +so ingenuous that deception with him was impossible. He could not tell a +lie so you would not know it.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_363" id="VII_Page_363">[Pg 363]</a></span>He served Beecher with a doglike loyalty, and an honesty beyond +suspicion. They were associated fourteen years, traveled together over +three hundred thousand miles, and Pond paid to Beecher two hundred forty +thousand dollars.<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_364" id="VII_Page_364">[Pg 364]</a></span></p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Beecher and Tilton became acquainted about the year Eighteen Hundred +Sixty. Beecher was at that time forty-seven years old; Tilton was +twenty-five. The influence of the older man over the younger was very +marked. Tilton became one of the most zealous workers in Plymouth +Church: he attended every service, took part in the Wednesday evening +prayer-meeting, helped take up the collection, and was a constant +recruiting force. Tilton was a reporter, and later an editorial writer +on different New York and Brooklyn dailies. Beecher's Sunday sermon +supplied Tilton the cue for his next day's leader. And be it said to his +honor, he usually gave due credit, and in various ways helped the cause +of Plymouth Church by booming the reputation of its pastor.</p> + +<p>Tilton was possessed of a deal of intellectual nervous force. His mind +was receptive, active, versatile. His all-round newspaper experience had +given him an education, and he could express himself acceptably on any +theme. He wrote children's stories, threw off poetry in idle hours, +penned essays, skimmed the surface of philosophy, and dived occasionally +into theology. But his theology and his philosophy were strictly the +goods put out by Beecher, distilled through the Tilton cosmos. He +occasionally made addresses at social gatherings, and evolved into an +orator whose reputation extended to Staten Island.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_365" id="VII_Page_365">[Pg 365]</a></span>Beecher's big, boyish heart went out to this bright and intelligent +young man—they were much in each other's company. People said they +looked alike; although one was tall and slender and the other was +inclined to be stout. Beecher wore his hair long, and now Tilton wore +his long, too. Beecher affected a wide-brimmed slouch-hat; Tilton wore +one of similar style, with brim a trifle wider. Beecher wore a large, +blue cloak; Tilton wrapped himself 'round with a cloak one shade more +ultramarine than Beecher's.</p> + +<p>Tilton's wife was very much like Tilton—both were intellectual, +nervous, artistic. They were so much alike that they give us a hint of +what a hell this world would be if all mankind were made in one mold. +But there was this difference between them: Mrs. Tilton was proud, while +Tilton was vain. They were only civil toward each other because they had +vowed they would be. They did not throw crockery, because to do so would +have been bad form.</p> + +<p>Beecher was a great joker—hilarious, laughing, and both witty and +humorous. I was going to say he was wise, but that isn't the word. +Tilton lacked wit—he never bubbled except as a matter of duty. Both Mr. +and Mrs. Tilton greatly enjoyed the society of Beecher, for, besides +being a great intellectual force, his presence was an antiseptic 'gainst +jaundice and introspection. And Beecher loved them both, because they +loved him, and because he loved everybody. They supplied him<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_366" id="VII_Page_366">[Pg 366]</a></span> a foil for +his wit, a receptacle for his overflow of spirit, a flint on which to +strike his steel. Mrs. Tilton admired Beecher a little more than her +husband did—she was a woman. Tilton was glad that his wife liked +Beecher—it brought Beecher to his house; and if Beecher admired +Tilton's wife—why, was not this a proof that Tilton and Beecher were +alike? I guess so! Mrs. Tilton was musical, artistic, keen of brain, +emotional, with all a fine-fibered woman's longings, hopes and ideals.</p> + +<p>So matters went drifting on the tide, and the years went by, as the +years will.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Tilton became a semi-invalid, the kind that doctors now treat with +hypophosphites, beef-iron-and-wine, cod-liver oil, and massage by the +right attendant. They call it congenital anemia—a scarcity of the red +corpuscle.</p> + +<p>Some doctors there be who do not yet know that the emotions control the +secretions, and a perfect circulation is a matter of mind. Anyway, what +can the poor Galenite do in a case like this—his pills are powerless, +his potions inane! Tilton knew that his wife loved Beecher, and he also +fully realized that in this she was only carrying out a little of the +doctrine of freedom that he taught, and that he claimed for himself. For +a time Tilton was beautifully magnanimous. Occasionally Mrs. Tilton had +spells of complete prostration, when she thought she was going to die. +At such times her husband would send for Beecher to come and administer<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_367" id="VII_Page_367">[Pg 367]</a></span> +extreme unction.</p> + +<p>Instead of dying, the woman would get well.</p> + +<p>After one such attack, Tilton taunted his wife with her quick recovery. +It was a taunt that pulled tight on the corners of his mouth; it was +lacking in playfulness. Beecher was present at the bedside of the +propped-up invalid. They turned on Tilton, did these two, and flayed him +with their agile wit and ready tongues. Tilton protested they were +wrong—he was not jealous—the idea!</p> + +<p>But that afternoon he had his hair cut, and he discarded the slouch-hat +for one with a stiff brim.</p> + +<p>It took six months for his hair to grow to a length sufficient to +indicate genius.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_368" id="VII_Page_368">[Pg 368]</a></span>Beecher's great heart was wrung and stung by the tangle of events in +which he finally found himself plunged. That his love for Mrs. Tilton +was great there is no doubt, and for the wife with whom he had lived for +over a score of years he had a profound pity and regard. She had not +grown with him. Had she remained in Lawrenceburg, Indiana, and married a +well-to-do grocer, all for her would have been well. Beecher belonged to +the world, and this his wife never knew: she thought she owned him. To +interest her and to make her shine before the world, certain literary +productions were put out with her name as author, on request of Robert +Bonner, but all this was a pathetic attempt by her husband to conceal +the truth of her mediocrity. She spied upon him, watched his mail, +turned his pockets, and did all the things no wife should do, lest +perchance she be punished by finding her suspicions true. Wives and +husbands must live by faith. The wife who is miserable until she makes +her husband "confess all" is never happy afterwards. Beecher could not +pour out his soul to his wife—he had to watch her mood and dole out to +her the platitudes she could digest—never with her did he reach +abandon. But the wife strove to do her duty—she was a good housekeeper, +economical and industrious, and her very virtues proved a source of +exasperation to her husband—he could not hate her.</p> + +<p>It was Mrs. Beecher herself who first discovered the<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_369" id="VII_Page_369">[Pg 369]</a></span> relationship +existing between her husband and Mrs. Tilton. She accused her husband, +and he made no denial—he offered her her liberty. But this she did not +want. Beecher promised to break with Mrs. Tilton. They parted—parted +forever in sweet sorrow.</p> + +<p>And the next week they met again.</p> + +<p>The greater the man before the public, the more he outpours himself, the +more his need for mothering in the quiet of his home. All things are +equalized, and with the strength of the sublime, spiritual nature goes +the weakness of a child. Beecher was an undeveloped boy to the day of +his death.</p> + +<p>Beecher at one time had a great desire to stand square before the world. +Major Pond, on Beecher's request, went to Mrs. Beecher and begged her to +sue for a divorce. At the same time Tilton was asked to secure a divorce +from his wife. When all parties were free, Beecher would marry Mrs. +Tilton and face the world an honest man—nothing to hide—right out +under the clear, blue sky, blown upon by the free winds of heaven!</p> + +<p>This was his heart's desire.</p> + +<p>But all negotiations failed. Mrs. Beecher would not give up her husband, +and Tilton was too intent on revenge—and cash—to even consider the +matter. Then came the crash.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_370" id="VII_Page_370">[Pg 370]</a></span>Tilton sued Beecher for one hundred thousand dollars' damages for +alienating his wife's affection. It took five months to try the case. +The best legal talent in the land was engaged. The jury disagreed and +the case was not tried again.</p> + +<p>Had Mrs. Beecher applied for a divorce on statutory grounds, no court +would have denied her prayer. In actions for divorce, guilt does not +have to be proved—it is assumed. But when one man sues another for +money damages, the rulings are drawn finer and matters must be proved. +That is where Tilton failed in his lawsuit.</p> + +<p>At the trial, Beecher perjured himself like a gentleman to protect Mrs. +Tilton; Mrs. Tilton waived the truth for Beecher's benefit; and Mrs. +Beecher swore black was white, because she did not want to lose her +husband. Such a precious trinity of prevaricators is very seldom seen in +a courtroom, a place where liars much do congregate. Judge and jury knew +they lied and respected them the more, for down in the hearts of all men +is a feeling that the love-affairs of a man and a woman are sacred +themes, and a bulwark of lies to protect the holy of holies is ever +justifiable.</p> + +<p>Tilton was the one person who told the truth, and he was universally +execrated for it. Love does not leave a person without reason. And there +is something in the thought of money as payment to a man for a woman's +love that is against nature.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_371" id="VII_Page_371">[Pg 371]</a></span>Tilton lost the woman's love, and he would balm his lacerated heart with +lucre! Money? God help us—a man should earn money. We sometimes hear of +men who subsist on women's shame; but what shall we say of a man who +would turn parasite and live in luxury on a woman's love—and this woman +by him now spurned and scorned! The faults and frailties of men and +women caught in the swirl of circumstances are not without excuse, but +the cold plottings to punish them and the desire to thrive by their +faults are hideous.</p> + +<p>The worst about a double life is not its immorality—it is that the +relationship makes a man a liar. The universe is not planned for +duplicity—all the energy we have is needed in our business, and he who +starts out on the pathway of untruth finds himself treading upon +brambles and nettles which close behind him and make return impossible. +The further he goes the worse the jungle of poison-oak and ivy, which at +last circles him round in strangling embrace. He who escapes the clutch +of a life of falsehood is as one in a million. Victor Hugo has pictured +the situation when he tells of the man whose feet are caught in the bed +of bird-lime. He attempts to jump out, but only sinks deeper—he +flounders, calls for help, and puts forth all his strength. He is up to +his knees—to his hips—his waist—his neck, and at last only hands are +seen reaching up in mute appeal to heaven. But the heavens are as<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_372" id="VII_Page_372">[Pg 372]</a></span> +brass, and soon where there was once a man is only the dumb indifference +of Nature.</p> + +<p>The only safe course is the open road of truth. Lies once begun, pile +up; and lies require lies to bolster them.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Tilton had made a written confession to her husband, but this she +repudiated in court, declaring it was given "in terrorem." Now she had +only words of praise and vindication for Beecher.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Beecher sat by her husband's side all through the long trial. For a +man to leave the woman with whom he has lived a lifetime, and who is the +mother of his children, is out of the question. What if she does lack +intellect and spirituality! He has endured her; aye! he has even been +happy with her at times—the relationship has been endurable—'twere +imbecility, and death for both, to break it.</p> + +<p>Beecher and his wife would stand together.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Tilton's lips had been sanctified by love, and were sealed, though +her heart did break.</p> + +<p>The jury stood nine for Beecher and three against. Major Pond, the +astute, construed this into a vindication—Beecher was not guilty!</p> + +<p>The first lecture after the trial was given at Alexandria Bay. Pond had +sold out for five hundred dollars. Beecher said it was rank robbery—no +one would be there. The lecture was to be in the grove at three o'clock +in the afternoon. In the forenoon, boats were seen<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_373" id="VII_Page_373">[Pg 373]</a></span> coming from east and +west and north—excursion-boats laden with pilgrims; sailboats, +rowboats, skiffs, and even birch-bark canoes bearing red men. The people +came also in carts and wagons, and on horseback. An audience of five +thousand confronted the lecturer.</p> + +<p>The man who had planned the affair had banked on his knowledge of +humanity—the people wanted to see and hear the individual who had been +whipped naked at the cart's tail, and who still lived to face the world +smilingly, bravely, undauntedly.</p> + +<p>Major Pond was paid the five hundred dollars as agreed. The enterprise +had netted its manager over a thousand dollars—he was a rich man +anyway—things had turned out as he had prophesied, and in the +exuberance of his success he that night handed Mr. Beecher a check for +two hundred fifty dollars, saying, "This is for you with my love—it is +outside of any arrangement made with Major Pond." After they had retired +to their rooms, Beecher handed the check to Pond, and said, as his blue +eyes filled with tears, "Major, you know what to do with this?" And +Major Pond said, "Yes."</p> + +<p>Tilton went to Europe, leaving his family behind. But Major Pond made it +his business to see that Mrs. Tilton wanted for nothing that money could +buy. Beecher never saw Mrs. Tilton, to converse with her, again. She +outlived him a dozen years. On her deathbed she confessed to her sister +that her denials as to her relations with Beecher were untrue. "He loved +me," she<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_374" id="VII_Page_374">[Pg 374]</a></span> said; "he loved me, and I would have been less than woman had +I not loved him. This love will be my passport to Paradise—God +understands." And so she died.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_375" id="VII_Page_375">[Pg 375]</a></span>Tilton was by nature an unsuccessful man. He was proudly aristocratic, +lordly, dignified, jealous, mentally wiggling and spiritually jiggling. +His career was like that of a race-horse which makes a record faster +than he can ever attain again, and thus is forever barred from all +slow-paced competitions. Tilton aspired to be a novelist, an essayist, a +poet, an orator. His performances in each of these lines, unfortunately, +were not bad enough to damn him; and his work done in fair weather was +so much better than he could do in foul that he was caught by the +undertow. And as for doing what Adirondack Murray did—get right down to +hardpan and wash dishes in a dishpan—he couldn't do it. Like an Indian, +he would starve before he would work—and he came near it, gaining a +garret-living, teaching languages and doing hack literary work in Paris, +where he went to escape the accumulation of contempt that came his way +just after the great Beecher trial.</p> + +<p>Before this, Tilton started out to star the country as a lecturer. He +evidently thought he could climb to popularity over the wreck of Henry +Ward Beecher. Even had he wrecked Beecher completely, it is very likely +he would have gone down in the swirl, and become literary flotsam and +jetsam just the same.</p> + +<p>Tilton had failed to down his man, and men who are failures do not draw +on the lecture platform. The auditor has failure enough at home, God +knows! and<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_376" id="VII_Page_376">[Pg 376]</a></span> what he wants when he lays down good money for a +lecture-ticket is to annex himself to a success.</p> + +<p>Tilton's lecture was called, "The Problem of Life"—a title which had +the advantage of allowing the speaker to say anything he wished to say +on any subject and still not violate the unities. I heard Tilton give +this lecture twice, and it was given from start to finish in exactly the +same way. It contained much learning—had flights of eloquence, bursts +of bathos, puffs of pathos, but not a smile in the whole hour and a +half. It was faultily faultless, icily regular, splendidly null, dead +perfection—no more. It was so perfect that some people thought it +great. The man was an actor and had what is called platform presence. He +would walk on the stage, carrying his big, blue cloak over his arm, his +slouch-hat in his hand—for he clung to these Beecher properties to the +last, even claiming that Beecher was encroaching on his preserve in +wearing them.</p> + +<p>He would bow as stiffly and solemnly as a new-made judge. Then he would +toss the cloak on a convenient sofa, place the big hat on top of it, and +come down to the footlights, deliberately removing his yellow kid +gloves. There was no introduction—he was the whole show and brooked no +competition. He would begin talking as he removed the gloves; he would +get one glove off and hold it in the other hand, seemingly lost in his +speech. From time to time he would emphasize his remarks by beating the +palm of his gloved hand<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_377" id="VII_Page_377">[Pg 377]</a></span> with the loose glove. By the time the lecture +was half over, both gloves would be lying on the table; unlike the +performance of Sir Edwin Arnold, who, during his readings, always wore +one white kid glove and carried its mate in the gloved hand from +beginning to end.</p> + +<p>Theodore Tilton's lectures were consummate art, done by a handsome, +graceful and cultured man in a red necktie, but they did not carry +enough caloric to make them go. They seemed to lack vibrations. Art +without a message is for the people who love art for art's sake, and God +does not care much for these, otherwise he would not have made so few of +them.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_378" id="VII_Page_378">[Pg 378]</a></span>Lyman Abbott sums up his estimate of the worth of his lifelong friend +and literary associate, Henry Ward Beecher, in the following words:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"It was in the pulpit that Beecher was seen at his best. His +mastery of the English tongue, his dramatic power, his instinctive +art of impersonation, which had become a second nature, his vivid +imagination, his breadth of intellectual view, the catholicity of +his sympathies, his passionate enthusiasm, which made for the +moment his immediate theme seem to him the one theme of +transcendent importance, his quaint humor alternating with genuine +pathos, and above all his simple and singularly unaffected +devotional nature, made him as a preacher without a peer in his own +time and country. His favorite theme was love: love to man was to +him the fulfilment of all law; love of God was the essence of all +Christianity. Retaining to the day of his death the forms and +phrases of the New England theology in which he had been reared, he +poured into them a new meaning and gave to them a new significance.</p> + +<p>"He probably did more than any other man in America to lead the +Puritan churches from a faith which regarded God as a moral +governor, the Bible as a book of laws, and religion as obedience to +a conscience, to a faith which regards God as a father, the Bible +as a book of counsels, and religion as a life of liberty in love."</p></div> + +<p>As a sample of Beecher's eloquence, this extract from<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_379" id="VII_Page_379">[Pg 379]</a></span> his sermon on the +death of Lincoln reveals his quality as well perhaps as anything he ever +said:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>The joy of the Nation came upon us suddenly, with such a surge as +no words can describe. Men laughed, embraced one another, sang and +prayed, and many could only weep for gladness.</p> + +<p>In one short hour, joy had no pulse. The sorrow was so terrible +that it stunned sensibility. The first feeling was the least, and +men wanted to get strength to feel. Other griefs belong always to +some one in chief, but this belonged to all. Men walked for hours +as though a corpse lay in their houses. The city forgot to roar. +Never did so many hearts in so brief a time touch two such +boundless feelings. It was the uttermost of joy and the uttermost +of sorrow—noon and midnight without a space between. We should not +mourn, however, because the departure of the President was so +sudden. When one is prepared to die, the suddenness of death is a +blessing. They that are taken awake and watching, as the bridegroom +dressed for the wedding, and not those who die in pain and stupor, +are blessed. Neither should we mourn the manner of his death. The +soldier prays that he may die by the shot of the enemy in the hour +of victory, and it was meet that he should be joined in a common +experience in death with the brave men to whom he had been joined +in all his sympathy and life.</p> + +<p>This blow was but the expiring rebellion. Epitomized in this foul +act we find the whole nature and disposition of slavery. It is fit +that its expiring blow should be such as to take away from men the +last forbearance, the last pity, and fire the soul with invincible<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_380" id="VII_Page_380">[Pg 380]</a></span> +determination that the breeding system of such mischiefs and +monsters shall be forever and utterly destroyed. We needed not that +he should put on paper that he believed in slavery, who, with +treason, with murder, with cruelty infernal, hovered round that +majestic man to destroy his life. He was himself the lifelong sting +with which Slavery struck at Liberty, and he carried the poison +that belonged to Slavery; and as long as this Nation lasts it will +never be forgotten that we have had one Martyr-President—never, +never while time lasts, while heaven lasts, while hell rocks and +groans, will it be forgotten that Slavery by its minions slew him, +and in slaying him made manifest its whole nature and tendency. +This blow was aimed at the life of the Government. Some murders +there have been that admitted shades of palliation, but not such a +one as this—without provocation, without reason, without +temptation—sprung from the fury of a heart cankered to all that is +pure and just.</p> + +<p>The blow has failed of its object. The Government stands more solid +today than any pyramid of Egypt. Men love liberty and hate slavery +today more than ever before. How naturally, how easily, the +Government passed into the hands of the new President, and I avow +my belief that he will be found a man true to every instinct of +liberty, true to the whole trust that is imposed in him, vigilant +of the Constitution, careful of the laws, wise for liberty: in that +he himself for his life long, has known what it is to suffer from +the stings of slavery, and to prize liberty from the bitter +experience of his own life. Even he that sleeps has by this event +been clothed with new influence. His simple and<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_381" id="VII_Page_381">[Pg 381]</a></span> weighty words will +be gathered like those of Washington, and quoted by those who, were +he alive, would refuse to listen. Men will receive a new access to +patriotism. I swear you on the altar of his memory to be more +faithful to that country for which he perished. We will, as we +follow his hearse, swear a new hatred to that slavery against which +he warred, and which in vanquishing him has made him a martyr and +conqueror. I swear you by the memory of this martyr to hate slavery +with an unabatable hatred, and to pursue it. We will admire the +firmness of this man in justice, his inflexible conscience for the +right, his gentleness and moderation of spirit, which not all the +hate of party could turn to bitterness. And I swear you to follow +his justice, his moderation, his mercy. How can I speak to that +twilight million to whom his name was as the name of an angel of +God, and whom God sent before them to lead them out of the house of +bondage? O thou Shepherd of Israel, Thou that didst comfort Thy +people of old, to Thy care we commit these helpless and +long-wronged and grieved.</p> + +<p>And now the martyr is moving in triumphal march, mightier than one +alive. The Nation rises up at every stage of his coming; cities and +States are his pall-bearers, and the cannon beat the hours in +solemn progression; dead, dead, dead, he yet speaketh. Is +Washington dead? Is Hampden dead? Is David?</p> + +<p>Four years ago, O Illinois, we took from your midst an untried man +from among the people. Behold! we return him to you a mighty +conqueror; not thine any more, but the Nation's—not ours, but the +world's. Give him place, O ye prairies! in the midst of this<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_382" id="VII_Page_382">[Pg 382]</a></span> great +continent shall rest a sacred treasure to myriads who shall pilgrim +to that shrine to kindle anew their zeal and patriotism. Ye winds +that move over mighty spaces of the West, chant his requiem! Ye +people, behold the martyr whose blood, as so many articulate words, +pleads for fidelity, for law, for Liberty!</p></div> + + + +<hr class="full" /> +<h2><a name="WENDELL_PHILLIPS" id="WENDELL_PHILLIPS"></a>WENDELL PHILLIPS<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_383" id="VII_Page_383">[Pg 383]</a></span></h2> + + + +<div class="blockquot"><p>What worldwide benefactors these "imprudent" men are! How prudently +most men creep into nameless graves; while now and then one or two +forget themselves into immortality.</p></div> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 25em;">—<i>Speech on Lovejoy</i></span><br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_384" id="VII_Page_384">[Pg 384]</a></span></p> + +<div class="center"> + <a id="image0452-1"></a> + <img src="images/0452-1.jpg" width="266" height="400" + alt="" + title="" /> + + <p class="center">WENDELL PHILLIPS</p> +</div> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_385" id="VII_Page_385">[Pg 385]</a></span></p> + + + +<p>May the good Lord ever keep me from wishing to say the last word; and +also from assigning ranks or awarding prizes to great men gone. However, +it is a joy to get acquainted with a noble, splendid personality, and +then introduce him to you, or at least draw the arras, so you can see +him as he lived and worked or nobly failed.</p> + +<p>And if you and I understand this man it is because we are much akin to +him. The only relationship, after all, is the spiritual relationship. +Your brother after the flesh may not be your brother at all; you may +live in different worlds and call to each other in strange tongues +across wide seas of misunderstandings. "Who is my mother and who are my +brethren?"</p> + +<p>As you understand a man, just in that degree are you related to him. +There is a great joy in discovering kinship—for in that moment you +discover yourself, and life consists in getting acquainted with +yourself. We see ourselves mirrored in the soul of another—that is what +love is, or pretty nearly so.</p> + +<p>If you like what I write, it is because I express for you the things you +already know; we are akin, our heads are in the same stratum—we are +breathing the same atmosphere. To the degree that you comprehend the +character<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_386" id="VII_Page_386">[Pg 386]</a></span> of Wendell Phillips you are akin to him. I once thought great +men were all ten feet high, but since I have met a few, both in astral +form and in the flesh, I have found out differently.</p> + +<p>What kind of a man was Wendell Phillips?</p> + +<p>Very much like you and me, Blessed, very much like you and me.</p> + +<p>I think well of great people, I think well of myself, and I think well +of you. We are all God's children—all parts of the Whole—akin to +Divinity.</p> + +<p>Phillips never thought he was doing much—never took any great pride in +past performances. When what you have done in the past looks large to +you, you have not done much today. His hopes were so high that there +crept into his life a tinge of disappointment—some have called it +bitterness, but that is not the word—just a touch of sadness because he +was unable to do more. This was a matter of temperament, perhaps, but it +reveals the humanity as well as the divinity of the man. There is +nothing worse than self-complacency—smugosity is sin.</p> + +<p>Phillips was not supremely great—if he were, how could we comprehend +him?</p> + +<p>And now if you will open those folding doors—there! that will do—thank +you.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_387" id="VII_Page_387">[Pg 387]</a></span>When was he born? Ah, I'll tell you—it was in his twenty-fifth +year—about three in the afternoon, by the clock, October Twenty-first, +Eighteen Hundred Thirty-five. The day was Indian summer, warm and balmy. +He sat there reading in the window of his office on Court Street, +Boston, a spick-span new law-office, with four shelves of law-books +bound in sheep, a green-covered table in the center, three armchairs, +and on the wall a steel engraving of "Washington Crossing the Delaware."</p> + +<p>He was a handsome fellow, was this Wendell Phillips—it would a' been +worth your while just to run up the stairs and put your head in the door +to look at him. "Can I do anything for you?" he would have asked.</p> + +<p>"No, we just wanted to see you, that's all," we would have replied.</p> + +<p>He sat there at the window, his long legs crossed, a copy of "Coke on +Littleton" in his hands. His dress was what it should be—that of a +gentleman—his face cleanly shaven, hair long, cut square and falling to +his black stock. He was the only son of Boston's first Mayor, both to +the manor and to the manner born, rich in his own right; proud, +handsome, strong, gentle, refined, educated—a Christian gentleman, heir +to the best that Boston had to give—a graduate of the Boston Latin +School, of Harvard College, of the Harvard Law School—living with his +widowed mother in a mansion on Beacon Hill, overlooking Boston's +forty-three acres of<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_388" id="VII_Page_388">[Pg 388]</a></span> Common!</p> + +<p>Can you imagine anything more complete in way of endowment than all +this? Did Destiny ever do more for mortal man?</p> + +<p>There he sat waiting for clients. About this time he made the +acquaintance of a cockeyed pulchritudinous youth, Ben Butler by name, +who was errand-boy in a nearby office. It was a strange +friendship—peppered by much cross-fire whenever they met in public—to +endure loyal for a lifetime.</p> + +<p>Clients are sure to come to the man who is not too anxious about +them—sure to come to a man like Phillips—a youth clothed with the +graces of a Greek—waiting on the threshold of manhood's morning.</p> + +<p>Here is his career: a successful lawyer and leader in society; a member +of the Legislature; a United States Senator, and then if he cares for +it—well, well, well!</p> + +<p>But in the meantime, there he sits, not with his feet in the window or +on a chair—he is a gentleman, I said, a Boston gentleman—the flower of +a gracile ancestry. In the lazy, hazy air is the hum of autumn birds and +beetles—the hectic beauty of the dying year is over all. The hum seems +to grow—it becomes a subdued roar.</p> + +<p>You have sat behind the scenes waiting for the curtain to rise—a +thousand people are there just out of your sight—five hundred of them +are talking. It is one high-keyed, humming roar.</p> + +<p>The roar of a mob is keyed lower—it is guttural and approaches a +growl—it seems to come in waves, a<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_389" id="VII_Page_389">[Pg 389]</a></span> brazen roar rising and falling—but +a roar, full of menace, hate, deaf to reason, dead to appeal.</p> + +<p>You have heard the roar of the mob in "Julius Cæsar," and stay! once I +heard the genuine article. It was in Eighty-four—goodness gracious, I +am surely getting old!—it was in a town out West. I saw nothing but a +pushing, crowding mass of men, and all I heard was that deep guttural +roar of the beast. I could not make out what it was all about until I +saw a man climbing a telegraph-pole.</p> + +<p>He was carrying a rope in one hand. As he climbed higher, the roar +subsided. The climber reached the arms that form the cross. He swung the +rope over the crossbeam and paid it out until the end was clutched by +the uplifted hands of those below.</p> + +<p>The roar arose again like an angry sea, and I saw the figure of a human +being leap twenty feet into the air and swing and swirl at the end of +the rope.</p> + +<p>The roar ceased.</p> + +<p>The lawyer laid down the brand-new book, bound in sheep, and leaned out +of the window—men were running down the thoroughfare, some hatless, and +at Washington Street could be seen a black mass of human beings—beings +who had forsaken their reason and merged their personality into a mob.</p> + +<p>The young lawyer arose, put on his hat, locked his office, followed down +the street. His tall and muscular form pushed its way through the mass.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_390" id="VII_Page_390">[Pg 390]</a></span>Theodore Lyman, the Mayor, was standing on a barrel importuning the +crowd to disperse. His voice was lost in the roar of the mob.</p> + +<p>From down a stairway came a procession of women, thirty or so, walking +by twos, very pale, but calm. The crowd gradually opened out on a stern +order from some unknown person. The young lawyer threw himself against +those who blocked the way. The women passed on, and the crowd closed in +as water closes over a pebble dropped into the river.</p> + +<p>The disappearance of the women seemed to heighten the confusion: there +were stones thrown, sounds of breaking glass, a crash on the stairway, +and down the narrow passage, with yells of triumph, came a crowd of men, +half-dragging a prisoner, a rope around his waist, his arms pinioned. +The man's face was white, his clothing disheveled and torn. His +resistance was passive—no word of entreaty or explanation escaped his +lips. A sudden jerk on the rope from the hundred hands that clutched it +threw the man off his feet—he fell headlong, his face struck the stones +of the pavement, and he was dragged for twenty yards. The crowd grabbed +at him and lifted him to his feet—blood dripped from his face, his hat +was gone, his coat, vest and shirt were in shreds. The man spoke no +word.</p> + +<p>"That's him—Garrison, the damned abolitionist!" The words arose above +the din and surge of the mob: "Kill him! Hang him!"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_391" id="VII_Page_391">[Pg 391]</a></span>Phillips saw the colonel of his militia regiment, and seizing him by the +arm, said, "Order out the men to put down this riot!"</p> + +<p>"Fool!" said the Colonel, "don't you see our men are in this crowd!"</p> + +<p>"Then order them into columns, and we will protect this man."</p> + +<p>"I never give orders unless I know they will be obeyed. Besides, this +man Garrison is a rioter himself—he opposes the government."</p> + +<p>"But, do we uphold mob-law—here, in Boston!"</p> + +<p>"Don't blame me—I haven't anything to do with this business. I tell +you, if this man Garrison had minded his own affairs, this scene would +never have occurred."</p> + +<p>"And those women?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, they are members of the Anti-Slavery Society. It was their holding +the meeting that made the trouble. The children followed them, hooting +them through the streets!"</p> + +<p>"Children?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; you know children repeat what they hear at home—they echo the +thoughts of their elders. The children hooted them, then some one threw +a stone through a window. A crowd gathered, and here you are!"</p> + +<p>The Colonel shook himself loose from the lawyer and followed the mob. +The Mayor's counsel prevailed: "Give the prisoner to me—I will see that +he is punished!"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_392" id="VII_Page_392">[Pg 392]</a></span>And so he was dragged to the City Hall and there locked up.</p> + +<p>The crowd lingered, then thinned out. The shouts grew less, and soon the +police were able to rout the loiterers.</p> + +<p>The young lawyer went back to his law-office, but not to study. The law +looked different to him now—the whole legal aspect of things had +changed in an hour.</p> + +<p>It was a pivotal point.</p> + +<p>He had heard much of the majesty of the law, and here he had seen the +entire machinery of justice brushed aside.</p> + +<p>Law! It is the thing we make with our hands and then fall down and +worship. Men want to do things, so they do them, and afterward they +legalize them, just as we believe things first and later hunt for +reasons. Or we illegalize the thing we do not want others to do.</p> + +<p>Boston, standing for law and order, will not even allow a few women to +meet and discuss an economic proposition!</p> + +<p>Abolition is a fool idea, but we must have free speech—that is what our +Constitution is built upon! Law is supposed to protect free speech, even +to voicing wrong ideas! Surely a man has a legal right to a wrong +opinion! A mob in Boston to put down free speech!</p> + +<p>This young lawyer was not an Abolitionist—not he, but he was an +American, descended from the Puritans, with ancestors who fought in the +War of the Revolution—he believed in fair play.</p> + +<p>His cheeks burned with shame.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_393" id="VII_Page_393">[Pg 393]</a></span>Seen from Mount Olympus, how small and pitiful must seem the antics of +Earth—all these churches and little sects—our laws, our arguments, our +courts of justice, our elections, our wars!</p> + +<p>Viewed across the years, the Abolition Movement seems a small thing. It +is so thoroughly dead—so far removed from our present interests! We +hear a Virginian praise John Brown, listen to Henry Watterson as he +says, "The South never had a better friend than Lincoln," or brave +General Gordon, as he declares, "We now know that slavery was a gigantic +mistake, and that Emerson was right when he said, 'One end of the +slave's chain is always riveted to the wrist of the master.'"</p> + +<p>We can scarcely comprehend that fifty years ago the trinity of money, +fashion and religion combined in the hot endeavor to make human slavery +a perpetuity; that the man of the North who hinted at resisting the +return of a runaway slave was in danger of financial ruin, social +ostracism, and open rebuke from the pulpit. The ears of Boston were so +stuffed with South Carolina cotton that they could not hear the cry of +the oppressed. Commerce was fettered by self-interest, and law ever +finds precedents and sanctions for what commerce most desires. And as +for the pulpit, it is like the law, in that Scriptural warrant is always +forthcoming for what the pew wishes to do.</p> + +<p>Slavery, theoretically, might be an error, but in America<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_394" id="VII_Page_394">[Pg 394]</a></span> it was a +commercial, political, social and religious necessity, and any man who +said otherwise was an enemy of the State.</p> + +<p>William Lloyd Garrison said otherwise. But who was William Lloyd +Garrison? Only an ignorant and fanatical freethinker from the country +town of Newburyport, Massachusetts. He had started four or five +newspapers, and all had failed, because he would not keep his pen quiet +on the subject of slavery.</p> + +<p>New England must have cotton, and cotton could not be produced without +slaves. Garrison was a fool. All good Christians refused to read his +vile sheet, and businessmen declined to advertise with him or to +subscribe to his paper.</p> + +<p>However, he continued to print things, telling what he thought of +slavery. In Eighteen Hundred Thirty-one, he was issuing a periodical +called, "The Liberator."</p> + +<p>I saw a partial file of "The Liberator" recently at the Boston Public +Library. They say it is very precious, and a custodian stood by and +tenderly turned the leaves for me. I was not allowed even to touch it, +and when I was through looking at the tattered pages, they locked it up +in a fireproof safe.</p> + +<p>The sheets of different issues were of various sizes, and the paper was +of several grades in quality, showing that stock was scarce, and that +there was no system in the office.</p> + +<p>There surely was not much of a subscription-list, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_395" id="VII_Page_395">[Pg 395]</a></span> we hear of +Garrison's going around and asking for contributions. But interviews +were what he really wished, as much as subscribers. He let the preachers +defend the peculiar institution—to print a man's fool remarks is the +most cruel way of indicting him. Among those Garrison called on was +Doctor Lyman Beecher, then thundering against Unitarianism.</p> + +<p>Garrison got various clergymen to commit themselves in favor of slavery, +and he quoted them verbatim, whereas on this subject the clergy of the +North wished to remain silent—very silent.</p> + +<p>Doctor Beecher was wary—all he would say was, "I have too many irons in +the fire now!"</p> + +<p>"You had better take them all out and put this one in," said the seedy +editor.</p> + +<p>But Doctor Beecher made full amends later—he supplied a son and a +daughter to the Abolition Movement, and this caused Carlos Martyn to +say, "The old man's loins were wiser than his head."</p> + +<p>Garrison had gotten himself thoroughly disliked in Boston. The Mayor +once replied to a letter inquiring about him, "He is a nobody and lives +in a rat-hole."</p> + +<p>But Garrison managed to print his paper—rather irregularly, to be sure, +but he printed it. From one room he moved into two, and a straggling +company, calling themselves "The Anti-Slavery Society," used his office +for a meeting-place.</p> + +<p>And now, behold the office mobbed, the type pitched<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_396" id="VII_Page_396">[Pg 396]</a></span> into the street, +the Society driven out, and the fanatical editor, bruised and battered, +safely lodged in jail—writing editorials with a calm resolution and a +will that never faltered.</p> + +<p>And Wendell Phillips? He was pacing the streets, wondering whether it +was worth while to be respectable and prosperous in a city where +violence took the place of law when logic failed.</p> + +<p>To him, Garrison had won—Garrison had not been answered: only beaten, +bullied, abused and thrust behind prison-bars.</p> + +<p>Wendell Phillips' cheeks burned with shame.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_397" id="VII_Page_397">[Pg 397]</a></span>Garrison was held a prisoner for several days.</p> + +<p>The Mayor would have punished the man, Pilate-like, to appease public +opinion, but there was no law to cover the case—no illegal offense had +been committed. Garrison demanded a trial, but the officials said that +they had locked him up merely to protect him, and that he was a base +ingrate. Official Boston now looked at the whole matter as a good thing +to forget. The prisoner's cell-door was left open, in the hope that he +would escape, just as, later, George Francis Train enjoyed the +distinction of being the only man who was literally kicked down the +stone steps of the Tombs.</p> + +<p>Garrison was thrust out of limbo, with a warning, and a hint that +Boston-town was a good place for him to emigrate from.</p> + +<p>But Garrison neither ran away nor went into hiding—he calmly began a +canvass to collect money to refit his printing-office. Boston had +treated him well—the blood of the martyrs is the seed of the church—he +would stay. Men who fatten on difficulties are hard to subdue. Phillips +met Garrison shortly after his release, quite by chance, at the house of +Henry G. Chapman. Garrison was six years older than Phillips—tall, +angular, intellectual, and lacked humor. He also lacked culture. +Phillips looked at him and smiled grimly.</p> + +<p>But in the Chapman household was still another person,<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_398" id="VII_Page_398">[Pg 398]</a></span> more or less +interesting—a Miss Ann Terry Greene. She was an orphan and an +heiress—a ward of Chapman's. Young Phillips had never before met Miss +Greene, but she had seen him. She was one of the women who had come down +the stairs from "The Liberator" office, when the mob collected. She had +seen the tall form of Phillips, and had noticed that he used his elbows +to good advantage in opening up the gangway.</p> + +<p>"It was a little like a cane-rush—your campus practise served you in +good stead," said the lady, and smiled.</p> + +<p>And Phillips listened, perplexed—that a young woman like this, frail, +intellectual, of good family, should mix up in fanatical schemes for +liberating black men. He could not understand it!</p> + +<p>"But you were there—you helped get us out of the difficulty. And if +worse had come to worst, I might have appealed to you personally for +protection!"</p> + +<p>And the young lawyer stammered, "I should have been only too happy," or +something like that. The lady had the best of the logic, and a thin +attempt to pity her on account of the unfortunate occurrence went off by +the right oblique and was lost in space.</p> + +<p>These Abolitionists were a queer lot!</p> + +<p>Not long after that meeting at the Chapmans, the young lawyer had legal +business at Greenfield that must be looked after. Now, Greenfield is one +hundred miles from Boston, but then it was the same distance from +tidewater that Omaha is now—that is to say, a two-days'<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_399" id="VII_Page_399">[Pg 399]</a></span> journey.</p> + +<p>The day was set. The stage left every morning at nine o'clock from the +Bowdoin Tavern in Bowdoin Square. A young fellow by the name of Charles +Sumner was going with Phillips, but at the last moment was detained by +other business. That his chum could not go was a disappointment to +Phillips—he paced the stone-paved courtway of the tavern with clouded +brow. All around was the bustle of travel, and tearful friends bidding +folks good-by, and the romantic rush of stagecoach land.</p> + +<p>The ease and luxury of travel have robbed it of its poetry—Ruskin was +right!</p> + +<p>But it didn't look romantic to Wendell Phillips just then—his chum had +failed him—the weather was cold, two days of hard jolting lay ahead. +And—"Ah! yes—it is Miss Greene! and Miss Grew, and Mr. Alvord. To +Greenfield? why, how fortunate!"</p> + +<p>Obliging strangers exchanged seats, so that our friends could be +together—passengers found their places on top or inside, bundles and +bandboxes were packed away, harness-chains rattled, a long whip sang +through the air, and the driver, holding a big bunch of lines in one +hand, swung the six horses, with careless grace, out of Bowdoin Square, +and turned the leaders' heads toward Cambridge. The post-horn tooted +merrily, dogs barked, and stableboys raised a good-by cheer!</p> + +<p>Out past Harvard Square they went, through Arlington and storied +Lexington—on to Concord—through<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_400" id="VII_Page_400">[Pg 400]</a></span> Fitchburg, to Greenfield.</p> + +<p>It doesn't take long to tell it, but that was a wonderful trip for +Phillips—the greatest and most important journey of his life, he said +forty years later.</p> + +<p>Miss Grew lived in Greenfield and had been down to visit Miss Greene. +Mr. Alvord was engaged to Miss Grew, and wanted to accompany her home, +but he couldn't exactly, you know, unless Miss Greene went along.</p> + +<p>So Miss Greene obliged them. The girls knew the day Phillips was going, +and hastened their plans a trifle, so as to take the same stage—at +least that is what Charles Sumner said.</p> + +<p>They didn't tell Phillips, because a planned excursion on the part of +these young folks wouldn't have been just right—Beacon Hill would not +have approved. But when they had bought their seats and met at the +stage-yard—why, that was a different matter.</p> + +<p>Besides, Mr. Alvord and Miss Grew were engaged, and Miss Greene was a +cousin of Miss Grew—there!</p> + +<p>Let me here say that I am quite aware that long after Miss Grew became +Mrs. Alvord, she wrote a most charming little book about Ann Terry +Greene, in which she defends the woman against any suspicion that she +plotted and planned to snare the heart of Wendell Phillips, on the road +to Greenfield. The defense was done in love, but was unnecessary. Ann +Terry Greene needs no vindication. As for her snaring the<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_401" id="VII_Page_401">[Pg 401]</a></span> heart of +Wendell Phillips, I rest solidly on this: She did.</p> + +<p>Whether Miss Greene coolly planned that trip to Greenfield, I can not +say, but I hope so.</p> + +<p>And, anyway, it was destiny—it had to be.</p> + +<p>This man and this woman were made for each other—they were "elected" +before the foundations of Earth were laid.</p> + +<p>The first few hours out, they were very gay. Later, they fell into +serious conversation. The subject was Abolition. Miss Greene knew the +theme in all of its ramifications and parts—its history, its +difficulties, its dangers, its ultimate hopes. Phillips soon saw that +all of his tame objections had been made before and answered. Gradually +the horror of human bondage swept over him, and against this came the +magnificence of freedom and of giving freedom. By evening, it came to +him that all of the immortal names in history were those of men who had +fought liberty's battle. That evening, as they sat around the crackling +fire at the Fitchburg Tavern, they did not talk—a point had been +reached where words were superfluous—the silence sufficed. At daybreak +the next morning the journey was continued. There was conversation, but +voices were keyed lower. When the stage mounted a steep hill they got +out and walked. Melancholy had taken the place of mirth. Both felt that +a great and mysterious change had come over their spirits—their thought +was fused. Miss Greene had suffered social obloquy on<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_402" id="VII_Page_402">[Pg 402]</a></span> account of her +attitude on the question of slavery—to share this obloquy seemed now +the one thing desirable to Phillips. It is a great joy to share disgrace +with the right person. The woman had intellect, education, +self-reliance—and passion. There was an understanding between them. And +yet no word of tenderness had been spoken. An avowal formulated in words +is a cheap thing, and a spoken proposal goes with a cheap passion. The +love that makes the silence eloquent and fills the heart with a melody +too sacred to voice is the true token. O God! we thank thee for the +thoughts and feelings that are beyond speech!</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_403" id="VII_Page_403">[Pg 403]</a></span>When it became known that Wendell Phillips, the most promising of +Boston's young sons, had turned Abolitionist, Beacon Hill rent its +clothes and put ashes on its head.</p> + +<p>On the question of slavery, the first families of the North stood with +the first families of the South—the rights of property were involved, +as well as the question of caste.</p> + +<p>Let one of the scions of Wall Street avow himself an anarchist and the +outcry of horror would not be greater than it was when young Phillips +openly declared himself an Abolitionist. His immediate family were in +tears; the relatives said they were disgraced; cousins cut him dead on +the street, and his name was stricken from the list of "invited guests." +The social-column editors ignored him, and worst of all, his clients +fled.</p> + +<p>The biographers are too intensely partisan to believe, literally; and +when one says, "He left a large and lucrative practise that he might +devote himself," etc., we'd better reach for the Syracuse product.</p> + +<p>Wendell Phillips never had a large and lucrative practise, and if he +had, he would not have left it. His little law business was the kind +that all fledglings get—the kind that big lawyers do not want, and so +they pass it over to the boys. Doctors are always turning pauper +patients over to the youngsters, and so in successful law-offices there +is more or less of this semi-charitable work to do. Business houses also +have fag-end work<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_404" id="VII_Page_404">[Pg 404]</a></span> that they give to beginners, as kind folks give bones +to Fido. Wendell Phillips' law-work was exactly of this contingent +kind—big business and big fees only go to big men and tried.</p> + +<p>Law is a business, and lawyers who succeed are businessmen. Social +distinction has its pull in all professions and all arts, and the man +who can afford to affront society and hope to succeed is as one in a +million.</p> + +<p>Lawyers and businessmen were not so troubled about Wendell Phillips' +inward beliefs as they were in the fact that he was a fool—he had flung +away his chances of getting on in the world. They ceased to send him +business—he had no work—no callers—folks he used to know were now +strangely nearsighted.</p> + +<p>Phillips didn't quit the practise of law, any more than he withdrew from +society—both law and society quit him. And then he made a virtue of +necessity and boldly resigned his commission as a lawyer—he would not +longer be bound to protect the Constitution that upheld the right of a +slave-owner to capture his "property" in Massachusetts.</p> + +<p>He and Ann talked this over at length—they had little else to do. They +excommunicated society, and Wendell Phillips became an outlaw, in the +same way that the James boys became outlaws—through accident, and not +through choice. Social disgrace is never sought, and obloquy is not a +thing to covet—these things may come, and usually they mean a +smother-blanket to all worldly<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_405" id="VII_Page_405">[Pg 405]</a></span> success. But Ann and Wendell had their +love; and each had a bank-account, and then they had a pride that proved +a prophylactic 'gainst the clutch of oblivion.</p> + +<p>On October Twelfth, Eighteen Hundred Thirty-seven, the outlaws, Ann and +Wendell, were married. It was a quiet wedding—guests were not invited +because it was not pleasant to court cynical regrets, and kinsmen were +noticeable by their absence.</p> + +<p>Proscription has its advantages—for one thing, it binds human hearts +like hoops of steel. Yet it was not necessary here, for there was no +waning of the honeymoon during that forty-odd years of married life.</p> + +<p>But scarcely had the petals fallen from the orange-blossoms before an +event occurred that marked another milestone in the career of Phillips.</p> + +<p>At Saint Louis, the Reverend E. P. Lovejoy, a Presbyterian clergyman, +had been mobbed and his printing-office sacked, because he had expressed +himself on the subject of slavery. Lovejoy then moved up to Alton, +Illinois, on the other side of the river, on free soil, and here he +sought to re-establish his newspaper.</p> + +<p>But he was to benefit the cause in another way than by printing +editorials. The place was attacked, the presses broken into fragments, +the type flung into the Mississippi River, and Lovejoy was killed.</p> + +<p>A tremor of horror ran through the North—it was not the question of +slavery—no, it was the right of free speech.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_406" id="VII_Page_406">[Pg 406]</a></span>A meeting was called at Faneuil Hall to consider the matter and pass +fitting resolutions. There was something beautifully ironical in Boston +interesting herself concerning the doings of a mob a thousand miles +away, especially when Boston, herself, had done about the same thing +only two years before.</p> + +<p>Boston preferred to forget—but somebody would not let her. Just who +called the meeting, no one seemed to know. The word "Abolition" was not +used on the placards—"free speech" was the shibboleth. The hall had +been leased, and the assembly was to occur in the forenoon. The +principal actors evidently anticipated serious trouble if the meeting +was at night.</p> + +<p>The authorities sought to discourage the gathering, but this only +advertised it. At the hour set, the place—the "Cradle of Liberty"—was +packed.</p> + +<p>The crowd was made up of three classes, the Abolitionists—and they were +in the minority—the mob who hotly opposed them, and the curious and +indifferent people who wanted to see the fireworks.</p> + +<p>Many women were in the audience, and a dozen clergymen on the +platform—this gave respectability to the assemblage. The meeting opened +tamely enough with a trite talk by a Unitarian clergyman, and followed +along until the resolutions were read. Then there were cries of, "Table +them!"—the matter was of no importance.</p> + +<p>A portly figure was seen making its way to the platform.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_407" id="VII_Page_407">[Pg 407]</a></span>It was the Honorable James T. Austin, Attorney-General of the State. He +was stout, florid, ready of tongue—a practical stump speaker and withal +a good deal of a popular favorite. The crowd cheered him—he caught them +from the start. His intent was to explode the whole thing in a laugh, or +else end it in a row—he didn't care which.</p> + +<p>He pooh-poohed the whole affair, and referred to the slaves as a +menagerie of lions, tigers, hyenas—a jackass or two—and a host of +monkeys, which the fool Abolitionists were trying to turn loose. He +regretted the death of Lovejoy, but his taking-off should be a warning +to all good people—they should be law-abiding and mind their own +business. He moved that the resolutions be tabled.</p> + +<p>The applause that followed showed that if a vote were then taken the +Attorney-General's motion would have prevailed.</p> + +<p>"Answer him, Wendell, answer him!" whispered Ann, excitedly, and before +the Attorney-General had bowed himself from the platform, Wendell +Phillips had sprung upon the stage and stood facing the audience. There +were cries of, "Vote! Vote!"—the mobocrats wanted to cut the matter +short. Still others shouted: "Fair play! Let us hear the boy!" The young +man stood there, calm, composed—handsome in the strength of youth. He +waited until the audience came to him and then he spoke in that dulcet +voice—deliberate, measured,<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_408" id="VII_Page_408">[Pg 408]</a></span> faultless—every sentence spaced. The +charm of his speech caught the curiosity of the crowd. People did not +know whether he was going to sustain the Attorney-General or assail him. +From compliments and generalities he moved off into bitter sarcasm. He +riddled the cheap wit of his opponent, tore his logic to tatters, and +held the pitiful rags of reason up before the audience. There were cries +of: "Treason!" "Put him out!" Phillips simply smiled and waited for the +frenzy to subside. The speaker who has aroused his hearers into a tumult +of either dissent or approbation has won—and Phillips did both. He +spoke for thirty minutes and finished in a whirlwind of applause. The +Attorney-General had disappeared, and those of his followers who +remained were strangely silent. The resolutions were passed in a shout +of acclamation.</p> + +<p>The fame of Wendell Phillips as an orator was made. Father Taylor once +said, "If Emerson goes to hell, he will start emigration in that +direction." And from the day of that first Faneuil Hall speech Wendell +Phillips gradually caused Abolitionism in New England to become +respectable.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_409" id="VII_Page_409">[Pg 409]</a></span>Phillips was twenty-seven years old when he gave that first, great +speech, and for just twenty-seven years he continued to speak on the +subject of slavery. He was an agitator—he was a man who divided men. He +supplied courage to the weak, arguments to the many, and sent a chill of +hate and fear through the hearts of the enemy. And just here is a good +place to say that your radical—your fire-eater, agitator, and +revolutionary who dips his pen in aqua fortis, and punctuates with +blood—is almost without exception, met socially, a very gentle, modest +and suave individual. William Lloyd Garrison, Wendell Phillips, Horace +Greeley, Fred. Douglas, George William Curtis, and even John Brown, were +all men with low, musical voices and modest ways—men who would not +tread on an insect nor harm a toad.</p> + +<p>When the fight had been won—the Emancipation Proclamation issued—there +were still other fights ahead. The habit of Phillips' life had become +fixed.</p> + +<p>He and Ann lived in that plain little home on Exeter Street, and to this +home of love he constantly turned for rest and inspiration.</p> + +<p>At the close of the War he found his fortune much impaired, and he +looked to the Lyceum Stage—the one thing for which he was so eminently +fitted.</p> + +<p>It was about the year Eighteen Hundred Eighty that a callow interviewer +asked him who his closest associates were. The answer was: "My +colleagues are hackmen and<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_410" id="VII_Page_410">[Pg 410]</a></span> hotel-clerks; and I also know every +conductor, brakeman and engineer on every railroad in America. My home +is in the caboose, and my business is establishing trains."</p> + +<p>I heard Wendell Phillips speak but once. I was about twelve years of +age, and my father and I had ridden ten miles across the wind-swept +prairie in the face of a winter storm.</p> + +<p>It was midnight when we reached home, but I could not sleep until I had +told my mother all about it. I remember the hall was packed, and there +were many gaslights, and on the stage were a dozen men—all very great, +my father said. One man arose and spoke. He lifted his hands, raised his +voice, stamped his foot, and I thought he surely was a very great man. +He was just introducing the real speaker.</p> + +<p>Then the Real Speaker walked slowly down to the front of the stage and +stood very still. And everybody was awful quiet—no one coughed, nor +shuffled his feet, nor whispered—I never knew a thousand folks could be +so still. I could hear my heart beat—I leaned over to listen and I +wondered what his first words would be, for I had promised to remember +them for my mother. And the words were these—"My dear friends: We have +met here tonight to talk about the Lost Arts."... That is just what he +said—I'll not deceive you—and it wasn't a speech at all—he just +talked to us. We were his dear friends—he said so, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_411" id="VII_Page_411">[Pg 411]</a></span> a man with a +gentle, quiet voice like that would not call us his friends if he wasn't +our friend.</p> + +<p>He had found out some wonderful things and he had just come to tell us +about them; about how thousands of years ago men worked in gold and +silver and ivory; how they dug canals, sailed strange seas, built +wonderful palaces, carved statues and wrote books on the skins of +animals. He just stood there and told us about these things—he stood +still, with one hand behind him, or resting on his hip, or at his side, +and the other hand motioned a little—that was all. We expected every +minute he would burst out and make a speech, but he didn't—he just +talked. There was a big, yellow pitcher and a tumbler on the table, but +he didn't drink once, because you see he didn't work very hard—he just +talked—he talked for two hours. I know it was two hours, because we +left home at six o'clock, got to the hall at eight, and reached home at +midnight. We came home as fast as we went, and if it took us two hours +to come home, and he began at eight, he must have been talking for two +hours. I didn't go to sleep—didn't nod once.</p> + +<p>We hoped he would make a speech before he got through, but he didn't. He +just talked, and I understood it all. Father held my hand: we laughed a +little in places, at others we wanted to cry, but didn't—but most of +the time we just listened. We were going to applaud, but forgot it. He +called us his dear friends.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_412" id="VII_Page_412">[Pg 412]</a></span>I have heard thousands of speeches since that winter night in Illinois. +Very few indeed can I recall, and beyond the general theme, that speech +by Wendell Phillips has gone from my memory. But I remember the presence +and attitude and voice of the man as though it were but yesterday. The +calm courage, deliberation, beauty and strength of the speaker—his +knowledge, his gentleness, his friendliness! I had heard many sermons, +and some had terrified me. This time I had expected to be thrilled, too, +and so I sat very close to my father and felt for his hand. And here it +was all just quiet joy—I understood it all. I was pleased with myself; +and being pleased with myself, I was pleased with the speaker. He was +the biggest and best man I had ever seen—the first real man.</p> + +<p>It is no small thing: to be a man!</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_413" id="VII_Page_413">[Pg 413]</a></span>In Eighteen Hundred Fifty-three, Emerson said the reason Phillips was +the best public speaker in America was because he had spoken every day +for fourteen years.</p> + +<p>This observation didn't apply to Phillips at all, but Emerson used +Phillips to hammer home a great general truth, which was that practise +makes perfect.</p> + +<p>Emerson, like all the rest of us, had certain pet theories, which he was +constantly bolstering by analogy and example. He had Phillips in mind +when he said that the best drill for an orator was a course of mobs.</p> + +<p>But the cold fact remains that Phillips never made a better speech, even +after fourteen years' daily practise, than that reply to +Attorney-General Austin, at Faneuil Hall.</p> + +<p>He gave himself, and it was himself full-armed and at his best. All the +conditions were exactly right—there was hot opposition; and there also +was love and encouragement.</p> + +<p>His opponent, with brag, bluster, pomposity, cheap wit, and insincerity, +served him as a magnificent foil. Never again were wind and tide so in +his favor.</p> + +<p>It is opportunity that brings out the great man, but he only is great +who prepares for the opportunity—who knows it will come—and who seizes +upon it when it arrives.</p> + +<p>In this speech, Wendell Phillips reveals himself at his best—it has the +same ring of combined courage,<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_414" id="VII_Page_414">[Pg 414]</a></span> culture and sincerity that he showed to +the last. Clear thinking and clear speaking marked the man. Taine says +the style is the man—the Phillips style was all in that first speech, +and here is a sample:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>To draw the conduct of our ancestors into a precedent for mobs, for +a right to resist laws we ourselves have enacted, is an insult to +their memory. The difference between the excitement of those days +and our own, which this gentleman in kindness to the latter has +overlooked, is simply this: the men of that day went for the right, +as secured by laws. They were the people rising to sustain the laws +and the constitution of the province. The rioters of our day go for +their own wills, right or wrong. Sir, when I heard the gentleman +lay down principles which place the murderers of Alton side by side +with Otis and Hancock, with Quincy and Adams, I thought those +pictured lips [pointing to the portraits in the hall] would have +broken into voice to rebuke the recreant American—the slanderer of +the dead!</p> + +<p>The gentleman said he should sink into insignificance if he +condescended to gainsay the principles of these resolutions. For +the sentiments he has uttered, on soil consecrated by the prayers +of Puritans and the blood of patriots, the earth should have yawned +and swallowed him up!</p> + +<p>Allusion has been made to what lawyers understand very well—the +"conflict of laws." We are told that nothing but the Mississippi +River runs between Saint Louis and Alton; and the conflict of laws +somehow or other gives the citizens of the former a right to find<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_415" id="VII_Page_415">[Pg 415]</a></span> +fault with the defender of the press for publishing his opinions so +near their limits. Will the gentleman venture that argument before +lawyers? How the laws of the two States could be said to come into +conflict in such circumstances, I question whether any lawyer in +this audience can explain or understand. No matter whether the line +that divides one sovereign State from another be an imaginary one +or ocean-wide, the moment you cross it, the State you leave is +blotted out of existence, so far as you are concerned. The Czar +might as well claim to control the deliberations of Faneuil Hall, +as the laws of Missouri demand reverence, or the shadow of +obedience, from an inhabitant of Illinois.</p> + +<p>Sir, as I understand this affair, it was not an individual +protecting his property; it was not one body of armed men +assaulting another, and making the streets of a peaceful city run +blood with their contentions. It did not bring back the scenes in +some old Italian cities, where family met family, and faction met +faction, and mutually trampled the laws underfoot. No; the men in +that house were regularly enrolled under the sanction of the mayor. +There being no militia in Alton, about seventy men were enrolled +with the approbation of the mayor. These relieved each other every +other night. About thirty men were in arms on the night of the +Sixth, when the press was landed. The next evening it was not +thought necessary to summon more than half that number; among these +was Lovejoy. It was, therefore, you perceive, Sir, the police of +the city resisting rioters—civil government breasting itself to +the shock of lawless men. Here is no question about the right of +self-defense. It is, in fact,<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_416" id="VII_Page_416">[Pg 416]</a></span> simply this: Has the civil +magistrate a right to put down a riot? Some persons seem to imagine +that anarchy existed at Alton from the commencement of these +disputes. Not at all. "No one of us," says an eye-witness and a +comrade of Lovejoy, "has taken up arms during these disturbances +but at the command of the mayor." Anarchy did not settle down on +that devoted city till Lovejoy breathed his last. Till then the +law, represented in his person, sustained itself against its foes. +When he fell, civil authority was trampled underfoot. He had +"planted himself on his constitutional rights"—appealed to the +laws—claimed the protection of the civil authority—taken refuge +under "the broad shield of the Constitution. When through that he +was pierced and fell, he fell but one sufferer in a common +catastrophe." He took refuge under the banner of liberty—amid its +folds; and when he fell, its glorious stars and stripes, the emblem +of free constitutions, around which cluster so many heart-stirring +memories, were blotted out in the martyr's blood.</p> + +<p>If, Sir, I had adopted what are called peace principles, I might +lament the circumstances of this case. But all of you who believe, +as I do, in the right and duty of magistrates to execute the laws, +join with me and brand as base hypocrisy the conduct of those who +assemble year after year on the Fourth of July, to fight over +battles of the Revolution, and yet "damn with faint praise," or +load with obloquy, the memory of this man, who shed his blood in +defense of life, liberty, and the freedom of the press!</p> + +<p>Imprudent to defend the freedom of the press! Why? Because the +defense was unsuccessful? Does success<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_417" id="VII_Page_417">[Pg 417]</a></span> gild crime into patriotism, +and want of it change heroic self-devotion to imprudence? Was +Hampden imprudent when he drew the sword and threw away the +scabbard? Yet he, judged by that single hour, was unsuccessful. +After a short exile, the race he hated sat again upon the throne.</p> + +<p>Imagine yourself present when the first news of Bunker Hill battle +reached a New England town. The tale would have run thus: "The +patriots are routed; the redcoats victorious; Warren lies dead upon +the field." With what scorn would that Tory have been received, who +should have charged Warren with imprudence! who should have said +that, bred as a physician, he was "out of place" in the battle, and +"died as the fool dieth!" [Great applause.] How would the +intimation have been received that Warren and his associates should +have waited a better time? But, if success be indeed the only +criterion of prudence, "Respice finem"—wait till the end.</p> + +<p>Presumptuous to assert the freedom of the press on American ground! +Is the assertion of such freedom before the age? So much before the +age as to leave one no right to make it because it displeases the +community? Who invents this libel on his country? It is this very +thing which entitles Lovejoy to greater praise: the disputed right +which provoked the Revolution—taxation without representation—is +far beneath that for which he died. [Here there was a strong and +general expression of disapprobation.] One word, gentlemen! As much +as Thought is better than Money, so much is the cause in which +Lovejoy died nobler than a mere question of taxes. James Otis +thundered in this<span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_418" id="VII_Page_418">[Pg 418]</a></span> hall when the king did but touch his Pocket. +Imagine, if you can, his indignant eloquence had England offered to +put a gag upon his Lips. [Great applause.]</p> + +<p>The question that stirred the Revolution touched our civil +interests. This concerns us not only as citizens, but as immortal +beings. Wrapped up in its fate, saved or lost with it, are not only +the voice of the statesman, but the instructions of the pulpit and +the progress of our faith.</p> + +<p>Is the clergy "marvelously out of place" where free speech is +battled for—liberty of speech on national sins? Does the gentleman +remember that freedom to preach was first gained, dragging in its +train freedom to print? I thank the clergy here present, as I +reverence their predecessors, who did not so far forget their +country in their immediate profession as to deem it duty to +separate themselves from the struggle of Seventy-six—the Mayhews +and the Coopers—who remembered they were citizens before they were +clergymen....</p> + +<p>I am glad, Sir, to see this crowded house. It is good for us to be +here. When liberty is in danger, Faneuil Hall has the right, it is +her duty, to strike the keynote of these United States. I am glad, +for one reason, that remarks such as those to which I have alluded +have been uttered here. The passage of these resolutions, in spite +of this opposition, led by the Attorney-General of the +Commonwealth, will show more clearly, more decisively, the deep +indignation with which Boston regards this outrage.</p></div> + + + +<hr class="full" /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="VII_Page_419" id="VII_Page_419">[Pg 419]</a></span>SO HERE ENDETH "LITTLE JOURNEYS TO THE HOMES OF EMINENT ORATORS," BEING +VOLUME SEVEN OF THE SERIES, AS WRITTEN BY ELBERT HUBBARD: EDITED AND +ARRANGED BY FRED BANN; BORDERS AND INITIALS BY ROYCROFT ARTISTS, AND +PRODUCED BY THE ROYCROFTERS, AT THEIR SHOPS, WHICH ARE IN EAST AURORA, +ERIE COUNTY, NEW YORK, MCMXXII.</p> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Little Journeys to the Homes of the +Great, Volume 7, by Elbert Hubbard + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LITTLE JOURNEYS *** + +***** This file should be named 23761-h.htm or 23761-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/3/7/6/23761/ + +Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Annie McGuire and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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