diff options
| author | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 04:53:23 -0700 |
|---|---|---|
| committer | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 04:53:23 -0700 |
| commit | 16b0032e8abe08b4229ff95632d005bde4cd1c6a (patch) | |
| tree | dc252d179fe5c005218b35a02f90abc21c14d241 | |
| -rw-r--r-- | .gitattributes | 3 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | 18462-8.txt | 5421 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | 18462-8.zip | bin | 0 -> 117788 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 18462-h.zip | bin | 0 -> 793277 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 18462-h/18462-h.htm | 6843 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | 18462-h/images/img-059.jpg | bin | 0 -> 32445 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 18462-h/images/img-067.jpg | bin | 0 -> 31875 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 18462-h/images/img-071.jpg | bin | 0 -> 28398 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 18462-h/images/img-079.jpg | bin | 0 -> 34054 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 18462-h/images/img-101.jpg | bin | 0 -> 39996 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 18462-h/images/img-115.jpg | bin | 0 -> 36455 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 18462-h/images/img-121.jpg | bin | 0 -> 39853 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 18462-h/images/img-133.jpg | bin | 0 -> 34815 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 18462-h/images/img-139.jpg | bin | 0 -> 42252 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 18462-h/images/img-143.jpg | bin | 0 -> 35232 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 18462-h/images/img-147.jpg | bin | 0 -> 20537 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 18462-h/images/img-151.jpg | bin | 0 -> 31208 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 18462-h/images/img-155.jpg | bin | 0 -> 36923 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 18462-h/images/img-169.jpg | bin | 0 -> 50630 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 18462-h/images/img-187.jpg | bin | 0 -> 34379 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 18462-h/images/img-199.jpg | bin | 0 -> 36359 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 18462-h/images/img-203.jpg | bin | 0 -> 43754 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 18462-h/images/img-217.jpg | bin | 0 -> 31830 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 18462-h/images/img-239.jpg | bin | 0 -> 30950 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 18462.txt | 5421 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | 18462.zip | bin | 0 -> 117681 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | LICENSE.txt | 11 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | README.md | 2 |
28 files changed, 17701 insertions, 0 deletions
diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/18462-8.txt b/18462-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..f9fc8eb --- /dev/null +++ b/18462-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,5421 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Story of the Innumerable Company, and +Other Sketches, by David Starr Jordan + +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: The Story of the Innumerable Company, and Other Sketches + +Author: David Starr Jordan + +Release Date: May 28, 2006 [EBook #18462] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE STORY OF THE INNUMERABLE *** + + + + +Produced by Al Haines + + + + + + + + + + +THE STORY OF THE INNUMERABLE COMPANY, AND OTHER SKETCHES + + +BY + +DAVID STARR JORDAN + + + +PRESIDENT OF LELAND STANFORD JUNIOR UNIVERSITY + + + + + +SAN FRANCISCO + +THE WHITAKER & RAY COMPANY (INCORPORATED) + +1896 + + + + +COPYRIGHT, 1896, + +BY + +DAVID STARR JORDAN + + + + +TO MY WIFE, + +JESSIE KNIGHT JORDAN. + + + + +PREFATORY NOTE. + +This volume is made up of separate sketches, historical or allegorical, +having in some degree a bond of union in the idea of "the higher +sacrifice." + +I am under obligations to Professor William R. Dudley for the use of a +photograph of a record of Father Serra. This was secured through the +kindness of the late Father Casanova, of Monterey. + +PALO ALTO, CAL., June 1, 1896. + + + + + CONTENTS. + + + THE STORY OF THE INNUMERABLE COMPANY + THIS STORY OF THE PASSION + THE CALIFORNIA OF THE PADRE + THE CONQUEST OF JUPITER PEN + THE LAST OF THE PURITANS + A KNIGHT OF THE ORDER OF POETS + NATURE-STUDY AND MORAL CULTURE + THE HIGHER SACRIFICE + THE BUBBLES OF SÁKI + + + + +ILLUSTRATIONS. + + +Peter Rendl as Saint John + +Johann Zwink as Judas + +Rosa Lang as Mary + +"Ecce Homo!" + +A Record of Junípero Serra + +Mission of San Antonio de Pádua + +Mission of San Antonio de Pádua--Interior of Chapel + +Mission of San Antonio de Pádua--Side of Chapel, + with the Old Pear-trees + +The Great Saint Bernard + +Hospice of the Great Saint Bernard + +Hospice of the Great Saint Bernard--in Winter + +Jupitčre (Great Saint Bernard Dog) + +Monks of the Great Saint Bernard + +Saint Bernard and the Demon + +John Brown + +The John Brown Homestead, North Elba, N. Y. + +John Brown's Grave + +Ulrich Von Hutten + +Ulrich Zwingli + + + + + _Men told me, Lord, it was a vale of tears + Where Thou hast placed me, wickedness and woe + My twain companions whereso I might go; + That I through ten and threescore weary years + Should stumble on beset by pains and fears, + Fierce conflict round me, passions hot within, + Enjoyment brief and fatal but in sin. + When all was ended then should I demand + Full compensation from thine austere hand: + For, 'tis thy pleasure, all temptation past, + To be not just but generous at last._ + + _Lord, here am I, my threescore years and ten + All counted to the full; I've fought thy fight, + Crossed thy dark valleys, scaled thy rocks' harsh height, + Borne all the burdens Thou dost lay on men + With hand unsparing threescore years and ten. + Before Thee now I make my claim, O Lord,-- + What shall I pray Thee as a meet reward?_ + + _I ask for nothing. Let the balance fall! + All that I am or know or may confess + But swells the weight of mine indebtedness; + Burdens and sorrows stand transfigured all; + Thy hand's rude buffet turns to a caress, + For Love, with all the rest. Thou gavest me here, + And Love is Heaven's very atmosphere, + Lo, I have dwelt with Thee, Lord. Let me die. + I could no more through all eternity._ + + + + +THE STORY OF THE INNUMERABLE COMPANY. + +There was once a great mountain which rose from the shore of the sea, +and on its flanks it bore a mighty forest. Beyond the crest of the +mountain were ridges and valleys, peaks and chasms, springs and +torrents. Farther on lay a sandy desert, which stretched its +monotonous breadth to the shore of a wide, swift river. What lay +beyond the river no one knew, because its shores were always hid in +azure mist. + +Year by year there came up from the shore of the sea an Innumerable +Company. Each one must cross the mountain and the forest, faring +onward toward the desert and the river. And this was one condition of +the journey--that whosoever came to the river must breast its waters +alone. Why this was so, no one could tell; nor did any one know aught +of the land beyond. For of the multitude who had crossed the river not +one had ever returned. + +As time went on there came to be paths through the forest. Those who +went first left traces to serve as guides for those coming after. Some +put marks on the trees; some built little cairns of stones to show the +way they had taken in going around great rocks. Those who followed +found these marks and added to them. And many of the travelers left +little charts which showed where the cliffs and chasms were and by what +means one could reach the hidden springs. So in time it came to pass +that there was scarcely a tree on the mountain which bore not some +traveler's mark; there was scarcely a rock that had not a cairn of +stones upon it. + +In early times there was One who came up from the sea and made the +journey over the mountain and across the desert by a way so fair that +the memory of it became a part of the story of the forest. Men spoke +to each other of his way, and many wished to find it out, that haply +they might walk therein. He, too, had left a Chart, which those who +followed him had carefully kept, and from which they had drawn help in +many times of need. + +The way he went was not the shortest way, nor was it the easiest. The +ways that are short and easy lead not over the mountain. But his was +the most _repaying_ way. It led by the noblest trees, the fairest +outlooks, the sweetest springs, the greenest pastures, and the shadow +of great rocks in the desert. And the chart of his way which he left +was very simple and very plain--easy to understand. Even a child might +use it. And, indeed, there were many children who did so. + +On this chart were the chief landmarks of the region--the mountain with +its forest, the desert with its green oases, the paths to the hidden +springs. But there were not many details. The old cairns were not +marked upon it, and when two paths led alike over the mountain, there +was no sign to show that one was to be taken rather than the other. +Not much was said as to what food one should take, or what raiment one +should wear, or by what means one should defend himself. But there +were many simple directions as to how one should act on the road, and +by what signs he should know the right path. One ought to look upward, +and not downward; to look forward, and not backward; to be always ready +to give a helping hand to his neighbor: and whomsoever one meets is +one's neighbor, he said. + +As to the desert, one need not dread it; nor should one fear the river, +for the lands beyond it were sweet and fair. Moreover, one should +learn to know the forest, that he might choose his course wisely. And +this knowledge each one should seek for himself. For, as he said, "If +the blind lead the blind, both shall fall into the ditch." + +There were many who followed his way and gave heed to his precepts. +The path seemed dangerous at times, especially at the outset; for it +lay along dizzy heights, through tangled underwood, and across swollen +torrents. But after a while all these were left behind. The way +passed on between cleft rocks, into green pastures, and by still +waters; and in the desert were sweet springs which gave forth +abundantly. + +But some who tried to follow him said that his Chart was not explicit +enough. Every step in the journey, they contended, should be laid out +exactly; for to travel safely one should never be left in doubt. + +Now, it chanced that on the slope of the mountain there was a huge +granite rock, which stood in the midst of the way. Some of the +travelers passed to the right of it, while others turned to the left. +Strangely enough, the Chart said nothing concerning this rock. No hint +was given as to how one should pass by it. + +When they came to the rock, many of the travelers took counsel one of +another, and at last a great multitude was gathered there. Which way +had he taken? For in the path he took they must surely go. Many +scanned the rock on every side, to find if haply he had left some +secret mark upon it. But they found none; or, rather, no one could +convince the others that the hidden marks he found were intended for +their guidance. + +At nightfall, after much discussion, the old men in the council gave +their decision. The safe way led to the right. So he who kept the +Chart marked upon it the place of the rock, and he wrote upon the Chart +that the one true path leads to the right. Henceforth each man should +know the way he must go. + +Moreover, those who bore the records showed that this decision was +justified. They wrote upon the Chart a long argument, chain upon chain +and reason upon reason, to prove that from the beginning it was decreed +that by this rock should the destiny of man be tested. + +But in spite of argument, there were still some who chose the left-hand +path because they verily believed that this was the only right way. +They, too, justified their course by arguments, line upon line and +precept upon precept. And each band tried to make its following as +large as it could. Some men stood all day by the side of the rock, +urging people to come with them to the right or to the left. For, +strangely enough, although each man had his own journey to make, and +must cross the river at last alone, he was eager that all others should +go along with him. + +And as each band grew larger, its members took pride in the growth of +its numbers. In the larger bands, trumpets were blown, harps were +sounded, and banners were waved in the wind. Those who walked shoulder +to shoulder under waving flags to the sound of trumpets felt secure and +confident, while those who journeyed alone seemed always to walk with +fear and trembling. It was said in the old Chart that where two or +three were gathered together on the way, strength and courage would be +given them. But men could not believe this, and few had the heart to +test whether it were true or no. + +So the bands went on to the right or to the left, each in its chosen +path. But after they had passed the first great rock, they came to +other rocks and trees and places of doubt. Other councils were held, +and at each step there were some who would not abide by the decision of +the elders. So these from time to time went their own ways. And they +made new inscriptions on the Chart, and erased the old ones, each +according to his own ideas. And there was much pushing and jostling +when the bands separated themselves one from another. + +At last one of the oldest travelers in the largest band--a man with a +long white beard, and wise with the experience of years--arose and said +that not in anger, nor in strife, should they journey on. Discord and +contention arise from difference of opinion. Let all men but think +alike, and they will walk in peace and harmony. Let each band choose a +leader. Let him carry the Chart, and let him night and day pore over +its precepts. No one else need distress himself. One had only to keep +step on the road, and to follow whithersoever the leader might direct. + +So the people chose a leader--a man grave and serious, wise in the lore +of the forest and the desert. He noted on the Chart each rock and +tree, drawing in sharp outlines every detail in the only safe path. +Moreover, all deviating trails he marked with the symbol of danger. + +And it came to pass that day by day other bands followed, and to them +the Chart was given as he had left it. And these bands, too, chose +leaders, whose part it was to interpret the Chart. But each one of +these added to the Chart some better way of his own, some short cut he +had found, or some new trail not marked with the proper sign of warning. + +And with all these changes and additions, as time went on, the true way +became very hard to find. At one point, so the story is told, there +were twenty-nine distinct paths, leading in as many directions; each of +these, if the Chart be true, came to its end in some frightful chasm. +With these there was a single narrow trail that led to safety; but no +two leaders could agree as to which was the right trail. One thing +only was certain: the true way was very hard to find, and no traveler +might discover it unaided. + +And some declared that the Chart was complicated beyond all need. +There was one who said, "The multiplication of non-essentials has +become the bane of the forest." Even a little meadow which he had +found, and which he called the "Saints' Rest," was so entangled in +paths and counterpaths that once out of sight of it one could never +find it again. + +All this time there were many bands that wandered about in circles, +finding everywhere cairns of stones, but no way of escape. Still +others remained day after day in the shadow of great rocks, disputing +and doubting as to how they should pass by them. There were arguments +and precedents enough for any course; but arguments and precedents made +no man sure. + +And it came to pass that most travelers followed the band they found +nearest. At last, to join some band became their only care. And they +looked with pity and distrust upon those who traveled alone. + +But the bands all made their way very slowly. No matter how wise the +leader, not all were ready to move at once, and not all could keep step +to the sound of even the slowest trumpet. There was often much ado at +nightfall over the pitching of the tents, and many were crowded out +into the forest. At times also, in the presence of danger, fear spread +through the band, and many of the weaker ones were trampled on and +sorely hurt. + +Then, too, as they passed through the rocky defiles, some of them lost +sight of the banners, and then the others would wait for them, or +perchance leave them behind, to struggle on as best they might without +chart or guide. + +And there were those who spoke in this wise: "Many paths lead over the +mountain, and sooner or later all come to the desert and the river. It +does not matter where we walk; the question is, How? We cannot know +step by step the way he went. Let us walk by faith, as he walked. If +our spirit is like his, we shall not lack for guidance when we come to +the crossing of the ways." And so they fared on. But many doubted +their own promptings. "Tell me, am I right?" each one asked of his +neighbor; and his neighbor asked it again of him. And those who were +in doubt followed those who were sure. + +So it came to pass that these who walked by faith likewise gathered +themselves into great companies, and each company followed some leader. +Some of these leaders had the gift of woodcraft, and saw clearly into +the very nature of things. But some were only headstrong, and these +proved to be but blind leaders of the blind. + +Then one said, "We must not be filled with our own conceit, but must +humbly imitate him. We must try to work as he worked; to rest as he +rested; to sleep as he slept. The deeds we do should be those he did, +and those only. For on his Chart he has told us, not the way he went +past rocks and trees, but the actions with which his days were filled." +Then those who tried to do as he had done, moved by his motives and +acting through his deeds, found the way wonderfully easy. The days and +the hours seemed all too short for the joy with which they were filled. + +But, again, there were many who said that his directions were not +explicit enough. The Chart said so little. "That we may make no +mistake," they said, "we must gather ourselves in bands and choose +leaders. We cannot act as he acted unless there is some one to show us +how." + +Thus it came to pass that leaders were chosen who could do everything +that he had done, in all respects, according to his method. And they +added to the Chart the record of their own practices--not only that "He +did thus and so," but also, "Thus and so he did not do." "Thus and +thus did he eat bread, and thus only. Thus and thus did he loose his +sandals. In this way only gave he bread and wine. Here on the way he +fasted; there he feasted. At this turn of the road he looked upward +thus, shading his eyes with his hand. Here he anointed his feet; there +his face wore a sad smile. Such was the cut of his coat; of this wood +was his staff; of such a number of words his prayer." And many were +comforted in the thought that for every turn in the road there was some +definite thing which he had done, and which they, too, might perform. + +Thus the duties of every moment were fixed. But as the days went on +these duties grew more and more difficult. No one had time to look at +the rocks or trees; no one could cast his eyes over a noble prospect; +no one could stop to rest by the sweet fountains or in the refreshing +shadows. One could hardly give a moment to such things, lest he should +overlook some needful service. + +Then many lost heart, and said that surely he cared not for times and +observances, else he would have said more about them. When he made the +journey, it was his chief reproach that he heeded not these things. +With him, ceremony or observance rose directly out of the need for it, +each one as the need was felt. To imitate him is to feel as he felt. +With him feelings gave rise to word and action. "So will it be with +us. It is not for us to imitate him in the fashion of his coat or the +cut of his beard. He went over the road giving help and comfort, as +the sun gives light or the flowers shed fragrance, all unconscious of +the good he did." And in this wise did many imitate him. They turned +aside the boughs of the trees, that the sunshine of heaven might fall +upon their neighbors. And behold, the same sunshine fell upon them +also. They removed the stones from the road, that others might not +stumble over them. And others removed the stones from their way also. + +But many were still in doubt and hesitation. The record, they said, +was not explicit enough. They counseled together, and gathered in +bands, and chose leaders who should tell them how to feel. And the +leaders gave close heed to all his feelings and to the times and +seasons proper to each. Here he was joyous, and at a signal all the +baud broke into merry laughter. Here he was stern, and the multitude +set its teeth. There he wept, and tears fell like rain from +innumerable eyes. + +As time went on, repeated action made action easy. The springs of +feeling were readily troubled. Still each one felt, or tried to feel, +all that he should have felt. No one dared admit to his fellows that +his tears were a sham, his joy a pretense, his sadness a lie. But +often, in the bottom of their hearts, men would confess with real tears +that they had no genuine feeling there. + +Then the people asked for leaders who could bring out real feelings. +And there arose leaders, who, by terrible words, could fill the hearts +with fear; by burning words, could stir the embers of zeal; by the +intensity of their own passions, could fill the throng with pity, with +sorrow, or with indignation. And the multitude hung on their lips; for +they sought for feelings real and not simulated. + +But here again division arose; for not all were touched alike by those +who had power over the hearts of men. Some followed the leader who +moved them to tears; others chose him who filled them with fear and +trembling. Still others loved to linger in the dark shadow of remorse. +Some said that right emotions were roused by loud and ringing tones. +Some said that the tones should be sad and sweet. + +Then there were some who said that feelings such as all these were idle +and common. When he trod the way of old, it was with radiant eyes and +with uplifted heart. He saw through the veil of clouds to the glory +which lay beyond. We follow him best when we too are uplifted. Now +and then on the way come to us moments of exultation, when we tread in +his very footsteps. These are the precious moments; then our way is +his way. In the rosy mists of morning, we may behold the glory which +encompassed him. In moments of silent communion in the forest, we may +feel his peace steal over us. In the gentle rain that falls upon the +just and the unjust, we may know the soft pity of his tears. When the +sun declines, its last rays touch with gold the far-off mountain tops +beyond the great river. + +And the uplifting of great moments, filling the souls of men with peace +that passeth understanding, came to many. As they went their way, this +peace fell upon their neighbors also. And no man did aught to make +them afraid. And others sought to go with these, and thus they became +a great band. + +So they chose as their leaders those whose visions were brightest. And +they made for themselves a banner like the white mist flung out from +the mountain-tops at the rising of the sun. They spoke much to each +other concerning the white banner and the peace which filled their +souls. + +But as they journeyed along, the dust of the way dimmed the banner, and +the bright visions one by one faded away. At last they came no more. + +Then the people murmured and called upon the leaders to grant them some +brighter vision, something that all could see and feel at once--some +sign by which they might know that they were still in his way. "Cause +that a path be opened through the thicket," they said, "and let a white +dove come forth to lead us on; or, let the mists beyond the river part +for a moment, that we may behold the far country beyond." + +And one of the leaders standing at the head of the column, clothed in +the morning light as with a garment, raised his staff high in the air. +The sun's rays fell upon it, touching the morning mists with gold, and +threw across them the long shadow of the upraised staff. The shadow +fell far out across the plains, and about it was a halo of bright +light. And all the band looked joyfully at the vision. Adown the +slope of the mountain and out into the plain they followed the way of +the shadow. And all the time the white banner waved at the head of the +column. The people said little to one another, but that little was a +word of praise and rejoicing. + +But it came to pass, as the day wore on, that the sun rose in the sky, +and drew the mists up from the valley. With them vanished the long +shadow of the staff, and in its place appeared the sandy plain. The +feet of the people were sore with the rocks and stones. The air was +thick with dust. Their hearts were uplifted no longer. Instead they +were filled with doubt and distress. + +And the people repined and murmured against their leader. But the +leader said that all was well; even in the way he went there had been +stones and hindrances. More than once had he carried a heavy burden +along a dusty road. But he never doubted nor complained, and so the +radiance round about him never faded away. + +But all the more the people clamored for a sign. Let the bright vision +of the morning appear to us again. At length, worn with much entreaty, +the leader raised once more his staff above his head. The sun at noon +fell upon it. But as the people gazed they saw no long line of +radiance stretching out across the plains amid a halo of shining mist. +The shadow of the staff was a little shapeless mark upon the sand at +their very feet. + +Then the leader cast his staff away and went by himself alone, sad and +sorrowful. That night, as he lay by the roadside, he looked upward to +the clear, calm, honest stars. They seemed to say to him, "See all +things as they really are. This was his way. 'In spirit and in truth' +means in the light of no illusion. Not all the visions of mist or of +sunshine can make the journey other than it is." + +So he came to look closely at all things on the road. Day by day he +read the lessons of the desert and the mountain. He learned to know +directions by the growth of the trees. By the perfume of the lilies, +he sought out the hidden springs. By the red clouds at evening, he +knew that the sky would be fair. By the red light in the morning, he +was warned of the coming storm. And there were many who followed him +and his way, though he did not will it so. + +And he taught his companions, saying: "We must seek his way in the +nature of the things that abide. To learn this nature of things is the +beginning of wisdom. For day unto day uttereth speech, and night unto +night showeth knowledge. The way of nature is solid, substantial, +vast, and unchanging. He who walks in it stands secure, as in the +shadow of a high tower or as if encompassed by a mighty fortress. The +wisdom of the forest shall be granted to him who seeks for it with calm +heart and quiet eye." + +But among his followers there were many who were eager and would hasten +on, and although they spoke much of the Nature of Things and of the Law +of the Forest, they were contented with speaking. "The road is long," +they said to themselves, "and the hours are fleeting." They had no +time to contemplate the glory of the heavens. The beauty of the lilies +fell on unobservant eyes. For all these things they trusted to the +report of others. The words passed from mouth to mouth, losing ever a +little of their truth. And in this wise the voice of wisdom was turned +to the language of folly. For the nature of things is truth. But no +man can find truth except he seek it for himself. And so they fared +on, each well or ill, according to the truth to which his way bore +witness. + +Meanwhile those who bore the white banner remained long in council. At +last one remembered that it was written, "Faith without works is dead, +being alone." And it was written again, "Those who follow me in spirit +must follow me in truth." The essence of truth lies not in thought or +feeling, but must be expressed in deeds. Right feelings follow right +actions. Thus it was with him; thus will it be with us. + +Then they went their way together, doing good to one another. And each +called his neighbor "brother"; and some bore cups of cold water, and +some balm for healing; some carried oil and wine and pots of precious +ointment. To whomsoever they met they gave help and comfort. The +hungry they fed. The thirsty were given drink. He who had fallen by +the wayside was lifted up and strengthened, and the blessing of +cleanliness was brought to him who lay in filth and shame. The +blessing of him that was ready to perish came upon them, and the heart +of the widow sang for joy. + +But soon those who were filled with zeal for good works were gathered +together in great bands, and each band wished to magnify its work. In +every way, to all men who asked, help was given. They searched out the +lame and the blind, and brought them that they might perforce be +healed. Cup after cup of cold water was given to the little ones, even +to those who might bring water for themselves. They cared for the +wounded wayfarer long after his wounds were made whole. It was their +joy to bathe his limbs in oil and wine, or to swathe them in fragrant +bands. And the wayfarer ceased to bear his own tent or to seek his own +raiment. What others would do for him, he need not do for himself. +And those who did not help themselves lost the power of self-help. And +those who had helped others overmuch came themselves to need the help +of others. + +At last the number of the helpless became so great that there was no +one to serve them. Many waited day after day for the aid that never +came, and they grew so weak with waiting that they could not take up +their burdens. The little ones were thrust aside by the strong, and as +the band went on many of them were forgotten and left behind. They +fainted and fell by the healing springs, because there was no one to +give them drink, and they could not help themselves. + +And the burden of the way grew very hard and grievous to bear. Then +there were those who said that one cannot help another save by leading +him to help himself. All that is given him must he repay. Sooner or +later each must bear his own burden. Each must make his own way +through the forest in such manner as he may. + +So they turned back to the old Chart. They would read his words again, +that they might be led to better deeds. In these words they found help +and cheer. These words spake they one to another. They came like rain +to a thirsty field, or as balm to a wound, or as good news from a far +country. And there was wonderful consolation in the thought that for +every step of the way he had spoken the right word. + +So those who knew his words best were chosen as leaders, and great +companies followed them. And as band after band passed along, his +message sounded from one to another. His words were ever on their +lips. Those who could run swiftly carried them far and wide, even into +the depths of the forest. To those who were in sorrow they came as +glad tidings of great joy, and beautiful upon the mountains seemed the +feet of those who bore them. Wherever men were weary and heavy laden, +they were cheered by his promise of rest. + +But there were some who turned to his message only to gratify sordid +hopes or vain desires. He who was lazy sought warrant for sleep. He +who was covetous looked for gain. He who was filled with anger sought +promise of vengeance. There were many who repeated his words for the +mere words' sake. And there were some who used them in disputations +about the way. And the words of help on the Chart they turned into +words of command. Each one took these commands not to himself alone, +but sought to enforce them upon others. "For it is our duty," they +said, "to see that no word of his shall be unheeded of any man." And +many rose in resistance. And the conflicts on the way were fierce and +strong; for with each different band there was diversity of +interpretation. Thus the words of kindness became the voice of hate. + +And it came to pass that all along the way the green sward was red with +the blood of wayfarers. Everywhere the leaves of the forest were +trampled by struggling hosts. And "In his name" was the watchword of +each warring band. And each band called itself "his army." And +whosoever bore the sword that was reddest, they called the "Defender of +the Faith." They placed his name upon their battle-flags, and beneath +it they wrote these fearful words, "In this sign, conquer." And each +went forth to conquer his neighbor, and the wayfarer fled from the +sight of their banners as from a pestilence. But "Conquer, conquer," +was no word of his. He spoke not of victory over others; only of +conquest of oneself. He had said, "Resist not, but overcome evil with +good." And till all men ceased to resist and ceased to conquer, no one +found himself in the right way. Then some one said: "By words alone +can no one truly follow him. His words without his faith and love are +like sounding brass or tinkling cymbal. Out of the abundance of the +heart the mouth speaketh. When the heart is empty the speech of the +mouth is idle as the crackling of thorns beneath a pot." + +And there appeared other bands from the number of those who had passed +to the right of the first great rock; and seeing the tumult and +confusion of the others, they said to themselves: "These are they who +followed not us. We have chosen the better part. Our leader bears the +only perfect Chart. All other charts are the invention of men. In the +right Chart there can be nothing false; in the others there can be +nothing true. Those who have not the true Chart can never go right, +not even for a moment. For even good deeds done in the paths of evil +must partake of the nature of sin. Straight is the way and narrow is +the gate, but there is no safety except ye walk therein." + +So they went on, stumbling ever along the rocky road, never resting, +never murmuring. "For the way at best is a vale of tears," said they, +"and no one would have it otherwise. He found it thus in his time. He +was ever a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief. More than all +others had he suffered. It was his glory to be despised and rejected +of men. For the greater the abasement the greater the exaltation in +the land beyond the river." So day by day they walked in the hardest +part of the road. But they spoke often together of a land of pure +delight, of sweet fields beyond the swelling floods, and of turf soft +as velvet that rose from the river's bank. + +If perchance on the way they came to green pastures, they would hasten +on, lest they should be tempted to rest before the day of rest was +come. From sweet springs they turned aside, that theirs might be the +greater satisfaction when they came to the sweetest springs of all. +They shut their eyes to beauty and their ears to music, that the light +and music of the unknown shore might burst upon them as a sudden +revelation. They looked not at the stars, lest perchance these should +declare a glory which was reserved for other days. Dreary and harsh +was the way they trod. But in its very dreariness they found safety. +They sought no pleasure, they fought no battles, they wasted no time. +In the pushing aside of all temptation, the scorn of all beauty and +idleness, they found delight. Against the strength of granite rock +they set the force of iron will. Withal, at the bottom their hearts +were light with the certainty of coming joy. Even the multitude of +conflicting paths gave them a peculiar satisfaction; for whatever way +they took was always the right way. + +But there were some among them who lost all heart. And they threw +their charts away and set forth in disorder through the forest and up +the mountain. Some of them came safely to the river, far in advance of +the bands they had left behind. But to most the way was strange, and +harder than of old. And as the journey wore on they began to hate the +forest and all its ways. + +So they fared on, together or apart, in ever-deepening shadow. They +distrusted their neighbors. They despised the joyous bands who trooped +after their leaders with mouthing of verses and waving of flags. They +were stirred by the sound of no trumpet. They were deceived by no +illusion of sunshine or of mist. They said: "We know the forest; no +one knows it but ourselves. There is no future; there is no way; there +is no rest; there is no better country. The azure mists are shadows +only, hiding some dreary plain, if haply they hide anything at all. +Evil is man; evil are all things about him. Love and joy, hope and +faith, all these are but flickering lights that lure him to +destruction. Vultures croak on the rocks. The fountains flow with +ink. Danger lurks in the desert. The name of the river is Death." +And when they came to the shore of the river they saw no rift in the +clouds above it, for their eyes were filled with gloom. + +But as time passed on, the way of man grew brighter, whether he would +or no. No day nor hour was without its joy to him who opened his heart +to receive it. And men saw that most of the difficulties and dangers +of the way were those which they unwittingly had made for themselves or +for others. Thus, as the road became more secure, it no longer seemed +dreary or lonely. + +And so it came to pass at last that men ceased to gather themselves in +great bands. Nor did they longer set store on the sound of trumpets or +the waving of flags. The men who were wisest ceased to be leaders of +hosts. They became teachers and helpers instead. + +And with all this a sure way was from day to day not hard to find. Men +fell into it naturally and unconsciously. And the ways which are safe +are innumerable as the multitude of those that may walk therein. + +And those who had gone by diverse paths came from time to time +together. Each praised the charms of the path he had taken, but each +one knew that in other paths other men found as great delight. And as +time went on many wise men passed over the way, and each in his own +fashion left a record of all that had come to him. + +But the old Chart men kept in ever-increasing reverence. They found +that its simple, honest words were words of truth, and whoso sought for +truth gained with it courage and strength. But they covered it no +longer with their own additions and interpretations. Nor did any one +insist that what he found helpful to himself should be law unto others. +No longer did men say to one another, "This path have I taken; this way +must thou go." + +And some one wrote upon the Chart this single rule of the forest: +"Choose thou thine own best way, and help thy neighbor to find that way +which for him is best." But this was erased at last; for beneath it +they found the older, plainer words, which One in earlier times had +written there, "_Thy neighbor as thyself._" + + + + +THE STORY OF THE PASSION. + +The Alps are not confined to Switzerland. They fill that little +country full and overflow in all directions, into Austria, Italy, +Germany, and France. Beautiful everywhere, these mountains are nowhere +more charming than in Southern Bavaria. Grass-carpeted valleys, lakes +as blue as the sky above them, dark slopes of pine and fir, over-topped +by crags of gray limestone dashed by perpetual snow, the Bavarian +Oberland is one of the most delightful regions in all Europe. When +Attila and the Huns invaded Germany fifteen centuries ago, it is said +that their cry was, "On to Bavaria--on to Bavaria! for there dwells the +Lord God himself!" + +In the heart of these mountains, shut off from the highways of travel +by great walls of rock, lies the valley of the little river Ammer. Its +waters are cold and clear, for they flow from mountain springs, and its +willow-shaded eddies are full of trout. At first a brawling torrent, +its current grows more gentle as the valley widens and the rocks +recede, and at last the little river flows quietly with broad windings +through meadows carpeted with flowers. On these meadows, a couple of +miles apart, lie the twin villages of the Ammer Valley--the one +world-famous, the other unheard of beyond the sound of its +church-bells--Ober and Unter Ammergau. + +Long, straggling, Swiss-like towns, these villages on the Ammer meadows +are. You may find a hundred such between Innsbruck and Zürich. Stone +houses, plastered outside and painted white, stand close together, each +one passing gradually backward into woodshed, barn, and stable. You +may lose your way in the narrow, crooked streets, as purposeless in +their direction as the footsteps of the cows who first surveyed them. + +Oberammergau is a cleaner town than most, with a handsomer church, and +a general evidence of local pride and modest prosperity. Frescoes on +the walls of the houses here and there, paintings of saints and angels, +bear witness to a love of beauty and to the prevalence of a religious +spirit. These pictures, still bright after more than a century's wear, +go back to the time when the peasant boy, Franz Zwink, of Oberammergau, +mixed paints for a famous artist who painted the interior of the Ettal +Monastery and the village church. The boy learned the art as well as +the process, and when his master was gone, he covered the walls of his +native town with pictures such as made men famous in other times and in +other lands. The spirit of the Italian masters was his, and the work +of Zwink at Oberammergau has been called "a wandering wave from the +mighty sea of the Renaissance which has broken on a far-off coast." + +The Passion Play at Oberammergau has been characterized as a relic of +medieval times--the last remains of the old Miracle Play. This is +true, in the sense of historical continuity, and in that sense alone. +The spirit of the times has penetrated even to this isolated valley, +and its Passion Play is as much a product of our century as the poetry +of Tennyson. Miracle Plays were shown at Oberammergau and in the town +about it more than five hundred years ago, but the Passion Play of +to-day is not like them. The imps and devils and all the machinery of +superstition are gone. Harmony has taken the place of crudity, and the +Christ of Oberammergau is the Christ of modern conception. The Miracle +Play, dead or dying everywhere else, has lived and been perfected at +Oberammergau. + +It has been pre-eminently the work of the Church of Rome to teach the +common people, and to train them to obedience. In its teaching it has +made use of every means which could serve its purposes. Didactic +teaching is not effective with tired and sleepy peasants. Sermons +soothe, rather than instruct, after a week of hard labor in the fields. +Hence comes the need of object-teaching, if teaching is to be real. + +Images have been used in this way in the Catholic Church--not as +objects to be worshiped, but as representations of sacred things. +Paintings have served the same purpose. The noblest paintings in the +world have been wrought to this end. It was in such lines alone that +art could find worthy recognition. In like manner, processions and +"Passion[1] Plays" have served the same purpose. + +The old Miracle Plays were grotesque enough--made by common people for +the instruction of common people. Even amid the pathos of divine +suffering the peasants must be amused. Care was taken that the +character of Judas should meet this demand. So Judas was made at once +a traitor and a clown. His pathway was beset by devils of the most +ridiculous sort. And when at last he hung himself on the stage, his +body burst open, and the long links of sausages which represented +intestines were devoured by the imps amid the laughter and delight of +the peasant audience. Now all this has passed away. Wise and learned +men have taken the play in hand, and have left it a monument to their +piety and good taste. Everything grotesque, or barbarous, or +ridiculous has been eliminated. All else is subordinated to a faithful +and artistic representation of the life and acts of Christ. Stately +prose and the language of the Gospel narratives have been substituted +for doggerel verse. As a work of art, the Passion Play deserves a high +place in the literature of Germany. + +One striking feature of the Passion Play is the absence of +superstitious elements. Beyond the dominating influence of the purpose +of God, which is brought into strong prominence, there is almost +nothing which suggests the supernatural or miraculous. That little +even is forgotten in the intensity of human interest. The Devil and +his machinations have vanished entirely. One sees in the religious +customs of the people of Oberammergau few of the superstitions common +among the peasant classes of other parts of Europe. In his little +book, "Oberammergau und Seine Bewohner," Pastor Daisenberger says: +"Superstitious beliefs and customs one does not find here." Even the +ordinary ghost-stories and traditions of Germany are outworn and +forgotten in this town. + +In 1634, so the tradition says, the black death came to Oberammergau, +and one-tenth of the inhabitants died. The others made a vow, "a +trembling vow, breathed in a night of tears," that if God should stay +the plague, they would, on every tenth year, repeat in full, for the +edification of the people, the Tragedy of the Passion. Other +communities might build temples or monasteries, or could undertake +pilgrimages; it should be their duty to show "The Way of the Cross." +When this vow was taken, the pestilence ceased, and not another person +perished. This was regarded by the people as a visible sign of divine +approval. Thus every tenth year for nearly three centuries, ever since +the time when the Pilgrims landed on Plymouth Rock, with varying +fortunes and interruptions, the Passion Play has been represented in +Oberammergau. + +The play in its present form is essentially the work of Josef Alois +Daisenberger, who was for twenty years pastor of the church at +Oberammergau. In this town he was born in the last year of the last +century, and there he died, in 1888, revered and beloved by all who +came near him. + +"I wrote the play," Pastor Daisenberger said, "for the love of my +Divine Redeemer, and with no other object in view than the edification +of the Christian world." + +The first aim of the Passion Play has been the training of the common +people. To its various representations came the peasants of Bavaria, +Würtemberg, and the Tyrol, on horses, on donkeys, on foot, a long and +difficult journey across mountain-walls and through great forests. It +was the memory and inspiration of a lifetime to have seen the Passion +Play. + +About forty years ago the tourist world discovered this scene; and +since then, on the decennial year, an ever-increasing interest has been +felt, an ever-growing stream of travel has been turned toward the Ammer +Valley. All, prince or peasant, are treated alike by the simple, +honest people, and the same preparation is made for the reception of +all. The purpose of the play should be kept in mind in any just +criticism. To have the right to discuss it at all, one must treat it +in a spirit of sympathy. + +We came into Oberammergau on Friday, the 1st day of August, 1890, to +witness the performance of the Sunday following. The city of Munich, +seventy miles away, was crowded with visitors, all bound to the Passion +Play. The express-train of twenty cars which carried us from Munich +was crowded with people from almost every part of the civilized world. + +At Oberau, six miles from Oberammergau, at the foot of the Ettal +Mountain, we left the railway, and there took part in a general +scramble for seats in the carriages. The fine new road winds through +dark pine woods, climbing the hill in long zigzags above wild chasms, +past the old monastery of Ettal, and then slowly descends to the soft +Ammer meadows. The great peak of the Kofel is ever in front, while the +main chain of the Bavarian Alps closes the view behind. + +Arrived in the little village, all was bustle and confusion. The +streets were full of people--some busy in taking care of strangers, +others sauntering idly about, as if at a country fair. Young women, in +black bodices and white sleeves, welcomed the visitors at the little +inns or served them in the shops. Everywhere were young men in +Tyrolese holiday attire--green coats, black slouch hats, with a feather +or sprig of Edelweiss in the hat-band, and with trousers, like those of +the Scottish Highlanders, which end hopelessly beyond the reach of +either shoes or stockings. Besides the rustics and the tourists, one +met here and there upon the streets men whose grave demeanor and long +black hair resting on their shoulders proclaimed them to be actors in +the Passion Play. + +On Sunday morning we were awakened by the sound of a cannon planted at +the foot of the Kofel, a sharp, conical, towering mountain, some two +thousand feet above the town, and bearing on its summit a tall gilded +cross. It was cold and rainy, but that made no difference with the +audience or the play. At eight o'clock, when the cannon sounds again, +all are in their places, and the play begins. It lasts for eight +hours--from eight o'clock in the morning to half-past five in the +afternoon, with a single interruption of an hour and a half at noon. +The stage is wide and ample. Its central part is covered, but the +front, which represents the fields and the streets of Jerusalem, is in +the open air. This feature lends the play a special charm. On the +left, across the stage, over which the fitful rain-clouds chase one +another, we can plainly see the long, green slope of Ettal mountain, +dotted from bottom to top with herdmen's huts or _châlets_, and on the +summit a tall pine-tree, standing out alone above all its brethren. On +the other side appear the wild crags of the Kofel, its gilded cross +glistening in the sunshine above the morning mists. Swallows fly in +and out among the painted palm-trees, their twitter sounding sharply +above the music of the chorus. The little birds raise their voices to +make themselves heard to each other. + +As the play progresses the intense truthfulness of the people of +Oberammergau steadily grows upon us. For many generations the best +intellects and noblest lives in the town have been devoted to the sole +end of giving a worthy picture of the life and acts of Christ. Each +generation of actors has left this picture more noble than it ever was +before. Their work has been wrought in a spirit of serious +truthfulness, which in itself places the Oberammergau stage in a class +by itself, above and beyond all other theaters. Everything is real, +and stands for what it is. Kings and priests are dressed, not in +flimsy tinsel, but in garments such as real kings and priests may have +worn. And so no artificial light or glare of fireworks is needed to +make these costumes effective. And this genuineness enables these +simple players to produce effects which the richest theaters would +scarcely dare to undertake; and all this in the open air, in glaring +sunshine or in pouring rain. The players themselves can scarcely be +called actors. In their way, they are strong beyond all mere actors, +and for this reason--that they do not seem to act. From childhood they +have grown up in the parts they play. Childish voices learn the solemn +music of the chorus in the schools, and childish forms mingle in the +triumphal procession in the regular church festivals. All the effects +of accumulated tradition, all the results of years of training tend to +make of them, not actors at all, but living figures of the characters +they represent. And we can look back over the history of Oberammergau, +and see how, through the growth of this purpose of its life, it has +come to be unique among all the towns of Europe. + +Many have wondered that in so small a town there should be so many men +of striking personality. The reason for this is to be sought in the +operation of natural selection. In the ordinary German village, the +best men find no career. They go from home to the cities or to foreign +lands, in search of the work and influence not to be secured at home. +The strongest go, and the dull remain. All, this is reversed at +Oberammergau. Only the native citizen takes part in the play. Those +who are stupid or vicious are excluded from it. Not to take part in +the play is to have no reason for remaining in Oberammergau. To be +chosen for an important part is the highest honor the people know. So +the influences at work retain the best and exclude the others. +Moreover, the leading families of Oberammergau, the families of Zwink, +Lang, Rendl, Mayr, Lechner, Diemer, etc., are closely related by +intermarriage. These people are all of one blood--all of one great +family. This family is one of actors, serious, intelligent, devoted, +and all these virtues are turned to effect in their acting. + +This work is that of a lifetime. Little boys and girls come on the +stage in the arms of the mothers--matrons of Jerusalem. Older boys +shout in the rabble and become at last Roman soldiers or servants of +the High Priest. Still later, the best of them are ranged among the +Apostles, and the rare genius becomes Pilate, John, Judas, or the +Christ. + +In the house of mine host, the chief of the money-changers in the +temple, the eldest daughter was called Magdalena. In 1890, at +fourteen, she was leader of the girls in the tableau of the falling +manna. In 1900, she may, perhaps, become Mary Magdalen, the end in +life which her parents have chosen for her. + +After the cannon sounds, the chorus of guardian spirits +(_Schützengeister_) comes forward to make plain by speech or action the +meaning of the coming scenes. This chorus is modeled after the chorus +in the Greek plays. It is composed of twenty-four singers, the best +that Oberammergau has, all picturesquely clad in Greek costumes,--white +tunics, trimmed with gold, and over these an outer mantle of some deep, +quiet shade, the whole forming a perfect harmony of soft Oriental +colors. Stately and beautiful the chorus is throughout. The time +which in ordinary theaters is devoted to the arranging of scenes behind +a blank curtain is here filled by the songs and recitations of the +guardian spirits. Once in the play the chorus appears in black, in +keeping with the dark scenes they come forth to foretell. But at the +end the bright robes are resumed, while the play closes with a burst of +triumph from their lips. + +At the beginning of each act, the leader of the singers, the village +schoolmaster, comes forth from the chorus, and the curtain parts, +revealing a tableau illustrative of the coming scenes. These tableaux, +some thirty or forty in number, are taken from scenes in the Old +Testament which are supposed to prefigure acts in the life of Christ. +Thus the treachery of Judas is prefigured by the sale of Joseph by his +brethren. The farewell at Bethany has its type in the mourning bride +in the Song of Solomon; the Crucifixion, in the brazen serpent of +Moses. Sometimes the connection between the tableaux and the scenes is +not easily traced; but even then the pictures justify themselves by +their own beauty. Often five hundred people are brought on the stage +at once. These range in size from the tall and patriarchal Moses to +children of two years. But, old or young, there is never a muscle or a +fold of garment out of place. The first tableau represents Adam and +Eve driven from Eden by the angel with the flaming sword. It was not +easy to believe that these figures were real. They were as changeless +as wax. They did not even wink. The critic may notice that the hands +of the women are large and brown, and the children's faces not free +from sunburn. But there is no other hint that these exquisite pictures +are made up from the village boys and girls, those who on other days +milk the cows and scrub the floors in the little town. The marvelously +varied costumes and the grouping of these tableaux are the work of the +drawing-teacher, Ludwig Lang. Without appearing anywhere in the play, +this gifted man makes himself everywhere felt in the delicacy of his +feeling for harmonies of color. + +At the beginning of the play the leader of the chorus addresses the +audience as friends and brothers who are present for the same reason as +the actors themselves--namely, to assist devoutly at the mystery to be +set forth, the story of the redemption of the world. The purpose is, +as far as may be, to share the sorrows of the Saviour and to follow him +step by step on the way of his sufferings to the cross and sepulcher. +Then comes the prologue, solemnly intoned, of which the most striking +words are these: + + "Nicht ewig zürnet Er + Ich will, so spricht der Herr, + Den Tod des Sünders nicht." + +"He will not be angry forever. I, saith the Lord, will not the death +of the sinner. I will forgive him; he shall live, and in my Son's +blood shall be reconciled." + +When its part is finished the chorus retires, and the Passion Play +begins with the entry of Christ into Jerusalem. Far in the distance we +hear the music, "Hail to thee, O David's son!" Then follows a +seemingly endless procession of men, women, and children who wave +palm-leaves and shout hosannas. One little flaxen-haired girl, dressed +in blue, and carrying a long, slender palm-leaf, is especially striking +in her beauty and naturalness. + +At last He comes, riding sidewise upon a beast that seems too small for +his great stature. He is dressed in a purple robe, over which is a +mantle of rich crimson. Beside him, in red and olive-green, is the +girlish-looking youth, Peter Rendl, who takes the part of Saint John. +Behind him follow his disciples, each with the pilgrim's staff. Two of +these are more conspicuous than the others. One is a white-haired, +eager old man, wearing a mantle of olive-green. The other, younger, +dark, sullen, and tangle-haired, dressed in a robe of saffron over dull +yellow, is the only person in the throng out of harmony with the +prevailing joyousness. + +[Illustration: Peter Rendl as Saint John.] + +Followed by the people, who stand apart in reverence as he passes among +them, Christ approaches the temple. His face is pale, in marked +contrast to his abundant black hair. His expression is serious, or +even care-worn, less mild than in the usual pictures of Jesus, but +certainly in keeping with the scenes of the Passion Play. A fine, +strong, masterful man of great stature and immense physical strength is +the wood-carver, Josef Mayr, who now for three successive decades has +taken this part. A man of attractive presence and lofty bearing, one +whom every eye follows as he goes about the town on the round of his +daily duties, yet simple-hearted and modest, as becomes one who takes +on himself not only the dress but the name and figure of the Saviour. + +Essays have been written on "Christus" Mayr and his conception of +Jesus, and I can only assent to the general impression. To me it seems +that Mayr's thought of Christ is one which all must accept. He appears +as "one driven by the Spirit,"--the great mild teacher, the man who can +afford to be silent before kings and before mobs, and to whom the pains +of Calvary are not more deep than the sorrows of Gethsemane, the man +who comes to do the work of his Father, regardless alike of human +praise or of human contempt. The great strength of the presentation is +that it brings to the front the essentials of Christ's life and death. +There is no suggestion of theological subtleties nor of the ceremonies +of any church. It is simply true and terrible. + +From one of his fellow-actors, I learned this of Josef Mayr. He has +always been what he is now, a hand-worker ("_gemeiner Arbeiter_") in +Oberammergau. He has never been away from his native town except once, +when he went as a workman to Vienna, and once when, in 1870, the play +was interrupted by the war with France, and Mayr himself was taken into +the army. Out of respect to his art, he was never sent to the front, +but kept in the garrison at Munich. When the war was over, and he came +back, in 1871, the grateful villagers resumed the play as their "best +method of thanking God who had given them the blessings of victory and +peace." + +Canon Farrar, of Westminster, has given us the best and most +sympathetic account yet published of the various actors. Of Mayr he +said: "It is no small testimony to the goodness and the ability of +Josef Mayr that in his representation of Christ he does not offend us +by a single word or a single gesture. If there were in his manner the +slightest touch of affectation or of self-consciousness; if there were +the remotest suspicion of a strut in his gait, we should be compelled +to turn aside in disgust. As it is, we forget the artist altogether. +For it is easy to see that Josef Mayr forgets himself, and wishes only +to give a faithful picture of the events in the Gospel story." + +As the Master enters the temple, he finds that its courts are filled +with a noisy throng of money-changers, peddlers, and dealers in animals +for sacrifice. He is filled with wrath and indignation. In a +commanding tone, he orders them to take their own and leave this holy +place. "There is room enough for trading outside. 'My house,' thus +saith the Lord, 'shall be a house of prayer to all the people.' Ye +have made it a den of thieves." ("_Zur Räuberhöhle, habt Ihr es +gemacht!_") + +The peddlers pay no attention to his protest. Then, with a sudden +burst of wrath, he breaks upon them, overturning their tables, +scattering their gold upon the floor, and beating them with thongs. +The animals kept for sacrifice are released. The sheep scamper +backward to the rear of the stage, and escape through the open door. +The white doves fly out over the heads of the spectators, and are lost +against the green slopes of the Kofel. + +The play now follows the Gospel narrative very closely. It is, in +fact, the Gospel story, with only such changes as fit it for continuous +presentation. Events aside from the current of the story, such as the +wedding at Cana and the raising of Lazarus, are omitted. There are few +long speeches. The leading features of what may be called the plot, +the wrath of the money-changers, the fierce hatred of the Pharisees, +the avarice of Judas, which makes him their tool, are all sharply +emphasized. + +The next scene introduces us to the High Council of the Jews, and to +its leading spirit, Caiaphas. Caiaphas is represented by the +burgomaster of the village, Johann Lang. "No medieval pope," says +Canon Farrar, "could pronounce his sentences with more dignity and +verve. He is what has been called 'that terrible creature, the perfect +priest.'" Violent, unforgiving, and harsh, he is the soul of the +conspiracy. His strong determination is reflected in the weak +malignity of his colleague, Annas, as well as in the priests and +scribes. "While he lives," Caiaphas says, "there is no peace for +Israel. It is better that one man should die, that the whole nation +perish not." + +We next behold Jesus accompanied by his disciples on the road toward +the house of Simon of Bethany. As they walk along, he talks sadly of +his approaching death. None of them can understand his words; for to +them he has been victorious over all his enemies. "A word from thee," +says Peter, "and they are crushed." "I see not," says Thomas, "why +thou speakest so often of sorrow and death. Do we not read in the +prophets that Christ lives forever? Thou canst not die, for with thy +power thou wakest even the dead." Even John declares that Christ's +words are dark and dismal, while he and his associates use every effort +to cheer the Master. + +At the house of Simon of Bethany, Mary Magdalen breaks the costly dish +of ointment. Judas, who carries the slender purse of the disciples, is +vexed at the waste, and talks of all the good the value of this +ointment might have done if given to the poor. + +Very carefully worked out is the character of Judas, represented by +Johann Zwink, the miller of Oberammergau, who ten years ago took the +part of Saint John. The people of Oberammergau regard Zwink as the +most gifted of all their actors; for he can, they say, play any part. +("_Er spielt alle Rolle._") Gregor Lechner, who in his younger days +had the part of Judas, is now Simon of Bethany. Of all the actors of +Oberammergau, the people told us, Lechner is the most beloved +("_bestens beliebt_"). + +[Illustration: Johann Zwink as Judas.] + +In Zwink's conception, Judas is a man full of ambition, but without +enthusiasm. He is attracted by the power of Christ, from which he +expects great results. But Christ seems to care little for his own +mighty works. "My mission," he says, "is not to command, but to +serve." So Judas becomes impatient and dissatisfied. The eager +enthusiasm of Peter and the tender devotion of John alike bore and +disgust him. So the emissaries of Caiaphas find him half-prepared for +their mission. He admits that he has made a mistake in joining his +fortunes to those of an unpractical and sorrowful prophet who lets +great opportunities slip from his grasp, and who wastes a fortune in +precious ointment with no more thought than if it had been water. +"There has of late been a coolness between him and me," he confesses. +"I am tired," he says, "of hoping and waiting, with nothing before me +except poverty, humiliation, perhaps even torture and the prison." He +is especially ill at ease when the Master speaks of his approaching +death. "If thou givest up thy life," he says, "what will become of +us?" And so Judas reasons with himself that he can afford to be +prudent. If his Master fail, then he must be a false prophet, and +there is no use in following him. If he succeed, as with his mighty +power he can hardly fail to do, then, says Judas, "I will throw myself +at his feet. He is such a good man; never have I seen him cast a +penitent away. But I fear to face the Master. His sharp look goes +through and through me. Still at the most I shall only tell the +priests where my Master is." And thus the good and bad impulses +struggle for the mastery, giving to this character the greatest tragic +interest. He visibly shrinks before the words of Christ, "One of you +shall betray me." In the High Council he cringes under the scorching +reproach of Nicodemus. "Dost thou not blush," Nicodemus says, "to sell +thy Lord and Master? This blood-money calls to heaven for revenge. +Some day it will burn hot in thine avarice-sunken soul." + +But the High Priest says, "Come, Judas, take the silver, and be a man." +And when the thirty pieces are counted out to him, he cannot resist the +temptation, but clutches them with a miser's grasp and hurries off to +intercept the Master on his way through the Garden of Gethsemane. +Meanwhile, after a tender farewell from his mother, Christ leaves the +house of Simon of Bethany, and, with his disciples, takes the road to +Jerusalem. + +The part of Mary the mother of Christ is admirably taken by Rosa Lang. +In dress and mien, she seems to have stepped down from some +picture-frame of Raphael or Murillo. The Mary of Rosa Lang is in every +respect a worthy companion of Mayr's Christus. + +[Illustration: Rosa Lang as Mary.] + +The various scenes in which the Apostles appear are modeled more or +less after the great religious paintings, especially those of the +Bavarian artist, Albrecht Dürer. The Last Supper is a living +representation of the famous painting of Leonardo da Vinci in the +refectory at Milan. Peter and Judas are here brought into sharp +contrast. Next to Christ, is the slender figure of the beloved +disciple. The characters of the different Apostles are placed in bold +relief. We are at once interested in the fine face of Andreas Lang, +the Apostle Thomas, critical and questioning, but altogether loyal. +The Apostle Philip looks for signs and visions, and would see the +Father coming in His glory from the skies, not in the common every-day +scenes of life into which the Master led them. "Have I been so long +time with thee, and yet hast thou not known me, Philip?" + +Next comes the night scene in the Garden of Gethsemane on the Mount of +Olives. The tired Apostles rest upon the grassy bank, and one by one +they fall asleep. Even Peter, who is nearest the Master, can keep +awake no longer. Christ kneels upon the rocks above the sleeping +Peter. "O Father, if it be possible, let this cup pass from me." He +looks back to his disciples. "Are your eyes so heavy that ye cannot +watch? The weight of God's justice lies upon me. The sins of the +fallen world weigh me down. O Father, if it is not possible that this +hour go by, then may thy holy will be done." + +Suddenly a great tumult is heard. The faint light of the morning is +reflected from the clanging armor and from glittering spears. The +Apostles are rudely awakened. Judas comes forth and greets the Master +with a kiss. At this signal, the Master is seized by the soldiers and +roughly bound. Then he is carried away, first to Annas, and afterwards +to the house of Caiaphas. + +Of the scenes that immediately follow, the most striking is that of the +denial of Peter. Peter, as represented by the sexton of the church, +Jacob Hitt, is an old man with a young heart, eager and impulsive. He +dreams of the noble part he will take while standing by the Master's +side before kings and priests, but behaves very humanly when he is +brought face to face with an unexpected test. + +The scenes of the night have crowded thick and fast. The Apostles have +been scattered by the soldiers. The Master had been bound, and carried +away they know not whither. Peter had tried to defend him, but was +told to "put away his useless sword." In forlorn agony Peter and John +wander about in the dark, seeking news of Jesus. They meet a servant +who tells them that he has been carried before the High Priest, and +that the whole brood of his followers is to be rooted out. + +Near the house of the High Priest Annas we see a sort of inn occupied +by rough soldiers. The night is damp and cold. A maid has kindled a +fire in the courtyard, and Peter approaches it to warm his hands, and, +if possible, to gain some further news of the Master. He hears the +soldiers talking of Malchus, one of their number who had had his ear +cut off. They boast of what they will do with the culprit, if he +should ever fall into their power. "An ear for an ear," he hears them +say. Suddenly the maid turns towards Peter and says, "Yes, you, surely +you were with the Nazarene Jesus." Peter hesitates. Should he +confess, he would have his own ears cut off, an ear for an ear--and +most likely his head, too, while his body would be thrown out on the +rubbish heap behind the inn. Peter had said that he would die for the +Master; and so he would on the field of battle, or in any way where he +might have a glorious death. He would die for the Master, but not then +and there. The death of a martyr has its pleasures, no doubt, but not +the death of a dog. + +While Peter stood thus considering these matters, one and then another +of the servants insisted that he had surely been seen with the Nazarene +Jesus. Again and again Peter refused all knowledge of the Master. +When the cock crew once more he had denied his Master thrice. While +Peter still insisted, the door opened and the Master came forth under +the High Priest's sentence of death. "And the Lord turned and looked +upon Peter, and Peter went out and wept bitterly." "Oh, Master," he +says in the play: + + "Oh, Master, how have I fallen! + I have denied thee, how can it be possible? + Three times denied thee! Oh, thou knowest, Lord, + I was resolved to follow thee to death." + + +Meanwhile Judas hears the story of what has happened. He is at once +filled with agony and remorse, for he had not expected it. He was sure +that the great power of the Master would bring him through safely at +last. In helpless agony, he rushes before the Council and makes an +ineffective protest. "No peace for me forevermore; no peace for you," +he says. "The blood of the innocent cries aloud for justice." He is +repulsed with cold indifference. "Will it or not," says the High +Priest, "he must die, and it would be well for thee to look out for +thyself." + +In fury he cries out, "If he dies, then am I a traitor. May ten +thousand devils tear me in pieces! Here, ye bloodhounds, take back +your curse!" And flinging the blood-money at the feet of the priests, +he flies from their presence, pursued by the specter of his crime. + +The next scene shows us the field of blood--a wind-swept desert, with +one forlorn tree in the foreground. We see the wretched Judas before +the tree. He tears off his girdle, "a snake," he calls it, and places +it about his neck, snapping off a branch of the tree in his haste to +fasten it. "Here, accursed life, I end thee; let the most miserable of +all fruit hang upon this tree." In the action we feel that Judas is +not so much wicked as weak. He has little faith and little +imagination, and his folly of avarice hurries him into betrayal. Those +who see the play feel as the actors feel, that Christ knows the +weakness of man. He would have forgiven Judas, just as he forgave +Peter. + +In the early morning Christ is brought before Pontius Pilate. The +Roman governor, admirably represented by Thomas Rendl, appears in the +balcony and talks down to Caiaphas, who sends up his accusations from +the street below. His clear sense of justice makes Pilate at first +more than a match for the conspirators. With magnificent scorn he +tells Caiaphas that he is "astounded at his sudden zeal for Caesar." +Of Christ he says: "He seems to me a wise man--so wise that these dark +men cannot bear the light from his wisdom." Learning that Jesus is +from Galilee, he throws the whole matter into the hands of Herod, the +governor of that province. + +The words of Pilate are very finely spoken. "We marvel," says one +writer, "how the peasant Rendl learned to bear himself so nobly or to +utter the famous question, 'What is truth?' with a certain dreamy +inward expression and tone, as though outward circumstances had for the +instant vanished from his mind, and he were alone with his own soul and +the flood of thought raised by the words of Jesus." + +In contrast to Pilate, stands Herod, lazy and voluptuous. He, too, +finds nothing of evil in Jesus, whom he supposes to be a clever +magician. "Cause that this hall may become dark," he says, "or that +this roll of paper, which is thy sentence of death, shall become a +serpent." He receives Christ in good-natured expectancy, which changes +to disgust when he answers him not a word. Herod pronounces him "dumb +as a fish," and, after clothing him in a splendid purple mantle, he +sends him away unharmed, with the title of "King of Fools." + +Again Christ is brought before Pilate, who tells Caiaphas plainly that +his accusations mean only his own personal hatred, and that the voice +of the people is but the senseless clamor of the mob set in operation +by intrigue. Pilate orders Jesus to be scourged, in the hope that the +sight of his noble bearing amid unmerited cruelties may soften the +hearts of the people. Nowhere does the noble figure of Mayr appear to +better advantage than in this scene, where, after a brutal +chastisement, scarcely lessened in the presentation on the stage, the +Roman soldiers place a cattail flag in his hand and salute him as a +king. + +Pilate then brings forth an abandoned wreck of humanity, old Barabbas, +the murderer. As Christ stands before them, blood-stained and crowned +with thorns, half in hope and half in irony, Pilate invites them to +choose. "Behold the man," he said, "a wise teacher whom ye have long +honored, guilty of no evil deed. Jesus or Barabbas, which will ye +choose?" + +All the more fiercely the mob cries, "Crucify him! Crucify him!" + +[Illustration: "Ecce Homo!"] + +Pilate is puzzled. "I cannot understand these people," he said. "But +a few days ago, ye followed this man with rejoicing through the streets +of Jerusalem." The High Priest threatens to appeal to Rome. Pilate +fears to face such an appeal. He has little confidence in the favor or +the justice of the Caesar whom he serves. At last he consents to what +he calls "a great wrong in order to avert a greater evil." He calls +for water, and washes his hands in ostentatious innocence. Finally, as +he signs the verdict of condemnation in wrath and disgust, he breaks +his staff of office, and flings the fragments upon the stairs, at the +feet of the priests. + +Next we behold in the foreground of the stage, John and Mary the mother +of Jesus, and with them a little group of followers. A tumult is +heard, and, in the midst of a great throng of people, we see three +crosses borne by prisoners. Jesus beholds his mother. Suddenly he +faints, under the weight of the cross. The rough soldiers urge him on. +Simon of Cyrene, a sturdy passer-by, who is carrying home provisions +from the market, is seized by the soldiers and forced to give aid. At +first he refuses. "I will not do it," he says; "I am a free man, and +no criminal." But his indignant protests turn to pity, when he beholds +the Holy Man of Nazareth. "For the love of thee," he says, "will I +bear thy cross. Oh, could I make myself thus worthy in thy sight!" + +The closing scenes of the Passion Play, associated as they are with all +that has been held sacred by our race for nearly two thousand years, +are thrilling beyond comparison. No one can witness them unmoved. No +one can forget the impression made by the living pictures. In +simplicity and reverence, the work is undertaken, and it awakens in the +beholder only corresponding feelings. Every heart, for the time at +least, is stirred to its depths. + +When the curtain rises, two crosses are seen, each in its place. The +central cross is not yet raised. The Roman soldiers take their time +for it. "Come, now," says one of them, "we must put this Jewish king +upon his throne." So the heavy cross, with its burden, is raised in +its place. We see the bloody nails in his hands and feet; and so +realistic is the representation, that the nearest spectator cannot see +that he is not actually nailed to the cross. There is no haste shown +in the presentation. The Crucifixion is not a tableau, displayed for +an instant and then withdrawn. The scene lasts so long that one feels +a strange sense of surprise when Christus Mayr appears alive again. + +Twenty minutes is the time actually taken for the representation. "It +is hard," said our landlady, the good Frau Wiedermann, "to be on the +cross so long, even if one is not actually nailed to it. It is hard +for the thieves, too," she said, "as well as for Josef Mayr." + +The thieves themselves deserve a moment's notice. The one on the right +is a bald old man, who meets his death in patience and humility. The +one on the left is a robust young fellow, who defies his associates and +tormentors alike, and joins his voice to that of the rabble in scoffing +at the power of Jesus. "If thou be a god," he says, "save thyself and +us." There is at first a struggle over the inscription at the head of +the cross. "Let it read, 'He called himself the King of the Jews,'" +say the priests. But the Roman soldier is obdurate. "What I have +written I have written," and the centurion grimly nails it on the cross +above his head, regardless alike of their rage and protestations. + +Meanwhile, in the foreground the four Roman guards part the purple robe +of Christ, each one taking his share. But the seamless coat they will +not divide. So they cast the dice on the ground to see to whom this +prize shall fall. They are in no hurry. Traitors and thieves have all +night to die in, and they can wait for them. The first soldier throws +a low number, and gives up the contest. The second does better. The +third calls up to the cross, "If thou be a god, help me to throw a +lucky number." One cast of the dice is disputed. It has to be tried +again. + +Meanwhile we hear the poor dying body on the cross, in a voice broken +with agony, "Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do." +Again, amid the railings of the Jews, "My God, my God, why hast thou +forsaken me?" Then again, after a sharp cry of pain, "It is finished!" + +The captain drives the scoffing mob away, bidding the women come +nearer. Then a Roman soldier, sent by Pilate, comes and breaks the +legs of the thieves. We hear their bones crack under the club. Their +heads fall, their muscles shrink, as the breath leaves the body. But +finding that Jesus is already dead, the soldier breaks not his legs, +but thrusts a spear into his side. We can see the spear pierce the +flesh, but we cannot see that the blood flows from the spear-point +itself, and not from the Master's body. The soldiers fall back with a +feeling of awe. Then, one by one, as the darkness falls, we see them +file away on the road to Jerusalem, and the Son of Man is left in +silence. + +Then follows the descent from the cross, which suggests comparison with +Rubens' famous painting in the Cathedral at Antwerp, but here shown +with a fineness of touch and delicacy of feeling which that great +painter of muscles and mantles could never attain. We see Nicodemus +climb the ladder leaned against the back of the cross. He takes off +first the crown of thorns. It is laid silently at Mary's feet. He +pulls out the nails one by one. We hear them fall upon the ground. +With the last one falls the wrench with which he has drawn it. Passing +a long roll of white cloth over each arm of the cross, he lets the +Saviour down into the strong arms of Joseph of Arimathea, and, at last, +into the loving embrace of John and Mary. No description can give an +idea of the all-compelling force of this scene. A treatment less +reverent than is given by these peasants would make it an intolerable +blasphemy. As it is, its justification is its perfection. + +And this is the justification of the Passion Play itself. It can never +become a show. It can never be carried to other countries. It never +can be given under other circumstances. So long as its players are +pure in heart and humble in spirit, so long can they keep their +well-earned right to show to the world the Tragedy of the Cross. + + + +[1] The word "passion," as used in the term "Passionspiel," signifies +anguish or sorrow. The Passion Play is the story of the great anguish. + + + + +THE CALIFORNIA OF THE PADRE.[1] + +There is something in the name of Spain which calls up impressions +rich, warm, and romantic. The "color of romance," which must be +something between the hue of a purple grape and the red haze of the +Indian summer, hangs over everything Spanish. Castles in Spain have +ever been the fairest castles, and the banks of the Xenil and the +Guadalquivir still bound the dreamland of the poet. + + "There was never a castle seen + So fair as mine in Spain; + It stands embowered in green, + Overlooking a gentle slope, + On a hill by the Xenil's shore." + + +It has been said of Spanish rule in California, that its history was +written upon sand, only to be washed away by the advancing tide of +Saxon civilization. So far as the economic or political development of +our State is concerned, this is true; the Mission period had no part in +it, and its heroes have left no imperishable monuments. + +But in one respect our Spanish predecessors have had a lasting +influence, and the debt we owe to them, as yet scarcely appreciated, is +one which will grow with the ages. It is said that Father Crespi, in +1770, gave Spanish names to every place where he encamped at night, and +these names, rich and melodious, make the map of California unique +among the States of the Union. It is fitting that the most varied, +picturesque, and lovable of all the States should be the one thus +favored. We feel everywhere the charm of the Spanish language--Latin +cut loose from scholastic bonds, with a dash of firmness from the +Visigoth and a touch of warmth from the sun-loving Moor. The names of +Mariposa, San Buenaventura, Santa Barbara, Santa Cruz, and Monterey can +never grow mean or common. In the counties along the coast, there is +scarcely a hill, or stream, or village that does not bear some +melodious trace of Spanish occupation. + +To see what California might have been, we have only to turn away from +the mission counties to the foothills of the Sierras, where the +mining-camps of the Anglo-Saxon bear such names as Fiddletown, Red Dog, +Dutch Flat, Murder Gulch, Ace of Spades, or Murderer's Bar; these +changing later, by euphemistic vulgarity, into Ruby City, Magnolia +Vale, Largentville, Idlewild, and the like. Or, if not these, our +Anglo-Saxon practically gives us, not Our Lady of the Solitude, nor the +City of the Holy Cross, not Fresno, the ash, nor Mariposa, the +butterfly, but the momentous repetition of Smithvilles, Jonesboroughs, +and Brownstowns, which makes the map of the Mississippi Valley a waste +of unpoetical mediocrity. + +So the Spanish names constitute our legacy from the Mission Fathers. +It is now nearly three hundred and fifty years since Alta California +was discovered, one hundred and twenty years since it was colonized by +white people, and a little over forty years since it became a part of +our republic. In 1542, Cabrillo had sailed up the coast as far as Cape +Mendocino. In 1577, Sir Francis Drake came as far north as Point +Reyes, where, seeing the white cliffs of Marin County, he called the +country New Albion. Better known than these to Spanish-speaking people +was the voyage of Sebastian Vizcaino, who, in 1602, had coasted along +as far as Point Reyes, and had left a full account of his discoveries. +The landlocked harbor which Cabrillo had named San Miguel, Vizcaino +re-christened in honor of his flag-ship, San Diego de Alcalá. Farther +north, Vizcaino found a glorious deep and sheltered bay, "large enough +to float all the navies of the world," he said; and this, in honor of +the Viceroy of Mexico, he called the Bay of Monterey. To a broad curve +of the coast to the north, between Point San Pedro and Point Reyes, he +gave the name of the Bay of San Francisco,[2] dedicating it to the +memory of St. Francis of Assisi. A rough chart of the coast was made +by his pilot, Cabrera Bueno, who left also an account of its leading +features. + +For a hundred and sixty years after Vizcaino's expedition, no use was +made of his discoveries. In Professor Blackmar's words: "During all +this time, not a European boat cut the surf of the northwest coast; not +a foreigner trod the shore of Alta California. The white-winged +galleon, plying its trade between Acapulco and the Philippines, +occasionally passed near enough so that those on board might catch +glimpses of the dark timber-line of the mountains of the coast or of +the curling smoke of the forest fires; but the land was unknown to +them, and the natives pursued their wandering life unmolested." + +Toward the end of the seventeenth century, Father Salvatierra, head of +the Jesuit missions in Lower California, fixed his eye on this region, +and made plans for its occupation. In this the good Father Kühn--a +German from Bavaria, whom the Spaniards knew as "Quino,"--seconded him. +But these plans came to naught. The power of the Jesuit order was +broken; the charge of the missions in Lower California was given to the +Dominicans, that of Upper California to the Franciscans, and to these +and their associates the colonization of California is due. The +Franciscans, it is said, "were the first white men who came to live and +die in Alta California." + +And this is how it came about. One hundred and thirty years ago, the +port of La Paz, in Baja California, lay baking in the sun. La Paz was +then, as now, a little old town, with narrow, stony streets and adobe +houses, standing amidst palms, and chaparral, and cactus. To this port +of La Paz came, one eventful day, Don José de Galvez, envoy of the King +of Spain. He brought orders to the Governor of California, Don Gaspar +de Portolá, that he should send a vessel in search of the ports of San +Diego and of Monterey, on the supposed island, or peninsula, of Upper +California, once found by Vizcaino, but lost for a century and a half. +There they were to establish colonies and missions of the Holy Catholic +Church. They were "to spread the Catholic religion," said the letter, +"among a numerous heathen people, submerged in the obscure darkness of +paganism, thereby to extend the dominion of the king, our lord, and to +protect this peninsula of California from the ambitious designs of the +foreign nations." + +"The land must be fertile for everything," says Galvez, "for it lies in +the same latitude as Spain." So they carried all sorts of household +and field utensils, and seeds of every useful plant that grew in Spain +and Mexico--the olive and the pomegranate, the grape and the orange, +not forgetting the garlic and the pepper. All these were placed in two +small ships, the San Carlos, under the gallant Captain Vila, and the +San Antonio, under Captain Perez. + +Padre Junípero Serra, chief apostle of these Spanish missions, blessed +the vessels and the flags, commending the whole enterprise to the Most +Holy Patriarch San José, who was supposed to feel a special interest in +this class of expeditions. His early flight into Egypt gave him a +peculiar fondness for schemes involving foreign travel. Galvez +exhorted the soldiers and sailors to respect the priests, and not to +quarrel with each other. And thus they sailed away for San Diego in +the winter of 1769. + +At the same time there was organized a land expedition, which should +cross the sandy deserts and cactus-covered hills and join the vessels +at San Diego. That there should be no risk of failure, Don Gaspar de +Portolá divided the land forces into two divisions, one led by himself, +the other by Captain Rivera. These two parties were to take different +routes, so that if one were destroyed the other might accomplish the +work. In front of each band were driven a hundred head of cattle, +which were to colonize the new territories with their kind. + +Padre Serra went with the land expedition under the command of Portolá. +A barefooted friar, clad in a rough cloak confined by a rope at the +waist, looks comfortable enough in the cool shade of an Italian +cathedral; but the garb of the Franciscan order is ill-fitted to the +peculiarities of the California mesa. For the vegetation of Lower +California makes up in bristliness what it lacks in luxuriance. Bush +cactuses, so prickly that it makes one's eyes smart to look at them, +and bunch cactuses, in wads of thorns as large as a bushel-basket, +swarm everywhere. Before the barefooted Padre had traveled far, so +Miss Graham tells us in her charming little paper on the Spanish +missions, he had made the acquaintance of many species of cactus. +Horses in that country become lame sometimes, and people say that they +are "cactus-legged." And soon Father Serra became "cactus-legged," +too, so that he could neither walk nor ride a mule. The Indians were +therefore obliged to carry him in a litter, for he would not go back to +La Paz. + +But the Father felt great compassion for the Indians, who had enough to +do to carry themselves. He prayed fervently for a time, and then, +according to the chronicler of the expedition, "He called a mule-driver +and said to him: 'Son, do you know some remedy for my foot and leg?' +But the mule-driver answered, 'Father, what remedy can I know? Am I a +surgeon? I am a mule-driver, and have cured only the sore backs of +beasts.' 'Then consider me a beast,' said the Father, 'and this sore +leg to be a sore back, and treat me as you would a mule.' Then said +the muleteer, 'I will, Father, to please you,' and taking a small piece +of tallow, he mashed it between two stones, mixing with it herbs that +grew close by. Then heating it over the fire, he anointed the foot and +leg, and left the plaster upon the sore. 'God wrought in such a +manner,' wrote the Padre Serra afterwards, 'that I slept all that +night, and awoke so much relieved that I got up and said matins and +prime, and afterwards mass, as if nothing had happened.'" + +But Father Serra did not show his faith by such simple miracles as +these alone. In one of his revival meetings in Mexico, Bancroft tells +us, he was beating himself with a chain in punishment for his imaginary +offenses, when a man seized the chain and beat himself to death as a +miserable sinner, in the presence of the people. At another time, +sixty persons who neglected to attend his meetings were killed by an +epidemic, and the disease went on, killing one after another, until the +people had been scared into attention to their religious duties. Then, +at a sign from Padre Serra, the plague abated. + +At one time the good Padre was well lodged and entertained in a very +neat wayside cottage on a desolate and solitary road. Later he learned +that there was no such cottage in that region, and, we are told, he +concluded that his entertainers were Joseph, Mary, and Jesus. + +Suffering greatly from thirst on one of his journeys, he said to his +companions, who were complaining: "The best way to prevent thirst is to +eat little and talk less." In a violent storm he was perfectly calm, +and the storm ceased instantly when a saint chosen by lot had been +addressed in prayer. And so on; for miracles like these are constant +accompaniments of a mind wholly given over to religious enthusiasm. + +In due season, Padre Serra and his party arrived at San Diego, having +followed the barren and dreary coast of Lower California for three +hundred and sixty miles, often carrying water for great distances, and +as often impeded by winter rains. The boats and the other party were +already there, and in the valley to the north of the _mesa_, on the +banks of the little San Diego River, they founded the first mission in +California. + +Within a fortnight of Serra's arrival at San Diego, a special land +expedition set out in search of Vizcaino's lost port of Monterey. The +expedition, under Don Gaspar de Portolá, was unhappy in some respects, +though fortunate in others--unhappy, for after wandering about in the +Coast Range for six months, the soldiers returned to San Diego, weary, +half-starved, and disgusted, failing altogether, as they supposed, to +find Monterey; fortunate, for it was their luck to discover the far +more important Bay of San Francisco. It seems evident, from the +researches of John T. Doyle and others, that the company of Portolá, +from the hills above what is now Redwood City, were the first white men +to behold the present Bay of San Francisco. The journal of Miguel +Costanzo, a civil engineer with Portolá's command, is still preserved +in the Sutro Library in San Francisco, and Costanzo's map of the coast +has been published. The diary of Father Crespi, who accompanied +Portolá, has also been printed. + +The little company went along the coast from San Diego northward, +meeting many Indians on the way, and having various adventures with +them. In the pretty valley which they named San Juan Capistrano, they +found the Indian men dressed in suits of paint, the women in bearskins. +On the site of the present town of Santa Ana, which they called Jesus +de los Temblores, they met terrific earthquakes day and night. At Los +Angeles, they celebrated the feast of Our Lady the Queen of the Angels +(Nuestra Seńora, Reina de Los Angeles), from which the valley took the +name it still bears. They passed up the broad valley of San Fernando +Rey, and crossed the mountains to the present village of Saugus. +Thence they went down the Santa Clara River to San Buenaventura and +Santa Barbara, their route coinciding with that of the present +railroad. Above San Buenaventura they found Indians living in huts of +sagebrush. At Santa Barbara, the Indians fed on excellent fish, but +played the flute at night so persistently that Portolá and his soldiers +could not sleep for the music. They next passed Point Concepcion, and +crossed the picturesque Santa Ynez and the fertile Arroyo Grande to the +basin-shaped valley of San Luis Obispo, with its row of four conical +mountains. At the last of these, Moro Rock, they reached the sea +again. Above Piedras Blancas, where the rugged cliffs of the Santa +Lucia crowd down to the ocean, they were blocked, and could go no +farther. Crossing the mountains to the east, they followed Nacimiento +Creek to below Paso Robles, then went down the dusty valley of the +Salinas, past the pastures on which the missions of San Miguel and +Soledad were later planted. Below Soledad, they came again to the sea. +They then went along the shore to the westward, past the present site +of Monterey and Pacific Grove, and on to the Point of Pines itself, the +southern border of the Bay of Monterey. Yet not one of them recognized +the bay or any of the landmarks described by Vizcaino. At the Point of +Pines, they were greatly disheartened, because they could nowhere find +a trace of the Bay of Monterey, or of any other bay which was +sheltered, or on which "the navies of the world could ride." Father +Crespi celebrated here "the Feast of Our Father in the New World"; +"or," he adds, "perhaps in a corner of the Old World, without any other +church or choir than a desert." Portolá offered to return, but Crespi +said: "Let us continue our journey until we find the harbor of +Monterey; if it be God's will, we will die fulfilling our duty to God +and our country." So they crossed the Salinas again, and went +northward along the shore of the very bay they had sought so long. +Then they came to another river, where they killed a great eagle, whose +wings spread nine feet and three inches. They called this river +Pajaro, which means "bird," and devoutly added to it the name of Saint +Anne, "Rio del Pajaro de Santa Ana." To the memory of this bird, the +Pájaro River still remains dedicated. Farther on, they came to forests +of redwood--"_Palo Colorado_," they called it. Crespi describes the +trees "as very high, resembling cedars of Lebanon, but not of the same +color; the leaves different, and the wood very brittle." + +[Illustration: A Record of Junípero Serra.] + +At Santa Cruz, on the San Lorenzo River, they encamped, still bewailing +their inability to find Monterey Bay. Going northward, along the coast +past Pescadero and Halfmoon Bay, they saw the great headland of Point +San Pedro. They called it Point Guardian Angel (Angel Custodio), and +from its heights they could clearly see Point Reyes and the chalk-white +islands of the Farallones. These landmarks they recognized from the +charts of Cabrera Bueno. Crespi says: "Scarce had we ascended the +hill, when we perceived a vast bay formed by a great projection of land +extending out to sea. We see six or seven islands, white, and +differing in size. Following the coast toward the north, we can +perceive a wide, deep cut, and northwest we see the opening of a bay +which seems to go inside the land. At these signs, we come to +recognize this harbor. It is that of our Father St. Francis, and that +of Monterey we have left behind." "But some," he adds, "cannot believe +yet that we have left behind us the harbor of Monterey, and that we are +in that of San Francisco." + +But the "Harbor of San Francisco," as indicated by Cabrera Bueno, lay +quite outside the Golden Gate, in the curve between Point San Pedro on +the south, and Point Reyes on the north. The existence of the Golden +Gate, and the landlocked waters within, forming what is now known as +San Francisco Bay, was not suspected by any of the early explorers. +The high coast line, the rolling breakers, and, perhaps, the banks of +fog, had hidden the Golden Gate and the bay from Cabrillo, Drake, and +Vizcaino alike. By chance a few members of Portolá's otherwise +unfortunate expedition discovered the glorious harbor. Some of the +soldiers, led by an officer named Ortega, wandered out on the Sierra +Morena, east of Point San Pedro. When they reached the summit and +looked eastward, an entirely new prospect was spread out before them. +From the foothills of these mountains, they saw a great arm of the +ocean--"a mediterranean sea," they termed it, according to Mr. Doyle's +account, "with a fair and extensive valley bordering it, rich and +fertile--a paradise compared with the country they had been passing +over." They rushed back to the seashore, waving their hats and +shouting. Then the whole party crossed over from Halfmoon Bay into the +valley of San Mateo Creek. Thence they turned to the south to go +around the head of the bay, passing first over into the Cańada del +Raymundo, which skirts the foot of the mountain. Soon they came down +the "Bear Gulch" to San Francisquito Creek, at the point where +Searsville once stood, before the great Potolá Reservoir covered its +traces and destroyed its old landmark, the Portolá Tavern. They +entered what is now the University Campus, on which columns of +ascending smoke showed the presence of many camps of Indians. These +Indians were not friendly. The expedition was out of provisions, and +many of its members were sick from eating acorns. There seemed to be +no limit to the extension of the Estero de San Francisco. At last, in +despair, but against the wishes of Portolá, they decided to return to +San Diego. They encamped on San Francisquito Creek, and crossed the +hills again to Halfmoon Bay. Then they went down the coast by Point +Ańo Nuevo, to Santa Cruz. At the Point of Pines they spent two weeks, +searching again everywhere for the Bay of Monterey. + +At last they decided that Vizcaino's description must have been too +highly colored, or else that the Bay of Monterey must, since his time, +have been filled up with silt or destroyed by some earthquake. At any +rate, the bay between Santa Cruz and the Point of Pines was the only +Monterey they could find. According to Washburn, Vizcaino's account +was far from a correct one. It was no fault of Portolá and Crespi +that, after spending a month on its shores, it never occurred to them +to recognize the bay. + +On the Point of Pines they erected a large wooden cross, and carved on +it the words: "Dig at the foot of this and you will find a writing." + +According to Crespi this is what was written: + +"The overland expedition which left San Diego on the 14th of July, +1769, under the command of Don Gaspar de Portolá, Governor of +California, reached the channel of Santa Barbara on the 9th of August, +and passed Point Concepcion on the 27th of the same month. It arrived +at the Sierra de Santa Lucia on the 13th of September; entered that +range of mountains on the 17th of the same month, and emerged from it +on the 1st of October; on the same day caught sight of Point Pinos, and +the harbors on its north and south sides, without discovering any +indications or landmarks of the Bay of Monterey. We determined to push +on farther in search of it, and on the 30th of October got sight of +Point Reyes and the Farallones, at the Bay of San Francisco, which are +seven in number. The expedition strove to reach Point Reyes, but was +hindered by an immense arm of the sea, which, extending to a great +distance inland, compelled them to make an enormous circuit for that +purpose. In consequence of this and other difficulties--the greatest +of all being the absolute want of food,--the expedition was compelled +to turn back, believing that they must have passed the harbor of +Monterey without discovering it. We started on return from the Bay of +San Francisco on the 11th of November; passed Point Ańo Nuevo on the +19th, and reached this point and harbor of Pinos on the 27th of the +same month. From that date until the present 9th of December, we have +used every effort to find the Bay of Monterey, searching the coast, +notwithstanding its ruggedness, far and wide, but in vain. At last, +undeceived and despairing of finding it, after so many efforts, +sufferings, and labors, and having left of all our provisions but +fourteen small sacks of flour, we leave this place to-day for San +Diego. I beg of Almighty God to guide us; and for you, traveler, who +may read this, that He may guide you also, to the harbor of eternal +salvation. + +"Done, in this harbor of Pinos, the 9th of December, 1769. + +"If the commanders of the schooners, either the San José or the +Principe, should reach this place within a few days after this date, on +learning the accounts of this writing, and of the distressed condition +of this expedition, we beseech them to follow the coast down closely +toward San Diego, so that if we should be happy enough to catch sight +of them, we may be able to apprize them by signals, flags, and firearms +of the place where help and provisions may reach us." + + +The next day the whole party started back to San Diego, making the +journey fairly well, in spite of illness and lack of proper food. +Though disappointed at Portolá's failure, Serra had no idea of +abandoning his project of founding a mission at Monterey. He made +further preparations, and in about three months after Portolá's return +a newly organized expedition left San Diego. It consisted of two +divisions, one by land, again commanded by Portolá, and one by sea. +This time the good Father wisely chose for himself to go by sea, and +embarked on the San Antonio, which was the only ship he had in sailing +condition. In about a month Portolá's land party reached the Point of +Pines, and there they found their cross still standing. According to +Laura Bride Powers, "great festoons of abalone-shells hung around its +arms, with strings of fish and meat; feathers projected from the top, +and bundles of arrows and sticks lay at its base. All this was to +appease the stranger gods, and the Indians told them that at nightfall +the terrible cross would stretch its white arms into space, and grow +skyward higher and higher, till it would touch the stars, then it would +burst into a blaze and glow throughout the night." + +Suddenly, as they came back through the forest from the Point of Pines, +the thought came both to Crespi and Portolá that here, after all, was +the lost bay of Vizcaino. In this thought they ran over the landmarks +of his description, and found all of them, though the harbor was less +important than Vizcaino had believed. Since that day no one has +doubted the existence of the Bay of Monterey. + +A week later, the San Antonio arrived, coming in sight around the Point +of Pines, and was guided to its anchorage by bonfires along the beach. +The party landed at the mouth of the little brook which flows down a +rocky bank to the sea. On the 3rd of June, 1770, Father Serra and his +associates "took possession of the land in the name of the King of +Spain, hoisting the Spanish flag, pulling out some of the grass and +throwing stones here and there, making formal entry of the +proceedings." On the same day Serra began his mission by erecting a +cross, hanging bells from a tree, and saying mass under the venerable +oak where the Carmelite friars accompanying Vizcaino celebrated it in +1602. Around this landing grew up the town of Monterey. + +At a point just back from the shore, near the old live-oak tree under +which the Padre rendered thanks, there has long stood a commemorative +cross. On the hill above where the Padre stood looking out over the +beautiful bay, there was placed one hundred and twenty years later, by +the kind interest of a good woman, a noble statue, in gray granite, +representing Father Serra as he stepped from his boat. + +A fortress, or presidio, was built, and Monterey was made the capital +of Alta California. But the mission was not located at the town. It +was placed five miles farther south, where there were better pasturage +and shelter. This was on a beautiful slope of the hill, flanked by a +fertile valley opening out to the glittering sea, with the mountains of +Santa Lucia in front and a great pine forest behind. The valley was +named Carmelo, in honor of Vizcaino's Carmelite friars, and the mission +was named for San Carlos Borromeo. + +The present church of Monterey was not a mission church, but the chapel +of the _presidio_, or barracks. It is now, according to Father +Casanova, the oldest building in California. The old Mission of San +Diego, first founded of all, was burned by the Indians. It was +afterwards rebuilt, but this took place after the chapel in Monterey +was finished. The mission in Carmelo was not completed until later, as +the Padre was obliged to secure authority from Mexico, that he might +place it on the pasture lands of Carmelo, instead of the sand-hills of +Monterey. + +When the discoveries of Portolá and Ortega had been reported at San +Diego, the shores of this inland sea of San Francisco seemed a most +favorable station for another mission. Among the missions already +dedicated to the saints, none had yet been found for the great father +of the Franciscan order, St. Francis of Assisi, the beloved saint who +could call the birds and who knew the speech of all animals. Before +this, Father Serra had said to Governor Galvez, "And for our Father St. +Francis is there to be no mission?" And Galvez answered, "If St. +Francis wants a mission, let him show his port, and we will found the +mission there." + +And now the lost port of St. Francis was found, and it was the most +beautiful of all, with the noblest of harbors, and the fairest of views +toward the hills and the sea. So the new mission was called for him, +the Mission San Francisco de los Dolores. For the Creek Dolores, the +"brook of sorrows," flowed by the mission, and gave it part of its +name. But Dolores stream is long since obliterated, forming part of +the sewage system of San Francisco.[3] + +Thus was founded + + "that wondrous city, now apostate to the creed, + O'er whose youthful walls the Padre saw the angel's golden reed." + + +Meanwhile, following San Diego de Alcalá and San Carlos Borromeo, a +long series of missions was established, each one bearing the sonorous +Spanish name of some saint or archangel, each in some beautiful sunny +valley, half-hidden by oaks, and each a day's ride distant from the +next. In the most charming nook of the Santa Lucia Mountains was built +San Antonio de Pádua; in the finest open pastures of the Coast Range, +San Luis Obispo de Tolosa. In the rich valley, above the city of the +Queen of the Angels, the beautiful church of San Gabriel Arcángel was +dedicated to the leader of the hosts of heaven. Later, came the +magnificent San Juan Capistrano, ruined by earthquakes in 1812. In its +garden still stands the largest pepper-tree in Southern California. + +Then Santa Clara was built in the center of the fairest valley of the +State. Next came San Buenaventura and Santa Barbara, for the coast +Indians of the south, and Santa Cruz, for those to the north of +Monterey Bay. In the Salinas Valley, along the "_Camino real_," or +royal highway, from the south to the north, were built Nuestra Seńora +de la Soledad and San Miguel Arcángel. A day's journey from Carmelo, +in the valley of the Pájaro, arose San Juan Bautista. In the charming +valley of Santa Ynez, still hidden from the tourist, a day's journey +apart, were Santa Ynez and La Purisima Concepcion. East of the Bay of +San Francisco, in a nook famous for vineyards, arose the Mission San +José. + +[Illustration: Mission of San Antonio de Padua.] + +In the broad, rocky pastures above Los Angeles, arose San Fernando Key +de Espana, while midway between San Diego and San Juan Capistrano was +placed the stateliest of all the missions, dedicated, with its rich +river valley, to the memory of San Luis Rey de Francia. Finally, to +the north of San Francisco Bay, was built San Rafael, small, but +charmingly situated, and then San Francisco Solano, still farther on in +Sonoma. This, the northernmost outpost of the saints, the last, +weakest, and smallest, was first to die. It was founded in 1823, fifty +years after the Mission San Diego. + +Wherever you find in California a warm, sunny valley leading from the +ocean back to the purple mountains, with a clear stream in its midst, +and filled in summer with blue haze, around it steep slopes on which +grapes may grow, you have found a mission valley, and these grapes are +mission grapes. Somewhere in it you will see a cluster of large, +wide-spreading pepper-trees, with delicate light-green foliage, or a +grove of gnarled olives, looking like stunted willows, or, perhaps, a +cluster of old pear-trees, or sometimes a tall palm. Near these you +will find the ruins of old houses of adobe, wherein once dwelt the +Indian neophytes. These houses are clustered around the walls, now +almost in ruins, of the mission itself, which had its chapel, +refectory, and baptistry, and in all its details it resembled closely a +parish church of Italy of Spain. + +The mission was usually laid out in the form of a hollow square, +inclosed by a wall of adobe, twelve feet high, the whole inclosure +being two or three hundred feet square. In the center of this square +was a chapel, also of adobe; for the sun of California is kind to +California's children, and a house of dried mud will withstand the +scanty rains of a century. Some of these old chapels are still used, +but the roofs of most of them have long since fallen in, and the +ornaments have been removed to decorate some other building. The +mission churches were built like mimic cathedrals, cathedrals of mud +instead of marble, and, like their great models, each had its altar, +with candles and crucifix, its vessels of holy water, and on the walls +the inevitable paintings of heaven and purgatory. Their most charming +feature was the arched cloister, a feature which has been retained and +beautified in the architecture of Leland Stanford Jr. University, at +Palo Alto. + +Each church, too, had its little chime of bells, some of which were +partly of gold or silver, as well as of brass. During the early +enthusiasm, when the mission bells were cast, old heirlooms from Spain, +rings, vases, and ancestral goblets from which had been "drunk the red +wine of Tarragon," were thrown into the molten metal. And when these +consecrated bells chimed out the Angelas at the sunset hour, with the +sound of their voices all evil spirits were driven away, and no harm +could come to man or beast or growing grain. + + "Bells of the past, whose long-forgotten music + Still fills the wide expanse, + Tingeing the sober twilight of the present + With color of romance; + + I hear you call, and see the sun descending + On rock and wave and sand, + As down the coast the mission voices blending, + Girdle the heathen land. + + "Within the circle of your incantation + No blight nor mildew falls, + Nor fierce unrest nor sordid low ambition + Passes those airy walls. + + Borne on the swell of your long waves receding + I touch the farther past. + I see the dying glow of Spanish glory, + The sunset dream and last. + + * * * * * * + + "Your voices break and falter in the darkness, + Break, falter, and are still, + And veiled and mystic, like the Host descending, + The sun sinks from the hill." [4] + + +Around the church were built storehouses, workshops, granaries, +barracks for the soldiers,--in short, everything necessary for comfort +and security. Each mission was at once fortress, refuge, church, and +town. The little town grew in time more and more to resemble its +fellows in old Spain. Bull-fights and other festivals were held in the +_plaza_, or public square, in front of the _presidio_, or governor's +house, and the long, low, whitewashed _hacienda_, or tavern. + +About the mission arose a great farm. Vines and olives were planted, +and often long avenues of shade-trees. The level lands were sown to +barley and oats; great herds of cattle and horses roamed over the +hills. The sale of wine, and especially of hides, brought in each year +an increasing revenue. The poor, struggling missions became rich. The +commanders kept up a dignity worthy of the representatives of the +Spanish king, though often they had little enough to command. It is +said that one of them, wishing to fire a salute in honor of some +foreign vessel, first sent on board to borrow powder. In the words of +Bret Harte, with the _comandante_ the days "slipped by in a delicious +monotony of simple duties, unbroken by incident or interruption. The +regularly recurring feasts and saint's days, the half-yearly courier +from San Diego, the rare transport ship, and rarer foreign vessels, +were the mere details of his patriarchal life. If there was no +achievement, there was certainly no failure. Abundant harvests and +patient industry amply supplied the wants of the _presidio_ and +mission. Isolated from the family of nations, the wars which shook the +world concerned them not so much as the last earthquake; the struggle +that emancipated their sister colonies on the other side of the +continent had to them no suggestiveness. It was that glorious Indian +summer of California history, that bland, indolent autumn of Spanish +rule, so soon to be followed by the wintry storms of Mexican +independence and the reviving spring of American conquest." + +[Illustration: Mission of San Antonio de Padua--Interior of Chapel.] + +The Indians were usually gathered about the mission by force or by +persuasion. Being baptized with holy water, they were taught to build +houses, raise grain, and take care of cattle. In place of their savage +rites, they learned to count their beads and say their prayers. They +learned also to work, and were pious and generally contented. But +these California Indians, at the best, were far inferior to those of +the East. "When attached to the mission," Mr. Soulé says, "they were +an industrious, contented, and numerous class, though, indeed, in +intelligence and manly spirit they were little better than the beasts, +after all." + +The Jesuit Father, Venegas, remarks, discouragingly: "It is not easy +for Europeans who were never out of their own country to conceive an +adequate idea of these people. Even in the least frequented quarters +of the globe there is not a nation so stupid, of such contracted ideas, +and weak, both in body and in mind, as the unhappy Californians. Their +characteristics are stupidity and insensibility, want of knowledge and +reflection, inconstancy, impetuosity, and blindness of appetite, +excessive sloth, abhorrence of all fatigue of every kind, however +trifling or brutal,--in fine, a most wretched want of everything which +constitutes the real man and makes him rational, inventive, tractable, +and useful to himself and others." All of which goes to show that +climate is not everything, and that contact with other minds and other +people, with the sifting that rigorous conditions enforce, may outweigh +all the advantages of the fairest climate. The highest development +comes with the fewest barriers to migration, to competition, and to the +spread of ideas. + +The destruction of the missions and the advent of our Anglo-Saxon +freedom has been for the Indian and his kind only loss and wrong. He +has become an alien and tramp, with his half-brother, the despised +Greaser. + +The mission fathers left no place for idleness on the part of their +converts, or "neophytes"; nor did they make much provision for the +development of the individual. The Indians were to work, and to work +hard and steadily, for the glory of the church and the prosperity of +the nation. In return they were insured from all harm in this world +and in the world to come. The rule of the Padre was often severe, +sometimes cruel, but not demoralizing, and the Indians reached a higher +grade of industry and civilization than the same race has attained +otherwise before or since. + +Believing that the use of the rod was necessary to the Indians' +salvation, the Padres were in no danger of sparing it, and thus +spoiling their children. The good Father Serra would as "soon have +doubted his right to breathe as his right to flog the Indian converts"; +and meek and quiet though these converts usually were, there were not +wanting times when they turned about in sullen resistance. The annals +of some of the missions show a series of events that may well have +discouraged the most enthusiastic of missionaries. The unconverted +Indians, or "gentiles," of Southern California were heathens indeed, +and they made repeated attacks upon the missions by day, or stole their +stock or burned their houses by night. Volleys of arrows not +unfrequently greeted the priests on their return from morning mass. + +In San Diego, faith in the power of gunpowder to hurt long preceded any +belief in the power of the cross to save. For a whole year after the +mission was founded, not a convert was made. The sole San Diego Indian +in Father Serra's service was a hired interpreter, who did not have a +particle of reverence for his employer's work. "In all these +missionary annals of the Northwest," says Bancroft, "there is no other +instance where paganism remained so long stubborn as in San Diego." + +And the converts made at such cost of threats and promises were always +ready to backslide. It was hard to convert any unless they subjugated +all. The influence of the many outside would often stampede the few +within the fold. + +In one of the numerous uprisings at San Diego the Fathers were +victorious over the Indians; the warriors were flogged, and thus +converted, and their four chiefs were condemned to death. The sentence +of death, according to Bancroft, read as follows: + + +"Deeming it useful to the service of God, the king, and the public +good, I sentence them to a violent death by musket shots, on the 11th +of April, at 9 A.M., the troops to be present at the execution, under +arms; and also all the Christian rancherias subject to the San Diego +Mission, that they may be warned to act righteously." + + +To the priests who were to assist at the last sacrament, the following +grim directions was given: + + +"You will co-operate for the good of their souls, in the understanding +that if they do not accept the salutary waters of holy baptism, they +die on Saturday morning; and if they do accept, they die all the same." + + +The character of the first great mission chief, Junípero Serra, is thus +summed up by Bancroft: + + +"All his energy and enthusiasm were directed to the performance of his +missionary duties as outlined in the regulations of his order and the +instruction of his superiors. Limping from mission to mission, with a +lame foot that must never be cured, fasting much and passing sleepless +nights, depriving himself of comfortable clothing and nutritious food, +he felt that he was imitating the saints and martyrs who were the +ideals of his sickly boyhood, and in recompense of abstinence he was +happy. He was kind-hearted and charitable to all, but most strict in +his enforcement of religious duties. It never occurred to him to doubt +his absolute right to flog his neophytes for any slight negligence in +matters of the faith. His holy desires trembled within him like +earthquake throbs. In his eyes there was but one object worth living +for--the performance of religious duty; and but one way to accomplish +that object--a strict and literal compliance with Franciscan rules. He +could never understand that there was anything beyond the narrow field +of his vision. He could apply religious enthusiasm to practical +affairs. Because he was a grand missionary, he was none the less a +money-maker and civilizer; but money-making and civilizing were +adjuncts only to mission work, and all not for his glory, but for the +glory of God." + + +After Junípero Serra came a saner and wiser, if not a better, man, the +Padre Fermin Lasuen. I need not go into details in regard to him or +his life. No miracles followed his path, and no saint made him the +object of spectacular intervention; but his gentle earnestness counted +for more in the development of Old California than that of any other +man. Of Lasuen, Bancroft says: + + +"In him were united the qualities that make up the ideal Padre, without +taint of hypocrisy or cant. He was a frank, kind-hearted old man, who +made friends of all he met. Of his fervent piety there are abundant +proofs, and his piety and humility were of an agreeable type, +unobtrusive, and blended with common sense. He overcame obstacles in +the way of duty, but he created no obstacles for the mere sake of +surmounting them. He was not a man to limp through life on a sore leg +if a cure could be found. . . . First among the Californian prelates +let us ever rank Fermin de Lasuen, as a friar who rose above his +environment and lived many years in advance of his times." + + +Thirteen years after the serene founding of the Mission San Francisco +came the first shock to the community, thus noticed in a letter from +the governor of the territory to the _comandante_ at San Francisco: + + +"Whenever there may arrive at the Port of San Francisco a ship named +the Columbia, said to belong to General Washington, of the American +States, commanded by John Kendrick, which sailed from Boston in +September, 1787, bound on a voyage of discovery to the Russian +establishments on the northern coast of this peninsula, you will cause +the said vessel to be examined with caution and delicacy, using for +this purpose a small boat which you have in your possession." + +Afterwards another enemy, almost as dangerous as the Yankee, appeared +in the shape of Russians from Alaska. They brought down a colony of +Kodiak Indians, or Aleuts, and established themselves at Fort Ross, +north of San Francisco. The Spaniards then founded the missions of San +Rafael and Solano in front of the Russians, to head them off, as the +priest makes the sign of the cross to ward off Satan. Trading with the +Russians was forbidden, but, nevertheless, the Russian vessels, on one +pretext or another, made repeated visits to the Bay of San Francisco. +The Spaniards had no boats in the bay, and could not prevent the +ingress of the Russian and American traders. One of the singular facts +in connection with the missions is that the Padres made no use of the +sea, and the missions usually kept no boats at all, and so the Spanish +officials were forced to receive in friendliness many encroachments +which they were powerless to prevent. + +In 1842, as the seals grew scarce around Bodegas Head, the Russians, to +the great satisfaction of the Spaniards, disappeared as suddenly as +they came. The joy of the missions was short-lived, for seven years +later gold was discovered, California was ceded to the United States, +and the most remarkable invasion known in history followed. Over the +mountains, across the plains, by the Isthmus, and by the Horn they +came, that wonderful procession which Bret Harte has made so familiar +to us--Truthful James, Tennessee's Partner, Jack Hamlin, John Oakhurst, +Flynn of Virginia, Abner Dean of Angels, Brown of Calaveras, Yuba Bill, +Sandy McGee, the Scheezicks, the Man of No Account, and all the rest. +And the California of the gambler and the gold-seeker succeeds the +California of the Padre. + +Numerous causes had meanwhile contributed to the decline of the Spanish +missions. They had been supported at first by a Pious Fund, obtained +by subscriptions in Mexico and Spain. After the separation of these +two countries, this fund was lost, its interest being regularly +embezzled by Mexican officials, and, finally, the principal, it is +said, was taken in one lump by the President, Santa Ana. Still the +missions were able to hold their own until the Mexican Government +removed the Indians from the control of the Padres, for the benefit, I +suppose, of the "Indian ring." The secular control of the native +tribes was, in Mexican hands, an utter failure. The Indians, now no +longer compelled to work, no longer well fed and comfortably clothed, +were scattered about the country as paupers and tramps. The missions, +after repeated interferences of this sort, fell into a rapid decline, +and at the time that California was ceded to the United States, not one +of them was in successful operation. A few of the churches are still +partly occupied, as at San Luis Obispo, San Capistrano, and San Miguel. +The Mission of Santa Barbara is still intact, and has yet its little +bands of monks. A few, like San Carlos, have been partially saved or +partially restored, thanks to the loving interest of Father Casanova +and others; but the Indians are gone, and neither wealth nor influence +remains with the missions. Most of them are crumbling ruins, and have +already taken their place as curiosities and relics of the past. Some +of them, as the noble San Antonio de Pádua and the stately San Luis +Rey, are exquisitely beautiful, even in ruins. Of others, as San +Rafael, not a trace remains, and its spot can be kept green only in +memory. It is said that at San Antonio, a mission once numbering +fourteen hundred souls, and rearing the finest horses in California, +the last priest lived all alone for years, and supported himself by +raising geese and selling the tiles from the mission roof. When he +died, ten years ago, no one was left to care for his beloved mission, +which is rapidly falling into utter decay. + +[Illustration: Mission of San Antonio de Padua--side of the chapel, +with the old pear-trees.] + +So faded away the California of the Padre, and left no stain on the +pages of our history. + + + +[1] Address at the Teachers' Institute at Monterey, California, +September, 1893. + +[2] This stretch of water, as explained below, lies entirely outside of +what is now known as San Francisco Bay. + +[3] The limits of San Francisco Bay, as now understood, were +ascertained at the time of the founding of the mission, and the name +was then formally adopted. + +[4] Bret Harte. + + + + +THE CONQUEST OF JUPITER PEN. + +In a cleft of the high Alps stands the Hospice of the Great Saint +Bernard. Its tall, cold, stone buildings are half-buried in ice in the +winter, while even in summer the winds, dense with snow, shriek and +howl as they make their way through the notch in the mountain. Its +little lake, cold and dark, frozen solid in winter, is covered with +cakes of floating ice under the sky of July. The scanty grass around +it forms a thick, low turf, which is studded with bodiless blue +gentians, primroses, and other Alpine flowers. Overhanging the lake +are the frost-bitten crags of the Mountain of Death; and the other +mountains about, though less dismally named, are not more cheerful to +the traveler. Along the lake margin winds the narrow bridle-path, +which follows rushing rivulets in zigzags down steep flower-carpeted +slopes to the pine woods of Saint Rémy, far below. Among the pines the +path widens to a wagon-road, whence it descends through green pastures, +purple with autumnal crocus, past beggarly villages, whose houses crowd +together, like frightened cattle in a herd, through beech woods, +vineyards, and grain-fields, till at last it comes to its rest amid the +high stone walls of the old city of Aosta, named for Augustus Caesar. +Above Aosta are the sources of the river Po, one of the chief of these +being the Dora Baltea, in a deep gorge half-hid by chestnut-trees. It +is twenty miles from the lake to the river--twenty miles of wild +mountain incline--twenty miles from Switzerland to Italy, from the +eternal snows and faint-colored flowers of the frigid zone, to the +dust, and glare of the torrid. + +The Hospice of the Great Saint Bernard stands thus in a narrow mountain +notch, with only room for itself and its lake, while above it, on +either side, are jagged heights dashed with snow-banks, their summits +frosted with eternal ice. + +[Illustration: The Great Saint Bernard.] + +It is a large stone building, three stories high, beside the two attic +floors of the steep, sloping roof. A great square house of cold, gray +stone, as unattractive as a barn or a woolen-mill, plain, cold, and +solid. At one end of the main building is a stone addition precisely +like the building itself. On the other side of the bridle-path is an +outbuilding--a tall stone shed, "the Hotel of Saint Louis," three +stories high, as plain and uncompromising as the Hospice is. The front +door of the main building is on the side away from the lake. From this +door down the north side of the mountain the path descends steeply from +the crest of the Pennine Alps to the valley of the Rhone, even more +swiftly than the path on the south side drops downward to the valley of +the Po. + +As one approaches the Hospice he is met by a noisy band of great dogs, +yellow and white, with the loudest of bass voices, barking incessantly, +eager to pull you out of the snow, and finding that you do not need +this sort of rescue, apparently equally eager to tear you to pieces for +having deceived them. Classical names these dogs still bear--names +worthy of the mountain long sacred to Jupiter, on which the Hospice is +built--Jupitčre, Junon, Mars, Vulcan, Pluton, the inevitable Leon, and +the indomitable Turc, and all have for the traveler such a greeting as +only a band of big, idle dogs can give. These dogs are not so large +nor so well kept as the Saint Bernard dogs we see in American cities, +but they have the same great head, huge feet and legs, and the same +intelligent eye, as if they were capable of doing anything if they +would only stop barking long enough to think of something else. + +The inside of the house corresponds to its outer appearance. Thick, +heavy triple doors admit you to a cold hall floored with stone. +Adjoining this is a parlor, likewise floored with the coldest of stone, +and this parlor is used as the dining-room and waiting-room for +travelers. Its walls are hung with pictures, many of them valuable +works of art, the gifts of former guests, while its chilly air is +scantily warmed by a small fireplace, on which whoever will may throw +pine boughs and fragments of the spongy wood of the fir. By this fire +the guests take their turn in getting partly warmed, then pass away to +shiver in the outer wastes of the room. + +[Illustration: Hospice of the Great Saint Bernard.] + +In this room the travelers are served with plain repasts, princes and +peasants alike, coarse bread, red wine, coffee, and boiled meat; +everything about the table neat and clean, but with no pretense at +pampering the appetite. You take whatever you please without money and +without price. Should you care to pay your way, or care to help on the +work of the Hospice, you can leave your mite, be it large or small, in +a box near the door of the chapel. The guest-rooms are plain but +comfortable--a few religious pictures on the walls; tall, old-fashioned +bedsteads, with abundant feather-beds and warm blankets. For one night +only all persons who come are welcome. The next day all alike, unless +sick or crippled, must pass on. + +There are about a dozen monks in the Hospice now, all of them young +men, devoted to their work, and some of them at least intelligent and +generously educated. The hard climate and the exposure of winter +breaks down their health before they are old. When they become unable +to carry on the duties of the Hospice, they are sent down the mountains +to Martigny, while others come up to take their places. There are +beautiful days in the summer-time, but no season of the year is free +from severity. Even in July and August the ground is half the time +white with snow. Terrible blasts sweep through the mountains; for the +commonest summer shower in the valleys below is, in these heights, a +raging snow-storm, and its snow-laden winds are never faced with +impunity. + +We visited the Hospice in July, 1890. We drove from Aosta up to Saint +Rémy, a little village crowded in on the side of the mountain, where +the pine-trees cease. The light rain which followed us out from Saint +Rémy changed to snow as we came up the rocky slopes. By the time we +reached the Hospice it became a blinding sleet. The ground was only +whitened, so that the dogs who came barking to meet us had no need to +dig us out from the drifts. In this they seemed disappointed, and +barked again. + +Once inside the walls, one cared not to go out. Many travelers came up +the mountain that day. Among them were a man and his wife, Italian +peasants, who had been over the mountains to spend a day or two with +friends in some village on the Swiss side, and were now returning home. +Man and woman were dressed in their peasants' best, and with them was a +little girl, some four years old. The child carried a toy horse in her +hands, the gift of some friend below. As they toiled up the steep path +in the blinding snow, all of them thinly clad and dressed only for +summer, they seemed chilled through and through, while the child was +almost frozen. The monks came out to meet them, took the child in +their arms, and brought her and her parents to the fire, covered her +shoulders with a warm shawl, and, after feeding them, sent them down +the mountain to their home in the valley, warmed and filled. This was +a simple act, the easiest of all their many duties, but it was a very +touching one. Such duties make up the simple round of their lives. + +In the storms of winter the work of the Hospice takes a sterner cast. +From November to May the gales are incessant. The snow piles up in +billows, and in the whirling clouds all traces of human occupation are +obliterated. There are many peasants and workingmen who go forth from +Italy into Switzerland and France, and who wish to return home when +their summer labors are over. To these the pass of the Great Saint +Bernard is the only route which they can afford. The long railway +rides and the great distances of the Simplon and the Saint Gotthard +would mean the using up of their scanty earnings. If they go home at +all, they must trust their lives to the storms and the monks, and take +the path which leads by the Hospice. So they come over day after day, +the winter long. No matter how great the storm, the dogs are on the +watch. In the last winter, of the many who came, not one was lost. + +[Illustration: The Hospice in winter.] + +This is the Hospice as it stands to-day. I come next to tell its story +and the story of its founder. I tell it, in the most part, from a +little volume in French, which some modest and nameless monk of the +Hospice has compiled from the old Latin records of the monks who have +gone before him. This volume he has printed, as he says, "for the use +of the faithful in the parishes which lie next the Alps, and which, in +his time, the good Saint Bernard[1] passed through." This story I must +tell in his own spirit, in some degree at least, else I should have no +right to tell it at all. + +In the tenth century, he informs us, the dark ages of Europe could +scarcely have been darker. Weak and wicked kings, the dregs of the +worn-out blood of Charlemagne, misruled France, while along the +northern coast the Normans robbed and plundered at their will. Even +the church had her share of crimes and scandals. In this dark time, +says the chronicle, "God, who had promised to be with His own to the +end of the centuries, did not fail to raise up in that darkness great +saints who should teach the people to lift their eyes toward heaven; to +rise above afflictions; not to take the form of the world for a +permanent habitation, and to suffer its pains with patience, in the +prospect of eternity." + +[Illustration: Jupitére.] + +It happened that in the days of King Raoul, in the Castle of Menthon, +on the north bank of the lake of Annécy, in Savoy, in the year 923, +Bernard de Menthon was born. His father was the Baron Richard, famous +among the noblemen of the time, while his mother, the Lady Bernoline, +was illustrious for virtues. The young Bernard was a fair child, and +his history, as seen from the perspective of his monkish historian, +shows that even in his earliest youth he was predestined for saintship. +Even before he could walk, the little child would join his hands in the +attitude of supplication, and murmur words which might have been +prayers. While still very young, he brought in a book one day and +asked his mother to teach him to read, and when she would not, or could +not, he wept, for the books in which even then he delighted were the +prayer-books of the church. + +He grew up bright and beautiful, and his father was proud of him, and +determined that he should take his part in public life. But Bernard's +thoughts ran in other channels. He spent his moments in copying +psalms, and in writing down the words of divine service which he heard. +Even in his seventh year he began to practice austerities and +self-castigation, which he kept up through his life. He chose for his +model Saint Nicholas, the saint who through the ages has been kind to +children. Him he resolved to imitate, and to walk always in his steps. + +The University of Paris had been founded by Charlemagne more than a +century before, and this university was then the Mecca of all ambitious +youth. To the University of Paris his father decided to send him. But +his mother feared the influence of the gay capital, and wished to keep +Bernard by her side. But the boy said, "Virtue has too deep a root in +my heart, mother, for the air of Paris to tarnish it. I will bring +back more of science, but not less of purity." And to Paris he went. +Here he studied law, to please his father, and theology, to please +himself. "As Tobias lived faithful in Nineveh," so the chronicle says, +"thus lived Bernard in Paris." In the midst of snares unnumbered, he +only redoubled his austerities--"_in sanctitate persistens, studiosus +valde_," so the record says. + +[Illustration: Monks of the Great Saint Bernard.] + +His thoughts ran on the misery of humanity, which he measured by the +abasement to which Christ had submitted in order to effect its +redemption. A great influence in his life came from Germain, his +tutor, a man who had lived the life of a scholar in the world, and who +had at last withdrawn to sanctity and prayer. Although Bernard knew +that his father expected a brilliant future for him, and that he hoped +to effect for him a marriage in some family of the great of those days, +yet he took upon himself the vow of celibacy. "God lives in virgin +souls," he said. There is a record of an argument with Germain, in +which his tutor tries to test the strength of his purpose. Germain +tells him that even in a monastery evil cannot be excluded, and that +many even of the most austere monks live lives of petty jealousy and +ignoble ambition. "There are many," Germain says, "who are saved in +the struggle of the world who would be shipwrecked in a monastery." +But Bernard is steadfast in his choice. "Happy are those who have +chosen to dwell in God's court, and to sleep on His estate." Thus day +and night he struggles against all temptations of worldly glory or +pleasure. + +Then his father calls him home; and when he has returned to Annécy, +Bernard finds that every preparation has been made for his approaching +wedding with the daughter of the great Lord of Miolans. "_Sponsa +pulchra_," beautiful bride, this young woman was, according to the +record, and doubtless this was true. The attitude of Bernard toward +this marriage his father and mother could not understand. He held back +constantly, and urged all sorts of objections to its immediate +consummation, but on no ground which seemed to them reasonable. So the +wedding-day was set. The house was full of guests. Every gate and +door of the castle was crowded by armed retainers, and there seemed to +be no escape. Bernard retired to his own room, and in the oldest +manuscripts are given the words of his prayer: + + +"My adorable Creator, Thou who with thy celestial light enlightened +those who invoke with faith and confidence, and Thou my Jesus, Divine +Redeemer of men and Saviour of souls, lend a favorable ear to my humble +prayer; spread on thy servant the treasures of your infinite mercy. I +know that Thou never abandonest those who place in you their hope; +deliver me, I supplicate Thee, from the snares which the world have +offered me. Break these nets in which the world tries to take me; +permit not that the enemy prevail over thy servant, that adulation may +enfeeble my heart. I abandon myself entirely to Thee. I throw myself +into the arms of thy infinite mercy, hoping that Thou wilt save me, and +wilt reject not my demand." + + +Then to the good Saint Nicholas: + + +"Amiable shepherd, faithful guide, holy priest, thou who art my +protector and my refuge, together with God, and His holy mother, the +happy Virgin Mary, obtain me, I pray thee, by thy merits, the grace of +triumph over the obstacles the world opposes to my vow of consecrating +myself to God without reserve--in return for the property, the +pleasures, and honors here below, of which I abandon my part, obtain me +spiritual good all the course of my life, and eternal happiness after +my death." + + +Then Bernard retired to sleep, and in a dream Saint Nicholas stood +before him and uttered these words: + + +"Bernard, servant of God the Lord, who never betrays those who put +their confidence in Him, calls thee to follow Him. An immortal crown +is reserved for thee. Leave at once thy father's house and go to +Aosta. There in the cathedral thou shalt meet an old man called +Pičrre. He will welcome thee; thou shalt live with him, and he shall +teach thee the road thou should traverse. For my part, I shall be thy +protector, and will not for an instant abandon thee." + + +Then Bernard opened his eyes and the vision had disappeared. He was +overcome with joy. His resolution was taken. Though he knew no way +out of the castle, nor from the bedroom in the tower, in which he had +been locked by his thoughtful father, yet he was ready to go. + +Taking up a pen, he wrote to his father this letter: + +"Very dear parents, rejoice with me that the Lord calls me to His +service. I follow Him to arrive sooner at the port of salvation, the +sole object of my vows. Do not worry about me, nor take the trouble to +seek me. I renounce the marriage, which was ever against my will. I +renounce all that concerns the world. All my desires turn toward +heaven, whither I would arrive. I take the road this minute. + +"BERNARD DE MENTHON." + + +Laying the letter on the table, he soon found himself on the way +outside the castle grounds, and along this path he hurried, over the +mountain passes, toward the city of Aosta. So say the oldest +manuscripts; but in the later stories the details are more fully +described. From these it would appear that Bernard leaped from the +window eighteen or twenty feet, his naked feet striking on a bare rock. +On he ran through the night; on over dark and lonely paths in a country +still uninhabited; over the stony fields and wild watercourses of the +Graian Alps, and when the morning dawned he found himself in the city +of Aosta, a hundred miles from Annécy. + +In an old painting the manner of his escape is shown in detail. As he +drops from the window he is supported by Saint Nicholas on the one +side, and an angel on the other, and underneath the painting is the +legend "_Emporté par Miracle_." It is said, too, that in former times +the prints of his hands on the stone window-sill, and of his naked feet +on the rock below, were both plainly visible. Eight hundred years +later the good Father Pičrre Verre celebrated mass in the old room in +which Bernard was confined; and he reports at that time there was both +on the window-sill and on the rock below only the merest trace of the +imprints left by Bernard. One could not then "even be sure that they +were made by hand or foot." But the chronicle wisely says: "Time, in +effacing these marks and rendering them doubtful, has never effaced the +tradition of the fact among the people of Annécy." + +In the morning, consternation reigned within the castle. The Lord of +Menthon was filled with disgust, shame, and confusion. The Lord of +Miolans thought that he and his daughter were the victims of a trick, +and he would take no explanation or excuse. Only the sword might +efface the stain upon his honor. The marriage feast would have ended +in a scene of blood were it not, according to the chronicle, that "God, +always admirable in His saints," sent as an angel of peace the very +person who had been most cruelly wronged. The Lady of Miolans, +"_sponsa pulchra_" beyond a doubt, took up the cause of her delinquent +bridegroom, whom God had called, she said, to take some nobler part. +When peace had been made, she followed his example, taking the veil in +a neighboring convent, where, after many years of virtuous living, she +died, full of days and full of merits. "_Sponsa ipsius_," so the +record says, "_in qua sancte et religiose dies suos clausit_"; a bride +who in sanctity and religious days closed her life. + +Meanwhile, beyond the Graian Alps and beyond the reach of his father's +information, Bernard was safe. In Aosta he was kindly received by +Pičrre, the Archdeacon. He entered into the service of the church, and +there, in spite of his humility and his self-abasement, he won the +favor of all with whom he had to deal. "God wills," the chronicle +says, "that His ministers should shine by their sanctity and their +science." "Saint Paul commends prudence, gravity, modesty, +unselfishness, and hospitality," and to these precepts Bernard was ever +faithful. He lived in the simplest way, like a hermit in his personal +relations, but never out of the life of the world. He was not a man +eager to save his own soul only, but the bodies and souls of his +neighbors. He dressed in the plainest garb. He drank from a rude +wooden cup. Wine he never touched, and water but rarely. The juice of +bitter herbs was his beverage, and by every means possible he strove to +reduce his body to servitude. When he came, years later, to his +deathbed, it was his sole regret that it was a _bed_ where he was to +die, instead of the bare boards on which he was wont to sleep. + +His fame as a preacher spread far and wide. There are many traditions +of his eloquence, and the memory of his words was fondly cherished +wherever his sweet, rich voice was heard. "From the mountains of Savoy +to Milan and Turin, and even to the Lake of Geneva," says the +chronicle, "his memory was dear." So, in due time, after the death of +Pičrre, Bernard was made Archdeacon of Aosta. + +In these times the high Alps were filled with Saracen brigands and +other heathen freebooters, who celebrated in the mountain fastnesses +their monstrous rites. In the mountains above Aosta the god Pen had +long been worshiped; the word pen in Celtic meaning the highest. +Later, Julius Caesar conquered these wild tribes, and imposed upon them +the religion of the Roman Empire. A statue of Jupiter ("_Jove optimo +maximo_") was set up in the mountain in the place of the idol Pen. +Afterwards, by way of compromise, the Romans permitted the two to +become one, and the people worshiped Jovis Pennius (Jupiter Pen), the +great god of the highest mountains. A statue of Jupiter Pen was set up +by the side of the lake in the great pass of the mountain; and from +Jupiter Pen these mountains took the name of Pennine Alps, which they +bear to this day. The pass itself was called Mons Jovis, the Mountain +of Jove, and this, in due time, became shortened to Mont Joux. Through +this pass of Mont Joux the armies of every nation have marched, the +heroes of every age, from Saint Peter, who, the legend says, came over +in the year 57, down to Napoléon, who passed nearly eighteen centuries +later, on a much less worthy errand. The Hotel "Déjeuner de Napoléon," +in the little village of "Bourg Saint Pičrre," recalls in its name the +story of both these visits. + +In the earliest days a refuge hut was built by the side of the statue +of Jupiter Pen. In the early pilgrimages to Rome this became a place +of some importance. Later on, marauding armies of Goths, Saracens, and +Hungarians, successively passing through, destroyed this refuge. In +the days of Bernard the pass was filled with a horde of brigands, +French, Italians, Saracens, and Jews, who had cast aside all religious +faith of their fathers, and had re-established the worship of the demon +in the temple of Jupiter Pen. + +The old manuscripts tell us that in the middle of the tenth century the +demons were in full sway on these mountains; that through the mouth of +the statue of Jupiter the worst of lies and blasphemies were spoken to +those who came to consult it. These worshipers of strange old gods +lived by plunder, and exacted toll of all who came through the pass. +The same conditions existed on the Graian Alps to the southward. On +one of these mountain passes, some fifty miles from Mont Joux, there +lived a rich man named Polycarpe. He, too, did homage to Jupiter, and +on the summit of a tall column which he built in the pass he had placed +a splendid diamond, which he called the "Eye of Jove." People came +from great distances to be healed by its magic glance, and the mountain +on which he dwelt was the mountain of the Columna Jovis. This became +changed, in time, to Colonne Joux, the Mountain of the Column of Jove. +And the demons of these two heights, the Mountain of Jove and the +Column of Jove, sent down their baleful call of defiance to the valley +over which Bernard ruled as Archdeacon of Aosta. + +It came to pass that a troop of ten French travelers crossed over the +pass of Mont Joux. In the pass they were attacked by marauders, and +one of their number was carried away captive. When they came down to +Aosta, Bernard, the Archdeacon, fearlessly offered to go back with them +to attack the giant of the mountain, to rescue their friend, and to +replace the standard of the cross over the altar of the demon. + +That night, so says the old chronicle, Saint Nicholas appeared to him +in the garb of a pilgrim and said: "Bernard, let us attack these +mountains. We shall put the demon to flight. We shall overturn this +statue of Jupiter, which the demons have taken possession of to bring +trouble among Christians. We will destroy it, and we will destroy the +column and its diamond, and in their place we will build two refuges +for the use of the pilgrims who cross the two mountains. Go thou, as +the tenth one in this band; then wilt thou conjure the demons. Thou +shalt bind the statue with a blessed stole, and its ruins will mingle +with the chaos of the mountains. Thus shalt thou destroy the power of +evil to the day of judgment." + +And in proof of the thoroughness with which Bernard performed his work, +it is told that a spiritualist who took pleasure in tipping tables came +through the pass in 1857. The monks were incredulous of his powers, +and he wished to convince them by an actual experience. His efforts +were all in vain. The tables, the record tells us, were quiet as the +rocks. The traveler, astonished, said: "This is the first time they +have failed to obey me." And thus, says the record, the pledge of +Saint Nicholas was accomplished. The enemy had never more an entrance +into the mountain. + +When Bernard and his followers reached Mont Joux, they found the +mountain filled with fog and storm, but his heart was undaunted. +Passing boldly between the guards of the temple, he flung, so the story +says, his blessed stole over the neck of the statue of Jupiter. It +changed at once into an iron chain, against which the statue, now +become a huge demon-monster, struggled in vain. The good man +overturned it and flung it at his feet. With the same chain he bound +the high priest who guarded the demon. The struggle was short, but +decisive. In a few minutes, so the chronicle says, Bernard had +banished the demon of Mont Joux and his accomplices to eternal snow and +ice to the end of time, and had commanded them to cease forever their +evil doings on the mountain. + +An old painting in the Hospice shows this scene in vivid portrait. +Bernard stands erect and fearless, his fine face lit up by celestial +zeal, his bare head surrounded by a halo, a pilgrim's staff in his +right hand, the stole, now become a chain, in his left, while one foot +is on the breast of the demon, which gasps helpless at his feet. The +demon has the body of a man, covered with a wolf's rough, shaggy hair, +his fingers and toes ending in sharp claws, a long tail, rough and +scaly, like the tail of a rat, coiled snake-like above his legs, the +head and ears of a wolf, the horns of a goat, and on his back an +indefinable outgrowth, perhaps the framework of a horrible pair of +wings, its long tongue thrust out from between its bloody teeth. He +was certainly a gruesome creature. + +[Illustration: Saint Bernard and the demon.] + +And thus it came to pass in the year 970, in the place of the temple of +Jupiter Pen, but at the other end of the lake, and in the very summit +of the pass, was built the Hospice of the Great Saint Bernard. From +that day to this, almost a thousand years, the work of doing good to +men has been humbly and patiently carried on. + +Not long afterward, in a similar way, Bernard attacked the Graian Alps, +overthrew the column of Jupiter, crushed its bright diamond to the +finest dust, which he scattered in the winds, and built in its place a +second Hospice, which, with the pass, has borne ever since the name of +the Little Saint Bernard. + +Silver and gold, the builders of this Hospice had none. Ever since the +beginning, they have exercised their charities at the expense of those +who cared for the Lord's work. All who pass by are treated alike. +Those who are received into the Hospice can leave much or +little--something or nothing, whatever they please,--to carry the same +same help to others. + +In the book of the good Saint Francis de Sales long ago, so the +chronicle says, these words were written: + + +"There are many degrees in charity. To lend to the poor, this is the +first degree. To give to the poor is a higher degree. Still higher to +give oneself; to devote one's life to the service of the poor. +Hospitality, when necessity is not extreme, is a counsel, and to +receive the stranger is its first degree. But to go out on the roads +to find and help, as Abraham did, this is a grade still higher. Still +higher is to live in dangerous places, to serve, aid, and save the +passers-by; to attend, lodge, succor, and save from danger the +travelers, who else would die in cold and storm. This is the work of +the noble friend of God, who founded the hospitals on the two +mountains, now for this called by his name, Great Saint Bernard, in the +diocese of Sion, and the Little Saint Bernard, in the Tarentaise." + + +And so the Hospice was built, and in the enthusiastic words of a +chronicle of the times, "Tears and sorrow were banished, peace and joy +have replaced them; abundance has made there her abode; the terrors +have disappeared, and there reigns eternal springtime. Instead of +hell, you will find there paradise." Not quite paradise, perhaps, so +far as the elements are concerned, but a dozen kindly men, a legion of +dogs, big, cheerful, and noisy, a warm fire, a simple meal, and a +God-speed to all men, whatever their race, or creed, or temper. + +I need add but a word more of the history of Bernard himself. One day +an old man and his wife came up to visit the Hospice and to pay their +respects to the monk who had founded it. Bernard met them there, and +at once recognized his father and mother. He received them +sympathetically, and they told him the story of their lost son. +Bernard spoke to them tenderly of the work to which God must have +called him. He told them they should rejoice that their child had been +found worthy of his purposes, and after a time they seemed to become +reconciled, and felt that He doeth all things well. Then Bernard told +them who he was, and when after many days they went away from the +Hospice, they left the money to build in each of them a chapel. + +Bernard died in the year 1007, at the age of eighty-three. His last +words were these: "O Lord, I give my soul into thy hands." The words, +"The saint is dead," passed on from mouth to mouth throughout these +Alpine regions. The peasants had canonized him already a hundred years +before the sanctity of his work was officially recognized at Rome. + +The story of his burial is again marked by miracles. Rich men vied +with each other in making funeral offerings. One gave him a +magnificent stone coffin, but this man had been a usurer. Usury was a +sin abhorred by Saint Bernard, and the people found that no force or +persuasion could place his body within this coffin. So another tomb, +less pretentious, but more worthy, was found. At the end Bernard's +remains were divided among the churches, each of whom claimed him as +its own. To the Hospice fell his ring and his cup, a tooth, and a few +finger-bones, and, most important of all, his name--the "Great Saint +Bernard." + +The chronicles give a long list of miracles which since then have been +wrought in his name. These are for the most part wonderful healings, +the stilling of storms, the bringing of rain, the driving away of +grasshoppers. However, men are prone always to look for the miracle in +the things that are of least moment. The life and work of the man was +the real miracle, not the flight of grasshoppers. The miracle of all +time is the power of humanity when it works in harmony with the laws +and purposes of God. Consecrated to God's work, and by the work's own +severity protected through the centuries from corruption and +temptation, the work of the monk of Aosta has outlasted palaces and +thrones. Through the influence of charity, and piety, and truth, the +demon has been driven from these mountains. When the love of man joins +to the love of God, all spirits of evil vanish as mist before the +morning sun. + + + +[1] St. Bernard de Menthon must not be confounded with Bernard de +Clairvaux, born in 1091, the preacher of the Crusades. + + + + +THE LAST OF THE PURITANS.[1] + +I have a word to say of Thoreau, and of an episode which brought his +character into bold relief, and which has fairly earned for him a place +in American history, as well as in our literature. + +I do not wish now to give any account of the life of Thoreau. In the +preface to his volume called "Excursions" you will find a biographical +sketch, written by the loving hand of Mr. Emerson, his neighbor and +friend. Neither shall I enter into any justification of Thoreau's +peculiar mode of life, nor shall I describe the famous cabin in the +pine woods by Walden Pond, already becoming the Mecca of the Order of +Saunterers, whose great prophet was Thoreau. His profession of +land-surveyor was one naturally adopted by him; for to him every hill +and forest was a being, each with its own individuality. This +profession kept him in the fields and woods, with the sky over his head +and the mold under his feet. It paid him the money needed for his +daily wants, and he cared for no more. + +He seldom went far away from Concord, and, in a half-playful way, he +used to view everything in the world from a Concord standpoint. All +the grandest trees grew there and all the rarest flowers, and nearly +all the phenomena of nature could be observed at Concord. + +"Nothing can be hoped of you," he said, "if this bit of mold under your +feet is not sweeter to you than any other in this world--in any world." + +Although one of the most acute of observers, Thoreau was never reckoned +among the scientific men of his time. He was never a member of any +Natural History Society, nor of any Academy of Sciences, bodies which, +in a general way, he held in not altogether unmerited contempt. When +men band together for the study of nature, they first draft a long +constitution, with its attendant by-laws, and then proceed to the +election of officers, and, by and by, the study of nature becomes +subordinate to the maintenance of the organization. + +In technical scientific work, Thoreau took little pleasure. It is +often pedantic, often bloodless, and often it is a source of +inspiration only to him by whom the work is done. Animals and plants +were interesting to him, not in their structure and genealogical +affinities, but in their relations to his mind. He loved wild things, +not alone for themselves, but for the tonic effect of their savagery +upon him. + +"I wish to speak a word for nature," he said, "for absolute freedom and +wildness, as contrasted with a freedom and culture merely civil, to +regard man as an inhabitant, a part and parcel of nature, rather than +as a member of society. I wish to make an extreme statement; if so, I +may make an emphatic one, for there are enough champions of +civilization. The minister and the school committees, and every one of +you, will take care of that." + +To Thoreau's admirers, he is the prophet of the fields and woods, the +interpreter of nature, and his every word has to them the deepest +significance. He is the man who + + "Lives all alone, close to the bone, + And where life is sweetest, constantly eatest." + +They resent all criticism of his life or his words. They are impatient +of all analysis of his methods or of his motives, and a word of praise +of him is the surest passport to their good graces. + +But the critics sometimes miss the inner harmony which Thoreau's +admirers see, and discern only queer paradoxes and extravagances of +statement where the others hear the voice of nature's oracle. With +most literary men, the power or disposition of those who know or +understand their writings is in some degree a matter of literary +culture. It is hardly so in the case of Thoreau. + +The most illiterate man I know who had ever heard of Thoreau, Mr. +Barney Mullins, of Freedom Centre, Outagamie County, Wisconsin, was a +most ardent admirer of Thoreau, while the most eminent critic in +America, James Russell Lowell, does him scant justice. To Lowell, the +finest thoughts of Thoreau are but strawberries from Emerson's garden, +and other critics have followed back these same strawberries through +Emerson's to still older gardens, among them to that of Sir Thomas +Browne. + +But, setting the critics aside, let me tell you about Barney Mullins. +Twenty years ago, I lived for a year in the northern part of Wisconsin. +The snow is very deep in the winter there, and once I rode into town +through the snowbanks on a sled drawn by two oxen and driven by Barney +Mullins. Barney was born on the banks of Killarney, and he could +scarcely be said to speak the English language. He told me that before +he came to Freedom Centre he had lived in a town called Concord, in +Massachusetts. I asked him if he had happened to know a man there by +the name of Henry Thoreau. He at once grew enthusiastic and he said, +among other things: "Mr. Thoreau was a land-surveyor in Concord. I +knew him well. He had a way of his own, and he didn't care naught +about money, but if there was ever a gentleman alive, he was one." + +Barney seemed much saddened when I told him that Mr. Thoreau had been +dead a dozen years. On parting, he asked me to come out some time to +Freedom Centre, and to spend a night with him. He had n't much of a +room to offer me, but there was always a place in his house for a +friend of Mr. Thoreau. Such is the feeling of this guild of lovers of +Thoreau, and some of you may come to belong to it. + +Here is a test for you. Thoreau says: "I long ago lost a hound, a bay +horse, and a turtle-dove, and am still on their trail. Many are the +travelers I have spoken to regarding them, describing their tracks, and +what calls they answered to. I have met one or two who have heard the +hound and the tramp of the horse, and even seen the dove disappear +behind the cloud, and they seemed as anxious to recover them as if they +had lost them themselves." + +Now, if any of you, in your dreams, have heard the horse, or seen the +sunshine on the dove's wings, you may join in the search. If not, you +may close the book, for Thoreau has not written for you. + +This Thoreau guild is composed, as he himself says, "of knights of a +new, or, rather, an old order, not equestrians or chevaliers, not +Ritters, or riders, but walkers, a still more ancient and honorable +class, I trust." + +"I have met," he says, "but one or two persons who understand the art +of walking; who had a genius for sauntering, which word is beautifully +derived from idle people who roved about the country in the Middle Ages +and asked charity, under pretense of going '_ŕ la Sainte Terre_'--a +Sainte-terrer, a Holy Lander. They who never go to the Holy Land in +their walks, as they pretend, are indeed mere idlers and vagabonds; but +they who go there are saunterers, in the good sense. Every walk is a +kind of crusade preached by some Peter the Hermit within us, to go +forth and reconquer this Holy Land from the hands of the Infidels. + +"It is true that we are but faint-hearted crusaders, who undertake no +persevering, never-ending enterprises. Our expeditions are but tours, +and come round again at evening to the old hearthside from which we set +out. Half the walk is but retracing our steps. We should go forth on +the shortest walk, perchance, in the spirit of undying adventure, never +to return, prepared to send back our embalmed hearts only as relics to +our desolate kingdoms. If you are ready to leave father and mother, +and brother and sister, and wife and child, and friends; if you have +paid your debts, and made your will, and settled all your affairs, and +are a free man, you are ready for a walk." + +Though a severe critic of conventional follies, Thoreau was always a +hopeful man; and no finer rebuke to the philosophy of Pessimism was +ever given than in these words of his: "I know of no more encouraging +fact than the unquestionable ability of a man to elevate his life by a +conscious endeavor. It is something to be able to paint a particular +picture, or to carve a statue, and so make a few objects beautiful; but +it is far more glorious to carve and paint the very atmosphere and +medium through which we look. This, morally, we can do." + +But it is not of Thoreau as a saunterer, or as a naturalist, or as an +essayist, that I wish to speak, but as a moralist, and this in relation +to American politics. Thoreau lived in a dark day of our political +history. At one time he made a declaration of independence in a small +way, and refused allegiance and poll-tax to a Government built on a +corner-stone of human slavery. Because of this he was put into jail, +where he remained one night, and where he made some curious +observations on his townspeople as viewed from the inside of the bars. +Emerson came along in the morning, and asked him what he was there for. +"Why are you not in here, Mr. Emerson?" was his reply; for it seemed to +him that no man had the right to be free in a country where some men +were slaves. + +"Voting for the right," Thoreau said, "is doing nothing for it; it is +only expressing feebly your desire that right should prevail." He +would not for an instant recognize that political organization as his +government which was the slave's government also. "In fact," he said, +"I will quietly, after my fashion, declare war with the State. Under a +government which imprisons any unjustly, the true place for a just man +is also a prison. I know this well, that if one thousand, if one +hundred, or if one honest man in this State of Massachusetts, ceasing +to remain in this co-partnership, should be locked up in the county +jail therefor, it would be the abolition of slavery in America. It +matters not how small the beginning may seem to be, what is once well +done is done forever." + +Thoreau's friends paid his taxes for him, and he was set free, so that +the whole affair seemed like a joke. Yet, as Stevenson says, "If his +example had been followed by a hundred, or by thirty of his followers, +it would have greatly precipitated the era of freedom and justice. We +feel the misdeeds of our country with so little fervor, for we are not +witnesses to the suffering they cause. But when we see them awake an +active horror in our fellow-man; when we see a neighbor prefer to lie +in prison than be so much as passively implicated in their +perpetration, even the dullest of us will begin to realize them with a +quicker pulse." + +In the feeling that a wrong, no matter how great, must fall before the +determined assault of a man, no matter how weak, Thoreau found the +reason for his action. The operation of the laws of God is like an +incontrollable torrent. Nothing can stand before them; but the work of +a single man may set the torrent in motion which will sweep away the +accumulations of centuries of wrong. + +There is a long chapter in our national history which is not a glorious +record. Most of us are too young to remember much of politics under +the Fugitive Slave Law, or to understand the deference which +politicians of every grade then paid to the peculiar institution. It +was in those days in the Middle West that Kentucky blackguards, backed +by the laws of the United States, and aided not by Northern blackguards +alone, but by many of the best citizens of those States, chased runaway +slaves through the streets of our Northern capitals. + +And not the politicians alone, but the teachers and preachers, took +their turn in paying tribute to Caesar. We were told that the Bible +itself was a champion of slavery. Two of our greatest theologians in +the North declared, in the name of the Higher Law, that slavery was a +holy thing, which the Lord, who cursed Canaan, would ever uphold. + +In those days there came a man from the West--a tall, gaunt, grizzly, +shaggy-haired, God-fearing man, a son of the Puritans, whose ancestors +came over on the Mayflower. A dangerous fanatic or lunatic, he was +called, and, with the aid of a few poor negroes whom he had stolen from +slavery, he defied the power of this whole slave-catching United +States. A little square brick building, once a sort of car-shop, +stands near the railway station in the town of Harper's Ferry, with the +mountain wall not far behind it, and the Potomac River running below. +And from this building was fired the shot which pierced the heart of +slavery. And the Governor of Virginia captured this man, and took him +out and hung him, and laid his body in the grave, where it still lies +moldering. But there was part of him not in the jurisdiction of +Virginia, a part which they could neither hang nor bury; and, to the +infinite surprise of the Governor of Virginia, his soul went marching +on. + +[Illustration: John Brown.] + +When they heard in Concord that John Brown had been captured, and was +soon to be hung, Thoreau sent notice through the city that he would +speak in the public hall on the condition and character of John Brown, +on Sunday evening, and invited all to be present. + +The Republican Committee and the Committee of the Abolitionists sent +word to him that this was no time to speak; to discuss such matters +then was premature and inadvisable. He replied: "I did not send to you +for advice, but to tell you that I am going to speak." The selectmen +of Concord dared neither grant nor refuse him the hall. At last they +ventured to lose the key in a place where they thought he could find it. + +This address of Thoreau, "A Plea for Captain John Brown," should be a +classic in American history. We do not always realize that the time of +American history is now. The dates of the settlement of Jamestown, and +Plymouth, and St. Augustine do not constitute our history. Columbus +did not discover us. In a high sense, the true America is barely +thirty years old, and its first President was Abraham Lincoln. + +We in the North are a little impatient at times, and our politicians, +who are not always our best citizens, mutter terrible oaths, especially +in the month of October, because the South is not yet wholly +regenerate, because not all which sprang from the ashes of the +slave-pen were angels of light. + +But let us be patient while the world moves on. Forty years ago not +only the banks of the Yazoo and the Chattahoochee, but those of the +Hudson, and the Charles, and the Wabash, were under the lash. On the +eve of John Brown's hanging not half a dozen men in the city of +Concord, the most intellectual town in New England, the home of +Emerson, and Hawthorne, and Alcott, dared say that they felt any +respect for the man or sympathy for the cause for which he died. + +I wish to quote a few passages from this "Plea for Captain John Brown." +To fully realize its power, you should read it all for yourselves. You +must put yourselves back into history, now already seeming almost +ancient history to us, to the period when Buchanan was President--the +terrible sultry lull just before the great storm. You must picture the +audience of the best people in Massachusetts, half-sympathizing with +Captain Brown, half-afraid of being guilty of treason in so doing. You +must picture the speaker, with his clear-cut, earnest features and +penetrating voice. No preacher, no politician, no professional +reformer, no Republican, no Democrat; a man who never voted; a +naturalist whose companions were the flowers and the birds, the trees +and the squirrels. It was the voice of Nature in protest against +slavery and in plea for Captain Brown. + + +"My respect for my fellow-men," said Thoreau, "is not being increased +these days. I have noticed the cold-blooded way in which men speak of +this event, as if an ordinary malefactor, though one of unusual pluck, +'the gamest man I ever saw,' the Governor of Virginia said, had been +caught and was about to be hung. He was not thinking of his foes when +the Governor of Virginia thought he looked so brave. + +"It turns what sweetness I have to gall to hear the remarks of some of +my neighbors. When we heard at first that he was dead, one of my +townsmen observed that 'he dieth as the fool dieth,' which, for an +instant, suggested a likeness in him dying to my neighbor living. +Others, craven-hearted, said, disparagingly, that he threw his life +away because he resisted the Government. Which way have they thrown +their lives, pray? + +"I hear another ask, Yankee-like, 'What will he gain by it?' as if he +expected to fill his pockets by the enterprise. If it does not lead to +a surprise party, if he does not get a new pair of boots or a vote of +thanks, it must be a failure. But he won't get anything. Well, no; I +don't suppose he could get four-and-sixpence a day for being hung, take +the year around, but he stands a chance to save his soul--and such a +soul!--which you do not. You can get more in your market for a quart +of milk than a quart of blood, but yours is not the market heroes carry +their blood to. + +"Such do not know that like the seed is the fruit, and that in the +moral world, when good seed is planted, good fruit is inevitable; that +when you plant or bury a hero in his field, a crop of heroes is sure to +spring up. This is a seed of such force and vitality, it does not ask +our leave to germinate. + +"A man does a brave and humane deed, and on all sides we hear people +and parties declaring,' I didn't do it, nor countenance him to do it in +any conceivable way. It can't fairly be inferred from my past career.' +Ye need n't take so much pains, my friends, to wash your skirts of him. +No one will ever be convinced that he was any creature of yours. He +went and came, as he himself informs us, under the auspices of John +Brown, and nobody else.' + +"'All is quiet in Harper's Ferry,' say the journals. What is the +character of that calm which follows when the law and the slaveholder +prevail? I regard this event as a touchstone designed to bring out +with glaring distinctness the character of this Government. We needed +to be thus assisted to see it by the light of history. It needed to +see itself. When a government puts forth its strength on the side of +injustice, as ours, to maintain slavery and kill the liberators of the +slave, it reveals itself simply as brute force. It is more manifest +than ever that tyranny rules. I see this Government to be effectually +allied with France and Austria in oppressing mankind. + +"The only government that I recognize--and it matters not how few are +at the head of it, or how small its army,--is the power that +establishes justice in the land, never that which establishes +injustice. What shall we think of a government to which all the truly +brave and just men in the land are enemies, standing between it and +those whom it oppresses? + +"Treason! Where does such treason take its rise? I cannot help +thinking of you as ye deserve, ye governments! Can you dry up the +fountain of thought? High treason, when it is resistance to tyranny +here below, has its origin in the power that makes and forever +re-creates man. When you have caught and hung all its human rebels, +you have accomplished nothing but your own guilt. You have not struck +at the fountain-head. The same indignation which cleared the temple +once will clear it again. + +"I hear many condemn these men because they were so few. When were the +good and the brave ever in the majority? Would you have had him wait +till that time came? Till you and I came over to him? The very fact +that he had no rabble or troop of hirelings about him, would alone +distinguish him from ordinary heroes. His company was small, indeed, +because few could be found worthy to pass muster. Each one who there +laid down his life for the poor and oppressed was a picked man, called +out of many thousands, if not millions. A man of principle, of rare +courage and devoted humanity, ready to sacrifice his life at any moment +for the benefit of his fellow-man; it may be doubted if there were as +many more their equals in the country; for their leader, no doubt, had +scoured the land far and wide, seeking to swell his troop. These alone +were ready to step between the oppressor and the oppressed. Surely +they were the very best men you could select to be hung! That was the +greatest compliment their country could pay them. They were ripe for +her gallows. She has tried a long time; she has hung a good many, but +never found the right one before. + +"When I think of him and his six sons and his son-in-law enlisted for +this fight, proceeding coolly, reverently, humanely to work, for +months, if not years, summering and wintering the thought, without +expecting any reward but a good conscience, while almost all America +stood ranked on the other side, I say again that it affects me as a +sublime spectacle. + +"If he had had any journal advocating his cause, any organ monotonously +and wearisomely playing the same old tune and then passing around the +hat, it would have been fatal to his efficiency. If he had acted in +such a way as to be let alone by the Government, he might have been +suspected. It was the fact that the tyrant must give place to him, or +he to the tyrant, that distinguished him from all the reformers of the +day that I know. + +"This event advertises me that there is such a fact as death, the +possibility of a man's dying. It seems as if no man had ever died in +America before. If this man's acts and words do not create a revival, +it will be the severest possible satire on words and acts that do. + +"It is the best news that America has ever heard. It has already +quickened the feeble pulse of the North, and infused more generous +blood in her veins than any number of years of what is called political +and commercial prosperity. How many a man who was lately contemplating +suicide has now something to live for! + +"I am here to plead his cause with you. I plead not for his life, but +for his character, his immortal life, and so it becomes your cause +wholly, and it is not his in the least. + +"Some eighteen hundred years ago Christ was crucified; this morning, +perchance, Captain Brown was hung. These are the two ends of the chain +which is not without its links. He is not Old Brown any longer; he is +an angel of light. I see now that it was necessary that the bravest +and humanest man in all the country should be hung. Perhaps he saw it +himself. I almost fear that I may yet hear of his deliverance, +doubting if a prolonged life, if any life, can do as much good as his +death. + +"'Misguided! Garrulous! Insane! Vindictive!' So you write in your +easy chairs, and thus he, wounded, responds from the floor of the +Armory--clear as a cloudless sky, true as the voice of Nature is! 'No +man sent me here. It was my own promptings and that of my Maker. I +acknowledge no master in human form.' + +"And in what a sweet and noble strain he proceeds, addressing his +captors, who stand over him. + +"'I think, my friends, you are guilty of a great wrong against God and +humanity, and it would be perfectly right for any one to interfere with +you so far as to free those you willfully and wickedly hold in bondage. +I have yet to learn that God is any respecter of persons. + +"'I pity the poor in bondage, who have none to help them; that is why I +am here, not to gratify personal animosity, revenge, or vindictive +spirit. It is my sympathy with the oppressed and the wronged that are +as good as you are, and as precious in the sight of God. + +"'I wish to say, furthermore, that you had better, all of you people at +the South, prepare yourselves for a settlement of that question, that +must come up for settlement sooner than you are prepared for it. The +sooner you are prepared the better. You may dispose of me now very +easily--I am nearly disposed of already,--but this question is still to +be settled, this negro question, I mean; the end of that is not yet.'" + +"I foresee the time," said Thoreau, "when the painter will paint that +scene, no longer going to Rome for his subject. The poet will sing it; +the historian record it; and, with the Landing of the Pilgrims and the +Declaration of Independence, it will be the ornament of some future +national gallery, when at least the present form of slavery shall be no +more here. We shall then be at liberty to weep for Captain Brown. +Then, and not till then, we will take our revenge." + + +A few years ago, while on a tramp through the North Woods, I came out +through the forests of North Elba, to the old "John Brown Farm." Here +John Brown lived for many years, and here he tried to establish a +colony of freed slaves in the pure air of the mountains. Here, too, +his family remained through the stirring times when he took part in the +bloody struggles that made and kept Kansas free. + +The little old brown farmhouse stands on the edge of the great woods, a +few miles to the north of the highest peaks of the Adirondacks. There +is nothing unusual about the house. You will find a dozen such in a +few hours' walk almost anywhere in the mountain parts of New England or +New York. It stands on a little hill, "in a sightly place," as they +say in that region, with no shelter of trees around it. + +[Illustration: The John Brown Homestead, North Elba, N.Y.] + +At the foot of the hill in a broad curve flows the River Au Sable, +small and clear and cold, and full of trout. It is not far above that +the stream takes its rise in the dark Indian Pass, the only place in +these mountains where the ice of winter lasts all summer long. The +same ice on the one side sends forth the Au Sable, and on the other +feeds the fountain head of the infant Hudson River. + +In the little dooryard in front of the farmhouse is the historic spot +where John Brown's body still lies moldering. There is not even a +grave of his own. His bones lie with those of his father, and the +short record of his life and death is crowded on the foot of his +father's tombstone. Near by, in the little yard, lies a huge, +wandering boulder, torn off years ago by the glaciers from the granite +hills that hem in Indian Pass. The boulder is ten feet or more in +diameter, large enough to make the farmhouse behind it seem small in +comparison. On its upper surface, in letters two feet long, which can +be read plainly for a mile away, is cut the simple name-- + + JOHN BROWN. + +This is John Brown's grave, and the place, the boulder; and the +inscription are alike fitting to the man he was. + +[Illustration: John Brown's Grave.] + +Dust to dust; ashes to ashes; granite to granite; the last of the +Puritans! + + + +[1] Address before the California State Normal School, at San José, +1892. + + + + +A KNIGHT OF THE ORDER OF POETS.[1] + +"In London I saw two pictures. One was of a woman. You would not +mistake it for any of the Greek goddesses. It had a splendor and +majesty such as Phidias might have given to a woman Jupiter. But not +terrible. The culmination of the awful beauty was in an expression of +matchless compassion. If there had been other figures, they must have +been suffering humanity at her feet. + +"The other was also of a woman. Whose face it is hard to say. Not the +Furies, not Lady Macbeth, not Catherine de Medici, not Phillip the +Second, not Nero, not any face you have ever seen, but a gathering up +from all the faces you have seen--the greatness, the splendor, the +savagery, the greed, the pride, the hate, the mercilessness, into one +colossal, terrifyingly Satanic woman-face. The first was clothed in a +simple, soft, white robe; the other in a befitting tragic splendor, +mostly blood-red. I looked from one to the other. What immeasurable +distance between them! What single point have they in common? But as +I look back and forth I seem to see a certain formal similarity. It +grows upon me. I am incredulous. I am appalled. Then one touches me +and whispers: 'They are the same. It is the Church.' In London I saw +this--in the air."--WILLIAM LOWE BRYAN. + + +Four centuries ago began the great struggle for freedom of thought +which has made our modern civilization possible. I wish here to give +something of the story of a man who in his day was not the least in +this conflict--a man who dared to think and act for himself when +thought and act were costly--Ulrich von Hutten. + +Near Frankfort-on-the-Main, on a sharp pinnacle of rock above the +little railway station of Vollmerz, may still be found the scanty ruins +of an old castle which played a brave part in German history before it +was destroyed in the Thirty Years War. + +In this castle of Steckelberg, in the year 1488, was born Ulrich von +Hutten. He was the last of a long line of Huttens of Steckelberg, +strong men who knew not fear, who had fought for the Emperor in all +lands whither the imperial eagle had flown, and who, when the empire +was at peace, had fought right merrily with their neighbors on all +sides. Robber-knights they were, no doubt, some or all of them; but in +those days all was fair in love and in war. And this line of warriors +centered in Ulrich von Hutten, and with him it ended. "The wild +kindred has gone out with this its greatest." + +Ulrich was the eldest son, and bore his father's name. But he was not +the son his father had dreamed of. Slender of figure, short of +stature, and weak of limb, Ulrich seemed unworthy of his burly +ancestry. The horse, the sword, and the lute were not for him. He +tried hard to master them and to succeed in all things worthy of a +knight. But he was strong only with his books. At last to his books +his father consigned him, and, sorely disappointed, he sent Ulrich to +the monastery of Fulda to be made a priest. + +A wise man, Eitelwolf von Stein, became his friend, and pointed out to +him a life braver than that of a priest, more noble than that of a +knight, the life of a scholar. To Hutten's father Eitelwolf wrote: +"Would you bury a genius like that in the cloister? He must be a man +of letters." But the father had decided once for all. Ulrich must +never return to Steckelberg unless he came back as a priest. And the +son took his fate in his own hands, and fled from Fulda, to make his +way as a scholar in a world in which scholarship received scanty +recognition. + +At the same time another young man whose history was to be interwoven +with his own, Martin Luther, fled from the wickedness and deceit of +this same world to the solitude of the monastery of Erfurth. By very +different paths they came at last to work in the same cause, and their +modes of action were not less different. + +To the University of Cologne Hutten went, and with the students of that +day he was trained in the mysteries of scholasticism, and in the Latin +of the schoolmen and the priests. Wonderful problems they pondered +over, and they used to write long arguments in Latin for or against +propositions which came nowhere within the domain of fact. That +scholarship stood related to reality, and that it must find its end and +justification in action was no part of the philosophy of those times. + +But Hutten and his friends cared little for scholastic puzzles and they +gave themselves to the study of the beauties of Latin poetry and to the +newly opened mine of the literature of Greece. They delighted in +Virgil and Lucian, and still more in Homer and Aeschylus. + +The Turks had conquered Constantinople, and the fall of the Greek +Empire had driven many learned Greeks to the West of Europe. There +some of the scholars received them with open arms, and eagerly learned +from them to read Homer and Aristotle in the original tongue, and the +New Testament also. Those who followed these studies came to be known +as Humanists. But most of the universities and the monasteries in +Germany looked upon this revival of Greek culture as pernicious and +antichristian. Poetry they despised. The Latin Vulgate met their +religious needs, and Greek was only another name for Paganism. The +party name of Obscurantists ("Dunkelmänner") was given to these, and +this name has remained with them on the records of history. + +In the letters of one of Hutten's comrades we find this confession of +faith, which is interesting as expressing the feelings of young men of +that time: "There is but one God, but he has many forms, and many +names--Jupiter, Sol, Apollo, Moses, Christ, Luna, Ceres, Proserpine, +Tellus, Mary. But be careful how you say that. One must disclose +these things in secret, like Eleusinian mysteries. In matters of +religion, you must use the cover of fables and riddles. You, with +Jupiter's grace (that is, the grace of the best and greatest god), can +despise the lesser gods in silence. When I say Jupiter, I mean Christ +and the true God. The coat and the beard and the bones of Christ I +worship not. I worship the living God, who wears no coat nor beard, +and left no bones upon the earth." + +Hutten wished to know the world, not from books only, but to see all +cities and lands; to measure himself with other men; to rise above +those less worthy. The danger of such a course seemed to him only the +greater attraction. Content to him was laziness; love of home but a +dog's delight in a warm fire. "I live," he said, "in no place rather +than another; my home is everywhere." + +So he tramped through Germany to the northward, and had but a sorry +time. In his own mind he was a scholar, a poet, a knight of the +noblest blood of Germany; to others he was a little sickly and forlorn +vagrant. Never strong of body, he was stricken by a miserable disease +which filled his life with a succession of attacks of fever. He was +ship-wrecked on the Baltic Sea, sick and forlorn in Pomerania, and at +last he was received in charity in the house of Henning Lötz, professor +of law at Greifeswald. + +This action has given Lötz's name immortality, for it is associated +with the first of those fiery poems of Hutten which, in their way, are +unique in literature. For Hutten was restless and proud, and was not +to be content with bread and butter and a new suit of clothes. This +independence was displeasing to the professor, who finally, in utter +disgust, turned Hutten out of doors in midwinter. When the boy had +tramped a while in storm and slush, two servants of Lötz overtook him +on the road and robbed him of his money and clothing. In a wretched +plight he reached a little inn in Rostock, in Mecklenberg. Here the +professors in the university received him kindly, and made provision +for his needs. Then he let loose the fury of his youthful anger on +Lötz. As ever, his poetic genius rose with his wrath, and the more +angry he became the greater was he as a poet. + +Two volumes he published, ringing the changes of his contempt and +hatred of Lötz, at the same time praising the virtues of those who had +found in him a kindred spirit. A "knight of the order of poets," he +styles himself, and to all Humanists, to the "fellow-feeling among free +spirits" ("_Gemeingeist unter freien Geistern_") he appeals for +sympathy in his struggle with Lötz. + +He had, indeed, not found a foeman worthy of his steel, but he had +shown what a finely tempered blade he bore. Foemen enough he found in +later times, and his steel had need of all its sharpness and temper. +And it never failed him to the last. + +Meanwhile he wandered to Vienna, giving lectures there on the art of +poetry. But poetry was abhorred by the schoolmen everywhere, and the +students of the university were forbidden to attend his lectures. He +then went to Italy. When he reached Pavia, he found the city in the +midst of a siege, surrounded by a hostile French army. He fell ill of +a fever, and giving himself up for dead, he composed the famous epitaph +for himself, of which I give a rough translation: + + Here, also be it said, a life of ill-fortune is ended; + By evil pursued on the water; beset by wrong upon land. + Here lie Hutten's bones; he, who had done nothing wrongful, + Was wickedly robbed of his life by the sword in a Frenchman's hand. + By Fate, decided that he should see unlucky days only; + Decided that even these days could never be many or long; + Hemmed in by danger and death, he forsook not serving the muses, + And as well as he could, he rendered this service in song. + + +The Frenchman's sword did not rob him of his life. The Frenchman's +hand took only his money, which was not much, and again sent him +adrift. He now set his pen to writing epigrams on the Emperor, wherein +Maximilian was compared to the eagle which should devour the frogs in +the swamps of Venice. Meanwhile he enlisted as a common soldier in +Maximilian's army. + +In Italy, the abuses of the Papacy attracted his attention. Officials +of the Church were then engaged in extending the demand for +indulgences. The sale of pardons "straight from Rome, all hot," was +becoming a scandal in Christendom. All this roused the wrath of +Hutten, who attacked the Pope himself in his songs: + + "Heaven now stands for a price to be peddled and sold, + But what new folly is this, as though the fiat of Heaven + Needed an earthly witness, an earthly warrant and seal!" + + +More prosperous times followed, and we find Hutten honored as a poet, +living in the court of the Archbishop of Mainz. At this time a cousin, +Hans Hutten, a young man of great courage and promise, was a knight in +the service of Ulrich, Duke of Wurtemberg. He was a favorite of the +Duke, and he and his young wife were the life of the Würtemburg court. +And Duke Ulrich once came to Hans and threw himself at his feet, +begging that this wife, whom he loved, should be given over wholly to +him. Hans Hutten answered the Duke like a man, and the Duke arose with +murder in his heart. Afterward, when they were hunting in a wood, he +stabbed Hans Hutten in the back with his sword. + +All this came to the ear of Ulrich Hutten in Mainz. Love for his +cousin, love for his name and family, love for freedom and truth, all +urged him to avenge the murdered Hans. The wrongs the boy had suffered +from the coarse-hearted Professor Lötz became as nothing beside this +great crime against the Huttens and against manhood. + +In all the history of invective, I know of nothing so fierce as +Hutten's appeal against Duke Ulrich In five different pamphlets his +crime was described to the German people, and all good men, from the +Emperor down, were called on to help him in his struggle against the +Duke of Würtemberg. + +"I envy you your fame, you murderer," he wrote. "A year will be named +for you, and there shall be a day set off for you. Future generations +shall read, for those who are born this year, that they were born in +the year stained by the ineffaceable shame of Germany. You will come +into the calendar, scoundrel. You will enrich history. Your deed is +immortal, and you will be remembered in all future time. You have had +your ambition, and you shall never be forgotten." + +This struggle lasted long. Finally, after many appeals, the German +nobles rose in arms and besieged Stuttgart, and Duke Ulrich was driven +from the land he had disgraced. + +[Illustration: Ulrich von Hutten.] + +Again Hutten visited Italy, this time by a partial reconciliation with +his father, who would overlook his failure to become a priest if he +would study law at Rome. At about this time Luther visited Rome. He +came, at first, in a spirit of reverence; but, at last, he wrote: +"_Wenn es gibt eine Hölle, Roma ist darauf gebant_." ("If there is a +hell, Rome is built on it.") + +The impression on Hutten was scarcely less vivid. Little by little he +began to see in the Pope of Rome a criminal greater that Professor +Lötz, greater than Duke Ulrich, one who could devour not one cousin +only, but the whole German people and nation. "For three hundred +years," said he, "the Pope and the schoolmen have been covering the +teachings of Christ with a mass of superstitious ceremonies and wicked +books." These feelings were poured out in an appeal to the German +rulers to shake off the yoke, and no longer send their money to "Simon +of Rome." + +Hutten's friends tried to quiet him. He was a man not of free thought +only, but of free speech, and knew no concealment. Milder men in those +times, as later Melancthon and Erasmus, were full of admiration of +Hutten, and valued his skill and force. But they were afraid of him, +and fearful always that the best of causes should be wrecked in his +hands. + +At this time, at the age of twenty-five, Hutten is described as a +small, thin man, of homely features, with blonde hair and black beard. +His pale face wore a severe, almost wild, expression. His speech was +sharp, often terrible. Yet with those whom he loved and respected his +voice had a frank and winning charm. He had but few friends, but they +were fast ones. His personal character, so far as records go, was +singularly pure, and not often in his writings does he strike a coarse +or unclean note. + +In these days, the two most learned men in Germany were Erasmus and +Reuchlin. They were leaders of the Humanists, skilled in Greek, and +even in the Hebrew tongue, and were called by Hutten "the two eyes of +Germany." A Jew named Pfefferkorn, who had become converted to +Christianity, was filled with an unholy zeal against his fellow-Jews +who had not been converted. Among other things, he asked an edict from +the Emperor that all Jewish books in Germany should be destroyed. +Reuchlin was a Hebrew scholar. He had written a Hebrew grammar, and +was learned in the Old Testament, as well as in the Talmud, and other +deposits of the ancient lore of the rabbis. The Emperor referred +Pfefferkorn's request to Reuchlin for his opinion. Reuchlin decided +that there was no valid reason for the destruction of any of the +ancient Jewish writings, and only of such modern ones as might be +decided by competent scholars to be hostile to Christianity. + +This enraged Pfefferkorn and his Obscurantist associates. Pamphlets +were written denouncing Reuchlin, and these were duly answered. A +general war of words between the Humanists and Obscurantists began, +which, in time, came before the Pope and the Emperor. Reuchlin was +regarded in those days as a man of unusual calmness and dignity. Next +to Erasmus, he was the most learned scholar in Europe. He would never +condescend in his controversies to the coarse terms used by his +adversaries. We may learn something of the temper of the times by +observing that, in a single pamphlet, as quoted by Strauss, the +epithets that the dignified Reuchlin applies to Pfefferkorn are: "A +poisonous beast," "a scarecrow," "a horror," "a mad dog," "a horse," "a +mule," "a hog," "a fox," "a raging wolf," "a Syrian lion," "a +Cerberus," "a fury of hell." In this matter Reuchlin was finally +triumphant. This triumph was loudly celebrated by his friend Hutten in +another poem, in which the Obscurantists were mercilessly attacked. + +We have seen with Hutten's growth a gradual increase in the importance +of those to whom he declared himself an enemy. He began as a boy with +the obscure Professor Lötz. He ended with the Pope of Rome. + +At this time Reuchlin published a volume called "_Epistolae Clarorum +Virorum_" ("letters of illustrious men"). It was made up of letters +written by the various learned men of Europe to Reuchlin, in sympathy +with him in his struggle. The title of this work gave the keynote to a +series of letters called "_Epistolae Obscurorum Virorum_" ("letters of +obscure men")--that is, of Obscurantists. + +These letters, written by different persons, but largely by Hutten, are +the most remarkable of all satires of that time. + +They are a series of imaginary epistles, supposed to be addressed by +various Obscurantists to a poet named Ortuinus. They are written with +consummate skill, in the degenerate Latin used by the priests in those +days, and they are made to exhibit all the secret meanness, ignorance, +and perversity of their supposed writers. + +The first of these epistles of the "obscure men" were eagerly read: by +their supposed associates, the Obscurantists. Here were men who felt +as they felt, and who were not afraid to speak. The mendicant friars +in England had a day of rejoicing, and a Dominican friar in Flanders +bought all the copies of the letters he could find to present to his +bishop. + +But in time even the dullest began to feel the severity of the satire. +The last of these letters formed the most telling blows ever dealt at +the schoolmen by the men of learning. In one of the earlier letters we +find this question, which may serve as a type of many others: + +A man ate an egg in which a chicken was just beginning to form, +ignorant of that fact, and forgetting that it was Friday. A friend +consoles him by saying that a chicken in that stage counts for no more +than worms in cheese or in cherries, and these can be eaten even in +fasting-time. But the writer is not satisfied. Worms, he had been +told by a physician, who was also a great naturalist, are reckoned as +fishes, which one can eat on fast-days. But with all this, he fears +that a young chicken may be really forbidden food, and he asks the help +of the poet Ortuinus to a righteous decision. + +Another person writes to Ortuinus: "There is a new book much talked of +here, and, as you are a poet, you can do us a good service by telling +us of it. A notary told me that this book is the wellspring of poetry, +and that its author, one Homer, is the father of all poets. And he +said there is another Homer in Greek. I said, 'What is the use of the +Greek? the Latin is much better.' And I asked, 'What is contained in +the book?' And he said it treats of certain people who are called +Greeks, who carried on a war with some others called Trojans. And +these Trojans had a great city, and those Greeks besieged it and stayed +there ten years. And the Trojans came out and fought them till the +whole plain was covered with blood and quite red. And they heard the +noise in heaven, and one of them threw a stone which twelve men could +not lift, and a horse began to talk and utter prophecies. But I can't +believe that, because it seems impossible, and the book seems to me not +to be authentic. I pray you give me your opinion." + +Another relates the story of his visit to Reuchlin: + +"When I came into his house, Reuchlin said, 'Welcome, bachelor; seat +yourself.' And he had a pair of spectacles ('_unum Brillum_') on his +nose, and a book before him curiously written, and I saw at once that +it was neither in German nor Bohemian, nor yet in Latin. And I said to +him, 'Respected Doctor, what do they call that book?' He answered, 'It +is called the Greek Plutarch, and it treats of philosophy.' And I +said, 'Read some of it, for it must contain wonderful things.' Then I +saw a little book, newly printed, lying on the floor, and I said to +him, 'Respected Doctor, what lies there?' He answered, 'It is a +controversial book, which a friend in Cologne sent me lately. It is +written against me. The theologians in Cologne have printed it, and +they say that Johann Pfefferkorn wrote it.' And I said, 'What will you +do about it? Will you not vindicate yourself?' And he answered, +'Certainly not. I have been vindicated long ago, and can spend no time +on these follies. My eyes are too weak for me to waste their strength +on matters which are not useful.'" + +We next find Hutten high in the favor of the Emperor Maximilian, by +whose order he was crowned poet-laureate of Germany. The wreath of +laurel was woven by the fair hands of Constance Peutinger, who was +called the handsomest girl in Germany, and with great ceremony she put +this wreath on his head in the presence of the Emperor at Mainz. + +Now, for the first time, Hutten seems to have thought seriously of +marriage. He writes to a friend, Friedrich Fischer: "I am overcome +with a longing for rest, that I may give myself to art. For this, I +need a wife who shall take care of me. You know my ways. I cannot be +alone, not even by night. In vain they talk to me of the pleasures of +celibacy. To me it is loneliness and monotony. I was not born for +that. I must have a being who can lead me from sorrows--yes, even from +my graver studies; one with whom I can joke and play, and carry on +light and happy conversations, that the sharpness of sorrow may be +blunted and the heat of anger made mild. Give me a wife, dear +Friedrich, and you know what kind of one I want. She must be young, +pretty, well educated, serene, tender, patient. Money enough give her, +but not too much. For riches I do not seek; and as for blood and +birth, she is already noble to whom Hutten gives his hand." + +A young woman--Cunigunde Glauburg--was found, and she seemed to meet +all requirements. But the mother of the bride was not pleased with the +arrangement. Hutten was a "dangerous man," she said, "a +revolutionist." "I hope," said Hutten, "that when she comes to know +me, and finds in me nothing restless, nothing mutinous, my studies full +of humor and wit, that she will look more kindly on me." To a brother +of Cunigunde he writes: "Hutten has not conquered many cities, like +some of these iron-eaters, but through many lands has wandered with the +fame of his name. He has not slain his thousands, like those, but may +be none the less loved for that. He does not stalk about on yard-long +shin-bones, nor does his gigantic figure frighten travelers; but in +strength of spirit he yields to none. He does not glow with the +splendor of beauty, but he dares flatter himself that his soul is +worthy of love. He does not talk big nor swell himself with boasting, +but simply, openly, honestly acts and speaks." + +But all his wooing came to naught; another man wedded the fair +Cunigunde, and the coming storm of Romish wrath left Hutten no +opportunity to turn his attention elsewhere. + +The old Pope was now dead, and one of the famous family of Medici, in +Florence, had succeeded him as Leo the Tenth. Leo was kindly disposed +toward the Humanist studies, and Hutten, as poet of the Humanists, +addressed to him directly a remarkable appeal, which made the +turning-point in his life, for it placed him openly among those who +resisted the Pope. + +Recounting to the new Pope Leo all the usurpations which in his +judgment had been made, one by one, by his predecessors--all the +robberies, impositions, and abuses of the Papacy, from the time of +Constantine down--he appeals to Leo, as a wise man and a scholar, to +restore stolen power and property, to correct all abuses, to abandon +all temporal power, and become once more the simple Bishop of Rome. +"For there can never be peace between the robber and the robbed till +the stolen goods are returned." + +Now, for the first time, the work of Luther came to Hutten's attention. +The disturbances at Wittenberg were in the beginning treated by all as +a mere squabble of the monks. To Leo the Tenth this discussion had no +further interest than this: "Brother Martin," being a scholar, was most +probably right. To Hutten, who cared nothing for doctrinal points, it +had no significance; the more monkish strifes the better--"the sooner +would the enemies eat each other up." + +But now Hutten came to recognize in Luther the apostle of freedom of +thought, and in that struggle of the Reformation he found a nobler +cause than that of the Humanists--in Luther a greater than Reuchlin. +And Hutten never did things by halves. He entered into the warfare +heart and soul. In 1520 he published his "Roman Trinity," his gage of +battle against Rome. + +He now, like Luther, began to draw his inspiration, as well as his +language, not from the classics, but from the New Testament. A new +motto he took for himself, one which was henceforth ever on his lips, +and which appears again and again in his later writings: "_Jacta est +alea_" ("the die is cast"); or, in the stronger German, in which he +more often gave it, "_Ich hab's gewagt_" ("I have dared it"). + + "Auf dasz ichs nit anheb umsunst + Wolauf, wir haben Gottes Gunst; + Wer wollt in solchem bleiben dheim? + Ich hab's gewagt! das ist mein Reim!" + + "Der niemand grössern Schaden bringt, + Dann mir als noch die Sach gelingt + Dahin mich Gott und Wahrheit bringt, + Ich hab's gewagt." + + "So breche ich hindurch, durch breche ich, oder ich falle, + Kämpfend, nach dem ich einmal geworfen das Loos!" + + (So break I through the ranks else I die fighting-- + Fighting, since once and forever the die I have cast!) + + +In this motto we have the keynote to his fiery and earnest nature. +Convinced that a cause was right, he knew no bounds of caution or +policy; he feared no prison or death. "I have dared it!" + +"To all free men of Germany," he speaks. "Their tyranny will not last +forever; unless all signs deceive me, their power is soon to fail--for +already is the axe laid at the root of the tree, and that tree which +bears not good fruit will be rooted out, and the vineyard of the Lord +will be purified. That you shall not only hope, but soon see with your +eyes. Meanwhile, be of good cheer, you men of Germany. Not weak, not +untried, are your leaders in the struggle for freedom. Be not afraid, +neither weaken in the midst of the battle, for broken at last is the +strength of the enemy, for the cause is righteous, and the rage of +tyranny is already at its height. Courage, and farewell! Long live +freedom! I have dared it!" ("_Lebe die Freiheit; ich hab's gewagt_.") + +Warnings and threats innumerable came to Hutten, from enemies who +feared and hated, from friends who were fearful and trembling; but he +never flinched: He had "dared it." The bull of excommunication which +came from the Pope frightened him no more than it did Luther. But at +last he was compelled to retire from the cities, and he took up his +abode in the Castle of Ebernburg, with Franz von Sickingen. + +Franz von Sickingen was one of the great nobles of Germany, and he +ruled over a region in the bend of the Rhine between Worms and Bingen. +His was one of the bravest characters of that time. A knight of the +highest order, he became a disciple of Hutten and Luther, and on his +help was the greatest reliance placed by the friends of the growing +reform. His strong Castle of Ebernburg, on the hills above Bingen, was +the refuge of all who were persecuted by the authorities. The "Inn of +Righteousness" ("_Herberge von Gerechtigkeit_"), the Ebernburg was +called by Hutten. + +The Humanists who had stood with Hutten in the struggle between +Reuchlin and Pfefferkorn saw with growing concern the gradual transfer +of the field of battle from questions of literature to questions of +religion. Reuchlin, growing old and weak, wrote a letter, disavowing +any sympathy with the new uprisings against the time-honored authority +of the Church. This letter came into Hutten's hands, and, with all his +reverence for his old friend and master, he could not keep silence. + +"Eternal Gods!" he writes. "What do I see? Have you sunk so deep in +weakness and fear, O Reuchlin! that you cannot endure blame even for +those who have fought for you in time of danger? Through such shameful +subservience do you hope to reconcile those to whom, if you were a man, +you would never give a friendly greeting, so badly have they treated +you? Yet reconcile them; and if there is no other way, go to Rome and +kiss the feet of Leo, and then write against us. Yet you shall see +that, against your will, and against the will of all the godless +courtesans, we shall shake off the shameful yoke, and free ourselves +from slavery. I am ashamed that I have written so much for you--have +done so much for you,--since when it comes to action you have made such +a miserable exit from the ranks. From me shall you know henceforth +that whether you fight in Luther's cause or throw yourself at the feet +of the Bishop of Rome, I shall never trust you more." The poor old +man, thus harassed on all sides, found no longer any rest or comfort in +his studies. Worn-out in body, and broken in spirit, he soon died. + +The great source of Luther's hold on Germany lay in his direct appeal +to the common people. For this he translated the Bible into +German--even now the noblest version of the Bible in existence. For in +translating a work of inspiration the intuition of a man like Luther, +as Bayard Taylor has said, counts for more than the combined +scholarship of a hundred men learned in the Greek and Hebrew. "The +clear insight of one prophet is better than the average judgment of +forty-seven scribes." The German language was then struggling into +existence, and scholars considered it beneath their notice. It was +fixed for all time by Luther's Bible. Luther often spent a week on a +single verse to find and fix the idiomatic German. "It is easy to plow +when the field is cleared," he said. "We must not ask the letters of +the Latin alphabet how to speak German, but the mother in the kitchen +and the plowman in the field, that they may know that the Bible is +speaking German, and speaking to them. Out of the abundance of the +heart the mouth speaketh. No German peasant would understand that. We +must make it plain to him. '_Wess das Herz voll ist, dess geht der +Mund über_.' ('Whose heart is full, his mouth runs over.')" + +The same influence acted on Hutten. All his previous writings were in +Latin, and were directed to scholars only. Henceforth he wrote the +language of the Fatherland, and his appeals to the people were in +language which the people could and did read. No Reformation ever came +while only the learned and the noble were in the secret of it. + + "Latein, ich vor geschrieben hab + Das war ein jeden nicht bekannt; + Jetzt schrei ich an das Vaterland, + Teutsch Nation in ihrer Sprach + Zu bringen diesen Dingen Rach." + + ("For Latin wrote I hitherto, + Which common people did not know. + Now cry I to the Fatherland, + The German people, in their tongue, + Redress to bring for all these wrongs.") + + +A song for the people he now wrote, the "New Song of Ulrich von +Hutten," a song which stands with Luther's "Em feste Burg" in the +history of the Reformation: + + "Ich hab's gewagt mit Sinnen, + Und trag des noch kein Reu, + Mag ich nit dran gewinnen, + Noch muss man spüren Treu. + + "Darmit ich mein + Mit eim allein, + Wenn Man es wolt erkennen + Dem Land zu gut + Wiewol man thut + Ein Pfaffenfeind mich nennen." + + +Part of this may be freely translated-- + + "With open eyes I have dared it; + And cherish no regret, + And though I fail to conquer, + The Truth is with me yet." + + +Hutten's dream in these days was of a league of nobles, cities, and +people, aided by the Emperor if possible, against the Emperor if +necessary, which should by force of arms forever free Germany from the +rule of the Pope. Luther had little faith in the power of force. +"What Hutten wishes," he wrote to a friend, "you see. But I do not +wish to strive for the Gospel with murder and violence. Through the +power of the Word is the world subdued; through the Word the Church +shall be preserved and freed. Even Antichrist shall be destroyed by +the power of the Word." + +Now came the Great Diet at Worms, whither Luther was called before the +Emperor to answer for his heretical teachings, and before which he +stood firm and undaunted, a noble figure which has been a turning-point +in history. "Here I stand. I can do nothing else. God help me." + +Hutten, on his sick-bed at Ebernburg, not far away, was full of wrath +at the trial of Luther. "Away!" he shouted, "away from the clear +fountains, ye filthy swine! Out of the sanctuary, ye accursed +peddlers! Touch no longer the altar with your desecrating hands. What +have ye to do with the alms of our fathers, which were given for the +poor and the Church, and you spend for splendor, pomp, and foolery, +while the children suffer for bread? See you not that the wind of +Freedom[2] is blowing? On two men not much depends. Know that there +are many Luthers, many Huttens here. Should either of us be destroyed, +still greater is the danger that awaits you; for then, with those +battling for freedom, the avengers of innocence will make common cause." + +I have wished, in writing this little sketch, that I could have a +novelist's privilege of bringing out my hero happily at the end. I +have hitherto had the struggles of a man living before his time to +relate; the voice of one crying in the wilderness. If this were a +romance, I might tell how, with Hutten's entreaties and Luther's +exhortations, and under the wise management of Franz von Sickingen, the +people banded together against foreign foes and foreign domination, and +German unity, German freedom, and religious liberty were forever +established in the Fatherland. But, alas! the history does not run in +that way; at least not till a hundred years of war had bathed the land +in blood. + +For Hutten henceforth I have only misery and failure to relate. The +union of knights and cities resulted in a ruinous campaign of Franz von +Sickingen against Trčves. Sickingen's army was driven back by the +Elector. His strong Castle of Landstühl was besieged by the Catholic +princes, and cannon was used in this siege for the first time in +history. The walls of Landstühl, twenty-five feet thick, were battered +down, and Sickingen himself was killed by the falling of a beam. The +war was over, and nothing worthy had been accomplished. + +When Luther heard of the death of Sickingen, he wrote to a friend: +"Yesterday I heard and read of Franz von Sickingen's true and sad +history. God is a righteous but marvelous Judge. Sickingen's fall +seems to me a verdict of the Lord, that strengthens me in the belief +that the force of arms is to be kept far from matters of the Gospel." + +Hutten was driven from the Ebernburg. He was offered a high place in +the service of the King of France; but, as a true German, he refused +it, and fled, penniless and sick, to Basle, in Switzerland. + +Here the great Humanist, Erasmus, reigned supreme. Erasmus disavowed +all sympathy with his former friend and fellow-student. He called +Hutten a dangerous and turbulent man, and warned the Swiss against him. +Erasmus had noticed, with horror, in those who had studied Greek, that +the influence of Lutheranism was fatal to learning; that zeal for +philology decreased as zeal for religion increased. Already Erasmus, +like Reuchlin, was ranged on the side of the Pope. So, in letters and +pamphlets, Erasmus attacked Hutten; and the poet was not slow in giving +as good as he received. And this war between the Humanist and the +Reformer gave great joy to the Obscurantists, who feared and hated them +both. + +"Humanism," says Strauss, "was broad-minded but faint-hearted, and in +none is this better seen than in Erasmus. Luther was a narrower man, +but his unvarying purpose, never looking to left nor right, was his +strength. Humanism is the broad mirror-like Rhine at Bingen. It must +grow narrower and wilder before it can break through the mountains to +the sea." + +Repulsed by Erasmus at Basle, Hutten fled to Mülhausen. Attacked by +assassins there, he left at midnight for Zürich, where he put himself +under the protection of Ulrich Zwingli. In Zwingli, the purest, +loftiest, and clearest of insight of all of the leaders of the +Reformation, Hutten found a congenial spirit. His health was now +utterly broken. To the famous Baths of Pfaffers he went, in hope of +release from pain. But the modern bath-houses of Ragatz were not built +in those days, and the daily descent by a rope from above into the dark +and dismal chasm was too much for his feeble strength. Then Zwingli +sent him to a kindly friend, the Pastor Hans Schnegg, who lived on the +little Island of Ufnau, in the Lake of Zürich. And here at Ufnau, worn +out by his long, double conflict with the Pope and with disease, Ulrich +von Hutten died in 1523, at the age of thirty-five. "He left behind +him," wrote Zwingli, "nothing of worth. Books he had none; no money, +and no property of any sort, except a pen." + +[Illustration: Ulrich Zwingli.] + + +What was the value of this short and troubled life? Three hundred +years ago it was easy to answer with Erasmus and the rest--Nothing. +Hutten had denounced the Pope, and the Pope had crushed him. He had +stirred up noble men to battle for freedom, and they, too, had been +destroyed. Franz von Sickingen was dead. The league of the cities and +princes had faded away forever. Luther was hidden in the Wartburg, no +one knew where, and scarcely a trace of the Reformation was left in +Germany. Whatever Hutten had touched he had ruined. He had "dared +it," and the force he had defied had crushed him in return. + +But, looking back over these centuries, the life of Hutten rises into +higher prominence. His writings were seed in good ground. At his +death the Reformation seemed hopeless. Six years later, at the second +Diet of Spires, half Germany signed the protest which made us +Protestants. "It was Luther alone who said _no_ at the Diet of Worms. +It was princes and people, cities and churches, who said _no_ at the +Diet of Spires." + +Hutten's dream of a United German people freed from the yoke of Rome +was for three hundred years unrealized. For the Reformation sundered +the German people and ruined the German Empire, and not till our day +has German unity come to pass. But, as later reformers said, "It is +better that Germany should be half German, than that it should be all +Roman." + +For the true meaning of this conflict does not lie in any question of +church against church or creed against creed, nor that worship in +cathedrals with altars and incense and rich ceremony should give way to +the simpler forms of the Lutheran litany. The issue was that of the +growth of man. The "right of private interpretation" is the +recognition of personal individuality. + +The death of Hutten was, after all, not untimely. He had done his +work. His was the "voice of one crying in the wilderness." The head +of John the Baptist lay on the charger before Jesus had fulfilled his +mission. Arnold Winkelried, at Sempach, filled his body with Austrian +spears before the Austrian phalanx was broken. John Brown fell at +Harper's Ferry before a blow was struck against slavery. Ulrich von +Hutten had set every man, woman, and child in Germany to thinking of +his relations to the Lord and to the Pope. His mission was completed; +and longer life for him, as Strauss has suggested, might have led to +discord among the Reformers themselves. + +For this lover of freedom was intolerant of intolerance. For fine +points of doctrine he had only contempt. When the Lutherans began to +treat as enemies all Reformers who did not with them subscribe to the +Confession of Augsburg, Hutten's fiery pen would have repudiated this +confession. For he fought for freedom of the spirit, not for the +Lutheran confession. + +Had he remained in Switzerland, he would have been still less in +harmony with the prevailing conditions. Not long after, Zwingli was +slain in the wretched battle of Kappel, and, after him, the Swiss +Reformation passed under the control of John Calvin. There can be no +doubt that the stern pietist of Geneva would have burned Ulrich von +Hutten with as calm a conscience as he did Michael Servetus. + +The idea of a united and uniform Church, whether Catholic, Lutheran, or +Calvinist, had little attraction for Hutten. He was one of the first +to realize that religion is individual, not collective. It is +concerned with life, not with creeds or ceremonies. In the high sense, +no man can follow or share the religion of another. His religion, +whatever it may be, is his own. It is built up from his own thoughts +and prayers and actions. It is the expression of his own ideals. Only +forms can be transferred unchanged from man to man, from generation to +generation; never realities. For whatever is real to a man becomes +part of him and partakes of his growth, and is modified by his +personality. + +Hutten was buried where he died, on the little island of Ufnau, in the +Lake of Zürich, at the foot of the mighty Alps. And some of his old +associates put over his grave a commemorative stone. Afterwards, the +monks of the abbey of Einsiedein, in Schwytz came to the island and +removed the stone, and obliterated all traces of the grave. + +It was well that they did so; for now the whole green island of Ufnau +is his alone, and it is his worthy sepulcher. + + + +[1] For many of the details of the life of Hutten, and for most of the +quotations from Hutten's writings given in this paper, the writer is +indebted to the excellent memoir by David Friedrich Strauss, entitled +"Ulrich von Hutten." (Fourth Edition: Bonn, 1878.) No attempt has been +made to give here an account of Hutten's writings, only a few of the +more noteworthy being mentioned. + +[2] "Sehet ihr nicht dasz die Luft der Freiheit weht?" + + + + +NATURE-STUDY AND MORAL CULTURE.[1] + +In pleading for nature-study as a means of moral culture, I do not wish +to make an overstatement, nor to claim for such study any occult or +exclusive power. It is not for us to say, so much nature in the +schools, so much virtue in the scholars. The character of the teacher +is a factor which must always be counted in. But the best teacher is +the one that comes nearest to nature, the one who is most effective in +developing individual wisdom. + +To seek knowledge is better than to have knowledge. Precepts of virtue +are useless unless they are built into life. At birth, or before, "the +gate of gifts is closed." It is the art of life, out of variant and +contradictory materials passed down to us from our ancestors, to build +up a coherent and effective individual character. + +The essence of character-building lies in action. The chief value of +nature-study in character-building is that, like life itself, it deals +with realities. The experience of living is of itself a form of +nature-study. One must in life make his own observations, frame his +own inductions, and apply them in action as he goes along. The habit +of finding out the best thing to do next, and then doing it, is the +basis of character. A strong character is built up by doing, not by +imitation, nor by feeling, nor by suggestion. Nature-study, if it be +genuine, is essentially doing. This is the basis of its effectiveness +as a moral agent. To deal with truth is necessary, if we are to know +truth when we see it in action. To know truth precedes all sound +morality. There is a great impulse to virtue in knowing something +well. To know it well, is to come into direct contact with its facts +or laws, to feel that its qualities and forces are inevitable. To do +this is the essence of nature-study in all its forms. + +The claim has been made that history treats of the actions of men, and +that it therefore gives the student the basis of right conduct. But +neither of these propositions is true. History treats of the records +of the acts of men and nations. But it does not involve the action of +the student himself. The men and women who act in history are not the +boys and girls we are training. Their lives are developed through +their own efforts, not by contemplation of the efforts of others. They +work out their problem of action more surely by dissecting frogs or +hatching butterflies than by what we tell them of Lycurgus or Joan of +Arc. Their reason for virtuous action must lie in their own knowledge +of what is right, not in the fact that Lincoln, or Washington, or +William Tell, or some other half-mythical personage would have done so +and so under like conditions. + +The rocks and shells, the frogs and lilies always tell the absolute +truth. Association with these, under right direction, will build up a +habit of truthfulness, which the lying story of the cherry-tree is +powerless to effect. If history is to be made an agency for moral +training, it must become a nature-study. It must be the study of +original documents. When it is pursued in this way it has the value of +other nature-studies. But it is carried on under great limitations. +Its manuscripts are scarce, while every leaf on the tree is an original +document in botany. When a thousand are used, or used up, the archives +of nature are just as full as ever. + +From the intimate affinity with the problems of life, the problems of +nature-study derive a large part of their value. Because life deals +with realities, the visible agents of the overmastering fates, it is +well that our children should study the real, rather than the +conventional. Let them come in contact with the inevitable, instead of +the "made-up," with laws and forces which can be traced in objects and +forms actually before them, rather than with those which seem arbitrary +or which remain inscrutable. To use concrete illustrations, there is a +greater moral value in the study of magnets than in the distinction +between _shall_ and _will_, in the study of birds or rocks than in that +of diacritical marks or postage-stamps, in the development of a frog +than in the longer or the shorter catechism, in the study of things +than in the study of abstractions. There is doubtless a law underlying +abstractions and conventionalities, a law of catechisms, or +postage-stamps, or grammatical solecisms, but it does not appear to the +student. Its consideration does not strengthen his impression of +inevitable truth. There is the greatest moral value, as well as +intellectual value, in the independence that comes from knowing, and +knowing that one knows and why he knows. This gives spinal column to +character, which is not found in the flabby goodness of imitation or +the hysteric virtue of suggestion. Knowing what is right, and why it +is right, before doing it is the basis of greatness of character. + +The nervous system of the animal or the man is essentially a device to +make action effective and to keep it safe. The animal is a machine in +action. Toward the end of motion all other mental processes tend. All +functions of the brain, all forms of nerve impulse are modifications of +the simple reflex action, the automatic transfer of sensations derived +from external objects into movements of the body. + +The sensory nerves furnish the animal or man all knowledge of the +external world. The brain, sitting in absolute darkness, judges these +sensations, and sends out corresponding impulses to action. The +sensory nerves are the brain's sole teachers; the motor nerves, and +through them the muscles, are the brain's only servants. The untrained +brain learns its lessons poorly, and its commands are vacillating and +ineffective. In like manner, the brain which has been misued +[Transcriber's note: misused?], shows its defects in ill-chosen +actions--the actions against which Nature protests through her scourge +of misery. In this fact, that nerve alteration means ineffective +action, lying brain, and lying nerves, rests the great argument for +temperance, the great argument against all forms of nerve tampering, +from the coffee habit to the cataleptic "revival of religion." + +The senses are intensely practical in their relation to life. The +processes of natural selection make and keep them so. Only those +phases of reality which our ancestors could render into action are +shown to us by our senses. If we can do nothing in any case, we know +nothing about it. The senses tell us essential truth about rocks and +trees, food and shelter, friends and enemies. They answer no problems +in chemistry. They tell us nothing about atom or molecule. They give +us no ultimate facts. Whatever is so small that we cannot handle it is +too small to be seen. Whatever is too distant to be reached is not +truthfully reported. The "X-rays" of light we cannot see, because our +ancestors could not deal with them. The sun and stars, the clouds and +the sky are not at all what they appear to be. The truthfulness of the +senses fails as the square of the distance increases. Were it not so, +we should be smothered by truth; we should be overwhelmed by the +multiplicity of our own sensations, and truthful response in action +would become impossible. Hyperaesthesia of any or all of the senses is +a source of confusion, not of strength. It is essentially a phase of +disease, and it shows itself in ineffectiveness, not in increased power. + +Besides the actual sensations, the so-called realities, the brain +retains also the sensations which have been, and which are not wholly +lost. Memory-pictures crowd the mind, mingling with pictures which are +brought in afresh by the senses. The force of suggestion causes the +mental states or conditions of one person to repeat themselves in +another. Abnormal conditions of the brain itself furnish another +series of feelings with which the brain must deal. Moreover, the brain +is charged with impulses to action passed on from generation to +generation, surviving because they are useful. With all these arises +the necessity for choice as a function of the mind. The mind must +neglect or suppress all sensations which it cannot weave into action. +The dog sees nothing that does not belong to its little world. The man +in search of mushrooms "tramples down oak-trees in his walks." To +select the sensations that concern us is the basis of the power of +attention. The suppression of undesired actions is a function of the +will. To find data for choice among the possible motor responses is a +function of the intellect. Intellectual persistency is the essence of +individual character. + +As the conditions of life become more complex, it becomes necessary for +action to be more carefully selected. Wisdom is the parent of virtue. +Knowing what should be done logically precedes doing it. Good impulses +and good intentions do not make action right or safe. In the long run, +action is tested not by its motives, but by its results. + +The child, when he comes into the world, has everything to learn. His +nervous system is charged with tendencies to reaction and impulses to +motion, which have their origin in survivals from ancestral experience. +Exact knowledge, by which his own actions can be made exact, must come +through his own experience. The experience of others must be expressed +in terms of his own before it becomes wisdom. Wisdom, as I have +elsewhere said, is knowing what it is best to do next. Virtue is doing +it. Doing right becomes habit, if it is pursued long enough. It +becomes a "second nature," or, we may say, a higher heredity. The +formation of a higher heredity of wisdom and virtue, of knowing right +and doing right, is the basis of character-building. + +The moral character is based on knowing the best, choosing the best, +and doing the best. It cannot be built up on imitation. By imitation, +suggestion, and conventionality the masses are formed and controlled. +To build up a man is a nobler process, demanding materials and methods +of a higher order. The growth of man is the assertion of +individuality. Only robust men can make history. Others may adorn it, +disfigure it, or vulgarize it. + +The first relation of the child to external things is expressed in +this: What can I do with it? What is its relation to me? The +sensation goes over into thought, the thought into action. Thus the +impression of the object is built into the little universe of his mind. +The object and the action it implies are closely associated. As more +objects are apprehended, more complex relations arise, but the primal +condition remains--What can I do with it? Sensation, thought, +action--this is the natural sequence of each completed mental process. +As volition passes over into action, so does science into art, +knowledge into power, wisdom into virtue. + +By the study of realities wisdom is built up. In the relations of +objects he can touch and move, the child comes to find the limitations +of his powers, the laws that govern phenomena, and to which his actions +must be in obedience. So long as he deals with realities, these laws +stand in their proper relation. "So simple, so natural, so true," says +Agassiz. "This is the charm of dealing with Nature herself. She +brings us back to absolute truth so often as we wander." + +So long as a child is lead from one reality to another, never lost in +words or in abstractions, so long this natural relation remains. What +can I do with it? is the beginning of wisdom. What is it to me? is the +basis of personal virtue. + +While a child remains about the home of his boyhood, he knows which way +is north and which is east. He does not need to orientate himself, +because in his short trips he never loses his sense of space direction. +But let him take a rapid journey in the cars or in the night, and he +may find himself in strange relations. The sun no longer rises in the +east, the sense of reality in directions is gone, and it is a painful +effort for him to join the new impressions to the old. The process of +orientation is a difficult one, and if facing the sunrise in the +morning were a deed of necessity in his religion, this deed would not +be accurately performed. + +This homely illustration applies to the child. He is taken from his +little world of realities, a world in which the sun rises in the east, +the dogs bark, the grasshopper leaps, the water falls, and the relation +of cause and effect appear plain and natural. In these simple +relations moral laws become evident. "The burnt child dreads the +fire," and this dread shows itself in action. The child learns what to +do next, and to some extent does it. By practice in personal +responsibility in little things, he can be led to wisdom in large ones. +For the power to do great things in the moral world comes from doing +the right in small things. It is not often that a man who knows that +there is a right does the wrong. Men who do wrong are either ignorant +that there is a right, or else they have failed in their orientation +and look upon right as wrong. It is the clinching of good purposes +with good actions that makes the man. This is the higher heredity that +is not the gift of father or mother, but is the man's own work on +himself. + +The impression of realities is the basis of sound morals as well as of +sound judgment. By adding near things to near, the child grows in +knowledge. "Knowledge set in order" is science. Nature-study is the +beginning of science. It is the science of the child. To the child +training in methods of acquiring knowledge is more valuable than +knowledge itself. In general, throughout life sound methods are more +valuable than sound information. Self-direction is more important than +innocence. The fool may be innocent. Only the sane and wise can be +virtuous. + +It is the function of science to find out the real nature of the +universe. Its purpose is to eliminate the personal equation and the +human equation in statements of truth. By methods of precision of +thought and instruments of precision in observation, it seeks to make +our knowledge of the small, the distant, the invisible, the mysterious +as accurate as our knowledge of the common things men have handled for +ages. It seeks to make our knowledge of common things exact and +precise, that exactness and precision may be translated into action. +The ultimate end of science, as well as its initial impulse, is the +regulation of human conduct. To make right action possible and +prevalent is the function of science. The "world as it is" is the +province of science. In proportion as our actions conform to the +conditions of the world as it is, do we find the world beautiful, +glorious, divine. The truth of the "world as it is" must be the +ultimate inspiration of art, poetry, and religion. The world as men +have agreed to say it is, is quite another matter. The less our +children hear of this, the less they will have to unlearn in their +future development. + +When a child is taken from nature to the schools, he is usually brought +into an atmosphere of conventionality. Here he is not to do, but to +imitate; not to see, nor to handle, nor to create, but to remember. He +is, moreover, to remember not his own realities, but the written or +spoken ideas of others. He is dragged through a wilderness of grammar, +with thickets of diacritical marks, into the desert of metaphysics. He +is taught to do right, not because right action is in the nature of +things, the nature of himself and the things about him, but because he +will be punished somehow if he does not. + +He is given a medley of words without ideas. He is taught declensions +and conjugations without number in his own and other tongues. He +learns things easily by rote; so his teachers fill him with +rote-learning. Hence, grammar and language have become stereotyped as +teaching without a thought as to whether undigested words may be +intellectual poison. And as the good heart depends on the good brain, +undigested ideas become moral poison as well. No one can tell how much +of the bad morals and worse manners of the conventional college boy of +the past has been due to intellectual dyspepsia from undigested words. + +In such manner the child is bound to lose his orientation as to the +forces which surround him. If he does not recover it, he will spend +his life in a world of unused fancies and realities. Nonsense will +seem half truth, and his appreciation of truth will be vitiated by lack +of clearness of definition--by its close relation to nonsense. + +That this is no slight defect can be shown in every community. There +is no intellectual craze so absurd as not to have a following among +educated men and women. There is no scheme for the renovation of the +social order so silly that educated men will not invest their money in +it. There is no medical fraud so shameless that educated men will not +give it their certificate. There is no nonsense so unscientific that +men called educated will not accept it as science. + +It should be a function of the schools to build up common sense. Folly +should be crowded out of the schools. We have furnished costly lunatic +asylums for its accommodation. That our schools are in a degree +responsible for current follies, there can be no doubt. We have many +teachers who have never seen a truth in their lives. There are many +who have never felt the impact of an idea. There are many who have +lost their own orientation in their youth, and who have never since +been able to point out the sunrise to others. It is no extravagance of +language to say that diacritical marks lead to the cocaine habit; nor +that the ethics of metaphysics points the way to the Higher +Foolishness. There are many links in the chain of decadence, but its +finger-posts all point downward. + +"Three roots bear up Dominion--Knowledge, Will, the third, Obedience." +This statement, which Lowell applies to nations, belongs to the +individual man as well. It is written in the structure of his +brain--knowledge, volition, action,--and all three elements must be +sound, if action is to be safe or effective. + +But obedience must be active, not passive. The obedience of the lower +animals is automatic, and therefore in its limits measurably perfect. +Lack of obedience means the extinction of the race. Only the obedient +survive, and hence comes about obedience to "sealed orders," obedience +by reflex action, in which the will takes little part. + +In the early stages of human development, the instincts of obedience +were dominant. Great among these is the instinct of conventionality, +by which each man follows the path others have found safe. The Church +and the State, organizations of the strong, have assumed the direction +of the weak. It has often resulted that the wiser this direction, the +greater the weakness it was called on to control. The "sealed orders" +of human institutions took the place of the automatism of instinct. +Against "sealed orders" the individual man has been in constant +protest. The "warfare of science" was part of this long struggle. The +Reformation, the revival of learning, the growth of democracy, are all +phases of this great conflict. + +The function of democracy is not good government. If that were all, it +would not deserve the efforts spent on it. Better government than any +king or congress or democracy has yet given could be had in simpler and +cheaper ways. The automatic scheme of competitive examinations would +give us better rulers at half the present cost. Even an ordinary +intelligence office, or "statesman's employment bureau," would serve us +better than conventions and elections. But a people which could be +ruled in that way, content to be governed well by forces outside +itself, would not be worth the saving. But this is not the point at +issue. Government too good, as well as too bad, may have a baneful +influence on men. Its character is a secondary matter. The purpose of +self-government is to intensify individual responsibility; to promote +abortive attempts at wisdom, through which true wisdom may come at +last. Democracy is nature-study on a grand scale. The republic is a +huge laboratory of civics, a laboratory in which strange experiments +are performed; but by which, as in other laboratories, wisdom may arise +from experience, and having arisen, may work itself out into virtue. + +"The oldest and best-endowed university in the world," Dr. Parkhurst +tells us, "is Life itself. Problems tumble easily apart in the field +that refuse to give up their secret in the study, or even in the +closet. Reality is what educates us, and reality never comes so close +to us, with all its powers of discipline, as when we encounter it in +action. In books we find Truth in black and white; but in the rush of +events we see Truth at work. It is only when Truth is busy and we are +ourselves mixed up in its activities that we learn to know of how much +we are capable, or even the power by which these capabilities can be +made over into effect." + +Mr. Wilbur F. Jackman has well said: "Children always start with +imitation, and very few people ever get beyond it. The true moral act, +however, is one performed in accordance with a known law that is just +as natural as the law which determines which way a stone shall fall. +The individual becomes moral in the highest sense when he chooses to +obey this law by acting in accordance with it." Conventionality is not +morality, and may co-exist with vice as well as with virtue. Obedience +has little permanence unless it be intelligent obedience. + +It is, of course, true that wrong information may lead sometimes to +right action, as falsehood may secure obedience to a natural law which +would otherwise have been violated. But in the long run men and +nations pay dearly for every illusion they cherish. For every sick man +healed at Denver or Lourdes, ten well men may be made sick. Faith cure +and patent medicines feed on the same victim. For every Schlatter who +is worshiped as a saint, some equally harmless lunatic will be stoned +as a witch. This scientific age is beset by the non-science which its +altruism has made safe. The development of the common sense of the +people has given security to a vast horde of follies, which would be +destroyed in the unchecked competition of life. It is the soundness of +our age which has made what we call its decadence possible. It is the +undercurrent of science which has given security to human life, a +security which obtains for fools as well as for sages. + +For protection against all these follies which so soon fall into vices, +or decay into insanity, we must look to the schools. A sound +recognition of cause and effect in human affairs is our best safeguard. +The old common sense of the "un-high-schooled man," aided by +instruments of precision, and directed by logic, must be carried over +into the schools. Clear thinking and clean acting, we believe, are +results of the study of nature. When men have made themselves wise, in +the wisdom which may be completed in action, they have never failed to +make themselves good. When men have become wise with the lore of +others, the learning which ends in self, and does not spend itself in +action, they have been neither virtuous nor happy. "Much learning is a +weariness of the flesh." Thought without action ends in intense +fatigue of soul, the disgust with all the "sorry scheme of things +entire," which is the mark of the unwholesome and insane philosophy of +Pessimism. This philosophy finds its condemnation in the fact that it +has never yet been translated into pure and helpful life. + +With our children, the study of words and abstractions alone may, in +its degree, produce the same results. Nature-studies have long been +valued as a "means of grace," because they arouse the enthusiasm, the +love of work which belongs to open-eyed youth. The child _blasé_ with +moral precepts and irregular conjugations turns with delight to the +unrolling of ferns and the song of birds. There is a moral training in +clearness and tangibility. An occult impulse to vice is hidden in all +vagueness and in all teachings meant to be heard but not to be +understood. Nature is never obscure, never occult, never esoteric. +She must be questioned in earnest, else she will not reply. But to +every serious question she returns a serious answer. "Simple, natural, +and true" should make the impression of simplicity and truth. Truth +and virtue are but opposite sides of the same shield. As leaves pass +over into flowers, and flowers into fruit, so are wisdom, virtue, and +happiness inseparably related. + + + +[1] Read before the National Educational Association at Buffalo, New +York, 1896. + + + + +THE HIGHER SACRIFICE.[1] + +Each man that lives is, in part, a slave, because he is a living being. +This belongs to the definition of life itself. Each creature must bend +its back to the lash of its environment. We imagine life without +conditions--life free from the pressure of insensate things outside us +or within. But such life is the dream of the philosopher. We have +never known it. The records of the life we know are full of +concessions to such pressure. + +The vegetative part of life, that part which finds its expression in +physical growth, and sustenance, and death, must always be slavery. +The old primal hunger of the protoplasm rules over it all. Each of the +myriad cells of which man is made must be fed and cared for. The +perennial hunger of these cells he must stifle. This hunger began when +life began. It will cease only when life ceases. It will last till +the water of the sea is drained, the great lights are put out, and the +useless earth is hung up empty in the archives of the universe. + +This old hunger the individual man must each day meet and satisfy. He +must do this for himself; else, in the long run, it will not be done. +If others help feed him, he must feed others in return. This return is +not charity nor sacrifice; it is simply exchange of work. It is the +division of labor in servitude. Directly or indirectly, each must pay +his debt of life. There are a few, as the world goes, who in luxury or +pauperism have this debt paid for them by others. But there are not +many of these fugitive slaves. The number will never be great; for the +lineage of idleness is never long nor strong. + +When this debt is paid, the slave becomes the man. Nature counts as +men only those who are free. Freedom springs from within. No outside +power can give it. Board and lodging on the earth once paid, a man's +resources are his own. These he can give or hold. By the fullness of +these is he measured. All acquisitions of man, Emerson tells us, "are +victories of the good brain and brave heart; the world belongs to the +energetic, belongs to the wise. It is in vain to make a paradise but +for good men." + +In the ancient lore of the Jews, so Rabbi Voorsanger tells us, it is +written, "Serve the Lord, not as slaves hoping for reward, but as gods +who will take no reward." The meaning of the old saying is this: _Only +the gods can serve_. + +Those who have nothing have nothing to give. He who serves as a slave +serves himself only. That he hopes for a reward shows that to himself +his service is really given. To serve the Lord, according to another +old saying, is to help one's fellow-men. The Eternal asks not of +mortals that they assist Him with His earth. The tough old world has +been His for centuries of centuries before it came to be ours, and we +can neither make it nor mar it. We were not consulted when its +foundations were laid in the deep. The waves and the storms, the +sunshine and the song of birds need not our aid. They will take care +of themselves. Life is the only material that is plastic in our hand. +Only man can be helped by man. + +When they hung John Brown in Virginia, many said, you remember, that in +resisting the Government he had thrown away his life, and would gain +nothing for it. He could not, as Thoreau said at the time, get a vote +of thanks or a pair of boots for his life. He could not get +four-and-sixpence a day for being hung, take the year around. But he +was not asking for a vote of thanks. It was not for the +four-and-sixpence a day that he stood between brute force and its +victims. It was to show men the nature of slavery. It was to help his +fellow-citizens to read the story of their institutions in the light of +history. "You can get more," Thoreau went on to say, "in your market +[at Concord] for a quart of milk than you can for a quart of blood; but +yours is not the market heroes carry their blood to." The blood of +heroes is not sold by the quart. The great, strong, noble, and pure of +this world, those who have made our race worthy to be called men, have +not been paid by the day or by the quart; not by riches, nor fame, nor +power, nor anything that man can give. Out of the fullness of their +lives have they served the Lord. Out of the wealth of their resources +have they helped their fellow-men. + +The great man cannot be a self-seeker. The greatness of a Napoléon or +an Alexander is the greatness of gluttony. It is slavery on a grand +scale. What men have done for their own glory or aggrandizement has +left no permanent impress. "I have carried out nothing," says the +warrior, Sigurd Slembe. "I have not sown the least grain nor laid one +stone upon another to witness that I have lived." Napoléon could have +said as much, if, like Sigurd, he had stood "upon his own grave and +heard the great bell ring." The tragedy of the Isle of St. Helena lay +not in the failure of effort, but in the futility of the aim to which +effort was directed. There was no tragedy of the Isle of Patmos. + +What such men have torn down remains torn down. All this would soon +have fallen of itself; for that which has life in it cannot be +destroyed by force. But what such men have built has fallen when their +hands have ceased to hold it up. The names history cherishes are those +of men of another type. Only "a man too simply great to scheme for his +proper self" is great enough to become a pillar of the ages. + +It is part of the duty of higher education to build up ideals of noble +freedom. It is not for help in the vegetative work of life that you go +to college. You are just as good a slave without it. You can earn +your board and lodging without the formality of culture. The training +of the college will make your power for action greater, no doubt; but +it will also magnify your needs. The debt of life a scholar has to pay +is greater than that paid by the clown. And the higher sacrifice the +scholar may be called upon to make grows with the increased fullness of +his life. Greater needs go with greater power, and both mean greater +opportunity for sacrifice. + +In the days you have been with us you should have formed some ideals. +You should have bound these ideals together with the chain of +"well-spent yesterdays," the higher heredity which comes not from your +ancestors, but which each man must build up for himself. You should +have done something in the direction of the life of higher sacrifice, +the life that from the fullness of its resources can have something to +give. + +Such sacrifice is not waste, but service; not spending, but +accomplishing. Many men, and more women, spend their lives for others +when others would have been better served if they had saved themselves. +Mere giving is not service. "Charity that is irrational and impulsive +giving, is a waste, whether of money or of life." "Charity creates +half the misery she relieves; she cannot relieve half the misery she +creates." + +The men you meet as you leave these halls will not understand your +ideals. They will not know that your life is not bound up in the +present, but has something to ask or to give for the future. Till they +understand you they will not yield you their sympathies. They may jeer +at you because the whip they respond to leaves no mark upon you. They +will try to buy you, because the Devil has always bid high for the +lives of young men with ideals. A man in his market stands always +above par. Slaves are his stock in trade. If a man of power can be +had for base purposes, he can be sure of an immediate reward. You can +sell your blood for its weight in milk, or for its weight in +gold--whatever you choose,--if you are willing to put it up for sale. +You can sell your will for the kingdoms of the earth; and you will see, +or seem to see, many of your associates making just such bargains. But +in this be not deceived. No young man worthy of anything else ever +sold himself to the Devil. These are dummy sales. The Devil puts his +own up at auction in hope of catching others. If you fall into his +hands, you had not far to fall. You were already ripe for his clutches. + +When a man steps forth from the college, he is tested once for all. It +takes but a year or two to prove his mettle. In the college high +ideals prevail, and the intellectual life is taken as a matter of +course. In the world outside it appears otherwise, though the +conditions of success are in fact just the same. It is not true, +though it seems so, that the common life is a game of "grasping and +griping, with a whine for mercy at the end of it." It is your own +fault if you find it so. It is not true that the whole of man is +occupied, with the effort "to live just asking but to live, to live +just begging but to be." The world of thought and the world of action +are one in nature. In both truth and love are strength, and folly and +selfishness are weakness. There is no confusion of right and wrong in +the mind of the Fates. It is only in our poor bewildered slave +intellects that evil passes for power. All about us in the press of +life are real men, "whose fame is not bought nor sold at the stroke of +a politician's pen." Such are the men in whose guidance the currents +of history flow. + +The lesson of values in life it should be yours to teach, because it +should be yours to know and to act. Men are better than they seem, and +the hidden virtues of life appear when men have learned how to +translate them into action. Men grasp and hoard material things +because in their poverty of soul they know of nothing else to do. It +is lack of training and lack of imagination, rather than total +depravity, which gives our social life its sordid aspect. When a plant +has learned the secret of flowers and fruit, it no longer goes on +adding meaningless leaf on leaf. And as "flowers are only colored +leaves, fruits only ripe ones," so are the virtues only perfected and +ripened forms of those impulses which show themselves as vices. + +It is your relation to the overflow of power that determines the manner +of man you are. Slave or god, it is for you to choose. Slave or god, +it is for you to will. It is for such choice that will is developed. +Say what we may about the limitations of the life of man, they are +largely self-limitations. Hemmed in is human life by the force of the +Fates; but the will of man is one of the Fates, and can take its place +by the side of the rest of them. The man who can will is a factor in +the universe. Only the man who can will can serve the Lord at all, and +by the same token, hoping for no reward. + +Likewise is love a factor in the universe. Power is not strength of +body or mind alone. One who is poor in all else, may be rich in +sympathy and responsiveness. "They also serve who only stand and wait." + +In a recent number of The Dial, Mr. W. P. Reeves tells us the tale, +half-humorous, half-allegorical, of the decadence of a scholar. +According to this story, one Thomson was a college graduate, full of +high notions of the significance of life and the duties and privileges +of the scholar. With these ideals he went to Germany, that he might +strengthen them and use them for the benefit of his fellow-men. He +spent some years in Germany, filling his mind with all that German +philosophy could give. Then he came home, to turn his philosophy into +action. To do this, he sought a college professorship. + +This he found it was not easy to secure. Nobody cared for him or his +message. The authority of "wise and sober Germany" was not recognized +in the institutions of America, and he found that college +professorships were no longer "plums to be picked" by whomsoever should +ask for them. The reverence the German professor commands is unknown +in America. In Germany, the authority of wise men is supreme. Their +words, when they speak, are heard with reverence and attention. In +America, wisdom is not wisdom till the common man has examined it and +pronounced it to be such. The conclusions of the scholar are revised +by the daily newspaper. The readers of these papers care little for +messages from Utopia. + +No college opened its doors to Thomson, and he saw with dismay that the +life before him was one of discomfort and insignificance, his ideals +having no exchangeable value in luxuries or comforts. Meanwhile, +Thomson's early associates seemed to get on somehow. The world wanted +their cheap achievements, though it did not care for him. + +Among these associates was one Wilcox, who became a politician, and, +though small in abilities and poor in virtues, his influence among men +seemed to be unbounded. The young woman who had felt an interest in +Thomson's development, and to whom he had read his rejected verses and +his uncalled-for philosophy, had joined herself to the Philistines, and +yielded to their influence. She had become Wilcox's wife. His friends +regarded Thomson's failure as a joke. He must not take himself too +seriously, they said. A man should be in touch with his times. "Even +Philistia," one said, "has its aesthetic ritual and pageantry." A wise +man will not despise this ritual, because Philistinism, after all, is +the life of the world. + +But Thomson held out. "I pledged my word in Germany," he said, "to +teach nothing that I did not believe to be true. I must live up to +this pledge." And so he sought for positions, and he failed to find +them. Finally, he had a message from a friend that a professorship in +a certain institution was vacant. This message said, "Cultivate +Wilcox." So, in despair, Thomson began to cultivate Wilcox. He began +to feel that Wilcox was a type of the world, a bad world, for which he +was not responsible. The world's servant he must be, if he received +its wages. When he secured the coveted appointment, through the +political pull of Wilcox and the mild kindness of Mrs. Wilcox, he was +ready to teach whatever was wanted of him, whether it was truth in +Germany or not. He found that he could change his notions of truth. +The Wilcox idea was that everything in America is all right just as it +is. To this he found it easy to respond. His salary helped him to do +so. And at last, the record says, he became "_laudator temporis +acti_," one who praises the times that are past. As such, he took but +little part in the times that are to be. + +So runs the allegory. How shall it be with you? There are many +Thomsons among our scholars. There may be some such among you. When +you pass from the world of thought you will find yourself in the world +of action. The conditions are not changed, but they seem to be +changed. How shall you respond to the seeming difference? Shall you +give up the truth of high thinking for the appearance of speedy +success? If you do this, it will not be because you are worldly-wise, +but because you do not know the world. In your ignorance of men you +may sell yourself cheaply. + +One must know life before he can know truth. He who will be a leader +of men must first have the power to lead himself. The world is selfish +and unsympathetic. But it is also sagacious. It rejects as worthless +him who suffers decadence when he comes in contact with its vulgar +cleverness. The natural man can look the world in the face. The true +man will teach truth wherever he is,--not because he has pledged +himself in Germany not to teach anything else, but because in teaching +truth he is teaching himself. His life thus becomes genuine, and, +sooner or later, the world will respond to genuineness in action. The +world knows the value of genuineness, and it yields to that force +wherever it is felt. "The world is all gates," says Emerson, "all +opportunities, strings of tension waiting to be struck." + +Thus, in the decadence of Thomson, it was not the times or the world or +America that was at fault; it was Thomson himself. He had in him no +life of his own. His character, like his microscope, "was made in +Germany," and bore not his mark, but the stamp of the German factory. +Truth was not made in Germany; and to know or to teach truth there must +be a life behind it. The decadence of Thomson was the appearance of +the real Thomson from under the axioms and formulae his teachers had +given him. + +Men do not fail because they are human. They are not human enough. +Failure comes from lack of life. Only the man who has formed opinions +of his own can have the courage of his convictions. Learning alone +does not make a man strong. Strength in life will show itself in +helpfulness, will show itself in sympathy, in sacrifice. "Great men," +says Emerson, "feel that they are so by renouncing their selfishness +and falling back on what is humane. They beat with the pulse and +breathe with the lungs of nations." + +It is not enough to know truth; one must know men. It is not enough to +know men; one must be a man. Only he who can live truth can know it. +Only he who can live truth can teach it. "He could talk men over," +says Carlyle of Mirabeau, "he could talk men over because he could act +men over. At bottom that was it." + +And at bottom this is the source of all power and service. Not what a +man knows, or what he can say; but what is he? what can he can do? Not +what he can do for his board and lodging, as the slave who is "hired +for life"; but what can he do out of the fullness of his resources, the +fullness of his helpfulness, the fullness of himself? The work the +world will not let die was never paid for--not in fame, not in money, +not in power. + +The decadence of literature, of which much is said to-day, is not due +to the decadence of man. It is not the effect of the nerve strain of +over-wrought generations born too late in the dusk of the ages. Its +nature is this--that uncritical and untrained men have come into a +heritage they have not earned. They will pay money to have their +feeble fancy tickled. The decadence of literature is the struggle of +mountebanks to catch the public eye. There is money in the literature +of decay, and those who work for money have "verily their reward." But +these performances are not the work of men. They have no relation to +literature, or art, or human life. These are not in decadence because +imitations are sold on street-corners or tossed into our laps on +railway trains. As well say that gold is in its decadence because +brass can be burnished to look like it; or that the sun is in his +dotage because we have filled our gardens with Chinese lanterns. + + "No ray is dimmed, no atom worn, + My oldest force is good as new + And the fresh rose on yonder thorn + Gives back the bending heavens in dew." + + +Literature has never been paid for. It has never asked the gold nor +the plaudits of the multitude. Job, and Hamlet, and Faust, and Lear, +were never written to fill the pages of a Sunday newspaper. John +Milton and John Bunyan were not publishers' hacks; nor were John +Hampden, John Bright, or Samuel Adams under pay as walking-delegates of +reform. + +No man was hired to find out that the world was round, or that the +valleys are worn down by water, or that the stars are suns. No man was +paid to burn at the stake or die on the cross that other men might be +free to live. The sane, strong, brave, heroic souls of all ages were +the men who, in the natural order of things, have lived above all +considerations of pay or glory. They have served not as slaves hoping +for reward, but as gods who would take no reward. Men could not reward +Shakespeare, or Darwin, or Newton, or Helmholtz for their services any +more than we could pay the Lord for the use of His sunshine. From the +same inexhaustible divine reservoir it all comes--the service of the +great man and the sunshine of God. + + "Twice have I molded an image, + And thrice outstretched my hand; + Made one of day and one of night, + And one of the salt sea strand + One in a Judean manger, + And one by Avon's stream; + One over against the mouths of Nile, + And one in the Academe." + + +And in such image are men made every day, not only in Bethlehem or in +Stratford, not alone on the banks of the Nile or the Arno; but on the +Columbia, or the Sacramento, or the San Francisquito, it may be, as +well. All over the earth, in this image, are the sane, and the sound, +and the true. And when and where their lives are spent arises +generations of others like them, men in the true order. Not alone men +in the "image of God," but "gods in the likeness of men." + +It is to the training of the genuine man that the universities of the +world are devoted. They call for the higher sacrifice, the sacrifice +of those who have powers not needed in the common struggle of life, and +who have, therefore, something over and beyond this struggle to give to +their fellows. Large or small, whatever the gift may be, the world +needs it all, and to every good gift the world will respond a +thousand-fold. Strength begets strength, and wisdom leads to wisdom. +"There is always room for the man of force, and he makes room for +many." It is the strong, wise, and good of the past who have made our +lives possible. It is the great human men, the "men in the natural +order," that have made it possible for "the plain, common men," that +make up civilization, to live, rather than merely to vegetate. + +We hear those among us sometimes who complain of the shortness of life, +the smallness of truth, the limited stage on which man is forced to +act. But the men who thus complain are not men who have filled this +little stage with their action. The man who has learned to serve the +Lord never complains that his Master does not give him enough to do. +The man who helps his fellow-men does not stand about with idle hands +to find men worthy of his assistance. He who leads a worthy life never +vexes himself with the question as to whether life is worth living. + +We know that all our powers are products of the needs and duties of our +ancestors. Wisdom too great to be translated into action is an +absurdity. For wisdom is only knowing what it is best to do next. +Virtue is only doing it. Virtue and happiness have never been far +apart from each other. To know and to do is the essence of the highest +service. Those the world has a right to honor are those who found +enough in the world to do. The fields are always white to their +harvest. + +Alexander the Great had conquered his neighbors in Greece and Asia +Minor, the only world he knew. Then he sighed for more worlds to +conquer. But other worlds he knew nothing of lay all about him. The +secrets of the rocks he had never suspected. Steam, electricity, the +growth of trees, the fall of snow,--all these were mysteries to him. +The only conquest he knew, the subjection of men's bodies, went but a +little way. All the men who in his lifetime knew the name of Alexander +the Great could find encampment on the Palo Alto farm. The great world +of men in his day was beyond his knowledge. His world was a very small +one, and of this he had seen but a little corner. + +For the need of more worlds to conquer is no badge of strength. It is +the stamp of ignorance. It is the cry only of him who knows that the +great earth about him still stands unconquered. No Lincoln ever sighed +for more nations to save; no Luther for more churches to purify; no +Darwin that nature had not more hidden secrets which he might follow to +their depths; no Agassiz that the thoughts of God were all exhausted +before he was born. + + +And now, a final word to you as scholars: Higher education means the +higher sacrifice. That you are taught to know is simply that you may +do. Knowing the truth signifies that you should do right. Knowing and +doing have value only as translated into justice and love. There is no +man so strong as not to need your help. There is no man so weak that +you cannot make him stronger. There is none so sick that you cannot +bring him to the "gate called Beautiful." There is no evil in the +world that you cannot help turn to goodness. "We could lift up this +land," said Björnson of Norway, "we could lift up this land, if we +lifted as one." + +Therefore lift, and lift as one. You are strong enough and wise +enough. You shall seek strength and wisdom, that others through you +may be wiser and stronger. You shall seek your place to work as your +basis for helpfulness. Others will make the place as good as you +deserve. If your lives are sacrificed in helping men, it is to the +market of the ages you carry your blood, not to the milk-market of +Concord town. The honest man will not "pledge himself in Germany to +teach nothing which is not true." Being true himself, he can teach +nothing false. The more men of the true order there are in the world, +the greater is the world's need of men. + +As you are men, so will your places in life be secure. Every +profession is calling you. Every walk of life is waiting for your +effort. There will always be room for you, and each of you will make +room for many. + + + +[1] Address to the Graduating Class, Leland Stanford Jr. University, +May 21, 1896. + + + + + THE BUBBLES OF SÁKI. + + In sad, sweet cadence Persian Omar sings + The life of man that lasts but for a day; + A phantom caravan that hastes away, + On to the chaos of insensate things. + + "The Eternal Sáki from that bowl hath poured + Millions of bubbles like us and shall pour," + Thy life or mine, a half-unspoken word, + A fleck of foam tossed on an unknown shore. + + "When thou and I behind the veil are past, + Oh, but the long, long while the world shall last? + Which of our coming and departure heeds, + As the seven seas shall heed a pebble cast." + + "Then, my beloved, fill the cup that clears + To-day of past regrets and future fears." + This is the only wisdom man can know, + "I come like water, and like wind I go." + + But tell me, Omar, hast thou said the whole? + If such the bubbles that fill Sáki's bowl, + How great is Sáki, whose least whisper calls + Forth from the swirling mists a human soul! + + Omar, one word of thine is but a breath, + A single cadence in thy perfect song; + And as its measures softly flow along, + A million cadences pass on to death. + + Shall this one word withdraw itself in scorn, + Because 't is not thy first, nor last, nor all-- + Because 't is not the sole breath thou hast drawn, + Nor yet the sweetest from thy lips let fall? + + I do rejoice that when "of Me and Thee" + Men talk no longer, yet not less, but more, + The Eternal Sáki still that bowl shall fill, + And ever stronger, purer bubbles pour. + + One little note in the Eternal Song, + The Perfect Singer hath made place for me; + And not one atom in earth's wondrous throng + But shall be needful to Infinity. + + + + + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Story of the Innumerable Company, +and Other Sketches, by David Starr Jordan + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE STORY OF THE INNUMERABLE *** + +***** This file should be named 18462-8.txt or 18462-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/8/4/6/18462/ + +Produced by Al Haines + +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. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you +do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the +rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose +such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and +research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do +practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is +subject to the trademark license, especially commercial +redistribution. + + + +*** START: FULL LICENSE *** + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project +Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project +Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at +http://gutenberg.org/license). + + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy +all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. +If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the +terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or +entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. + +1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement +and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation" +or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the +collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an +individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are +located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from +copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative +works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg +are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project +Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by +freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of +this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with +the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by +keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project +Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in +a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check +the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement +before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or +creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project +Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning +the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United +States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate +access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently +whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the +phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project +Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, +copied or distributed: + +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 + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived +from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is +posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied +and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees +or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work +with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the +work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 +through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the +Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or +1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional +terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked +to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the +permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any +word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or +distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than +"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version +posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), +you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a +copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon +request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other +form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided +that + +- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is + owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he + has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the + Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments + must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you + prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax + returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and + sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the + address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to + the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." + +- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm + License. You must require such a user to return or + destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium + and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of + Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any + money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days + of receipt of the work. + +- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set +forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from +both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael +Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the +Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm +collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain +"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual +property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a +computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by +your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right +of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with +your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with +the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a +refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity +providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to +receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy +is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further +opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS', WITH NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO +WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. +If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the +law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be +interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by +the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any +provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance +with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, +promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, +harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, +that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do +or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm +work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any +Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. + + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers +including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists +because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from +people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. +To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 +and the Foundation web page at http://www.pglaf.org. + + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive +Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at +http://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent +permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. + +The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. +Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered +throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at +809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email +business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact +information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official +page at http://pglaf.org + +For additional contact information: + Dr. Gregory B. Newby + Chief Executive and Director + gbnewby@pglaf.org + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide +spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To +SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any +particular state visit http://pglaf.org + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including checks, online payments and credit card +donations. To donate, please visit: http://pglaf.org/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart is the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + http://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. + +*** END: FULL LICENSE *** + diff --git a/18462-8.zip b/18462-8.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..fd3066f --- /dev/null +++ b/18462-8.zip diff --git a/18462-h.zip b/18462-h.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..54c2860 --- /dev/null +++ b/18462-h.zip diff --git a/18462-h/18462-h.htm b/18462-h/18462-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..b711b1d --- /dev/null +++ b/18462-h/18462-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,6843 @@ +<!DOCTYPE HTML PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD HTML 4.01 Transitional//EN"> +<HTML> +<HEAD> + +<META HTTP-EQUIV="Content-Type" CONTENT="text/html; charset=iso-8859-1"> + +<TITLE> +The Story of the Innumerable Company, and Other Sketches +</TITLE> + +<STYLE TYPE="text/css"> +BODY { color: Black; + background: White; + margin-right: 10%; + margin-left: 10%; + font-size: medium; + font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; + text-align: justify } + +P {text-indent: 4% } + +P.noindent {text-indent: 0% } + +P.poem {text-indent: 0%; + margin-left: 10%; + font-size: small } + +P.letter {font-size: small } + + +</STYLE> + +</HEAD> + +<BODY> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Story of the Innumerable Company, and +Other Sketches, by David Starr Jordan + +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: The Story of the Innumerable Company, and Other Sketches + +Author: David Starr Jordan + +Release Date: May 28, 2006 [EBook #18462] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE STORY OF THE INNUMERABLE *** + + + + +Produced by Al Haines + + + + + +</pre> + + +<H1 ALIGN="center"> +THE STORY OF THE INNUMERABLE COMPANY, AND OTHER SKETCHES +</H1> + +<BR> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +BY +</H3> + +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +DAVID STARR JORDAN +</H2> + +<BR> +<BR> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +PRESIDENT OF LELAND STANFORD JUNIOR UNIVERSITY +</H3> + +<BR> +<BR> +<BR> +<BR> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +SAN FRANCISCO +<BR> +THE WHITAKER & RAY COMPANY (INCORPORATED) +<BR> +1896 +</H4> + +<BR> +<BR> +<BR> + +<H5 ALIGN="center"> +COPYRIGHT, 1896, +<BR> +BY +<BR> +DAVID STARR JORDAN +</H5> + +<BR> +<BR> +<BR> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +TO MY WIFE, +<BR> +JESSIE KNIGHT JORDAN. +</H3> + +<BR> +<BR> +<BR> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +PREFATORY NOTE. +</H3> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +This volume is made up of separate sketches, historical or allegorical, +having in some degree a bond of union in the idea of "the higher +sacrifice." +</P> + +<P> +I am under obligations to Professor William R. Dudley for the use of a +photograph of a record of Father Serra. This was secured through the +kindness of the late Father Casanova, of Monterey. +</P> + +<P> +PALO ALTO, CAL., June 1, 1896. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +CONTENTS. +</H2> + +<BR> + +<H3> +<A HREF="#chap01"> +THE STORY OF THE INNUMERABLE COMPANY +</A> +</H3> + +<H3> +<A HREF="#chap02"> +THIS STORY OF THE PASSION +</A> +</H3> + +<H3> +<A HREF="#chap03"> +THE CALIFORNIA OF THE PADRE +</A> +</H3> + +<H3> +<A HREF="#chap04"> +THE CONQUEST OF JUPITER PEN +</A> +</H3> + +<H3> +<A HREF="#chap05"> +THE LAST OF THE PURITANS +</A> +</H3> + +<H3> +<A HREF="#chap06"> +A KNIGHT OF THE ORDER OF POETS +</A> +</H3> + +<H3> +<A HREF="#chap07"> +NATURE-STUDY AND MORAL CULTURE +</A> +</H3> + +<H3> +<A HREF="#chap08"> +THE HIGHER SACRIFICE +</A> +</H3> + +<H3> +<A HREF="#chap09"> +THE BUBBLES OF SÁKI +</A> +</H3> + +<BR> +<BR> +<BR> + +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +ILLUSTRATIONS. +</H2> + +<BR> + +<H3> +<A HREF="#img-059"> +Peter Rendl as Saint John +</A> +</H3> + +<H3> +<A HREF="#img-067"> +Johann Zwink as Judas +</A> +</H3> + +<H3> +<A HREF="#img-071"> +Rosa Lang as Mary +</A> +</H3> + +<H3> +<A HREF="#img-079"> +"Ecce Homo!" +</A> +</H3> + +<H3> +<A HREF="#img-101"> +A Record of Junípero Serra +</A> +</H3> + +<H3> +<A HREF="#img-115"> +Mission of San Antonio de Pádua +</A> +</H3> + +<H3> +<A HREF="#img-121"> +Mission of San Antonio de Pádua--Interior of Chapel +</A> +</H3> + +<H3> +<A HREF="#img-133"> +Mission of San Antonio de Pádua--Side of Chapel,<BR> +with the Old Pear-trees +</A> +</H3> + +<H3> +<A HREF="#img-139"> +The Great Saint Bernard +</A> +</H3> + +<H3> +<A HREF="#img-143"> +Hospice of the Great Saint Bernard +</A> +</H3> + +<H3> +<A HREF="#img-147"> +Hospice of the Great Saint Bernard--in Winter +</A> +</H3> + +<H3> +<A HREF="#img-151"> +Jupitčre (Great Saint Bernard Dog) +</A> +</H3> + +<H3> +<A HREF="#img-155"> +Monks of the Great Saint Bernard +</A> +</H3> + +<H3> +<A HREF="#img-169"> +Saint Bernard and the Demon +</A> +</H3> + +<H3> +<A HREF="#img-187"> +John Brown +</A> +</H3> + +<H3> +<A HREF="#img-199"> +The John Brown Homestead, North Elba, N. Y. +</A> +</H3> + +<H3> +<A HREF="#img-203"> +John Brown's Grave +</A> +</H3> + +<H3> +<A HREF="#img-217"> +Ulrich Von Hutten +</A> +</H3> + +<H3> +<A HREF="#img-239"> +Ulrich Zwingli +</A> +</H3> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +_Men told me, Lord, it was a vale of tears<BR> +Where Thou hast placed me, wickedness and woe<BR> +My twain companions whereso I might go;<BR> +That I through ten and threescore weary years<BR> +Should stumble on beset by pains and fears,<BR> +Fierce conflict round me, passions hot within,<BR> +Enjoyment brief and fatal but in sin.<BR> +When all was ended then should I demand<BR> +Full compensation from thine austere hand:<BR> +For, 'tis thy pleasure, all temptation past,<BR> +To be not just but generous at last._<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +_Lord, here am I, my threescore years and ten<BR> +All counted to the full; I've fought thy fight,<BR> +Crossed thy dark valleys, scaled thy rocks' harsh height,<BR> +Borne all the burdens Thou dost lay on men<BR> +With hand unsparing threescore years and ten.<BR> +Before Thee now I make my claim, O Lord,--<BR> +What shall I pray Thee as a meet reward?_<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +_I ask for nothing. Let the balance fall!<BR> +All that I am or know or may confess<BR> +But swells the weight of mine indebtedness;<BR> +Burdens and sorrows stand transfigured all;<BR> +Thy hand's rude buffet turns to a caress,<BR> +For Love, with all the rest. Thou gavest me here,<BR> +And Love is Heaven's very atmosphere,<BR> +Lo, I have dwelt with Thee, Lord. Let me die.<BR> +I could no more through all eternity._<BR> +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap01"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE STORY OF THE INNUMERABLE COMPANY. +</H3> + + +<P> +There was once a great mountain which rose from the shore of the sea, +and on its flanks it bore a mighty forest. Beyond the crest of the +mountain were ridges and valleys, peaks and chasms, springs and +torrents. Farther on lay a sandy desert, which stretched its +monotonous breadth to the shore of a wide, swift river. What lay +beyond the river no one knew, because its shores were always hid in +azure mist. +</P> + +<P> +Year by year there came up from the shore of the sea an Innumerable +Company. Each one must cross the mountain and the forest, faring +onward toward the desert and the river. And this was one condition of +the journey—that whosoever came to the river must breast its waters +alone. Why this was so, no one could tell; nor did any one know aught +of the land beyond. For of the multitude who had crossed the river not +one had ever returned. +</P> + +<P> +As time went on there came to be paths through the forest. Those who +went first left traces to serve as guides for those coming after. Some +put marks on the trees; some built little cairns of stones to show the +way they had taken in going around great rocks. Those who followed +found these marks and added to them. And many of the travelers left +little charts which showed where the cliffs and chasms were and by what +means one could reach the hidden springs. So in time it came to pass +that there was scarcely a tree on the mountain which bore not some +traveler's mark; there was scarcely a rock that had not a cairn of +stones upon it. +</P> + +<P> +In early times there was One who came up from the sea and made the +journey over the mountain and across the desert by a way so fair that +the memory of it became a part of the story of the forest. Men spoke +to each other of his way, and many wished to find it out, that haply +they might walk therein. He, too, had left a Chart, which those who +followed him had carefully kept, and from which they had drawn help in +many times of need. +</P> + +<P> +The way he went was not the shortest way, nor was it the easiest. The +ways that are short and easy lead not over the mountain. But his was +the most <I>repaying</I> way. It led by the noblest trees, the fairest +outlooks, the sweetest springs, the greenest pastures, and the shadow +of great rocks in the desert. And the chart of his way which he left +was very simple and very plain—easy to understand. Even a child might +use it. And, indeed, there were many children who did so. +</P> + +<P> +On this chart were the chief landmarks of the region—the mountain with +its forest, the desert with its green oases, the paths to the hidden +springs. But there were not many details. The old cairns were not +marked upon it, and when two paths led alike over the mountain, there +was no sign to show that one was to be taken rather than the other. +Not much was said as to what food one should take, or what raiment one +should wear, or by what means one should defend himself. But there +were many simple directions as to how one should act on the road, and +by what signs he should know the right path. One ought to look upward, +and not downward; to look forward, and not backward; to be always ready +to give a helping hand to his neighbor: and whomsoever one meets is +one's neighbor, he said. +</P> + +<P> +As to the desert, one need not dread it; nor should one fear the river, +for the lands beyond it were sweet and fair. Moreover, one should +learn to know the forest, that he might choose his course wisely. And +this knowledge each one should seek for himself. For, as he said, "If +the blind lead the blind, both shall fall into the ditch." +</P> + +<P> +There were many who followed his way and gave heed to his precepts. +The path seemed dangerous at times, especially at the outset; for it +lay along dizzy heights, through tangled underwood, and across swollen +torrents. But after a while all these were left behind. The way +passed on between cleft rocks, into green pastures, and by still +waters; and in the desert were sweet springs which gave forth +abundantly. +</P> + +<P> +But some who tried to follow him said that his Chart was not explicit +enough. Every step in the journey, they contended, should be laid out +exactly; for to travel safely one should never be left in doubt. +</P> + +<P> +Now, it chanced that on the slope of the mountain there was a huge +granite rock, which stood in the midst of the way. Some of the +travelers passed to the right of it, while others turned to the left. +Strangely enough, the Chart said nothing concerning this rock. No hint +was given as to how one should pass by it. +</P> + +<P> +When they came to the rock, many of the travelers took counsel one of +another, and at last a great multitude was gathered there. Which way +had he taken? For in the path he took they must surely go. Many +scanned the rock on every side, to find if haply he had left some +secret mark upon it. But they found none; or, rather, no one could +convince the others that the hidden marks he found were intended for +their guidance. +</P> + +<P> +At nightfall, after much discussion, the old men in the council gave +their decision. The safe way led to the right. So he who kept the +Chart marked upon it the place of the rock, and he wrote upon the Chart +that the one true path leads to the right. Henceforth each man should +know the way he must go. +</P> + +<P> +Moreover, those who bore the records showed that this decision was +justified. They wrote upon the Chart a long argument, chain upon chain +and reason upon reason, to prove that from the beginning it was decreed +that by this rock should the destiny of man be tested. +</P> + +<P> +But in spite of argument, there were still some who chose the left-hand +path because they verily believed that this was the only right way. +They, too, justified their course by arguments, line upon line and +precept upon precept. And each band tried to make its following as +large as it could. Some men stood all day by the side of the rock, +urging people to come with them to the right or to the left. For, +strangely enough, although each man had his own journey to make, and +must cross the river at last alone, he was eager that all others should +go along with him. +</P> + +<P> +And as each band grew larger, its members took pride in the growth of +its numbers. In the larger bands, trumpets were blown, harps were +sounded, and banners were waved in the wind. Those who walked shoulder +to shoulder under waving flags to the sound of trumpets felt secure and +confident, while those who journeyed alone seemed always to walk with +fear and trembling. It was said in the old Chart that where two or +three were gathered together on the way, strength and courage would be +given them. But men could not believe this, and few had the heart to +test whether it were true or no. +</P> + +<P> +So the bands went on to the right or to the left, each in its chosen +path. But after they had passed the first great rock, they came to +other rocks and trees and places of doubt. Other councils were held, +and at each step there were some who would not abide by the decision of +the elders. So these from time to time went their own ways. And they +made new inscriptions on the Chart, and erased the old ones, each +according to his own ideas. And there was much pushing and jostling +when the bands separated themselves one from another. +</P> + +<P> +At last one of the oldest travelers in the largest band—a man with a +long white beard, and wise with the experience of years—arose and said +that not in anger, nor in strife, should they journey on. Discord and +contention arise from difference of opinion. Let all men but think +alike, and they will walk in peace and harmony. Let each band choose a +leader. Let him carry the Chart, and let him night and day pore over +its precepts. No one else need distress himself. One had only to keep +step on the road, and to follow whithersoever the leader might direct. +</P> + +<P> +So the people chose a leader—a man grave and serious, wise in the lore +of the forest and the desert. He noted on the Chart each rock and +tree, drawing in sharp outlines every detail in the only safe path. +Moreover, all deviating trails he marked with the symbol of danger. +</P> + +<P> +And it came to pass that day by day other bands followed, and to them +the Chart was given as he had left it. And these bands, too, chose +leaders, whose part it was to interpret the Chart. But each one of +these added to the Chart some better way of his own, some short cut he +had found, or some new trail not marked with the proper sign of warning. +</P> + +<P> +And with all these changes and additions, as time went on, the true way +became very hard to find. At one point, so the story is told, there +were twenty-nine distinct paths, leading in as many directions; each of +these, if the Chart be true, came to its end in some frightful chasm. +With these there was a single narrow trail that led to safety; but no +two leaders could agree as to which was the right trail. One thing +only was certain: the true way was very hard to find, and no traveler +might discover it unaided. +</P> + +<P> +And some declared that the Chart was complicated beyond all need. +There was one who said, "The multiplication of non-essentials has +become the bane of the forest." Even a little meadow which he had +found, and which he called the "Saints' Rest," was so entangled in +paths and counterpaths that once out of sight of it one could never +find it again. +</P> + +<P> +All this time there were many bands that wandered about in circles, +finding everywhere cairns of stones, but no way of escape. Still +others remained day after day in the shadow of great rocks, disputing +and doubting as to how they should pass by them. There were arguments +and precedents enough for any course; but arguments and precedents made +no man sure. +</P> + +<P> +And it came to pass that most travelers followed the band they found +nearest. At last, to join some band became their only care. And they +looked with pity and distrust upon those who traveled alone. +</P> + +<P> +But the bands all made their way very slowly. No matter how wise the +leader, not all were ready to move at once, and not all could keep step +to the sound of even the slowest trumpet. There was often much ado at +nightfall over the pitching of the tents, and many were crowded out +into the forest. At times also, in the presence of danger, fear spread +through the band, and many of the weaker ones were trampled on and +sorely hurt. +</P> + +<P> +Then, too, as they passed through the rocky defiles, some of them lost +sight of the banners, and then the others would wait for them, or +perchance leave them behind, to struggle on as best they might without +chart or guide. +</P> + +<P> +And there were those who spoke in this wise: "Many paths lead over the +mountain, and sooner or later all come to the desert and the river. It +does not matter where we walk; the question is, How? We cannot know +step by step the way he went. Let us walk by faith, as he walked. If +our spirit is like his, we shall not lack for guidance when we come to +the crossing of the ways." And so they fared on. But many doubted +their own promptings. "Tell me, am I right?" each one asked of his +neighbor; and his neighbor asked it again of him. And those who were +in doubt followed those who were sure. +</P> + +<P> +So it came to pass that these who walked by faith likewise gathered +themselves into great companies, and each company followed some leader. +Some of these leaders had the gift of woodcraft, and saw clearly into +the very nature of things. But some were only headstrong, and these +proved to be but blind leaders of the blind. +</P> + +<P> +Then one said, "We must not be filled with our own conceit, but must +humbly imitate him. We must try to work as he worked; to rest as he +rested; to sleep as he slept. The deeds we do should be those he did, +and those only. For on his Chart he has told us, not the way he went +past rocks and trees, but the actions with which his days were filled." +Then those who tried to do as he had done, moved by his motives and +acting through his deeds, found the way wonderfully easy. The days and +the hours seemed all too short for the joy with which they were filled. +</P> + +<P> +But, again, there were many who said that his directions were not +explicit enough. The Chart said so little. "That we may make no +mistake," they said, "we must gather ourselves in bands and choose +leaders. We cannot act as he acted unless there is some one to show us +how." +</P> + +<P> +Thus it came to pass that leaders were chosen who could do everything +that he had done, in all respects, according to his method. And they +added to the Chart the record of their own practices—not only that "He +did thus and so," but also, "Thus and so he did not do." "Thus and +thus did he eat bread, and thus only. Thus and thus did he loose his +sandals. In this way only gave he bread and wine. Here on the way he +fasted; there he feasted. At this turn of the road he looked upward +thus, shading his eyes with his hand. Here he anointed his feet; there +his face wore a sad smile. Such was the cut of his coat; of this wood +was his staff; of such a number of words his prayer." And many were +comforted in the thought that for every turn in the road there was some +definite thing which he had done, and which they, too, might perform. +</P> + +<P> +Thus the duties of every moment were fixed. But as the days went on +these duties grew more and more difficult. No one had time to look at +the rocks or trees; no one could cast his eyes over a noble prospect; +no one could stop to rest by the sweet fountains or in the refreshing +shadows. One could hardly give a moment to such things, lest he should +overlook some needful service. +</P> + +<P> +Then many lost heart, and said that surely he cared not for times and +observances, else he would have said more about them. When he made the +journey, it was his chief reproach that he heeded not these things. +With him, ceremony or observance rose directly out of the need for it, +each one as the need was felt. To imitate him is to feel as he felt. +With him feelings gave rise to word and action. "So will it be with +us. It is not for us to imitate him in the fashion of his coat or the +cut of his beard. He went over the road giving help and comfort, as +the sun gives light or the flowers shed fragrance, all unconscious of +the good he did." And in this wise did many imitate him. They turned +aside the boughs of the trees, that the sunshine of heaven might fall +upon their neighbors. And behold, the same sunshine fell upon them +also. They removed the stones from the road, that others might not +stumble over them. And others removed the stones from their way also. +</P> + +<P> +But many were still in doubt and hesitation. The record, they said, +was not explicit enough. They counseled together, and gathered in +bands, and chose leaders who should tell them how to feel. And the +leaders gave close heed to all his feelings and to the times and +seasons proper to each. Here he was joyous, and at a signal all the +baud broke into merry laughter. Here he was stern, and the multitude +set its teeth. There he wept, and tears fell like rain from +innumerable eyes. +</P> + +<P> +As time went on, repeated action made action easy. The springs of +feeling were readily troubled. Still each one felt, or tried to feel, +all that he should have felt. No one dared admit to his fellows that +his tears were a sham, his joy a pretense, his sadness a lie. But +often, in the bottom of their hearts, men would confess with real tears +that they had no genuine feeling there. +</P> + +<P> +Then the people asked for leaders who could bring out real feelings. +And there arose leaders, who, by terrible words, could fill the hearts +with fear; by burning words, could stir the embers of zeal; by the +intensity of their own passions, could fill the throng with pity, with +sorrow, or with indignation. And the multitude hung on their lips; for +they sought for feelings real and not simulated. +</P> + +<P> +But here again division arose; for not all were touched alike by those +who had power over the hearts of men. Some followed the leader who +moved them to tears; others chose him who filled them with fear and +trembling. Still others loved to linger in the dark shadow of remorse. +Some said that right emotions were roused by loud and ringing tones. +Some said that the tones should be sad and sweet. +</P> + +<P> +Then there were some who said that feelings such as all these were idle +and common. When he trod the way of old, it was with radiant eyes and +with uplifted heart. He saw through the veil of clouds to the glory +which lay beyond. We follow him best when we too are uplifted. Now +and then on the way come to us moments of exultation, when we tread in +his very footsteps. These are the precious moments; then our way is +his way. In the rosy mists of morning, we may behold the glory which +encompassed him. In moments of silent communion in the forest, we may +feel his peace steal over us. In the gentle rain that falls upon the +just and the unjust, we may know the soft pity of his tears. When the +sun declines, its last rays touch with gold the far-off mountain tops +beyond the great river. +</P> + +<P> +And the uplifting of great moments, filling the souls of men with peace +that passeth understanding, came to many. As they went their way, this +peace fell upon their neighbors also. And no man did aught to make +them afraid. And others sought to go with these, and thus they became +a great band. +</P> + +<P> +So they chose as their leaders those whose visions were brightest. And +they made for themselves a banner like the white mist flung out from +the mountain-tops at the rising of the sun. They spoke much to each +other concerning the white banner and the peace which filled their +souls. +</P> + +<P> +But as they journeyed along, the dust of the way dimmed the banner, and +the bright visions one by one faded away. At last they came no more. +</P> + +<P> +Then the people murmured and called upon the leaders to grant them some +brighter vision, something that all could see and feel at once—some +sign by which they might know that they were still in his way. "Cause +that a path be opened through the thicket," they said, "and let a white +dove come forth to lead us on; or, let the mists beyond the river part +for a moment, that we may behold the far country beyond." +</P> + +<P> +And one of the leaders standing at the head of the column, clothed in +the morning light as with a garment, raised his staff high in the air. +The sun's rays fell upon it, touching the morning mists with gold, and +threw across them the long shadow of the upraised staff. The shadow +fell far out across the plains, and about it was a halo of bright +light. And all the band looked joyfully at the vision. Adown the +slope of the mountain and out into the plain they followed the way of +the shadow. And all the time the white banner waved at the head of the +column. The people said little to one another, but that little was a +word of praise and rejoicing. +</P> + +<P> +But it came to pass, as the day wore on, that the sun rose in the sky, +and drew the mists up from the valley. With them vanished the long +shadow of the staff, and in its place appeared the sandy plain. The +feet of the people were sore with the rocks and stones. The air was +thick with dust. Their hearts were uplifted no longer. Instead they +were filled with doubt and distress. +</P> + +<P> +And the people repined and murmured against their leader. But the +leader said that all was well; even in the way he went there had been +stones and hindrances. More than once had he carried a heavy burden +along a dusty road. But he never doubted nor complained, and so the +radiance round about him never faded away. +</P> + +<P> +But all the more the people clamored for a sign. Let the bright vision +of the morning appear to us again. At length, worn with much entreaty, +the leader raised once more his staff above his head. The sun at noon +fell upon it. But as the people gazed they saw no long line of +radiance stretching out across the plains amid a halo of shining mist. +The shadow of the staff was a little shapeless mark upon the sand at +their very feet. +</P> + +<P> +Then the leader cast his staff away and went by himself alone, sad and +sorrowful. That night, as he lay by the roadside, he looked upward to +the clear, calm, honest stars. They seemed to say to him, "See all +things as they really are. This was his way. 'In spirit and in truth' +means in the light of no illusion. Not all the visions of mist or of +sunshine can make the journey other than it is." +</P> + +<P> +So he came to look closely at all things on the road. Day by day he +read the lessons of the desert and the mountain. He learned to know +directions by the growth of the trees. By the perfume of the lilies, +he sought out the hidden springs. By the red clouds at evening, he +knew that the sky would be fair. By the red light in the morning, he +was warned of the coming storm. And there were many who followed him +and his way, though he did not will it so. +</P> + +<P> +And he taught his companions, saying: "We must seek his way in the +nature of the things that abide. To learn this nature of things is the +beginning of wisdom. For day unto day uttereth speech, and night unto +night showeth knowledge. The way of nature is solid, substantial, +vast, and unchanging. He who walks in it stands secure, as in the +shadow of a high tower or as if encompassed by a mighty fortress. The +wisdom of the forest shall be granted to him who seeks for it with calm +heart and quiet eye." +</P> + +<P> +But among his followers there were many who were eager and would hasten +on, and although they spoke much of the Nature of Things and of the Law +of the Forest, they were contented with speaking. "The road is long," +they said to themselves, "and the hours are fleeting." They had no +time to contemplate the glory of the heavens. The beauty of the lilies +fell on unobservant eyes. For all these things they trusted to the +report of others. The words passed from mouth to mouth, losing ever a +little of their truth. And in this wise the voice of wisdom was turned +to the language of folly. For the nature of things is truth. But no +man can find truth except he seek it for himself. And so they fared +on, each well or ill, according to the truth to which his way bore +witness. +</P> + +<P> +Meanwhile those who bore the white banner remained long in council. At +last one remembered that it was written, "Faith without works is dead, +being alone." And it was written again, "Those who follow me in spirit +must follow me in truth." The essence of truth lies not in thought or +feeling, but must be expressed in deeds. Right feelings follow right +actions. Thus it was with him; thus will it be with us. +</P> + +<P> +Then they went their way together, doing good to one another. And each +called his neighbor "brother"; and some bore cups of cold water, and +some balm for healing; some carried oil and wine and pots of precious +ointment. To whomsoever they met they gave help and comfort. The +hungry they fed. The thirsty were given drink. He who had fallen by +the wayside was lifted up and strengthened, and the blessing of +cleanliness was brought to him who lay in filth and shame. The +blessing of him that was ready to perish came upon them, and the heart +of the widow sang for joy. +</P> + +<P> +But soon those who were filled with zeal for good works were gathered +together in great bands, and each band wished to magnify its work. In +every way, to all men who asked, help was given. They searched out the +lame and the blind, and brought them that they might perforce be +healed. Cup after cup of cold water was given to the little ones, even +to those who might bring water for themselves. They cared for the +wounded wayfarer long after his wounds were made whole. It was their +joy to bathe his limbs in oil and wine, or to swathe them in fragrant +bands. And the wayfarer ceased to bear his own tent or to seek his own +raiment. What others would do for him, he need not do for himself. +And those who did not help themselves lost the power of self-help. And +those who had helped others overmuch came themselves to need the help +of others. +</P> + +<P> +At last the number of the helpless became so great that there was no +one to serve them. Many waited day after day for the aid that never +came, and they grew so weak with waiting that they could not take up +their burdens. The little ones were thrust aside by the strong, and as +the band went on many of them were forgotten and left behind. They +fainted and fell by the healing springs, because there was no one to +give them drink, and they could not help themselves. +</P> + +<P> +And the burden of the way grew very hard and grievous to bear. Then +there were those who said that one cannot help another save by leading +him to help himself. All that is given him must he repay. Sooner or +later each must bear his own burden. Each must make his own way +through the forest in such manner as he may. +</P> + +<P> +So they turned back to the old Chart. They would read his words again, +that they might be led to better deeds. In these words they found help +and cheer. These words spake they one to another. They came like rain +to a thirsty field, or as balm to a wound, or as good news from a far +country. And there was wonderful consolation in the thought that for +every step of the way he had spoken the right word. +</P> + +<P> +So those who knew his words best were chosen as leaders, and great +companies followed them. And as band after band passed along, his +message sounded from one to another. His words were ever on their +lips. Those who could run swiftly carried them far and wide, even into +the depths of the forest. To those who were in sorrow they came as +glad tidings of great joy, and beautiful upon the mountains seemed the +feet of those who bore them. Wherever men were weary and heavy laden, +they were cheered by his promise of rest. +</P> + +<P> +But there were some who turned to his message only to gratify sordid +hopes or vain desires. He who was lazy sought warrant for sleep. He +who was covetous looked for gain. He who was filled with anger sought +promise of vengeance. There were many who repeated his words for the +mere words' sake. And there were some who used them in disputations +about the way. And the words of help on the Chart they turned into +words of command. Each one took these commands not to himself alone, +but sought to enforce them upon others. "For it is our duty," they +said, "to see that no word of his shall be unheeded of any man." And +many rose in resistance. And the conflicts on the way were fierce and +strong; for with each different band there was diversity of +interpretation. Thus the words of kindness became the voice of hate. +</P> + +<P> +And it came to pass that all along the way the green sward was red with +the blood of wayfarers. Everywhere the leaves of the forest were +trampled by struggling hosts. And "In his name" was the watchword of +each warring band. And each band called itself "his army." And +whosoever bore the sword that was reddest, they called the "Defender of +the Faith." They placed his name upon their battle-flags, and beneath +it they wrote these fearful words, "In this sign, conquer." And each +went forth to conquer his neighbor, and the wayfarer fled from the +sight of their banners as from a pestilence. But "Conquer, conquer," +was no word of his. He spoke not of victory over others; only of +conquest of oneself. He had said, "Resist not, but overcome evil with +good." And till all men ceased to resist and ceased to conquer, no one +found himself in the right way. Then some one said: "By words alone +can no one truly follow him. His words without his faith and love are +like sounding brass or tinkling cymbal. Out of the abundance of the +heart the mouth speaketh. When the heart is empty the speech of the +mouth is idle as the crackling of thorns beneath a pot." +</P> + +<P> +And there appeared other bands from the number of those who had passed +to the right of the first great rock; and seeing the tumult and +confusion of the others, they said to themselves: "These are they who +followed not us. We have chosen the better part. Our leader bears the +only perfect Chart. All other charts are the invention of men. In the +right Chart there can be nothing false; in the others there can be +nothing true. Those who have not the true Chart can never go right, +not even for a moment. For even good deeds done in the paths of evil +must partake of the nature of sin. Straight is the way and narrow is +the gate, but there is no safety except ye walk therein." +</P> + +<P> +So they went on, stumbling ever along the rocky road, never resting, +never murmuring. "For the way at best is a vale of tears," said they, +"and no one would have it otherwise. He found it thus in his time. He +was ever a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief. More than all +others had he suffered. It was his glory to be despised and rejected +of men. For the greater the abasement the greater the exaltation in +the land beyond the river." So day by day they walked in the hardest +part of the road. But they spoke often together of a land of pure +delight, of sweet fields beyond the swelling floods, and of turf soft +as velvet that rose from the river's bank. +</P> + +<P> +If perchance on the way they came to green pastures, they would hasten +on, lest they should be tempted to rest before the day of rest was +come. From sweet springs they turned aside, that theirs might be the +greater satisfaction when they came to the sweetest springs of all. +They shut their eyes to beauty and their ears to music, that the light +and music of the unknown shore might burst upon them as a sudden +revelation. They looked not at the stars, lest perchance these should +declare a glory which was reserved for other days. Dreary and harsh +was the way they trod. But in its very dreariness they found safety. +They sought no pleasure, they fought no battles, they wasted no time. +In the pushing aside of all temptation, the scorn of all beauty and +idleness, they found delight. Against the strength of granite rock +they set the force of iron will. Withal, at the bottom their hearts +were light with the certainty of coming joy. Even the multitude of +conflicting paths gave them a peculiar satisfaction; for whatever way +they took was always the right way. +</P> + +<P> +But there were some among them who lost all heart. And they threw +their charts away and set forth in disorder through the forest and up +the mountain. Some of them came safely to the river, far in advance of +the bands they had left behind. But to most the way was strange, and +harder than of old. And as the journey wore on they began to hate the +forest and all its ways. +</P> + +<P> +So they fared on, together or apart, in ever-deepening shadow. They +distrusted their neighbors. They despised the joyous bands who trooped +after their leaders with mouthing of verses and waving of flags. They +were stirred by the sound of no trumpet. They were deceived by no +illusion of sunshine or of mist. They said: "We know the forest; no +one knows it but ourselves. There is no future; there is no way; there +is no rest; there is no better country. The azure mists are shadows +only, hiding some dreary plain, if haply they hide anything at all. +Evil is man; evil are all things about him. Love and joy, hope and +faith, all these are but flickering lights that lure him to +destruction. Vultures croak on the rocks. The fountains flow with +ink. Danger lurks in the desert. The name of the river is Death." +And when they came to the shore of the river they saw no rift in the +clouds above it, for their eyes were filled with gloom. +</P> + +<P> +But as time passed on, the way of man grew brighter, whether he would +or no. No day nor hour was without its joy to him who opened his heart +to receive it. And men saw that most of the difficulties and dangers +of the way were those which they unwittingly had made for themselves or +for others. Thus, as the road became more secure, it no longer seemed +dreary or lonely. +</P> + +<P> +And so it came to pass at last that men ceased to gather themselves in +great bands. Nor did they longer set store on the sound of trumpets or +the waving of flags. The men who were wisest ceased to be leaders of +hosts. They became teachers and helpers instead. +</P> + +<P> +And with all this a sure way was from day to day not hard to find. Men +fell into it naturally and unconsciously. And the ways which are safe +are innumerable as the multitude of those that may walk therein. +</P> + +<P> +And those who had gone by diverse paths came from time to time +together. Each praised the charms of the path he had taken, but each +one knew that in other paths other men found as great delight. And as +time went on many wise men passed over the way, and each in his own +fashion left a record of all that had come to him. +</P> + +<P> +But the old Chart men kept in ever-increasing reverence. They found +that its simple, honest words were words of truth, and whoso sought for +truth gained with it courage and strength. But they covered it no +longer with their own additions and interpretations. Nor did any one +insist that what he found helpful to himself should be law unto others. +No longer did men say to one another, "This path have I taken; this way +must thou go." +</P> + +<P> +And some one wrote upon the Chart this single rule of the forest: +"Choose thou thine own best way, and help thy neighbor to find that way +which for him is best." But this was erased at last; for beneath it +they found the older, plainer words, which One in earlier times had +written there, "<I>Thy neighbor as thyself.</I>" +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap02"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE STORY OF THE PASSION. +</H3> + + +<P> +The Alps are not confined to Switzerland. They fill that little +country full and overflow in all directions, into Austria, Italy, +Germany, and France. Beautiful everywhere, these mountains are nowhere +more charming than in Southern Bavaria. Grass-carpeted valleys, lakes +as blue as the sky above them, dark slopes of pine and fir, over-topped +by crags of gray limestone dashed by perpetual snow, the Bavarian +Oberland is one of the most delightful regions in all Europe. When +Attila and the Huns invaded Germany fifteen centuries ago, it is said +that their cry was, "On to Bavaria—on to Bavaria! for there dwells the +Lord God himself!" +</P> + +<P> +In the heart of these mountains, shut off from the highways of travel +by great walls of rock, lies the valley of the little river Ammer. Its +waters are cold and clear, for they flow from mountain springs, and its +willow-shaded eddies are full of trout. At first a brawling torrent, +its current grows more gentle as the valley widens and the rocks +recede, and at last the little river flows quietly with broad windings +through meadows carpeted with flowers. On these meadows, a couple of +miles apart, lie the twin villages of the Ammer Valley—the one +world-famous, the other unheard of beyond the sound of its +church-bells—Ober and Unter Ammergau. +</P> + +<P> +Long, straggling, Swiss-like towns, these villages on the Ammer meadows +are. You may find a hundred such between Innsbruck and Zürich. Stone +houses, plastered outside and painted white, stand close together, each +one passing gradually backward into woodshed, barn, and stable. You +may lose your way in the narrow, crooked streets, as purposeless in +their direction as the footsteps of the cows who first surveyed them. +</P> + +<P> +Oberammergau is a cleaner town than most, with a handsomer church, and +a general evidence of local pride and modest prosperity. Frescoes on +the walls of the houses here and there, paintings of saints and angels, +bear witness to a love of beauty and to the prevalence of a religious +spirit. These pictures, still bright after more than a century's wear, +go back to the time when the peasant boy, Franz Zwink, of Oberammergau, +mixed paints for a famous artist who painted the interior of the Ettal +Monastery and the village church. The boy learned the art as well as +the process, and when his master was gone, he covered the walls of his +native town with pictures such as made men famous in other times and in +other lands. The spirit of the Italian masters was his, and the work +of Zwink at Oberammergau has been called "a wandering wave from the +mighty sea of the Renaissance which has broken on a far-off coast." +</P> + +<P> +The Passion Play at Oberammergau has been characterized as a relic of +medieval times—the last remains of the old Miracle Play. This is +true, in the sense of historical continuity, and in that sense alone. +The spirit of the times has penetrated even to this isolated valley, +and its Passion Play is as much a product of our century as the poetry +of Tennyson. Miracle Plays were shown at Oberammergau and in the town +about it more than five hundred years ago, but the Passion Play of +to-day is not like them. The imps and devils and all the machinery of +superstition are gone. Harmony has taken the place of crudity, and the +Christ of Oberammergau is the Christ of modern conception. The Miracle +Play, dead or dying everywhere else, has lived and been perfected at +Oberammergau. +</P> + +<P> +It has been pre-eminently the work of the Church of Rome to teach the +common people, and to train them to obedience. In its teaching it has +made use of every means which could serve its purposes. Didactic +teaching is not effective with tired and sleepy peasants. Sermons +soothe, rather than instruct, after a week of hard labor in the fields. +Hence comes the need of object-teaching, if teaching is to be real. +</P> + +<P> +Images have been used in this way in the Catholic Church—not as +objects to be worshiped, but as representations of sacred things. +Paintings have served the same purpose. The noblest paintings in the +world have been wrought to this end. It was in such lines alone that +art could find worthy recognition. In like manner, processions and +"Passion[1] Plays" have served the same purpose. +</P> + +<P> +The old Miracle Plays were grotesque enough—made by common people for +the instruction of common people. Even amid the pathos of divine +suffering the peasants must be amused. Care was taken that the +character of Judas should meet this demand. So Judas was made at once +a traitor and a clown. His pathway was beset by devils of the most +ridiculous sort. And when at last he hung himself on the stage, his +body burst open, and the long links of sausages which represented +intestines were devoured by the imps amid the laughter and delight of +the peasant audience. Now all this has passed away. Wise and learned +men have taken the play in hand, and have left it a monument to their +piety and good taste. Everything grotesque, or barbarous, or +ridiculous has been eliminated. All else is subordinated to a faithful +and artistic representation of the life and acts of Christ. Stately +prose and the language of the Gospel narratives have been substituted +for doggerel verse. As a work of art, the Passion Play deserves a high +place in the literature of Germany. +</P> + +<P> +One striking feature of the Passion Play is the absence of +superstitious elements. Beyond the dominating influence of the purpose +of God, which is brought into strong prominence, there is almost +nothing which suggests the supernatural or miraculous. That little +even is forgotten in the intensity of human interest. The Devil and +his machinations have vanished entirely. One sees in the religious +customs of the people of Oberammergau few of the superstitions common +among the peasant classes of other parts of Europe. In his little +book, "Oberammergau und Seine Bewohner," Pastor Daisenberger says: +"Superstitious beliefs and customs one does not find here." Even the +ordinary ghost-stories and traditions of Germany are outworn and +forgotten in this town. +</P> + +<P> +In 1634, so the tradition says, the black death came to Oberammergau, +and one-tenth of the inhabitants died. The others made a vow, "a +trembling vow, breathed in a night of tears," that if God should stay +the plague, they would, on every tenth year, repeat in full, for the +edification of the people, the Tragedy of the Passion. Other +communities might build temples or monasteries, or could undertake +pilgrimages; it should be their duty to show "The Way of the Cross." +When this vow was taken, the pestilence ceased, and not another person +perished. This was regarded by the people as a visible sign of divine +approval. Thus every tenth year for nearly three centuries, ever since +the time when the Pilgrims landed on Plymouth Rock, with varying +fortunes and interruptions, the Passion Play has been represented in +Oberammergau. +</P> + +<P> +The play in its present form is essentially the work of Josef Alois +Daisenberger, who was for twenty years pastor of the church at +Oberammergau. In this town he was born in the last year of the last +century, and there he died, in 1888, revered and beloved by all who +came near him. +</P> + +<P> +"I wrote the play," Pastor Daisenberger said, "for the love of my +Divine Redeemer, and with no other object in view than the edification +of the Christian world." +</P> + +<P> +The first aim of the Passion Play has been the training of the common +people. To its various representations came the peasants of Bavaria, +Würtemberg, and the Tyrol, on horses, on donkeys, on foot, a long and +difficult journey across mountain-walls and through great forests. It +was the memory and inspiration of a lifetime to have seen the Passion +Play. +</P> + +<P> +About forty years ago the tourist world discovered this scene; and +since then, on the decennial year, an ever-increasing interest has been +felt, an ever-growing stream of travel has been turned toward the Ammer +Valley. All, prince or peasant, are treated alike by the simple, +honest people, and the same preparation is made for the reception of +all. The purpose of the play should be kept in mind in any just +criticism. To have the right to discuss it at all, one must treat it +in a spirit of sympathy. +</P> + +<P> +We came into Oberammergau on Friday, the 1st day of August, 1890, to +witness the performance of the Sunday following. The city of Munich, +seventy miles away, was crowded with visitors, all bound to the Passion +Play. The express-train of twenty cars which carried us from Munich +was crowded with people from almost every part of the civilized world. +</P> + +<P> +At Oberau, six miles from Oberammergau, at the foot of the Ettal +Mountain, we left the railway, and there took part in a general +scramble for seats in the carriages. The fine new road winds through +dark pine woods, climbing the hill in long zigzags above wild chasms, +past the old monastery of Ettal, and then slowly descends to the soft +Ammer meadows. The great peak of the Kofel is ever in front, while the +main chain of the Bavarian Alps closes the view behind. +</P> + +<P> +Arrived in the little village, all was bustle and confusion. The +streets were full of people—some busy in taking care of strangers, +others sauntering idly about, as if at a country fair. Young women, in +black bodices and white sleeves, welcomed the visitors at the little +inns or served them in the shops. Everywhere were young men in +Tyrolese holiday attire—green coats, black slouch hats, with a feather +or sprig of Edelweiss in the hat-band, and with trousers, like those of +the Scottish Highlanders, which end hopelessly beyond the reach of +either shoes or stockings. Besides the rustics and the tourists, one +met here and there upon the streets men whose grave demeanor and long +black hair resting on their shoulders proclaimed them to be actors in +the Passion Play. +</P> + +<P> +On Sunday morning we were awakened by the sound of a cannon planted at +the foot of the Kofel, a sharp, conical, towering mountain, some two +thousand feet above the town, and bearing on its summit a tall gilded +cross. It was cold and rainy, but that made no difference with the +audience or the play. At eight o'clock, when the cannon sounds again, +all are in their places, and the play begins. It lasts for eight +hours—from eight o'clock in the morning to half-past five in the +afternoon, with a single interruption of an hour and a half at noon. +The stage is wide and ample. Its central part is covered, but the +front, which represents the fields and the streets of Jerusalem, is in +the open air. This feature lends the play a special charm. On the +left, across the stage, over which the fitful rain-clouds chase one +another, we can plainly see the long, green slope of Ettal mountain, +dotted from bottom to top with herdmen's huts or <I>châlets</I>, and on the +summit a tall pine-tree, standing out alone above all its brethren. On +the other side appear the wild crags of the Kofel, its gilded cross +glistening in the sunshine above the morning mists. Swallows fly in +and out among the painted palm-trees, their twitter sounding sharply +above the music of the chorus. The little birds raise their voices to +make themselves heard to each other. +</P> + +<P> +As the play progresses the intense truthfulness of the people of +Oberammergau steadily grows upon us. For many generations the best +intellects and noblest lives in the town have been devoted to the sole +end of giving a worthy picture of the life and acts of Christ. Each +generation of actors has left this picture more noble than it ever was +before. Their work has been wrought in a spirit of serious +truthfulness, which in itself places the Oberammergau stage in a class +by itself, above and beyond all other theaters. Everything is real, +and stands for what it is. Kings and priests are dressed, not in +flimsy tinsel, but in garments such as real kings and priests may have +worn. And so no artificial light or glare of fireworks is needed to +make these costumes effective. And this genuineness enables these +simple players to produce effects which the richest theaters would +scarcely dare to undertake; and all this in the open air, in glaring +sunshine or in pouring rain. The players themselves can scarcely be +called actors. In their way, they are strong beyond all mere actors, +and for this reason—that they do not seem to act. From childhood they +have grown up in the parts they play. Childish voices learn the solemn +music of the chorus in the schools, and childish forms mingle in the +triumphal procession in the regular church festivals. All the effects +of accumulated tradition, all the results of years of training tend to +make of them, not actors at all, but living figures of the characters +they represent. And we can look back over the history of Oberammergau, +and see how, through the growth of this purpose of its life, it has +come to be unique among all the towns of Europe. +</P> + +<P> +Many have wondered that in so small a town there should be so many men +of striking personality. The reason for this is to be sought in the +operation of natural selection. In the ordinary German village, the +best men find no career. They go from home to the cities or to foreign +lands, in search of the work and influence not to be secured at home. +The strongest go, and the dull remain. All, this is reversed at +Oberammergau. Only the native citizen takes part in the play. Those +who are stupid or vicious are excluded from it. Not to take part in +the play is to have no reason for remaining in Oberammergau. To be +chosen for an important part is the highest honor the people know. So +the influences at work retain the best and exclude the others. +Moreover, the leading families of Oberammergau, the families of Zwink, +Lang, Rendl, Mayr, Lechner, Diemer, etc., are closely related by +intermarriage. These people are all of one blood—all of one great +family. This family is one of actors, serious, intelligent, devoted, +and all these virtues are turned to effect in their acting. +</P> + +<P> +This work is that of a lifetime. Little boys and girls come on the +stage in the arms of the mothers—matrons of Jerusalem. Older boys +shout in the rabble and become at last Roman soldiers or servants of +the High Priest. Still later, the best of them are ranged among the +Apostles, and the rare genius becomes Pilate, John, Judas, or the +Christ. +</P> + +<P> +In the house of mine host, the chief of the money-changers in the +temple, the eldest daughter was called Magdalena. In 1890, at +fourteen, she was leader of the girls in the tableau of the falling +manna. In 1900, she may, perhaps, become Mary Magdalen, the end in +life which her parents have chosen for her. +</P> + +<P> +After the cannon sounds, the chorus of guardian spirits +(<I>Schützengeister</I>) comes forward to make plain by speech or action the +meaning of the coming scenes. This chorus is modeled after the chorus +in the Greek plays. It is composed of twenty-four singers, the best +that Oberammergau has, all picturesquely clad in Greek costumes,—white +tunics, trimmed with gold, and over these an outer mantle of some deep, +quiet shade, the whole forming a perfect harmony of soft Oriental +colors. Stately and beautiful the chorus is throughout. The time +which in ordinary theaters is devoted to the arranging of scenes behind +a blank curtain is here filled by the songs and recitations of the +guardian spirits. Once in the play the chorus appears in black, in +keeping with the dark scenes they come forth to foretell. But at the +end the bright robes are resumed, while the play closes with a burst of +triumph from their lips. +</P> + +<P> +At the beginning of each act, the leader of the singers, the village +schoolmaster, comes forth from the chorus, and the curtain parts, +revealing a tableau illustrative of the coming scenes. These tableaux, +some thirty or forty in number, are taken from scenes in the Old +Testament which are supposed to prefigure acts in the life of Christ. +Thus the treachery of Judas is prefigured by the sale of Joseph by his +brethren. The farewell at Bethany has its type in the mourning bride +in the Song of Solomon; the Crucifixion, in the brazen serpent of +Moses. Sometimes the connection between the tableaux and the scenes is +not easily traced; but even then the pictures justify themselves by +their own beauty. Often five hundred people are brought on the stage +at once. These range in size from the tall and patriarchal Moses to +children of two years. But, old or young, there is never a muscle or a +fold of garment out of place. The first tableau represents Adam and +Eve driven from Eden by the angel with the flaming sword. It was not +easy to believe that these figures were real. They were as changeless +as wax. They did not even wink. The critic may notice that the hands +of the women are large and brown, and the children's faces not free +from sunburn. But there is no other hint that these exquisite pictures +are made up from the village boys and girls, those who on other days +milk the cows and scrub the floors in the little town. The marvelously +varied costumes and the grouping of these tableaux are the work of the +drawing-teacher, Ludwig Lang. Without appearing anywhere in the play, +this gifted man makes himself everywhere felt in the delicacy of his +feeling for harmonies of color. +</P> + +<P> +At the beginning of the play the leader of the chorus addresses the +audience as friends and brothers who are present for the same reason as +the actors themselves—namely, to assist devoutly at the mystery to be +set forth, the story of the redemption of the world. The purpose is, +as far as may be, to share the sorrows of the Saviour and to follow him +step by step on the way of his sufferings to the cross and sepulcher. +Then comes the prologue, solemnly intoned, of which the most striking +words are these: +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"Nicht ewig zürnet Er<BR> +Ich will, so spricht der Herr,<BR> +Den Tod des Sünders nicht."<BR> +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +"He will not be angry forever. I, saith the Lord, will not the death +of the sinner. I will forgive him; he shall live, and in my Son's +blood shall be reconciled." +</P> + +<P> +When its part is finished the chorus retires, and the Passion Play +begins with the entry of Christ into Jerusalem. Far in the distance we +hear the music, "Hail to thee, O David's son!" Then follows a +seemingly endless procession of men, women, and children who wave +palm-leaves and shout hosannas. One little flaxen-haired girl, dressed +in blue, and carrying a long, slender palm-leaf, is especially striking +in her beauty and naturalness. +</P> + +<P> +At last He comes, riding sidewise upon a beast that seems too small for +his great stature. He is dressed in a purple robe, over which is a +mantle of rich crimson. Beside him, in red and olive-green, is the +girlish-looking youth, Peter Rendl, who takes the part of Saint John. +Behind him follow his disciples, each with the pilgrim's staff. Two of +these are more conspicuous than the others. One is a white-haired, +eager old man, wearing a mantle of olive-green. The other, younger, +dark, sullen, and tangle-haired, dressed in a robe of saffron over dull +yellow, is the only person in the throng out of harmony with the +prevailing joyousness. +</P> + +<A NAME="img-059"></A> +<CENTER> +<IMG SRC="images/img-059.jpg" ALT="Peter Rendl as Saint John." BORDER="2" WIDTH="375" HEIGHT="552"> +<H4> +[Illustration: Peter Rendl as Saint John.] +</H4> +</CENTER> + +<P> +Followed by the people, who stand apart in reverence as he passes among +them, Christ approaches the temple. His face is pale, in marked +contrast to his abundant black hair. His expression is serious, or +even care-worn, less mild than in the usual pictures of Jesus, but +certainly in keeping with the scenes of the Passion Play. A fine, +strong, masterful man of great stature and immense physical strength is +the wood-carver, Josef Mayr, who now for three successive decades has +taken this part. A man of attractive presence and lofty bearing, one +whom every eye follows as he goes about the town on the round of his +daily duties, yet simple-hearted and modest, as becomes one who takes +on himself not only the dress but the name and figure of the Saviour. +</P> + +<P> +Essays have been written on "Christus" Mayr and his conception of +Jesus, and I can only assent to the general impression. To me it seems +that Mayr's thought of Christ is one which all must accept. He appears +as "one driven by the Spirit,"—the great mild teacher, the man who can +afford to be silent before kings and before mobs, and to whom the pains +of Calvary are not more deep than the sorrows of Gethsemane, the man +who comes to do the work of his Father, regardless alike of human +praise or of human contempt. The great strength of the presentation is +that it brings to the front the essentials of Christ's life and death. +There is no suggestion of theological subtleties nor of the ceremonies +of any church. It is simply true and terrible. +</P> + +<P> +From one of his fellow-actors, I learned this of Josef Mayr. He has +always been what he is now, a hand-worker ("<I>gemeiner Arbeiter</I>") in +Oberammergau. He has never been away from his native town except once, +when he went as a workman to Vienna, and once when, in 1870, the play +was interrupted by the war with France, and Mayr himself was taken into +the army. Out of respect to his art, he was never sent to the front, +but kept in the garrison at Munich. When the war was over, and he came +back, in 1871, the grateful villagers resumed the play as their "best +method of thanking God who had given them the blessings of victory and +peace." +</P> + +<P> +Canon Farrar, of Westminster, has given us the best and most +sympathetic account yet published of the various actors. Of Mayr he +said: "It is no small testimony to the goodness and the ability of +Josef Mayr that in his representation of Christ he does not offend us +by a single word or a single gesture. If there were in his manner the +slightest touch of affectation or of self-consciousness; if there were +the remotest suspicion of a strut in his gait, we should be compelled +to turn aside in disgust. As it is, we forget the artist altogether. +For it is easy to see that Josef Mayr forgets himself, and wishes only +to give a faithful picture of the events in the Gospel story." +</P> + +<P> +As the Master enters the temple, he finds that its courts are filled +with a noisy throng of money-changers, peddlers, and dealers in animals +for sacrifice. He is filled with wrath and indignation. In a +commanding tone, he orders them to take their own and leave this holy +place. "There is room enough for trading outside. 'My house,' thus +saith the Lord, 'shall be a house of prayer to all the people.' Ye +have made it a den of thieves." ("<I>Zur Räuberhöhle, habt Ihr es +gemacht!</I>") +</P> + +<P> +The peddlers pay no attention to his protest. Then, with a sudden +burst of wrath, he breaks upon them, overturning their tables, +scattering their gold upon the floor, and beating them with thongs. +The animals kept for sacrifice are released. The sheep scamper +backward to the rear of the stage, and escape through the open door. +The white doves fly out over the heads of the spectators, and are lost +against the green slopes of the Kofel. +</P> + +<P> +The play now follows the Gospel narrative very closely. It is, in +fact, the Gospel story, with only such changes as fit it for continuous +presentation. Events aside from the current of the story, such as the +wedding at Cana and the raising of Lazarus, are omitted. There are few +long speeches. The leading features of what may be called the plot, +the wrath of the money-changers, the fierce hatred of the Pharisees, +the avarice of Judas, which makes him their tool, are all sharply +emphasized. +</P> + +<P> +The next scene introduces us to the High Council of the Jews, and to +its leading spirit, Caiaphas. Caiaphas is represented by the +burgomaster of the village, Johann Lang. "No medieval pope," says +Canon Farrar, "could pronounce his sentences with more dignity and +verve. He is what has been called 'that terrible creature, the perfect +priest.'" Violent, unforgiving, and harsh, he is the soul of the +conspiracy. His strong determination is reflected in the weak +malignity of his colleague, Annas, as well as in the priests and +scribes. "While he lives," Caiaphas says, "there is no peace for +Israel. It is better that one man should die, that the whole nation +perish not." +</P> + +<P> +We next behold Jesus accompanied by his disciples on the road toward +the house of Simon of Bethany. As they walk along, he talks sadly of +his approaching death. None of them can understand his words; for to +them he has been victorious over all his enemies. "A word from thee," +says Peter, "and they are crushed." "I see not," says Thomas, "why +thou speakest so often of sorrow and death. Do we not read in the +prophets that Christ lives forever? Thou canst not die, for with thy +power thou wakest even the dead." Even John declares that Christ's +words are dark and dismal, while he and his associates use every effort +to cheer the Master. +</P> + +<P> +At the house of Simon of Bethany, Mary Magdalen breaks the costly dish +of ointment. Judas, who carries the slender purse of the disciples, is +vexed at the waste, and talks of all the good the value of this +ointment might have done if given to the poor. +</P> + +<P> +Very carefully worked out is the character of Judas, represented by +Johann Zwink, the miller of Oberammergau, who ten years ago took the +part of Saint John. The people of Oberammergau regard Zwink as the +most gifted of all their actors; for he can, they say, play any part. +("<I>Er spielt alle Rolle.</I>") Gregor Lechner, who in his younger days +had the part of Judas, is now Simon of Bethany. Of all the actors of +Oberammergau, the people told us, Lechner is the most beloved +("<I>bestens beliebt</I>"). +</P> + +<A NAME="img-067"></A> +<CENTER> +<IMG SRC="images/img-067.jpg" ALT="Johann Zwink as Judas." BORDER="2" WIDTH="376" HEIGHT="545"> +<H4> +[Illustration: Johann Zwink as Judas.] +</H4> +</CENTER> + +<P> +In Zwink's conception, Judas is a man full of ambition, but without +enthusiasm. He is attracted by the power of Christ, from which he +expects great results. But Christ seems to care little for his own +mighty works. "My mission," he says, "is not to command, but to +serve." So Judas becomes impatient and dissatisfied. The eager +enthusiasm of Peter and the tender devotion of John alike bore and +disgust him. So the emissaries of Caiaphas find him half-prepared for +their mission. He admits that he has made a mistake in joining his +fortunes to those of an unpractical and sorrowful prophet who lets +great opportunities slip from his grasp, and who wastes a fortune in +precious ointment with no more thought than if it had been water. +"There has of late been a coolness between him and me," he confesses. +"I am tired," he says, "of hoping and waiting, with nothing before me +except poverty, humiliation, perhaps even torture and the prison." He +is especially ill at ease when the Master speaks of his approaching +death. "If thou givest up thy life," he says, "what will become of +us?" And so Judas reasons with himself that he can afford to be +prudent. If his Master fail, then he must be a false prophet, and +there is no use in following him. If he succeed, as with his mighty +power he can hardly fail to do, then, says Judas, "I will throw myself +at his feet. He is such a good man; never have I seen him cast a +penitent away. But I fear to face the Master. His sharp look goes +through and through me. Still at the most I shall only tell the +priests where my Master is." And thus the good and bad impulses +struggle for the mastery, giving to this character the greatest tragic +interest. He visibly shrinks before the words of Christ, "One of you +shall betray me." In the High Council he cringes under the scorching +reproach of Nicodemus. "Dost thou not blush," Nicodemus says, "to sell +thy Lord and Master? This blood-money calls to heaven for revenge. +Some day it will burn hot in thine avarice-sunken soul." +</P> + +<P> +But the High Priest says, "Come, Judas, take the silver, and be a man." +And when the thirty pieces are counted out to him, he cannot resist the +temptation, but clutches them with a miser's grasp and hurries off to +intercept the Master on his way through the Garden of Gethsemane. +Meanwhile, after a tender farewell from his mother, Christ leaves the +house of Simon of Bethany, and, with his disciples, takes the road to +Jerusalem. +</P> + +<P> +The part of Mary the mother of Christ is admirably taken by Rosa Lang. +In dress and mien, she seems to have stepped down from some +picture-frame of Raphael or Murillo. The Mary of Rosa Lang is in every +respect a worthy companion of Mayr's Christus. +</P> + +<A NAME="img-071"></A> +<CENTER> +<IMG SRC="images/img-071.jpg" ALT="Rosa Lang as Mary." BORDER="2" WIDTH="378" HEIGHT="542"> +<H4> +[Illustration: Rosa Lang as Mary.] +</H4> +</CENTER> + +<P> +The various scenes in which the Apostles appear are modeled more or +less after the great religious paintings, especially those of the +Bavarian artist, Albrecht Dürer. The Last Supper is a living +representation of the famous painting of Leonardo da Vinci in the +refectory at Milan. Peter and Judas are here brought into sharp +contrast. Next to Christ, is the slender figure of the beloved +disciple. The characters of the different Apostles are placed in bold +relief. We are at once interested in the fine face of Andreas Lang, +the Apostle Thomas, critical and questioning, but altogether loyal. +The Apostle Philip looks for signs and visions, and would see the +Father coming in His glory from the skies, not in the common every-day +scenes of life into which the Master led them. "Have I been so long +time with thee, and yet hast thou not known me, Philip?" +</P> + +<P> +Next comes the night scene in the Garden of Gethsemane on the Mount of +Olives. The tired Apostles rest upon the grassy bank, and one by one +they fall asleep. Even Peter, who is nearest the Master, can keep +awake no longer. Christ kneels upon the rocks above the sleeping +Peter. "O Father, if it be possible, let this cup pass from me." He +looks back to his disciples. "Are your eyes so heavy that ye cannot +watch? The weight of God's justice lies upon me. The sins of the +fallen world weigh me down. O Father, if it is not possible that this +hour go by, then may thy holy will be done." +</P> + +<P> +Suddenly a great tumult is heard. The faint light of the morning is +reflected from the clanging armor and from glittering spears. The +Apostles are rudely awakened. Judas comes forth and greets the Master +with a kiss. At this signal, the Master is seized by the soldiers and +roughly bound. Then he is carried away, first to Annas, and afterwards +to the house of Caiaphas. +</P> + +<P> +Of the scenes that immediately follow, the most striking is that of the +denial of Peter. Peter, as represented by the sexton of the church, +Jacob Hitt, is an old man with a young heart, eager and impulsive. He +dreams of the noble part he will take while standing by the Master's +side before kings and priests, but behaves very humanly when he is +brought face to face with an unexpected test. +</P> + +<P> +The scenes of the night have crowded thick and fast. The Apostles have +been scattered by the soldiers. The Master had been bound, and carried +away they know not whither. Peter had tried to defend him, but was +told to "put away his useless sword." In forlorn agony Peter and John +wander about in the dark, seeking news of Jesus. They meet a servant +who tells them that he has been carried before the High Priest, and +that the whole brood of his followers is to be rooted out. +</P> + +<P> +Near the house of the High Priest Annas we see a sort of inn occupied +by rough soldiers. The night is damp and cold. A maid has kindled a +fire in the courtyard, and Peter approaches it to warm his hands, and, +if possible, to gain some further news of the Master. He hears the +soldiers talking of Malchus, one of their number who had had his ear +cut off. They boast of what they will do with the culprit, if he +should ever fall into their power. "An ear for an ear," he hears them +say. Suddenly the maid turns towards Peter and says, "Yes, you, surely +you were with the Nazarene Jesus." Peter hesitates. Should he +confess, he would have his own ears cut off, an ear for an ear—and +most likely his head, too, while his body would be thrown out on the +rubbish heap behind the inn. Peter had said that he would die for the +Master; and so he would on the field of battle, or in any way where he +might have a glorious death. He would die for the Master, but not then +and there. The death of a martyr has its pleasures, no doubt, but not +the death of a dog. +</P> + +<P> +While Peter stood thus considering these matters, one and then another +of the servants insisted that he had surely been seen with the Nazarene +Jesus. Again and again Peter refused all knowledge of the Master. +When the cock crew once more he had denied his Master thrice. While +Peter still insisted, the door opened and the Master came forth under +the High Priest's sentence of death. "And the Lord turned and looked +upon Peter, and Peter went out and wept bitterly." "Oh, Master," he +says in the play: +<P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"Oh, Master, how have I fallen!<BR> +I have denied thee, how can it be possible?<BR> +Three times denied thee! Oh, thou knowest, Lord,<BR> +I was resolved to follow thee to death."<BR> +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +Meanwhile Judas hears the story of what has happened. He is at once +filled with agony and remorse, for he had not expected it. He was sure +that the great power of the Master would bring him through safely at +last. In helpless agony, he rushes before the Council and makes an +ineffective protest. "No peace for me forevermore; no peace for you," +he says. "The blood of the innocent cries aloud for justice." He is +repulsed with cold indifference. "Will it or not," says the High +Priest, "he must die, and it would be well for thee to look out for +thyself." +</P> + +<P> +In fury he cries out, "If he dies, then am I a traitor. May ten +thousand devils tear me in pieces! Here, ye bloodhounds, take back +your curse!" And flinging the blood-money at the feet of the priests, +he flies from their presence, pursued by the specter of his crime. +</P> + +<P> +The next scene shows us the field of blood—a wind-swept desert, with +one forlorn tree in the foreground. We see the wretched Judas before +the tree. He tears off his girdle, "a snake," he calls it, and places +it about his neck, snapping off a branch of the tree in his haste to +fasten it. "Here, accursed life, I end thee; let the most miserable of +all fruit hang upon this tree." In the action we feel that Judas is +not so much wicked as weak. He has little faith and little +imagination, and his folly of avarice hurries him into betrayal. Those +who see the play feel as the actors feel, that Christ knows the +weakness of man. He would have forgiven Judas, just as he forgave +Peter. +</P> + +<P> +In the early morning Christ is brought before Pontius Pilate. The +Roman governor, admirably represented by Thomas Rendl, appears in the +balcony and talks down to Caiaphas, who sends up his accusations from +the street below. His clear sense of justice makes Pilate at first +more than a match for the conspirators. With magnificent scorn he +tells Caiaphas that he is "astounded at his sudden zeal for Caesar." +Of Christ he says: "He seems to me a wise man—so wise that these dark +men cannot bear the light from his wisdom." Learning that Jesus is +from Galilee, he throws the whole matter into the hands of Herod, the +governor of that province. +</P> + +<P> +The words of Pilate are very finely spoken. "We marvel," says one +writer, "how the peasant Rendl learned to bear himself so nobly or to +utter the famous question, 'What is truth?' with a certain dreamy +inward expression and tone, as though outward circumstances had for the +instant vanished from his mind, and he were alone with his own soul and +the flood of thought raised by the words of Jesus." +</P> + +<P> +In contrast to Pilate, stands Herod, lazy and voluptuous. He, too, +finds nothing of evil in Jesus, whom he supposes to be a clever +magician. "Cause that this hall may become dark," he says, "or that +this roll of paper, which is thy sentence of death, shall become a +serpent." He receives Christ in good-natured expectancy, which changes +to disgust when he answers him not a word. Herod pronounces him "dumb +as a fish," and, after clothing him in a splendid purple mantle, he +sends him away unharmed, with the title of "King of Fools." +</P> + +<P> +Again Christ is brought before Pilate, who tells Caiaphas plainly that +his accusations mean only his own personal hatred, and that the voice +of the people is but the senseless clamor of the mob set in operation +by intrigue. Pilate orders Jesus to be scourged, in the hope that the +sight of his noble bearing amid unmerited cruelties may soften the +hearts of the people. Nowhere does the noble figure of Mayr appear to +better advantage than in this scene, where, after a brutal +chastisement, scarcely lessened in the presentation on the stage, the +Roman soldiers place a cattail flag in his hand and salute him as a +king. +</P> + +<P> +Pilate then brings forth an abandoned wreck of humanity, old Barabbas, +the murderer. As Christ stands before them, blood-stained and crowned +with thorns, half in hope and half in irony, Pilate invites them to +choose. "Behold the man," he said, "a wise teacher whom ye have long +honored, guilty of no evil deed. Jesus or Barabbas, which will ye +choose?" +</P> + +<P> +All the more fiercely the mob cries, "Crucify him! Crucify him!" +</P> + +<A NAME="img-079"></A> +<CENTER> +<IMG SRC="images/img-079.jpg" ALT=""Ecce Homo!"" BORDER="2" WIDTH="374" HEIGHT="551"> +<H4> +[Illustration: "Ecce Homo!"] +</H4> +</CENTER> + +<P> +Pilate is puzzled. "I cannot understand these people," he said. "But +a few days ago, ye followed this man with rejoicing through the streets +of Jerusalem." The High Priest threatens to appeal to Rome. Pilate +fears to face such an appeal. He has little confidence in the favor or +the justice of the Caesar whom he serves. At last he consents to what +he calls "a great wrong in order to avert a greater evil." He calls +for water, and washes his hands in ostentatious innocence. Finally, as +he signs the verdict of condemnation in wrath and disgust, he breaks +his staff of office, and flings the fragments upon the stairs, at the +feet of the priests. +</P> + +<P> +Next we behold in the foreground of the stage, John and Mary the mother +of Jesus, and with them a little group of followers. A tumult is +heard, and, in the midst of a great throng of people, we see three +crosses borne by prisoners. Jesus beholds his mother. Suddenly he +faints, under the weight of the cross. The rough soldiers urge him on. +Simon of Cyrene, a sturdy passer-by, who is carrying home provisions +from the market, is seized by the soldiers and forced to give aid. At +first he refuses. "I will not do it," he says; "I am a free man, and +no criminal." But his indignant protests turn to pity, when he beholds +the Holy Man of Nazareth. "For the love of thee," he says, "will I +bear thy cross. Oh, could I make myself thus worthy in thy sight!" +</P> + +<P> +The closing scenes of the Passion Play, associated as they are with all +that has been held sacred by our race for nearly two thousand years, +are thrilling beyond comparison. No one can witness them unmoved. No +one can forget the impression made by the living pictures. In +simplicity and reverence, the work is undertaken, and it awakens in the +beholder only corresponding feelings. Every heart, for the time at +least, is stirred to its depths. +</P> + +<P> +When the curtain rises, two crosses are seen, each in its place. The +central cross is not yet raised. The Roman soldiers take their time +for it. "Come, now," says one of them, "we must put this Jewish king +upon his throne." So the heavy cross, with its burden, is raised in +its place. We see the bloody nails in his hands and feet; and so +realistic is the representation, that the nearest spectator cannot see +that he is not actually nailed to the cross. There is no haste shown +in the presentation. The Crucifixion is not a tableau, displayed for +an instant and then withdrawn. The scene lasts so long that one feels +a strange sense of surprise when Christus Mayr appears alive again. +</P> + +<P> +Twenty minutes is the time actually taken for the representation. "It +is hard," said our landlady, the good Frau Wiedermann, "to be on the +cross so long, even if one is not actually nailed to it. It is hard +for the thieves, too," she said, "as well as for Josef Mayr." +</P> + +<P> +The thieves themselves deserve a moment's notice. The one on the right +is a bald old man, who meets his death in patience and humility. The +one on the left is a robust young fellow, who defies his associates and +tormentors alike, and joins his voice to that of the rabble in scoffing +at the power of Jesus. "If thou be a god," he says, "save thyself and +us." There is at first a struggle over the inscription at the head of +the cross. "Let it read, 'He called himself the King of the Jews,'" +say the priests. But the Roman soldier is obdurate. "What I have +written I have written," and the centurion grimly nails it on the cross +above his head, regardless alike of their rage and protestations. +</P> + +<P> +Meanwhile, in the foreground the four Roman guards part the purple robe +of Christ, each one taking his share. But the seamless coat they will +not divide. So they cast the dice on the ground to see to whom this +prize shall fall. They are in no hurry. Traitors and thieves have all +night to die in, and they can wait for them. The first soldier throws +a low number, and gives up the contest. The second does better. The +third calls up to the cross, "If thou be a god, help me to throw a +lucky number." One cast of the dice is disputed. It has to be tried +again. +</P> + +<P> +Meanwhile we hear the poor dying body on the cross, in a voice broken +with agony, "Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do." +Again, amid the railings of the Jews, "My God, my God, why hast thou +forsaken me?" Then again, after a sharp cry of pain, "It is finished!" +</P> + +<P> +The captain drives the scoffing mob away, bidding the women come +nearer. Then a Roman soldier, sent by Pilate, comes and breaks the +legs of the thieves. We hear their bones crack under the club. Their +heads fall, their muscles shrink, as the breath leaves the body. But +finding that Jesus is already dead, the soldier breaks not his legs, +but thrusts a spear into his side. We can see the spear pierce the +flesh, but we cannot see that the blood flows from the spear-point +itself, and not from the Master's body. The soldiers fall back with a +feeling of awe. Then, one by one, as the darkness falls, we see them +file away on the road to Jerusalem, and the Son of Man is left in +silence. +</P> + +<P> +Then follows the descent from the cross, which suggests comparison with +Rubens' famous painting in the Cathedral at Antwerp, but here shown +with a fineness of touch and delicacy of feeling which that great +painter of muscles and mantles could never attain. We see Nicodemus +climb the ladder leaned against the back of the cross. He takes off +first the crown of thorns. It is laid silently at Mary's feet. He +pulls out the nails one by one. We hear them fall upon the ground. +With the last one falls the wrench with which he has drawn it. Passing +a long roll of white cloth over each arm of the cross, he lets the +Saviour down into the strong arms of Joseph of Arimathea, and, at last, +into the loving embrace of John and Mary. No description can give an +idea of the all-compelling force of this scene. A treatment less +reverent than is given by these peasants would make it an intolerable +blasphemy. As it is, its justification is its perfection. +</P> + +<P> +And this is the justification of the Passion Play itself. It can never +become a show. It can never be carried to other countries. It never +can be given under other circumstances. So long as its players are +pure in heart and humble in spirit, so long can they keep their +well-earned right to show to the world the Tragedy of the Cross. +</P> + +<BR> +<BR> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +[1] The word "passion," as used in the term "Passionspiel," signifies +anguish or sorrow. The Passion Play is the story of the great anguish. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap03"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE CALIFORNIA OF THE PADRE.[1] +</H3> + + +<P> +There is something in the name of Spain which calls up impressions +rich, warm, and romantic. The "color of romance," which must be +something between the hue of a purple grape and the red haze of the +Indian summer, hangs over everything Spanish. Castles in Spain have +ever been the fairest castles, and the banks of the Xenil and the +Guadalquivir still bound the dreamland of the poet. +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"There was never a castle seen<BR> +So fair as mine in Spain;<BR> +It stands embowered in green,<BR> +Overlooking a gentle slope,<BR> +On a hill by the Xenil's shore."<BR> +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +It has been said of Spanish rule in California, that its history was +written upon sand, only to be washed away by the advancing tide of +Saxon civilization. So far as the economic or political development of +our State is concerned, this is true; the Mission period had no part in +it, and its heroes have left no imperishable monuments. +</P> + +<P> +But in one respect our Spanish predecessors have had a lasting +influence, and the debt we owe to them, as yet scarcely appreciated, is +one which will grow with the ages. It is said that Father Crespi, in +1770, gave Spanish names to every place where he encamped at night, and +these names, rich and melodious, make the map of California unique +among the States of the Union. It is fitting that the most varied, +picturesque, and lovable of all the States should be the one thus +favored. We feel everywhere the charm of the Spanish language—Latin +cut loose from scholastic bonds, with a dash of firmness from the +Visigoth and a touch of warmth from the sun-loving Moor. The names of +Mariposa, San Buenaventura, Santa Barbara, Santa Cruz, and Monterey can +never grow mean or common. In the counties along the coast, there is +scarcely a hill, or stream, or village that does not bear some +melodious trace of Spanish occupation. +</P> + +<P> +To see what California might have been, we have only to turn away from +the mission counties to the foothills of the Sierras, where the +mining-camps of the Anglo-Saxon bear such names as Fiddletown, Red Dog, +Dutch Flat, Murder Gulch, Ace of Spades, or Murderer's Bar; these +changing later, by euphemistic vulgarity, into Ruby City, Magnolia +Vale, Largentville, Idlewild, and the like. Or, if not these, our +Anglo-Saxon practically gives us, not Our Lady of the Solitude, nor the +City of the Holy Cross, not Fresno, the ash, nor Mariposa, the +butterfly, but the momentous repetition of Smithvilles, Jonesboroughs, +and Brownstowns, which makes the map of the Mississippi Valley a waste +of unpoetical mediocrity. +</P> + +<P> +So the Spanish names constitute our legacy from the Mission Fathers. +It is now nearly three hundred and fifty years since Alta California +was discovered, one hundred and twenty years since it was colonized by +white people, and a little over forty years since it became a part of +our republic. In 1542, Cabrillo had sailed up the coast as far as Cape +Mendocino. In 1577, Sir Francis Drake came as far north as Point +Reyes, where, seeing the white cliffs of Marin County, he called the +country New Albion. Better known than these to Spanish-speaking people +was the voyage of Sebastian Vizcaino, who, in 1602, had coasted along +as far as Point Reyes, and had left a full account of his discoveries. +The landlocked harbor which Cabrillo had named San Miguel, Vizcaino +re-christened in honor of his flag-ship, San Diego de Alcalá. Farther +north, Vizcaino found a glorious deep and sheltered bay, "large enough +to float all the navies of the world," he said; and this, in honor of +the Viceroy of Mexico, he called the Bay of Monterey. To a broad curve +of the coast to the north, between Point San Pedro and Point Reyes, he +gave the name of the Bay of San Francisco,[2] dedicating it to the +memory of St. Francis of Assisi. A rough chart of the coast was made +by his pilot, Cabrera Bueno, who left also an account of its leading +features. +</P> + +<P> +For a hundred and sixty years after Vizcaino's expedition, no use was +made of his discoveries. In Professor Blackmar's words: "During all +this time, not a European boat cut the surf of the northwest coast; not +a foreigner trod the shore of Alta California. The white-winged +galleon, plying its trade between Acapulco and the Philippines, +occasionally passed near enough so that those on board might catch +glimpses of the dark timber-line of the mountains of the coast or of +the curling smoke of the forest fires; but the land was unknown to +them, and the natives pursued their wandering life unmolested." +</P> + +<P> +Toward the end of the seventeenth century, Father Salvatierra, head of +the Jesuit missions in Lower California, fixed his eye on this region, +and made plans for its occupation. In this the good Father Kühn—a +German from Bavaria, whom the Spaniards knew as "Quino,"—seconded him. +But these plans came to naught. The power of the Jesuit order was +broken; the charge of the missions in Lower California was given to the +Dominicans, that of Upper California to the Franciscans, and to these +and their associates the colonization of California is due. The +Franciscans, it is said, "were the first white men who came to live and +die in Alta California." +</P> + +<P> +And this is how it came about. One hundred and thirty years ago, the +port of La Paz, in Baja California, lay baking in the sun. La Paz was +then, as now, a little old town, with narrow, stony streets and adobe +houses, standing amidst palms, and chaparral, and cactus. To this port +of La Paz came, one eventful day, Don José de Galvez, envoy of the King +of Spain. He brought orders to the Governor of California, Don Gaspar +de Portolá, that he should send a vessel in search of the ports of San +Diego and of Monterey, on the supposed island, or peninsula, of Upper +California, once found by Vizcaino, but lost for a century and a half. +There they were to establish colonies and missions of the Holy Catholic +Church. They were "to spread the Catholic religion," said the letter, +"among a numerous heathen people, submerged in the obscure darkness of +paganism, thereby to extend the dominion of the king, our lord, and to +protect this peninsula of California from the ambitious designs of the +foreign nations." +</P> + +<P> +"The land must be fertile for everything," says Galvez, "for it lies in +the same latitude as Spain." So they carried all sorts of household +and field utensils, and seeds of every useful plant that grew in Spain +and Mexico—the olive and the pomegranate, the grape and the orange, +not forgetting the garlic and the pepper. All these were placed in two +small ships, the San Carlos, under the gallant Captain Vila, and the +San Antonio, under Captain Perez. +</P> + +<P> +Padre Junípero Serra, chief apostle of these Spanish missions, blessed +the vessels and the flags, commending the whole enterprise to the Most +Holy Patriarch San José, who was supposed to feel a special interest in +this class of expeditions. His early flight into Egypt gave him a +peculiar fondness for schemes involving foreign travel. Galvez +exhorted the soldiers and sailors to respect the priests, and not to +quarrel with each other. And thus they sailed away for San Diego in +the winter of 1769. +</P> + +<P> +At the same time there was organized a land expedition, which should +cross the sandy deserts and cactus-covered hills and join the vessels +at San Diego. That there should be no risk of failure, Don Gaspar de +Portolá divided the land forces into two divisions, one led by himself, +the other by Captain Rivera. These two parties were to take different +routes, so that if one were destroyed the other might accomplish the +work. In front of each band were driven a hundred head of cattle, +which were to colonize the new territories with their kind. +</P> + +<P> +Padre Serra went with the land expedition under the command of Portolá. +A barefooted friar, clad in a rough cloak confined by a rope at the +waist, looks comfortable enough in the cool shade of an Italian +cathedral; but the garb of the Franciscan order is ill-fitted to the +peculiarities of the California mesa. For the vegetation of Lower +California makes up in bristliness what it lacks in luxuriance. Bush +cactuses, so prickly that it makes one's eyes smart to look at them, +and bunch cactuses, in wads of thorns as large as a bushel-basket, +swarm everywhere. Before the barefooted Padre had traveled far, so +Miss Graham tells us in her charming little paper on the Spanish +missions, he had made the acquaintance of many species of cactus. +Horses in that country become lame sometimes, and people say that they +are "cactus-legged." And soon Father Serra became "cactus-legged," +too, so that he could neither walk nor ride a mule. The Indians were +therefore obliged to carry him in a litter, for he would not go back to +La Paz. +</P> + +<P> +But the Father felt great compassion for the Indians, who had enough to +do to carry themselves. He prayed fervently for a time, and then, +according to the chronicler of the expedition, "He called a mule-driver +and said to him: 'Son, do you know some remedy for my foot and leg?' +But the mule-driver answered, 'Father, what remedy can I know? Am I a +surgeon? I am a mule-driver, and have cured only the sore backs of +beasts.' 'Then consider me a beast,' said the Father, 'and this sore +leg to be a sore back, and treat me as you would a mule.' Then said +the muleteer, 'I will, Father, to please you,' and taking a small piece +of tallow, he mashed it between two stones, mixing with it herbs that +grew close by. Then heating it over the fire, he anointed the foot and +leg, and left the plaster upon the sore. 'God wrought in such a +manner,' wrote the Padre Serra afterwards, 'that I slept all that +night, and awoke so much relieved that I got up and said matins and +prime, and afterwards mass, as if nothing had happened.'" +</P> + +<P> +But Father Serra did not show his faith by such simple miracles as +these alone. In one of his revival meetings in Mexico, Bancroft tells +us, he was beating himself with a chain in punishment for his imaginary +offenses, when a man seized the chain and beat himself to death as a +miserable sinner, in the presence of the people. At another time, +sixty persons who neglected to attend his meetings were killed by an +epidemic, and the disease went on, killing one after another, until the +people had been scared into attention to their religious duties. Then, +at a sign from Padre Serra, the plague abated. +</P> + +<P> +At one time the good Padre was well lodged and entertained in a very +neat wayside cottage on a desolate and solitary road. Later he learned +that there was no such cottage in that region, and, we are told, he +concluded that his entertainers were Joseph, Mary, and Jesus. +</P> + +<P> +Suffering greatly from thirst on one of his journeys, he said to his +companions, who were complaining: "The best way to prevent thirst is to +eat little and talk less." In a violent storm he was perfectly calm, +and the storm ceased instantly when a saint chosen by lot had been +addressed in prayer. And so on; for miracles like these are constant +accompaniments of a mind wholly given over to religious enthusiasm. +</P> + +<P> +In due season, Padre Serra and his party arrived at San Diego, having +followed the barren and dreary coast of Lower California for three +hundred and sixty miles, often carrying water for great distances, and +as often impeded by winter rains. The boats and the other party were +already there, and in the valley to the north of the <I>mesa</I>, on the +banks of the little San Diego River, they founded the first mission in +California. +</P> + +<P> +Within a fortnight of Serra's arrival at San Diego, a special land +expedition set out in search of Vizcaino's lost port of Monterey. The +expedition, under Don Gaspar de Portolá, was unhappy in some respects, +though fortunate in others—unhappy, for after wandering about in the +Coast Range for six months, the soldiers returned to San Diego, weary, +half-starved, and disgusted, failing altogether, as they supposed, to +find Monterey; fortunate, for it was their luck to discover the far +more important Bay of San Francisco. It seems evident, from the +researches of John T. Doyle and others, that the company of Portolá, +from the hills above what is now Redwood City, were the first white men +to behold the present Bay of San Francisco. The journal of Miguel +Costanzo, a civil engineer with Portolá's command, is still preserved +in the Sutro Library in San Francisco, and Costanzo's map of the coast +has been published. The diary of Father Crespi, who accompanied +Portolá, has also been printed. +</P> + +<P> +The little company went along the coast from San Diego northward, +meeting many Indians on the way, and having various adventures with +them. In the pretty valley which they named San Juan Capistrano, they +found the Indian men dressed in suits of paint, the women in bearskins. +On the site of the present town of Santa Ana, which they called Jesus +de los Temblores, they met terrific earthquakes day and night. At Los +Angeles, they celebrated the feast of Our Lady the Queen of the Angels +(Nuestra Seńora, Reina de Los Angeles), from which the valley took the +name it still bears. They passed up the broad valley of San Fernando +Rey, and crossed the mountains to the present village of Saugus. +Thence they went down the Santa Clara River to San Buenaventura and +Santa Barbara, their route coinciding with that of the present +railroad. Above San Buenaventura they found Indians living in huts of +sagebrush. At Santa Barbara, the Indians fed on excellent fish, but +played the flute at night so persistently that Portolá and his soldiers +could not sleep for the music. They next passed Point Concepcion, and +crossed the picturesque Santa Ynez and the fertile Arroyo Grande to the +basin-shaped valley of San Luis Obispo, with its row of four conical +mountains. At the last of these, Moro Rock, they reached the sea +again. Above Piedras Blancas, where the rugged cliffs of the Santa +Lucia crowd down to the ocean, they were blocked, and could go no +farther. Crossing the mountains to the east, they followed Nacimiento +Creek to below Paso Robles, then went down the dusty valley of the +Salinas, past the pastures on which the missions of San Miguel and +Soledad were later planted. Below Soledad, they came again to the sea. +They then went along the shore to the westward, past the present site +of Monterey and Pacific Grove, and on to the Point of Pines itself, the +southern border of the Bay of Monterey. Yet not one of them recognized +the bay or any of the landmarks described by Vizcaino. At the Point of +Pines, they were greatly disheartened, because they could nowhere find +a trace of the Bay of Monterey, or of any other bay which was +sheltered, or on which "the navies of the world could ride." Father +Crespi celebrated here "the Feast of Our Father in the New World"; +"or," he adds, "perhaps in a corner of the Old World, without any other +church or choir than a desert." Portolá offered to return, but Crespi +said: "Let us continue our journey until we find the harbor of +Monterey; if it be God's will, we will die fulfilling our duty to God +and our country." So they crossed the Salinas again, and went +northward along the shore of the very bay they had sought so long. +Then they came to another river, where they killed a great eagle, whose +wings spread nine feet and three inches. They called this river +Pajaro, which means "bird," and devoutly added to it the name of Saint +Anne, "Rio del Pajaro de Santa Ana." To the memory of this bird, the +Pájaro River still remains dedicated. Farther on, they came to forests +of redwood—"<I>Palo Colorado</I>," they called it. Crespi describes the +trees "as very high, resembling cedars of Lebanon, but not of the same +color; the leaves different, and the wood very brittle." +</P> + +<A NAME="img-101"></A> +<CENTER> +<IMG SRC="images/img-101.jpg" ALT="A Record of Junípero Serra." BORDER="2" WIDTH="556" HEIGHT="350"> +<H4> +[Illustration: A Record of Junípero Serra.] +</H4> +</CENTER> + +<P> +At Santa Cruz, on the San Lorenzo River, they encamped, still bewailing +their inability to find Monterey Bay. Going northward, along the coast +past Pescadero and Halfmoon Bay, they saw the great headland of Point +San Pedro. They called it Point Guardian Angel (Angel Custodio), and +from its heights they could clearly see Point Reyes and the chalk-white +islands of the Farallones. These landmarks they recognized from the +charts of Cabrera Bueno. Crespi says: "Scarce had we ascended the +hill, when we perceived a vast bay formed by a great projection of land +extending out to sea. We see six or seven islands, white, and +differing in size. Following the coast toward the north, we can +perceive a wide, deep cut, and northwest we see the opening of a bay +which seems to go inside the land. At these signs, we come to +recognize this harbor. It is that of our Father St. Francis, and that +of Monterey we have left behind." "But some," he adds, "cannot believe +yet that we have left behind us the harbor of Monterey, and that we are +in that of San Francisco." +</P> + +<P> +But the "Harbor of San Francisco," as indicated by Cabrera Bueno, lay +quite outside the Golden Gate, in the curve between Point San Pedro on +the south, and Point Reyes on the north. The existence of the Golden +Gate, and the landlocked waters within, forming what is now known as +San Francisco Bay, was not suspected by any of the early explorers. +The high coast line, the rolling breakers, and, perhaps, the banks of +fog, had hidden the Golden Gate and the bay from Cabrillo, Drake, and +Vizcaino alike. By chance a few members of Portolá's otherwise +unfortunate expedition discovered the glorious harbor. Some of the +soldiers, led by an officer named Ortega, wandered out on the Sierra +Morena, east of Point San Pedro. When they reached the summit and +looked eastward, an entirely new prospect was spread out before them. +From the foothills of these mountains, they saw a great arm of the +ocean—"a mediterranean sea," they termed it, according to Mr. Doyle's +account, "with a fair and extensive valley bordering it, rich and +fertile—a paradise compared with the country they had been passing +over." They rushed back to the seashore, waving their hats and +shouting. Then the whole party crossed over from Halfmoon Bay into the +valley of San Mateo Creek. Thence they turned to the south to go +around the head of the bay, passing first over into the Cańada del +Raymundo, which skirts the foot of the mountain. Soon they came down +the "Bear Gulch" to San Francisquito Creek, at the point where +Searsville once stood, before the great Potolá Reservoir covered its +traces and destroyed its old landmark, the Portolá Tavern. They +entered what is now the University Campus, on which columns of +ascending smoke showed the presence of many camps of Indians. These +Indians were not friendly. The expedition was out of provisions, and +many of its members were sick from eating acorns. There seemed to be +no limit to the extension of the Estero de San Francisco. At last, in +despair, but against the wishes of Portolá, they decided to return to +San Diego. They encamped on San Francisquito Creek, and crossed the +hills again to Halfmoon Bay. Then they went down the coast by Point +Ańo Nuevo, to Santa Cruz. At the Point of Pines they spent two weeks, +searching again everywhere for the Bay of Monterey. +</P> + +<P> +At last they decided that Vizcaino's description must have been too +highly colored, or else that the Bay of Monterey must, since his time, +have been filled up with silt or destroyed by some earthquake. At any +rate, the bay between Santa Cruz and the Point of Pines was the only +Monterey they could find. According to Washburn, Vizcaino's account +was far from a correct one. It was no fault of Portolá and Crespi +that, after spending a month on its shores, it never occurred to them +to recognize the bay. +</P> + +<P> +On the Point of Pines they erected a large wooden cross, and carved on +it the words: "Dig at the foot of this and you will find a writing." +</P> + +<P> +According to Crespi this is what was written: +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +"The overland expedition which left San Diego on the 14th of July, +1769, under the command of Don Gaspar de Portolá, Governor of +California, reached the channel of Santa Barbara on the 9th of August, +and passed Point Concepcion on the 27th of the same month. It arrived +at the Sierra de Santa Lucia on the 13th of September; entered that +range of mountains on the 17th of the same month, and emerged from it +on the 1st of October; on the same day caught sight of Point Pinos, and +the harbors on its north and south sides, without discovering any +indications or landmarks of the Bay of Monterey. We determined to push +on farther in search of it, and on the 30th of October got sight of +Point Reyes and the Farallones, at the Bay of San Francisco, which are +seven in number. The expedition strove to reach Point Reyes, but was +hindered by an immense arm of the sea, which, extending to a great +distance inland, compelled them to make an enormous circuit for that +purpose. In consequence of this and other difficulties—the greatest +of all being the absolute want of food,—the expedition was compelled +to turn back, believing that they must have passed the harbor of +Monterey without discovering it. We started on return from the Bay of +San Francisco on the 11th of November; passed Point Ańo Nuevo on the +19th, and reached this point and harbor of Pinos on the 27th of the +same month. From that date until the present 9th of December, we have +used every effort to find the Bay of Monterey, searching the coast, +notwithstanding its ruggedness, far and wide, but in vain. At last, +undeceived and despairing of finding it, after so many efforts, +sufferings, and labors, and having left of all our provisions but +fourteen small sacks of flour, we leave this place to-day for San +Diego. I beg of Almighty God to guide us; and for you, traveler, who +may read this, that He may guide you also, to the harbor of eternal +salvation. +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +"Done, in this harbor of Pinos, the 9th of December, 1769. +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +"If the commanders of the schooners, either the San José or the +Principe, should reach this place within a few days after this date, on +learning the accounts of this writing, and of the distressed condition +of this expedition, we beseech them to follow the coast down closely +toward San Diego, so that if we should be happy enough to catch sight +of them, we may be able to apprize them by signals, flags, and firearms +of the place where help and provisions may reach us." +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +The next day the whole party started back to San Diego, making the +journey fairly well, in spite of illness and lack of proper food. +Though disappointed at Portolá's failure, Serra had no idea of +abandoning his project of founding a mission at Monterey. He made +further preparations, and in about three months after Portolá's return +a newly organized expedition left San Diego. It consisted of two +divisions, one by land, again commanded by Portolá, and one by sea. +This time the good Father wisely chose for himself to go by sea, and +embarked on the San Antonio, which was the only ship he had in sailing +condition. In about a month Portolá's land party reached the Point of +Pines, and there they found their cross still standing. According to +Laura Bride Powers, "great festoons of abalone-shells hung around its +arms, with strings of fish and meat; feathers projected from the top, +and bundles of arrows and sticks lay at its base. All this was to +appease the stranger gods, and the Indians told them that at nightfall +the terrible cross would stretch its white arms into space, and grow +skyward higher and higher, till it would touch the stars, then it would +burst into a blaze and glow throughout the night." +</P> + +<P> +Suddenly, as they came back through the forest from the Point of Pines, +the thought came both to Crespi and Portolá that here, after all, was +the lost bay of Vizcaino. In this thought they ran over the landmarks +of his description, and found all of them, though the harbor was less +important than Vizcaino had believed. Since that day no one has +doubted the existence of the Bay of Monterey. +</P> + +<P> +A week later, the San Antonio arrived, coming in sight around the Point +of Pines, and was guided to its anchorage by bonfires along the beach. +The party landed at the mouth of the little brook which flows down a +rocky bank to the sea. On the 3rd of June, 1770, Father Serra and his +associates "took possession of the land in the name of the King of +Spain, hoisting the Spanish flag, pulling out some of the grass and +throwing stones here and there, making formal entry of the +proceedings." On the same day Serra began his mission by erecting a +cross, hanging bells from a tree, and saying mass under the venerable +oak where the Carmelite friars accompanying Vizcaino celebrated it in +1602. Around this landing grew up the town of Monterey. +</P> + +<P> +At a point just back from the shore, near the old live-oak tree under +which the Padre rendered thanks, there has long stood a commemorative +cross. On the hill above where the Padre stood looking out over the +beautiful bay, there was placed one hundred and twenty years later, by +the kind interest of a good woman, a noble statue, in gray granite, +representing Father Serra as he stepped from his boat. +</P> + +<P> +A fortress, or presidio, was built, and Monterey was made the capital +of Alta California. But the mission was not located at the town. It +was placed five miles farther south, where there were better pasturage +and shelter. This was on a beautiful slope of the hill, flanked by a +fertile valley opening out to the glittering sea, with the mountains of +Santa Lucia in front and a great pine forest behind. The valley was +named Carmelo, in honor of Vizcaino's Carmelite friars, and the mission +was named for San Carlos Borromeo. +</P> + +<P> +The present church of Monterey was not a mission church, but the chapel +of the <I>presidio</I>, or barracks. It is now, according to Father +Casanova, the oldest building in California. The old Mission of San +Diego, first founded of all, was burned by the Indians. It was +afterwards rebuilt, but this took place after the chapel in Monterey +was finished. The mission in Carmelo was not completed until later, as +the Padre was obliged to secure authority from Mexico, that he might +place it on the pasture lands of Carmelo, instead of the sand-hills of +Monterey. +</P> + +<P> +When the discoveries of Portolá and Ortega had been reported at San +Diego, the shores of this inland sea of San Francisco seemed a most +favorable station for another mission. Among the missions already +dedicated to the saints, none had yet been found for the great father +of the Franciscan order, St. Francis of Assisi, the beloved saint who +could call the birds and who knew the speech of all animals. Before +this, Father Serra had said to Governor Galvez, "And for our Father St. +Francis is there to be no mission?" And Galvez answered, "If St. +Francis wants a mission, let him show his port, and we will found the +mission there." +</P> + +<P> +And now the lost port of St. Francis was found, and it was the most +beautiful of all, with the noblest of harbors, and the fairest of views +toward the hills and the sea. So the new mission was called for him, +the Mission San Francisco de los Dolores. For the Creek Dolores, the +"brook of sorrows," flowed by the mission, and gave it part of its +name. But Dolores stream is long since obliterated, forming part of +the sewage system of San Francisco.[3] +</P> + +<P> +Thus was founded +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> + "that wondrous city, now apostate to the creed,<BR> +O'er whose youthful walls the Padre saw the angel's golden reed."<BR> +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +Meanwhile, following San Diego de Alcalá and San Carlos Borromeo, a +long series of missions was established, each one bearing the sonorous +Spanish name of some saint or archangel, each in some beautiful sunny +valley, half-hidden by oaks, and each a day's ride distant from the +next. In the most charming nook of the Santa Lucia Mountains was built +San Antonio de Pádua; in the finest open pastures of the Coast Range, +San Luis Obispo de Tolosa. In the rich valley, above the city of the +Queen of the Angels, the beautiful church of San Gabriel Arcángel was +dedicated to the leader of the hosts of heaven. Later, came the +magnificent San Juan Capistrano, ruined by earthquakes in 1812. In its +garden still stands the largest pepper-tree in Southern California. +</P> + +<P> +Then Santa Clara was built in the center of the fairest valley of the +State. Next came San Buenaventura and Santa Barbara, for the coast +Indians of the south, and Santa Cruz, for those to the north of +Monterey Bay. In the Salinas Valley, along the "<I>Camino real</I>," or +royal highway, from the south to the north, were built Nuestra Seńora +de la Soledad and San Miguel Arcángel. A day's journey from Carmelo, +in the valley of the Pájaro, arose San Juan Bautista. In the charming +valley of Santa Ynez, still hidden from the tourist, a day's journey +apart, were Santa Ynez and La Purisima Concepcion. East of the Bay of +San Francisco, in a nook famous for vineyards, arose the Mission San +José. +</P> + +<A NAME="img-115"></A> +<CENTER> +<IMG SRC="images/img-115.jpg" ALT="Mission of San Antonio de Padua." BORDER="2" WIDTH="557" HEIGHT="355"> +<H4> +[Illustration: Mission of San Antonio de Padua.] +</H4> +</CENTER> + +<P> +In the broad, rocky pastures above Los Angeles, arose San Fernando Key +de Espana, while midway between San Diego and San Juan Capistrano was +placed the stateliest of all the missions, dedicated, with its rich +river valley, to the memory of San Luis Rey de Francia. Finally, to +the north of San Francisco Bay, was built San Rafael, small, but +charmingly situated, and then San Francisco Solano, still farther on in +Sonoma. This, the northernmost outpost of the saints, the last, +weakest, and smallest, was first to die. It was founded in 1823, fifty +years after the Mission San Diego. +</P> + +<P> +Wherever you find in California a warm, sunny valley leading from the +ocean back to the purple mountains, with a clear stream in its midst, +and filled in summer with blue haze, around it steep slopes on which +grapes may grow, you have found a mission valley, and these grapes are +mission grapes. Somewhere in it you will see a cluster of large, +wide-spreading pepper-trees, with delicate light-green foliage, or a +grove of gnarled olives, looking like stunted willows, or, perhaps, a +cluster of old pear-trees, or sometimes a tall palm. Near these you +will find the ruins of old houses of adobe, wherein once dwelt the +Indian neophytes. These houses are clustered around the walls, now +almost in ruins, of the mission itself, which had its chapel, +refectory, and baptistry, and in all its details it resembled closely a +parish church of Italy of Spain. +</P> + +<P> +The mission was usually laid out in the form of a hollow square, +inclosed by a wall of adobe, twelve feet high, the whole inclosure +being two or three hundred feet square. In the center of this square +was a chapel, also of adobe; for the sun of California is kind to +California's children, and a house of dried mud will withstand the +scanty rains of a century. Some of these old chapels are still used, +but the roofs of most of them have long since fallen in, and the +ornaments have been removed to decorate some other building. The +mission churches were built like mimic cathedrals, cathedrals of mud +instead of marble, and, like their great models, each had its altar, +with candles and crucifix, its vessels of holy water, and on the walls +the inevitable paintings of heaven and purgatory. Their most charming +feature was the arched cloister, a feature which has been retained and +beautified in the architecture of Leland Stanford Jr. University, at +Palo Alto. +</P> + +<P> +Each church, too, had its little chime of bells, some of which were +partly of gold or silver, as well as of brass. During the early +enthusiasm, when the mission bells were cast, old heirlooms from Spain, +rings, vases, and ancestral goblets from which had been "drunk the red +wine of Tarragon," were thrown into the molten metal. And when these +consecrated bells chimed out the Angelas at the sunset hour, with the +sound of their voices all evil spirits were driven away, and no harm +could come to man or beast or growing grain. +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"Bells of the past, whose long-forgotten music<BR> + Still fills the wide expanse,<BR> +Tingeing the sober twilight of the present<BR> + With color of romance;<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +I hear you call, and see the sun descending<BR> + On rock and wave and sand,<BR> +As down the coast the mission voices blending,<BR> + Girdle the heathen land.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"Within the circle of your incantation<BR> + No blight nor mildew falls,<BR> +Nor fierce unrest nor sordid low ambition<BR> + Passes those airy walls.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Borne on the swell of your long waves receding<BR> + I touch the farther past.<BR> +I see the dying glow of Spanish glory,<BR> + The sunset dream and last.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> + +* +* +* +* +* +*<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"Your voices break and falter in the darkness,<BR> + Break, falter, and are still,<BR> +And veiled and mystic, like the Host descending,<BR> + The sun sinks from the hill." [4]<BR> +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +Around the church were built storehouses, workshops, granaries, +barracks for the soldiers,—in short, everything necessary for comfort +and security. Each mission was at once fortress, refuge, church, and +town. The little town grew in time more and more to resemble its +fellows in old Spain. Bull-fights and other festivals were held in the +<I>plaza</I>, or public square, in front of the <I>presidio</I>, or governor's +house, and the long, low, whitewashed <I>hacienda</I>, or tavern. +</P> + +<P> +About the mission arose a great farm. Vines and olives were planted, +and often long avenues of shade-trees. The level lands were sown to +barley and oats; great herds of cattle and horses roamed over the +hills. The sale of wine, and especially of hides, brought in each year +an increasing revenue. The poor, struggling missions became rich. The +commanders kept up a dignity worthy of the representatives of the +Spanish king, though often they had little enough to command. It is +said that one of them, wishing to fire a salute in honor of some +foreign vessel, first sent on board to borrow powder. In the words of +Bret Harte, with the <I>comandante</I> the days "slipped by in a delicious +monotony of simple duties, unbroken by incident or interruption. The +regularly recurring feasts and saint's days, the half-yearly courier +from San Diego, the rare transport ship, and rarer foreign vessels, +were the mere details of his patriarchal life. If there was no +achievement, there was certainly no failure. Abundant harvests and +patient industry amply supplied the wants of the <I>presidio</I> and +mission. Isolated from the family of nations, the wars which shook the +world concerned them not so much as the last earthquake; the struggle +that emancipated their sister colonies on the other side of the +continent had to them no suggestiveness. It was that glorious Indian +summer of California history, that bland, indolent autumn of Spanish +rule, so soon to be followed by the wintry storms of Mexican +independence and the reviving spring of American conquest." +</P> + +<A NAME="img-121"></A> +<CENTER> +<IMG SRC="images/img-121.jpg" ALT="Mission of San Antonio de Padua--Interior of Chapel." BORDER="2" WIDTH="551" HEIGHT="366"> +<H4> +[Illustration: Mission of San Antonio de Padua--Interior of Chapel.] +</H4> +</CENTER> + +<P> +The Indians were usually gathered about the mission by force or by +persuasion. Being baptized with holy water, they were taught to build +houses, raise grain, and take care of cattle. In place of their savage +rites, they learned to count their beads and say their prayers. They +learned also to work, and were pious and generally contented. But +these California Indians, at the best, were far inferior to those of +the East. "When attached to the mission," Mr. Soulé says, "they were +an industrious, contented, and numerous class, though, indeed, in +intelligence and manly spirit they were little better than the beasts, +after all." +</P> + +<P> +The Jesuit Father, Venegas, remarks, discouragingly: "It is not easy +for Europeans who were never out of their own country to conceive an +adequate idea of these people. Even in the least frequented quarters +of the globe there is not a nation so stupid, of such contracted ideas, +and weak, both in body and in mind, as the unhappy Californians. Their +characteristics are stupidity and insensibility, want of knowledge and +reflection, inconstancy, impetuosity, and blindness of appetite, +excessive sloth, abhorrence of all fatigue of every kind, however +trifling or brutal,—in fine, a most wretched want of everything which +constitutes the real man and makes him rational, inventive, tractable, +and useful to himself and others." All of which goes to show that +climate is not everything, and that contact with other minds and other +people, with the sifting that rigorous conditions enforce, may outweigh +all the advantages of the fairest climate. The highest development +comes with the fewest barriers to migration, to competition, and to the +spread of ideas. +</P> + +<P> +The destruction of the missions and the advent of our Anglo-Saxon +freedom has been for the Indian and his kind only loss and wrong. He +has become an alien and tramp, with his half-brother, the despised +Greaser. +</P> + +<P> +The mission fathers left no place for idleness on the part of their +converts, or "neophytes"; nor did they make much provision for the +development of the individual. The Indians were to work, and to work +hard and steadily, for the glory of the church and the prosperity of +the nation. In return they were insured from all harm in this world +and in the world to come. The rule of the Padre was often severe, +sometimes cruel, but not demoralizing, and the Indians reached a higher +grade of industry and civilization than the same race has attained +otherwise before or since. +</P> + +<P> +Believing that the use of the rod was necessary to the Indians' +salvation, the Padres were in no danger of sparing it, and thus +spoiling their children. The good Father Serra would as "soon have +doubted his right to breathe as his right to flog the Indian converts"; +and meek and quiet though these converts usually were, there were not +wanting times when they turned about in sullen resistance. The annals +of some of the missions show a series of events that may well have +discouraged the most enthusiastic of missionaries. The unconverted +Indians, or "gentiles," of Southern California were heathens indeed, +and they made repeated attacks upon the missions by day, or stole their +stock or burned their houses by night. Volleys of arrows not +unfrequently greeted the priests on their return from morning mass. +</P> + +<P> +In San Diego, faith in the power of gunpowder to hurt long preceded any +belief in the power of the cross to save. For a whole year after the +mission was founded, not a convert was made. The sole San Diego Indian +in Father Serra's service was a hired interpreter, who did not have a +particle of reverence for his employer's work. "In all these +missionary annals of the Northwest," says Bancroft, "there is no other +instance where paganism remained so long stubborn as in San Diego." +</P> + +<P> +And the converts made at such cost of threats and promises were always +ready to backslide. It was hard to convert any unless they subjugated +all. The influence of the many outside would often stampede the few +within the fold. +</P> + +<P> +In one of the numerous uprisings at San Diego the Fathers were +victorious over the Indians; the warriors were flogged, and thus +converted, and their four chiefs were condemned to death. The sentence +of death, according to Bancroft, read as follows: +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +"Deeming it useful to the service of God, the king, and the public +good, I sentence them to a violent death by musket shots, on the 11th +of April, at 9 A.M., the troops to be present at the execution, under +arms; and also all the Christian rancherias subject to the San Diego +Mission, that they may be warned to act righteously." +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +To the priests who were to assist at the last sacrament, the following +grim directions was given: +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +"You will co-operate for the good of their souls, in the understanding +that if they do not accept the salutary waters of holy baptism, they +die on Saturday morning; and if they do accept, they die all the same." +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +The character of the first great mission chief, Junípero Serra, is thus +summed up by Bancroft: +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +"All his energy and enthusiasm were directed to the performance of his +missionary duties as outlined in the regulations of his order and the +instruction of his superiors. Limping from mission to mission, with a +lame foot that must never be cured, fasting much and passing sleepless +nights, depriving himself of comfortable clothing and nutritious food, +he felt that he was imitating the saints and martyrs who were the +ideals of his sickly boyhood, and in recompense of abstinence he was +happy. He was kind-hearted and charitable to all, but most strict in +his enforcement of religious duties. It never occurred to him to doubt +his absolute right to flog his neophytes for any slight negligence in +matters of the faith. His holy desires trembled within him like +earthquake throbs. In his eyes there was but one object worth living +for—the performance of religious duty; and but one way to accomplish +that object—a strict and literal compliance with Franciscan rules. He +could never understand that there was anything beyond the narrow field +of his vision. He could apply religious enthusiasm to practical +affairs. Because he was a grand missionary, he was none the less a +money-maker and civilizer; but money-making and civilizing were +adjuncts only to mission work, and all not for his glory, but for the +glory of God." +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +After Junípero Serra came a saner and wiser, if not a better, man, the +Padre Fermin Lasuen. I need not go into details in regard to him or +his life. No miracles followed his path, and no saint made him the +object of spectacular intervention; but his gentle earnestness counted +for more in the development of Old California than that of any other +man. Of Lasuen, Bancroft says: +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +"In him were united the qualities that make up the ideal Padre, without +taint of hypocrisy or cant. He was a frank, kind-hearted old man, who +made friends of all he met. Of his fervent piety there are abundant +proofs, and his piety and humility were of an agreeable type, +unobtrusive, and blended with common sense. He overcame obstacles in +the way of duty, but he created no obstacles for the mere sake of +surmounting them. He was not a man to limp through life on a sore leg +if a cure could be found.… First among the Californian prelates +let us ever rank Fermin de Lasuen, as a friar who rose above his +environment and lived many years in advance of his times." +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +Thirteen years after the serene founding of the Mission San Francisco +came the first shock to the community, thus noticed in a letter from +the governor of the territory to the <I>comandante</I> at San Francisco: +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +"Whenever there may arrive at the Port of San Francisco a ship named +the Columbia, said to belong to General Washington, of the American +States, commanded by John Kendrick, which sailed from Boston in +September, 1787, bound on a voyage of discovery to the Russian +establishments on the northern coast of this peninsula, you will cause +the said vessel to be examined with caution and delicacy, using for +this purpose a small boat which you have in your possession." +</P> + +<P> +Afterwards another enemy, almost as dangerous as the Yankee, appeared +in the shape of Russians from Alaska. They brought down a colony of +Kodiak Indians, or Aleuts, and established themselves at Fort Ross, +north of San Francisco. The Spaniards then founded the missions of San +Rafael and Solano in front of the Russians, to head them off, as the +priest makes the sign of the cross to ward off Satan. Trading with the +Russians was forbidden, but, nevertheless, the Russian vessels, on one +pretext or another, made repeated visits to the Bay of San Francisco. +The Spaniards had no boats in the bay, and could not prevent the +ingress of the Russian and American traders. One of the singular facts +in connection with the missions is that the Padres made no use of the +sea, and the missions usually kept no boats at all, and so the Spanish +officials were forced to receive in friendliness many encroachments +which they were powerless to prevent. +</P> + +<P> +In 1842, as the seals grew scarce around Bodegas Head, the Russians, to +the great satisfaction of the Spaniards, disappeared as suddenly as +they came. The joy of the missions was short-lived, for seven years +later gold was discovered, California was ceded to the United States, +and the most remarkable invasion known in history followed. Over the +mountains, across the plains, by the Isthmus, and by the Horn they +came, that wonderful procession which Bret Harte has made so familiar +to us—Truthful James, Tennessee's Partner, Jack Hamlin, John Oakhurst, +Flynn of Virginia, Abner Dean of Angels, Brown of Calaveras, Yuba Bill, +Sandy McGee, the Scheezicks, the Man of No Account, and all the rest. +And the California of the gambler and the gold-seeker succeeds the +California of the Padre. +</P> + +<P> +Numerous causes had meanwhile contributed to the decline of the Spanish +missions. They had been supported at first by a Pious Fund, obtained +by subscriptions in Mexico and Spain. After the separation of these +two countries, this fund was lost, its interest being regularly +embezzled by Mexican officials, and, finally, the principal, it is +said, was taken in one lump by the President, Santa Ana. Still the +missions were able to hold their own until the Mexican Government +removed the Indians from the control of the Padres, for the benefit, I +suppose, of the "Indian ring." The secular control of the native +tribes was, in Mexican hands, an utter failure. The Indians, now no +longer compelled to work, no longer well fed and comfortably clothed, +were scattered about the country as paupers and tramps. The missions, +after repeated interferences of this sort, fell into a rapid decline, +and at the time that California was ceded to the United States, not one +of them was in successful operation. A few of the churches are still +partly occupied, as at San Luis Obispo, San Capistrano, and San Miguel. +The Mission of Santa Barbara is still intact, and has yet its little +bands of monks. A few, like San Carlos, have been partially saved or +partially restored, thanks to the loving interest of Father Casanova +and others; but the Indians are gone, and neither wealth nor influence +remains with the missions. Most of them are crumbling ruins, and have +already taken their place as curiosities and relics of the past. Some +of them, as the noble San Antonio de Pádua and the stately San Luis +Rey, are exquisitely beautiful, even in ruins. Of others, as San +Rafael, not a trace remains, and its spot can be kept green only in +memory. It is said that at San Antonio, a mission once numbering +fourteen hundred souls, and rearing the finest horses in California, +the last priest lived all alone for years, and supported himself by +raising geese and selling the tiles from the mission roof. When he +died, ten years ago, no one was left to care for his beloved mission, +which is rapidly falling into utter decay. +</P> + +<A NAME="img-133"></A> +<CENTER> +<IMG SRC="images/img-133.jpg" ALT="Mission of San Antonio de Padua--side of the chapel, with the old pear-trees." BORDER="2" WIDTH="553" HEIGHT="327"> +<H4> +[Illustration: Mission of San Antonio de Padua--side of the chapel,<BR> +with the old pear-trees.] +</H4> +</CENTER> + +<P> +So faded away the California of the Padre, and left no stain on the +pages of our history. +</P> + +<BR> +<BR> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +[1] Address at the Teachers' Institute at Monterey, California, +September, 1893. +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +[2] This stretch of water, as explained below, lies entirely outside of +what is now known as San Francisco Bay. +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +[3] The limits of San Francisco Bay, as now understood, were +ascertained at the time of the founding of the mission, and the name +was then formally adopted. +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +[4] Bret Harte. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap04"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE CONQUEST OF JUPITER PEN. +</H3> + + +<P> +In a cleft of the high Alps stands the Hospice of the Great Saint +Bernard. Its tall, cold, stone buildings are half-buried in ice in the +winter, while even in summer the winds, dense with snow, shriek and +howl as they make their way through the notch in the mountain. Its +little lake, cold and dark, frozen solid in winter, is covered with +cakes of floating ice under the sky of July. The scanty grass around +it forms a thick, low turf, which is studded with bodiless blue +gentians, primroses, and other Alpine flowers. Overhanging the lake +are the frost-bitten crags of the Mountain of Death; and the other +mountains about, though less dismally named, are not more cheerful to +the traveler. Along the lake margin winds the narrow bridle-path, +which follows rushing rivulets in zigzags down steep flower-carpeted +slopes to the pine woods of Saint Rémy, far below. Among the pines the +path widens to a wagon-road, whence it descends through green pastures, +purple with autumnal crocus, past beggarly villages, whose houses crowd +together, like frightened cattle in a herd, through beech woods, +vineyards, and grain-fields, till at last it comes to its rest amid the +high stone walls of the old city of Aosta, named for Augustus Caesar. +Above Aosta are the sources of the river Po, one of the chief of these +being the Dora Baltea, in a deep gorge half-hid by chestnut-trees. It +is twenty miles from the lake to the river—twenty miles of wild +mountain incline—twenty miles from Switzerland to Italy, from the +eternal snows and faint-colored flowers of the frigid zone, to the +dust, and glare of the torrid. +</P> + +<P> +The Hospice of the Great Saint Bernard stands thus in a narrow mountain +notch, with only room for itself and its lake, while above it, on +either side, are jagged heights dashed with snow-banks, their summits +frosted with eternal ice. +</P> + +<A NAME="img-139"></A> +<CENTER> +<IMG SRC="images/img-139.jpg" ALT="The Great Saint Bernard." BORDER="2" WIDTH="462" HEIGHT="355"> +<H4> +[Illustration: The Great Saint Bernard.] +</H4> +</CENTER> + +<P> +It is a large stone building, three stories high, beside the two attic +floors of the steep, sloping roof. A great square house of cold, gray +stone, as unattractive as a barn or a woolen-mill, plain, cold, and +solid. At one end of the main building is a stone addition precisely +like the building itself. On the other side of the bridle-path is an +outbuilding—a tall stone shed, "the Hotel of Saint Louis," three +stories high, as plain and uncompromising as the Hospice is. The front +door of the main building is on the side away from the lake. From this +door down the north side of the mountain the path descends steeply from +the crest of the Pennine Alps to the valley of the Rhone, even more +swiftly than the path on the south side drops downward to the valley of +the Po. +</P> + +<P> +As one approaches the Hospice he is met by a noisy band of great dogs, +yellow and white, with the loudest of bass voices, barking incessantly, +eager to pull you out of the snow, and finding that you do not need +this sort of rescue, apparently equally eager to tear you to pieces for +having deceived them. Classical names these dogs still bear—names +worthy of the mountain long sacred to Jupiter, on which the Hospice is +built—Jupitčre, Junon, Mars, Vulcan, Pluton, the inevitable Leon, and +the indomitable Turc, and all have for the traveler such a greeting as +only a band of big, idle dogs can give. These dogs are not so large +nor so well kept as the Saint Bernard dogs we see in American cities, +but they have the same great head, huge feet and legs, and the same +intelligent eye, as if they were capable of doing anything if they +would only stop barking long enough to think of something else. +</P> + +<P> +The inside of the house corresponds to its outer appearance. Thick, +heavy triple doors admit you to a cold hall floored with stone. +Adjoining this is a parlor, likewise floored with the coldest of stone, +and this parlor is used as the dining-room and waiting-room for +travelers. Its walls are hung with pictures, many of them valuable +works of art, the gifts of former guests, while its chilly air is +scantily warmed by a small fireplace, on which whoever will may throw +pine boughs and fragments of the spongy wood of the fir. By this fire +the guests take their turn in getting partly warmed, then pass away to +shiver in the outer wastes of the room. +</P> + +<A NAME="img-143"></A> +<CENTER> +<IMG SRC="images/img-143.jpg" ALT="Hospice of the Great Saint Bernard." BORDER="2" WIDTH="497" HEIGHT="372"> +<H4> +[Illustration: Hospice of the Great Saint Bernard.] +</H4> +</CENTER> + +<P> +In this room the travelers are served with plain repasts, princes and +peasants alike, coarse bread, red wine, coffee, and boiled meat; +everything about the table neat and clean, but with no pretense at +pampering the appetite. You take whatever you please without money and +without price. Should you care to pay your way, or care to help on the +work of the Hospice, you can leave your mite, be it large or small, in +a box near the door of the chapel. The guest-rooms are plain but +comfortable—a few religious pictures on the walls; tall, old-fashioned +bedsteads, with abundant feather-beds and warm blankets. For one night +only all persons who come are welcome. The next day all alike, unless +sick or crippled, must pass on. +</P> + +<P> +There are about a dozen monks in the Hospice now, all of them young +men, devoted to their work, and some of them at least intelligent and +generously educated. The hard climate and the exposure of winter +breaks down their health before they are old. When they become unable +to carry on the duties of the Hospice, they are sent down the mountains +to Martigny, while others come up to take their places. There are +beautiful days in the summer-time, but no season of the year is free +from severity. Even in July and August the ground is half the time +white with snow. Terrible blasts sweep through the mountains; for the +commonest summer shower in the valleys below is, in these heights, a +raging snow-storm, and its snow-laden winds are never faced with +impunity. +</P> + +<P> +We visited the Hospice in July, 1890. We drove from Aosta up to Saint +Rémy, a little village crowded in on the side of the mountain, where +the pine-trees cease. The light rain which followed us out from Saint +Rémy changed to snow as we came up the rocky slopes. By the time we +reached the Hospice it became a blinding sleet. The ground was only +whitened, so that the dogs who came barking to meet us had no need to +dig us out from the drifts. In this they seemed disappointed, and +barked again. +</P> + +<P> +Once inside the walls, one cared not to go out. Many travelers came up +the mountain that day. Among them were a man and his wife, Italian +peasants, who had been over the mountains to spend a day or two with +friends in some village on the Swiss side, and were now returning home. +Man and woman were dressed in their peasants' best, and with them was a +little girl, some four years old. The child carried a toy horse in her +hands, the gift of some friend below. As they toiled up the steep path +in the blinding snow, all of them thinly clad and dressed only for +summer, they seemed chilled through and through, while the child was +almost frozen. The monks came out to meet them, took the child in +their arms, and brought her and her parents to the fire, covered her +shoulders with a warm shawl, and, after feeding them, sent them down +the mountain to their home in the valley, warmed and filled. This was +a simple act, the easiest of all their many duties, but it was a very +touching one. Such duties make up the simple round of their lives. +</P> + +<P> +In the storms of winter the work of the Hospice takes a sterner cast. +From November to May the gales are incessant. The snow piles up in +billows, and in the whirling clouds all traces of human occupation are +obliterated. There are many peasants and workingmen who go forth from +Italy into Switzerland and France, and who wish to return home when +their summer labors are over. To these the pass of the Great Saint +Bernard is the only route which they can afford. The long railway +rides and the great distances of the Simplon and the Saint Gotthard +would mean the using up of their scanty earnings. If they go home at +all, they must trust their lives to the storms and the monks, and take +the path which leads by the Hospice. So they come over day after day, +the winter long. No matter how great the storm, the dogs are on the +watch. In the last winter, of the many who came, not one was lost. +</P> + +<A NAME="img-147"></A> +<CENTER> +<IMG SRC="images/img-147.jpg" ALT="The Hospice in winter." BORDER="2" WIDTH="461" HEIGHT="360"> +<H4> +[Illustration: The Hospice in winter.] +</H4> +</CENTER> + +<P> +This is the Hospice as it stands to-day. I come next to tell its story +and the story of its founder. I tell it, in the most part, from a +little volume in French, which some modest and nameless monk of the +Hospice has compiled from the old Latin records of the monks who have +gone before him. This volume he has printed, as he says, "for the use +of the faithful in the parishes which lie next the Alps, and which, in +his time, the good Saint Bernard[1] passed through." This story I must +tell in his own spirit, in some degree at least, else I should have no +right to tell it at all. +</P> + +<P> +In the tenth century, he informs us, the dark ages of Europe could +scarcely have been darker. Weak and wicked kings, the dregs of the +worn-out blood of Charlemagne, misruled France, while along the +northern coast the Normans robbed and plundered at their will. Even +the church had her share of crimes and scandals. In this dark time, +says the chronicle, "God, who had promised to be with His own to the +end of the centuries, did not fail to raise up in that darkness great +saints who should teach the people to lift their eyes toward heaven; to +rise above afflictions; not to take the form of the world for a +permanent habitation, and to suffer its pains with patience, in the +prospect of eternity." +</P> + +<A NAME="img-151"></A> +<CENTER> +<IMG SRC="images/img-151.jpg" ALT="Jupitére." BORDER="2" WIDTH="541" HEIGHT="382"> +<H4> +[Illustration: Jupitére.] +</H4> +</CENTER> + +<P> +It happened that in the days of King Raoul, in the Castle of Menthon, +on the north bank of the lake of Annécy, in Savoy, in the year 923, +Bernard de Menthon was born. His father was the Baron Richard, famous +among the noblemen of the time, while his mother, the Lady Bernoline, +was illustrious for virtues. The young Bernard was a fair child, and +his history, as seen from the perspective of his monkish historian, +shows that even in his earliest youth he was predestined for saintship. +Even before he could walk, the little child would join his hands in the +attitude of supplication, and murmur words which might have been +prayers. While still very young, he brought in a book one day and +asked his mother to teach him to read, and when she would not, or could +not, he wept, for the books in which even then he delighted were the +prayer-books of the church. +</P> + +<P> +He grew up bright and beautiful, and his father was proud of him, and +determined that he should take his part in public life. But Bernard's +thoughts ran in other channels. He spent his moments in copying +psalms, and in writing down the words of divine service which he heard. +Even in his seventh year he began to practice austerities and +self-castigation, which he kept up through his life. He chose for his +model Saint Nicholas, the saint who through the ages has been kind to +children. Him he resolved to imitate, and to walk always in his steps. +</P> + +<P> +The University of Paris had been founded by Charlemagne more than a +century before, and this university was then the Mecca of all ambitious +youth. To the University of Paris his father decided to send him. But +his mother feared the influence of the gay capital, and wished to keep +Bernard by her side. But the boy said, "Virtue has too deep a root in +my heart, mother, for the air of Paris to tarnish it. I will bring +back more of science, but not less of purity." And to Paris he went. +Here he studied law, to please his father, and theology, to please +himself. "As Tobias lived faithful in Nineveh," so the chronicle says, +"thus lived Bernard in Paris." In the midst of snares unnumbered, he +only redoubled his austerities—"<I>in sanctitate persistens, studiosus +valde</I>," so the record says. +</P> + +<A NAME="img-155"></A> +<CENTER> +<IMG SRC="images/img-155.jpg" ALT="Monks of the Great Saint Bernard." BORDER="2" WIDTH="499" HEIGHT="369"> +<H4> +[Illustration: Monks of the Great Saint Bernard.] +</H4> +</CENTER> + +<P> +His thoughts ran on the misery of humanity, which he measured by the +abasement to which Christ had submitted in order to effect its +redemption. A great influence in his life came from Germain, his +tutor, a man who had lived the life of a scholar in the world, and who +had at last withdrawn to sanctity and prayer. Although Bernard knew +that his father expected a brilliant future for him, and that he hoped +to effect for him a marriage in some family of the great of those days, +yet he took upon himself the vow of celibacy. "God lives in virgin +souls," he said. There is a record of an argument with Germain, in +which his tutor tries to test the strength of his purpose. +Germain tells him that even in a monastery evil cannot be excluded, and +that many even of the most austere monks live lives of petty jealousy +and ignoble ambition. "There are many," Germain says, "who are saved +in the struggle of the world who would be shipwrecked in a monastery." +But Bernard is steadfast in his choice. "Happy are those who have +chosen to dwell in God's court, and to sleep on His estate." Thus day +and night he struggles against all temptations of worldly glory or +pleasure. +</P> + +<P> +Then his father calls him home; and when he has returned to Annécy, +Bernard finds that every preparation has been made for his approaching +wedding with the daughter of the great Lord of Miolans. "<I>Sponsa +pulchra</I>," beautiful bride, this young woman was, according to the +record, and doubtless this was true. The attitude of Bernard toward +this marriage his father and mother could not understand. He held back +constantly, and urged all sorts of objections to its immediate +consummation, but on no ground which seemed to them reasonable. So the +wedding-day was set. The house was full of guests. Every gate and +door of the castle was crowded by armed retainers, and there seemed to +be no escape. Bernard retired to his own room, and in the oldest +manuscripts are given the words of his prayer: +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +"My adorable Creator, Thou who with thy celestial light enlightened +those who invoke with faith and confidence, and Thou my Jesus, Divine +Redeemer of men and Saviour of souls, lend a favorable ear to my humble +prayer; spread on thy servant the treasures of your infinite mercy. I +know that Thou never abandonest those who place in you their hope; +deliver me, I supplicate Thee, from the snares which the world have +offered me. Break these nets in which the world tries to take me; +permit not that the enemy prevail over thy servant, that adulation may +enfeeble my heart. I abandon myself entirely to Thee. I throw myself +into the arms of thy infinite mercy, hoping that Thou wilt save me, and +wilt reject not my demand." +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +Then to the good Saint Nicholas: +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +"Amiable shepherd, faithful guide, holy priest, thou who art my +protector and my refuge, together with God, and His holy mother, the +happy Virgin Mary, obtain me, I pray thee, by thy merits, the grace of +triumph over the obstacles the world opposes to my vow of consecrating +myself to God without reserve—in return for the property, the +pleasures, and honors here below, of which I abandon my part, obtain me +spiritual good all the course of my life, and eternal happiness after +my death." +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +Then Bernard retired to sleep, and in a dream Saint Nicholas stood +before him and uttered these words: +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +"Bernard, servant of God the Lord, who never betrays those who put +their confidence in Him, calls thee to follow Him. An immortal crown +is reserved for thee. Leave at once thy father's house and go to +Aosta. There in the cathedral thou shalt meet an old man called +Pičrre. He will welcome thee; thou shalt live with him, and he shall +teach thee the road thou should traverse. For my part, I shall be thy +protector, and will not for an instant abandon thee." +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +Then Bernard opened his eyes and the vision had disappeared. He was +overcome with joy. His resolution was taken. Though he knew no way +out of the castle, nor from the bedroom in the tower, in which he had +been locked by his thoughtful father, yet he was ready to go. +</P> + +<P> +Taking up a pen, he wrote to his father this letter: +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +Very dear parents, rejoice with me that the +Lord calls me to His service. I follow Him to arrive sooner at the +port of salvation, the sole object of my vows. Do not worry about me, +nor take the trouble to seek me. I renounce the marriage, which was +ever against my will. I renounce all that concerns the world. All my +desires turn toward heaven, whither I would arrive. I take the road +this minute. +<BR><BR> +"BERNARD DE MENTHON." +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +Laying the letter on the table, he soon found himself on the way +outside the castle grounds, and along this path he hurried, over the +mountain passes, toward the city of Aosta. So say the oldest +manuscripts; but in the later stories the details are more fully +described. From these it would appear that Bernard leaped from the +window eighteen or twenty feet, his naked feet striking on a bare rock. +On he ran through the night; on over dark and lonely paths in a country +still uninhabited; over the stony fields and wild watercourses of the +Graian Alps, and when the morning dawned he found himself in the city +of Aosta, a hundred miles from Annécy. +</P> + +<P> +In an old painting the manner of his escape is shown in detail. As he +drops from the window he is supported by Saint Nicholas on the one +side, and an angel on the other, and underneath the painting is the +legend "<I>Emporté par Miracle</I>." It is said, too, that in former times +the prints of his hands on the stone window-sill, and of his naked feet +on the rock below, were both plainly visible. Eight hundred years +later the good Father Pičrre Verre celebrated mass in the old room in +which Bernard was confined; and he reports at that time there was both +on the window-sill and on the rock below only the merest trace of the +imprints left by Bernard. One could not then "even be sure that they +were made by hand or foot." But the chronicle wisely says: "Time, in +effacing these marks and rendering them doubtful, has never effaced the +tradition of the fact among the people of Annécy." +</P> + +<P> +In the morning, consternation reigned within the castle. The Lord of +Menthon was filled with disgust, shame, and confusion. The Lord of +Miolans thought that he and his daughter were the victims of a trick, +and he would take no explanation or excuse. Only the sword might +efface the stain upon his honor. The marriage feast would have ended +in a scene of blood were it not, according to the chronicle, that "God, +always admirable in His saints," sent as an angel of peace the very +person who had been most cruelly wronged. The Lady of Miolans, +"<I>sponsa pulchra</I>" beyond a doubt, took up the cause of her delinquent +bridegroom, whom God had called, she said, to take some nobler part. +When peace had been made, she followed his example, taking the veil in +a neighboring convent, where, after many years of virtuous living, she +died, full of days and full of merits. "<I>Sponsa ipsius</I>," so the +record says, "<I>in qua sancte et religiose dies suos clausit</I>"; a bride +who in sanctity and religious days closed her life. +</P> + +<P> +Meanwhile, beyond the Graian Alps and beyond the reach of his father's +information, Bernard was safe. In Aosta he was kindly received by +Pičrre, the Archdeacon. He entered into the service of the church, and +there, in spite of his humility and his self-abasement, he won the +favor of all with whom he had to deal. "God wills," the chronicle +says, "that His ministers should shine by their sanctity and their +science." "Saint Paul commends prudence, gravity, modesty, +unselfishness, and hospitality," and to these precepts Bernard was ever +faithful. He lived in the simplest way, like a hermit in his personal +relations, but never out of the life of the world. He was not a man +eager to save his own soul only, but the bodies and souls of his +neighbors. He dressed in the plainest garb. He drank from a rude +wooden cup. Wine he never touched, and water but rarely. The juice of +bitter herbs was his beverage, and by every means possible he strove to +reduce his body to servitude. When he came, years later, to his +deathbed, it was his sole regret that it was a <I>bed</I> where he was to +die, instead of the bare boards on which he was wont to sleep. +</P> + +<P> +His fame as a preacher spread far and wide. There are many traditions +of his eloquence, and the memory of his words was fondly cherished +wherever his sweet, rich voice was heard. "From the mountains of Savoy +to Milan and Turin, and even to the Lake of Geneva," says the +chronicle, "his memory was dear." So, in due time, after the death of +Pičrre, Bernard was made Archdeacon of Aosta. +</P> + +<P> +In these times the high Alps were filled with Saracen brigands and +other heathen freebooters, who celebrated in the mountain fastnesses +their monstrous rites. In the mountains above Aosta the god Pen had +long been worshiped; the word pen in Celtic meaning the highest. +Later, Julius Caesar conquered these wild tribes, and imposed upon them +the religion of the Roman Empire. A statue of Jupiter ("<I>Jove optimo +maximo</I>") was set up in the mountain in the place of the idol Pen. +Afterwards, by way of compromise, the Romans permitted the two to +become one, and the people worshiped Jovis Pennius (Jupiter Pen), the +great god of the highest mountains. A statue of Jupiter Pen was set up +by the side of the lake in the great pass of the mountain; and from +Jupiter Pen these mountains took the name of Pennine Alps, which they +bear to this day. The pass itself was called Mons Jovis, the Mountain +of Jove, and this, in due time, became shortened to Mont Joux. Through +this pass of Mont Joux the armies of every nation have marched, the +heroes of every age, from Saint Peter, who, the legend says, came over +in the year 57, down to Napoléon, who passed nearly eighteen centuries +later, on a much less worthy errand. The Hotel "Déjeuner de Napoléon," +in the little village of "Bourg Saint Pičrre," recalls in its name the +story of both these visits. +</P> + +<P> +In the earliest days a refuge hut was built by the side of the statue +of Jupiter Pen. In the early pilgrimages to Rome this became a place +of some importance. Later on, marauding armies of Goths, Saracens, and +Hungarians, successively passing through, destroyed this refuge. In +the days of Bernard the pass was filled with a horde of brigands, +French, Italians, Saracens, and Jews, who had cast aside all religious +faith of their fathers, and had re-established the worship of the demon +in the temple of Jupiter Pen. +</P> + +<P> +The old manuscripts tell us that in the middle of the tenth century the +demons were in full sway on these mountains; that through the mouth of +the statue of Jupiter the worst of lies and blasphemies were spoken to +those who came to consult it. These worshipers of strange old gods +lived by plunder, and exacted toll of all who came through the pass. +The same conditions existed on the Graian Alps to the southward. On +one of these mountain passes, some fifty miles from Mont Joux, there +lived a rich man named Polycarpe. He, too, did homage to Jupiter, and +on the summit of a tall column which he built in the pass he had placed +a splendid diamond, which he called the "Eye of Jove." People came +from great distances to be healed by its magic glance, and the mountain +on which he dwelt was the mountain of the Columna Jovis. This became +changed, in time, to Colonne Joux, the Mountain of the Column of Jove. +And the demons of these two heights, the Mountain of Jove and the +Column of Jove, sent down their baleful call of defiance to the valley +over which Bernard ruled as Archdeacon of Aosta. +</P> + +<P> +It came to pass that a troop of ten French travelers crossed over the +pass of Mont Joux. In the pass they were attacked by marauders, and +one of their number was carried away captive. When they came down to +Aosta, Bernard, the Archdeacon, fearlessly offered to go back with them +to attack the giant of the mountain, to rescue their friend, and to +replace the standard of the cross over the altar of the demon. +</P> + +<P> +That night, so says the old chronicle, Saint Nicholas appeared to him +in the garb of a pilgrim and said: "Bernard, let us attack these +mountains. We shall put the demon to flight. We shall overturn this +statue of Jupiter, which the demons have taken possession of to bring +trouble among Christians. We will destroy it, and we will destroy the +column and its diamond, and in their place we will build two refuges +for the use of the pilgrims who cross the two mountains. Go thou, as +the tenth one in this band; then wilt thou conjure the demons. Thou +shalt bind the statue with a blessed stole, and its ruins will mingle +with the chaos of the mountains. Thus shalt thou destroy the power of +evil to the day of judgment." +</P> + +<P> +And in proof of the thoroughness with which Bernard performed his work, +it is told that a spiritualist who took pleasure in tipping tables came +through the pass in 1857. The monks were incredulous of his powers, +and he wished to convince them by an actual experience. His efforts +were all in vain. The tables, the record tells us, were quiet as the +rocks. The traveler, astonished, said: "This is the first time they +have failed to obey me." And thus, says the record, the pledge of +Saint Nicholas was accomplished. The enemy had never more an entrance +into the mountain. +</P> + +<P> +When Bernard and his followers reached Mont Joux, they found the +mountain filled with fog and storm, but his heart was undaunted. +Passing boldly between the guards of the temple, he flung, so the story +says, his blessed stole over the neck of the statue of Jupiter. It +changed at once into an iron chain, against which the statue, now +become a huge demon-monster, struggled in vain. The good man +overturned it and flung it at his feet. With the same chain he bound +the high priest who guarded the demon. The struggle was short, but +decisive. In a few minutes, so the chronicle says, Bernard had +banished the demon of Mont Joux and his accomplices to eternal snow and +ice to the end of time, and had commanded them to cease forever their +evil doings on the mountain. +</P> + +<P> +An old painting in the Hospice shows this scene in vivid portrait. +Bernard stands erect and fearless, his fine face lit up by celestial +zeal, his bare head surrounded by a halo, a pilgrim's staff in his +right hand, the stole, now become a chain, in his left, while one foot +is on the breast of the demon, which gasps helpless at his feet. The +demon has the body of a man, covered with a wolf's rough, shaggy hair, +his fingers and toes ending in sharp claws, a long tail, rough and +scaly, like the tail of a rat, coiled snake-like above his legs, the +head and ears of a wolf, the horns of a goat, and on his back an +indefinable outgrowth, perhaps the framework of a horrible pair of +wings, its long tongue thrust out from between its bloody teeth. He +was certainly a gruesome creature. +</P> + +<A NAME="img-169"></A> +<CENTER> +<IMG SRC="images/img-169.jpg" ALT="Saint Bernard and the demon." BORDER="2" WIDTH="381" HEIGHT="503"> +<H4> +[Illustration: Saint Bernard and the demon.] +</H4> +</CENTER> + +<P> +And thus it came to pass in the year 970, in the place of the temple of +Jupiter Pen, but at the other end of the lake, and in the very summit +of the pass, was built the Hospice of the Great Saint Bernard. From +that day to this, almost a thousand years, the work of doing good to +men has been humbly and patiently carried on. +</P> + +<P> +Not long afterward, in a similar way, Bernard attacked the Graian Alps, +overthrew the column of Jupiter, crushed its bright diamond to the +finest dust, which he scattered in the winds, and built in its place a +second Hospice, which, with the pass, has borne ever since the name of +the Little Saint Bernard. +</P> + +<P> +Silver and gold, the builders of this Hospice had none. Ever since the +beginning, they have exercised their charities at the expense of those +who cared for the Lord's work. All who pass by are treated alike. +Those who are received into the Hospice can leave much or +little—something or nothing, whatever they please,—to carry the same +same help to others. +</P> + +<P> +In the book of the good Saint Francis de Sales long ago, so the +chronicle says, these words were written: +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +"There are many degrees in charity. To lend to the poor, this is the +first degree. To give to the poor is a higher degree. Still higher to +give oneself; to devote one's life to the service of the poor. +Hospitality, when necessity is not extreme, is a counsel, and to +receive the stranger is its first degree. But to go out on the roads +to find and help, as Abraham did, this is a grade still higher. Still +higher is to live in dangerous places, to serve, aid, and save the +passers-by; to attend, lodge, succor, and save from danger the +travelers, who else would die in cold and storm. This is the work of +the noble friend of God, who founded the hospitals on the two +mountains, now for this called by his name, Great Saint Bernard, in the +diocese of Sion, and the Little Saint Bernard, in the Tarentaise." +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +And so the Hospice was built, and in the enthusiastic words of a +chronicle of the times, "Tears and sorrow were banished, peace and joy +have replaced them; abundance has made there her abode; the terrors +have disappeared, and there reigns eternal springtime. Instead of +hell, you will find there paradise." Not quite paradise, perhaps, so +far as the elements are concerned, but a dozen kindly men, a legion of +dogs, big, cheerful, and noisy, a warm fire, a simple meal, and a +God-speed to all men, whatever their race, or creed, or temper. +</P> + +<P> +I need add but a word more of the history of Bernard himself. One day +an old man and his wife came up to visit the Hospice and to pay their +respects to the monk who had founded it. Bernard met them there, and +at once recognized his father and mother. He received them +sympathetically, and they told him the story of their lost son. +Bernard spoke to them tenderly of the work to which God must have +called him. He told them they should rejoice that their child had been +found worthy of his purposes, and after a time they seemed to become +reconciled, and felt that He doeth all things well. Then Bernard told +them who he was, and when after many days they went away from the +Hospice, they left the money to build in each of them a chapel. +</P> + +<P> +Bernard died in the year 1007, at the age of eighty-three. His last +words were these: "O Lord, I give my soul into thy hands." The words, +"The saint is dead," passed on from mouth to mouth throughout these +Alpine regions. The peasants had canonized him already a hundred years +before the sanctity of his work was officially recognized at Rome. +</P> + +<P> +The story of his burial is again marked by miracles. Rich men vied +with each other in making funeral offerings. One gave him a +magnificent stone coffin, but this man had been a usurer. Usury was a +sin abhorred by Saint Bernard, and the people found that no force or +persuasion could place his body within this coffin. So another tomb, +less pretentious, but more worthy, was found. At the end Bernard's +remains were divided among the churches, each of whom claimed him as +its own. To the Hospice fell his ring and his cup, a tooth, and a few +finger-bones, and, most important of all, his name—the "Great Saint +Bernard." +</P> + +<P> +The chronicles give a long list of miracles which since then have been +wrought in his name. These are for the most part wonderful healings, +the stilling of storms, the bringing of rain, the driving away of +grasshoppers. However, men are prone always to look for the miracle in +the things that are of least moment. The life and work of the man was +the real miracle, not the flight of grasshoppers. The miracle of all +time is the power of humanity when it works in harmony with the laws +and purposes of God. Consecrated to God's work, and by the work's own +severity protected through the centuries from corruption and +temptation, the work of the monk of Aosta has outlasted palaces and +thrones. Through the influence of charity, and piety, and truth, the +demon has been driven from these mountains. When the love of man joins +to the love of God, all spirits of evil vanish as mist before the +morning sun. +</P> + +<BR> +<BR> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +[1] St. Bernard de Menthon must not be confounded with Bernard de +Clairvaux, born in 1091, the preacher of the Crusades. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap05"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE LAST OF THE PURITANS.[1] +</H3> + + +<P> +I have a word to say of Thoreau, and of an episode which brought his +character into bold relief, and which has fairly earned for him a place +in American history, as well as in our literature. +</P> + +<P> +I do not wish now to give any account of the life of Thoreau. In the +preface to his volume called "Excursions" you will find a biographical +sketch, written by the loving hand of Mr. Emerson, his neighbor and +friend. Neither shall I enter into any justification of Thoreau's +peculiar mode of life, nor shall I describe the famous cabin in the +pine woods by Walden Pond, already becoming the Mecca of the Order of +Saunterers, whose great prophet was Thoreau. His profession of +land-surveyor was one naturally adopted by him; for to him every hill +and forest was a being, each with its own individuality. This +profession kept him in the fields and woods, with the sky over his head +and the mold under his feet. It paid him the money needed for his +daily wants, and he cared for no more. +</P> + +<P> +He seldom went far away from Concord, and, in a half-playful way, he +used to view everything in the world from a Concord standpoint. All +the grandest trees grew there and all the rarest flowers, and nearly +all the phenomena of nature could be observed at Concord. +</P> + +<P> +"Nothing can be hoped of you," he said, "if this bit of mold under your +feet is not sweeter to you than any other in this world—in any world." +</P> + +<P> +Although one of the most acute of observers, Thoreau was never reckoned +among the scientific men of his time. He was never a member of any +Natural History Society, nor of any Academy of Sciences, bodies which, +in a general way, he held in not altogether unmerited contempt. When +men band together for the study of nature, they first draft a long +constitution, with its attendant by-laws, and then proceed to the +election of officers, and, by and by, the study of nature becomes +subordinate to the maintenance of the organization. +</P> + +<P> +In technical scientific work, Thoreau took little pleasure. It is +often pedantic, often bloodless, and often it is a source of +inspiration only to him by whom the work is done. Animals and plants +were interesting to him, not in their structure and genealogical +affinities, but in their relations to his mind. He loved wild things, +not alone for themselves, but for the tonic effect of their savagery +upon him. +</P> + +<P> +"I wish to speak a word for nature," he said, "for absolute freedom and +wildness, as contrasted with a freedom and culture merely civil, to +regard man as an inhabitant, a part and parcel of nature, rather than +as a member of society. I wish to make an extreme statement; if so, I +may make an emphatic one, for there are enough champions of +civilization. The minister and the school committees, and every one of +you, will take care of that." +</P> + +<P> +To Thoreau's admirers, he is the prophet of the fields and woods, the +interpreter of nature, and his every word has to them the deepest +significance. He is the man who +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"Lives all alone, close to the bone,<BR> +And where life is sweetest, constantly eatest."<BR> +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +They resent all criticism of his life or his words. They are impatient +of all analysis of his methods or of his motives, and a word of praise +of him is the surest passport to their good graces. +</P> + +<P> +But the critics sometimes miss the inner harmony which Thoreau's +admirers see, and discern only queer paradoxes and extravagances of +statement where the others hear the voice of nature's oracle. With +most literary men, the power or disposition of those who know or +understand their writings is in some degree a matter of literary +culture. It is hardly so in the case of Thoreau. +</P> + +<P> +The most illiterate man I know who had ever heard of Thoreau, Mr. +Barney Mullins, of Freedom Centre, Outagamie County, Wisconsin, was a +most ardent admirer of Thoreau, while the most eminent critic in +America, James Russell Lowell, does him scant justice. To Lowell, the +finest thoughts of Thoreau are but strawberries from Emerson's garden, +and other critics have followed back these same strawberries through +Emerson's to still older gardens, among them to that of Sir Thomas +Browne. +</P> + +<P> +But, setting the critics aside, let me tell you about Barney Mullins. +Twenty years ago, I lived for a year in the northern part of Wisconsin. +The snow is very deep in the winter there, and once I rode into town +through the snowbanks on a sled drawn by two oxen and driven by Barney +Mullins. Barney was born on the banks of Killarney, and he could +scarcely be said to speak the English language. He told me that before +he came to Freedom Centre he had lived in a town called Concord, in +Massachusetts. I asked him if he had happened to know a man there by +the name of Henry Thoreau. He at once grew enthusiastic and he said, +among other things: "Mr. Thoreau was a land-surveyor in Concord. I +knew him well. He had a way of his own, and he didn't care naught +about money, but if there was ever a gentleman alive, he was one." +</P> + +<P> +Barney seemed much saddened when I told him that Mr. Thoreau had been +dead a dozen years. On parting, he asked me to come out some time to +Freedom Centre, and to spend a night with him. He had n't much of a +room to offer me, but there was always a place in his house for a +friend of Mr. Thoreau. Such is the feeling of this guild of lovers of +Thoreau, and some of you may come to belong to it. +</P> + +<P> +Here is a test for you. Thoreau says: "I long ago lost a hound, a bay +horse, and a turtle-dove, and am still on their trail. Many are the +travelers I have spoken to regarding them, describing their tracks, and +what calls they answered to. I have met one or two who have heard the +hound and the tramp of the horse, and even seen the dove disappear +behind the cloud, and they seemed as anxious to recover them as if they +had lost them themselves." +</P> + +<P> +Now, if any of you, in your dreams, have heard the horse, or seen the +sunshine on the dove's wings, you may join in the search. If not, you +may close the book, for Thoreau has not written for you. +</P> + +<P> +This Thoreau guild is composed, as he himself says, "of knights of a +new, or, rather, an old order, not equestrians or chevaliers, not +Ritters, or riders, but walkers, a still more ancient and honorable +class, I trust." +</P> + +<P> +"I have met," he says, "but one or two persons who understand the art +of walking; who had a genius for sauntering, which word is beautifully +derived from idle people who roved about the country in the Middle Ages +and asked charity, under pretense of going '<I>ŕ la Sainte Terre</I>'—a +Sainte-terrer, a Holy Lander. They who never go to the Holy Land in +their walks, as they pretend, are indeed mere idlers and vagabonds; but +they who go there are saunterers, in the good sense. Every walk is a +kind of crusade preached by some Peter the Hermit within us, to go +forth and reconquer this Holy Land from the hands of the Infidels. +</P> + +<P> +"It is true that we are but faint-hearted crusaders, who undertake no +persevering, never-ending enterprises. Our expeditions are but tours, +and come round again at evening to the old hearthside from which we set +out. Half the walk is but retracing our steps. We should go forth on +the shortest walk, perchance, in the spirit of undying adventure, never +to return, prepared to send back our embalmed hearts only as relics to +our desolate kingdoms. If you are ready to leave father and mother, +and brother and sister, and wife and child, and friends; if you have +paid your debts, and made your will, and settled all your affairs, and +are a free man, you are ready for a walk." +</P> + +<P> +Though a severe critic of conventional follies, Thoreau was always a +hopeful man; and no finer rebuke to the philosophy of Pessimism was +ever given than in these words of his: "I know of no more encouraging +fact than the unquestionable ability of a man to elevate his life by a +conscious endeavor. It is something to be able to paint a particular +picture, or to carve a statue, and so make a few objects beautiful; but +it is far more glorious to carve and paint the very atmosphere and +medium through which we look. This, morally, we can do." +</P> + +<P> +But it is not of Thoreau as a saunterer, or as a naturalist, or as an +essayist, that I wish to speak, but as a moralist, and this in relation +to American politics. Thoreau lived in a dark day of our political +history. At one time he made a declaration of independence in a small +way, and refused allegiance and poll-tax to a Government built on a +corner-stone of human slavery. Because of this he was put into jail, +where he remained one night, and where he made some curious +observations on his townspeople as viewed from the inside of the bars. +Emerson came along in the morning, and asked him what he was there for. +"Why are you not in here, Mr. Emerson?" was his reply; for it seemed to +him that no man had the right to be free in a country where some men +were slaves. +</P> + +<P> +"Voting for the right," Thoreau said, "is doing nothing for it; it is +only expressing feebly your desire that right should prevail." He +would not for an instant recognize that political organization as his +government which was the slave's government also. "In fact," he said, +"I will quietly, after my fashion, declare war with the State. Under a +government which imprisons any unjustly, the true place for a just man +is also a prison. I know this well, that if one thousand, if one +hundred, or if one honest man in this State of Massachusetts, ceasing +to remain in this co-partnership, should be locked up in the county +jail therefor, it would be the abolition of slavery in America. It +matters not how small the beginning may seem to be, what is once well +done is done forever." +</P> + +<P> +Thoreau's friends paid his taxes for him, and he was set free, so that +the whole affair seemed like a joke. Yet, as Stevenson says, "If his +example had been followed by a hundred, or by thirty of his followers, +it would have greatly precipitated the era of freedom and justice. We +feel the misdeeds of our country with so little fervor, for we are not +witnesses to the suffering they cause. But when we see them awake an +active horror in our fellow-man; when we see a neighbor prefer to lie +in prison than be so much as passively implicated in their +perpetration, even the dullest of us will begin to realize them with a +quicker pulse." +</P> + +<P> +In the feeling that a wrong, no matter how great, must fall before the +determined assault of a man, no matter how weak, Thoreau found the +reason for his action. The operation of the laws of God is like an +incontrollable torrent. Nothing can stand before them; but the work of +a single man may set the torrent in motion which will sweep away the +accumulations of centuries of wrong. +</P> + +<P> +There is a long chapter in our national history which is not a glorious +record. Most of us are too young to remember much of politics under +the Fugitive Slave Law, or to understand the deference which +politicians of every grade then paid to the peculiar institution. It +was in those days in the Middle West that Kentucky blackguards, backed +by the laws of the United States, and aided not by Northern blackguards +alone, but by many of the best citizens of those States, chased runaway +slaves through the streets of our Northern capitals. +</P> + +<P> +And not the politicians alone, but the teachers and preachers, took +their turn in paying tribute to Caesar. We were told that the Bible +itself was a champion of slavery. Two of our greatest theologians in +the North declared, in the name of the Higher Law, that slavery was a +holy thing, which the Lord, who cursed Canaan, would ever uphold. +</P> + +<P> +In those days there came a man from the West—a tall, gaunt, grizzly, +shaggy-haired, God-fearing man, a son of the Puritans, whose ancestors +came over on the Mayflower. A dangerous fanatic or lunatic, he was +called, and, with the aid of a few poor negroes whom he had stolen from +slavery, he defied the power of this whole slave-catching United +States. A little square brick building, once a sort of car-shop, +stands near the railway station in the town of Harper's Ferry, with the +mountain wall not far behind it, and the Potomac River running below. +And from this building was fired the shot which pierced the heart of +slavery. And the Governor of Virginia captured this man, and took him +out and hung him, and laid his body in the grave, where it still lies +moldering. But there was part of him not in the jurisdiction of +Virginia, a part which they could neither hang nor bury; and, to the +infinite surprise of the Governor of Virginia, his soul went marching +on. +</P> + +<A NAME="img-187"></A> +<CENTER> +<IMG SRC="images/img-187.jpg" ALT="John Brown." BORDER="2" WIDTH="379" HEIGHT="533"> +<H4> +[Illustration: John Brown.] +</H4> +</CENTER> + +<P> +When they heard in Concord that John Brown had been captured, and was +soon to be hung, Thoreau sent notice through the city that he would +speak in the public hall on the condition and character of John Brown, +on Sunday evening, and invited all to be present. +</P> + +<P> +The Republican Committee and the Committee of the Abolitionists sent +word to him that this was no time to speak; to discuss such matters +then was premature and inadvisable. He replied: "I did not send to you +for advice, but to tell you that I am going to speak." The selectmen +of Concord dared neither grant nor refuse him the hall. At last they +ventured to lose the key in a place where they thought he could find it. +</P> + +<P> +This address of Thoreau, "A Plea for Captain John Brown," should be a +classic in American history. We do not always realize that the time of +American history is now. The dates of the settlement of Jamestown, and +Plymouth, and St. Augustine do not constitute our history. Columbus +did not discover us. In a high sense, the true America is barely +thirty years old, and its first President was Abraham Lincoln. +</P> + +<P> +We in the North are a little impatient at times, and our politicians, +who are not always our best citizens, mutter terrible oaths, especially +in the month of October, because the South is not yet wholly +regenerate, because not all which sprang from the ashes of the +slave-pen were angels of light. +</P> + +<P> +But let us be patient while the world moves on. Forty years ago not +only the banks of the Yazoo and the Chattahoochee, but those of the +Hudson, and the Charles, and the Wabash, were under the lash. On the +eve of John Brown's hanging not half a dozen men in the city of +Concord, the most intellectual town in New England, the home of +Emerson, and Hawthorne, and Alcott, dared say that they felt any +respect for the man or sympathy for the cause for which he died. +</P> + +<P> +I wish to quote a few passages from this "Plea for Captain John Brown." +To fully realize its power, you should read it all for yourselves. You +must put yourselves back into history, now already seeming almost +ancient history to us, to the period when Buchanan was President—the +terrible sultry lull just before the great storm. You must picture the +audience of the best people in Massachusetts, half-sympathizing with +Captain Brown, half-afraid of being guilty of treason in so doing. You +must picture the speaker, with his clear-cut, earnest features and +penetrating voice. No preacher, no politician, no professional +reformer, no Republican, no Democrat; a man who never voted; a +naturalist whose companions were the flowers and the birds, the trees +and the squirrels. It was the voice of Nature in protest against +slavery and in plea for Captain Brown. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +"My respect for my fellow-men," said Thoreau, "is not being increased +these days. I have noticed the cold-blooded way in which men speak of +this event, as if an ordinary malefactor, though one of unusual pluck, +'the gamest man I ever saw,' the Governor of Virginia said, had been +caught and was about to be hung. He was not thinking of his foes when +the Governor of Virginia thought he looked so brave. +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +"It turns what sweetness I have to gall to hear the remarks of some of +my neighbors. When we heard at first that he was dead, one of my +townsmen observed that 'he dieth as the fool dieth,' which, for an +instant, suggested a likeness in him dying to my neighbor living. +Others, craven-hearted, said, disparagingly, that he threw his life +away because he resisted the Government. Which way have they thrown +their lives, pray? +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +"I hear another ask, Yankee-like, 'What will he gain by it?' as if he +expected to fill his pockets by the enterprise. If it does not lead to +a surprise party, if he does not get a new pair of boots or a vote of +thanks, it must be a failure. But he won't get anything. Well, no; I +don't suppose he could get four-and-sixpence a day for being hung, take +the year around, but he stands a chance to save his soul—and such a +soul!—which you do not. You can get more in your market for a quart +of milk than a quart of blood, but yours is not the market heroes carry +their blood to. +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +"Such do not know that like the seed is the fruit, and that in the +moral world, when good seed is planted, good fruit is inevitable; that +when you plant or bury a hero in his field, a crop of heroes is sure to +spring up. This is a seed of such force and vitality, it does not ask +our leave to germinate. +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +"A man does a brave and humane deed, and on all sides we hear people +and parties declaring,' I didn't do it, nor countenance him to do it in +any conceivable way. It can't fairly be inferred from my past career.' +Ye need n't take so much pains, my friends, to wash your skirts of him. +No one will ever be convinced that he was any creature of yours. He +went and came, as he himself informs us, under the auspices of John +Brown, and nobody else.' +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +"'All is quiet in Harper's Ferry,' say the journals. What is the +character of that calm which follows when the law and the slaveholder +prevail? I regard this event as a touchstone designed to bring out +with glaring distinctness the character of this Government. We needed +to be thus assisted to see it by the light of history. It needed to +see itself. When a government puts forth its strength on the side of +injustice, as ours, to maintain slavery and kill the liberators of the +slave, it reveals itself simply as brute force. It is more manifest +than ever that tyranny rules. I see this Government to be effectually +allied with France and Austria in oppressing mankind. +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +"The only government that I recognize—and it matters not how few are +at the head of it, or how small its army,—is the power that +establishes justice in the land, never that which establishes +injustice. What shall we think of a government to which all the truly +brave and just men in the land are enemies, standing between it and +those whom it oppresses? +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +"Treason! Where does such treason take its rise? I cannot help +thinking of you as ye deserve, ye governments! Can you dry up the +fountain of thought? High treason, when it is resistance to tyranny +here below, has its origin in the power that makes and forever +re-creates man. When you have caught and hung all its human rebels, +you have accomplished nothing but your own guilt. You have not struck +at the fountain-head. The same indignation which cleared the temple +once will clear it again. +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +"I hear many condemn these men because they were so few. When were the +good and the brave ever in the majority? Would you have had him wait +till that time came? Till you and I came over to him? The very fact +that he had no rabble or troop of hirelings about him, would alone +distinguish him from ordinary heroes. His company was small, indeed, +because few could be found worthy to pass muster. Each one who there +laid down his life for the poor and oppressed was a picked man, called +out of many thousands, if not millions. A man of principle, of rare +courage and devoted humanity, ready to sacrifice his life at any moment +for the benefit of his fellow-man; it may be doubted if there were as +many more their equals in the country; for their leader, no doubt, had +scoured the land far and wide, seeking to swell his troop. These alone +were ready to step between the oppressor and the oppressed. Surely +they were the very best men you could select to be hung! That was the +greatest compliment their country could pay them. They were ripe for +her gallows. She has tried a long time; she has hung a good many, but +never found the right one before. +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +"When I think of him and his six sons and his son-in-law enlisted for +this fight, proceeding coolly, reverently, humanely to work, for +months, if not years, summering and wintering the thought, without +expecting any reward but a good conscience, while almost all America +stood ranked on the other side, I say again that it affects me as a +sublime spectacle. +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +"If he had had any journal advocating his cause, any organ monotonously +and wearisomely playing the same old tune and then passing around the +hat, it would have been fatal to his efficiency. If he had acted in +such a way as to be let alone by the Government, he might have been +suspected. It was the fact that the tyrant must give place to him, or +he to the tyrant, that distinguished him from all the reformers of the +day that I know. +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +"This event advertises me that there is such a fact as death, the +possibility of a man's dying. It seems as if no man had ever died in +America before. If this man's acts and words do not create a revival, +it will be the severest possible satire on words and acts that do. +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +"It is the best news that America has ever heard. It has already +quickened the feeble pulse of the North, and infused more generous +blood in her veins than any number of years of what is called political +and commercial prosperity. How many a man who was lately contemplating +suicide has now something to live for! +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +"I am here to plead his cause with you. I plead not for his life, but +for his character, his immortal life, and so it becomes your cause +wholly, and it is not his in the least. +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +"Some eighteen hundred years ago Christ was crucified; this morning, +perchance, Captain Brown was hung. These are the two ends of the chain +which is not without its links. He is not Old Brown any longer; he is +an angel of light. I see now that it was necessary that the bravest +and humanest man in all the country should be hung. Perhaps he saw it +himself. I almost fear that I may yet hear of his deliverance, +doubting if a prolonged life, if any life, can do as much good as his +death. +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +"'Misguided! Garrulous! Insane! Vindictive!' So you write in your +easy chairs, and thus he, wounded, responds from the floor of the +Armory—clear as a cloudless sky, true as the voice of Nature is! 'No +man sent me here. It was my own promptings and that of my Maker. I +acknowledge no master in human form.' +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +"And in what a sweet and noble strain he proceeds, addressing his +captors, who stand over him. +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +"'I think, my friends, you are guilty of a great wrong against God and +humanity, and it would be perfectly right for any one to interfere with +you so far as to free those you willfully and wickedly hold in bondage. +I have yet to learn that God is any respecter of persons. +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +"'I pity the poor in bondage, who have none to help them; that is why I +am here, not to gratify personal animosity, revenge, or vindictive +spirit. It is my sympathy with the oppressed and the wronged that are +as good as you are, and as precious in the sight of God. +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +"'I wish to say, furthermore, that you had better, all of you people at +the South, prepare yourselves for a settlement of that question, that +must come up for settlement sooner than you are prepared for it. The +sooner you are prepared the better. You may dispose of me now very +easily—I am nearly disposed of already,—but this question is still to +be settled, this negro question, I mean; the end of that is not yet.'" +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +"I foresee the time," said Thoreau, "when the painter will paint that +scene, no longer going to Rome for his subject. The poet will sing it; +the historian record it; and, with the Landing of the Pilgrims and the +Declaration of Independence, it will be the ornament of some future +national gallery, when at least the present form of slavery shall be no +more here. We shall then be at liberty to weep for Captain Brown. +Then, and not till then, we will take our revenge." +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +A few years ago, while on a tramp through the North Woods, I came out +through the forests of North Elba, to the old "John Brown Farm." Here +John Brown lived for many years, and here he tried to establish a +colony of freed slaves in the pure air of the mountains. Here, too, +his family remained through the stirring times when he took part in the +bloody struggles that made and kept Kansas free. +</P> + +<P> +The little old brown farmhouse stands on the edge of the great woods, a +few miles to the north of the highest peaks of the Adirondacks. There +is nothing unusual about the house. You will find a dozen such in a +few hours' walk almost anywhere in the mountain parts of New England or +New York. It stands on a little hill, "in a sightly place," as they +say in that region, with no shelter of trees around it. +</P> + +<A NAME="img-199"></A> +<CENTER> +<IMG SRC="images/img-199.jpg" ALT="The John Brown Homestead, North Elba, N.Y." BORDER="2" WIDTH="555" HEIGHT="354"> +<H4> +[Illustration: The John Brown Homestead, North Elba, N.Y.] +</H4> +</CENTER> + +<P> +At the foot of the hill in a broad curve flows the River Au Sable, +small and clear and cold, and full of trout. It is not far above that +the stream takes its rise in the dark Indian Pass, the only place in +these mountains where the ice of winter lasts all summer long. The +same ice on the one side sends forth the Au Sable, and on the other +feeds the fountain head of the infant Hudson River. +</P> + +<P> +In the little dooryard in front of the farmhouse is the historic spot +where John Brown's body still lies moldering. There is not even a +grave of his own. His bones lie with those of his father, and the +short record of his life and death is crowded on the foot of his +father's tombstone. Near by, in the little yard, lies a huge, +wandering boulder, torn off years ago by the glaciers from the granite +hills that hem in Indian Pass. The boulder is ten feet or more in +diameter, large enough to make the farmhouse behind it seem small in +comparison. On its upper surface, in letters two feet long, which can +be read plainly for a mile away, is cut the simple name— +<BR><BR> + JOHN BROWN.<BR> +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +This is John Brown's grave, and the place, the boulder; and the +inscription are alike fitting to the man he was. +</P> + +<A NAME="img-203"></A> +<CENTER> +<IMG SRC="images/img-203.jpg" ALT="John Brown's Grave." BORDER="2" WIDTH="555" HEIGHT="347"> +<H4> +[Illustration: John Brown's Grave.] +</H4> +</CENTER> + +<P> +Dust to dust; ashes to ashes; granite to granite; the last of the +Puritans! +</P> + +<BR> +<BR> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +[1] Address before the California State Normal School, at San José, +1892. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap06"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +A KNIGHT OF THE ORDER OF POETS.[1] +</H3> + + +<P CLASS="letter"> +"In London I saw two pictures. One was of a woman. You would not +mistake it for any of the Greek goddesses. It had a splendor and +majesty such as Phidias might have given to a woman Jupiter. But not +terrible. The culmination of the awful beauty was in an expression of +matchless compassion. If there had been other figures, they must have +been suffering humanity at her feet. +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +"The other was also of a woman. Whose face it is hard to say. Not the +Furies, not Lady Macbeth, not Catherine de Medici, not Phillip the +Second, not Nero, not any face you have ever seen, but a gathering up +from all the faces you have seen—the greatness, the splendor, the +savagery, the greed, the pride, the hate, the mercilessness, into one +colossal, terrifyingly Satanic woman-face. The first was clothed in a +simple, soft, white robe; the other in a befitting tragic splendor, +mostly blood-red. I looked from one to the other. What immeasurable +distance between them! What single point have they in common? But as +I look back and forth I seem to see a certain formal similarity. It +grows upon me. I am incredulous. I am appalled. Then one touches me +and whispers: 'They are the same. It is the Church.' In London I saw +this—in the air."—WILLIAM LOWE BRYAN. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +Four centuries ago began the great struggle for freedom of thought +which has made our modern civilization possible. I wish here to give +something of the story of a man who in his day was not the least in +this conflict—a man who dared to think and act for himself when +thought and act were costly—Ulrich von Hutten. +</P> + +<P> +Near Frankfort-on-the-Main, on a sharp pinnacle of rock above the +little railway station of Vollmerz, may still be found the scanty ruins +of an old castle which played a brave part in German history before it +was destroyed in the Thirty Years War. +</P> + +<P> +In this castle of Steckelberg, in the year 1488, was born Ulrich von +Hutten. He was the last of a long line of Huttens of Steckelberg, +strong men who knew not fear, who had fought for the Emperor in all +lands whither the imperial eagle had flown, and who, when the empire +was at peace, had fought right merrily with their neighbors on all +sides. Robber-knights they were, no doubt, some or all of them; but in +those days all was fair in love and in war. And this line of warriors +centered in Ulrich von Hutten, and with him it ended. "The wild +kindred has gone out with this its greatest." +</P> + +<P> +Ulrich was the eldest son, and bore his father's name. But he was not +the son his father had dreamed of. Slender of figure, short of +stature, and weak of limb, Ulrich seemed unworthy of his burly +ancestry. The horse, the sword, and the lute were not for him. He +tried hard to master them and to succeed in all things worthy of a +knight. But he was strong only with his books. At last to his books +his father consigned him, and, sorely disappointed, he sent Ulrich to +the monastery of Fulda to be made a priest. +</P> + +<P> +A wise man, Eitelwolf von Stein, became his friend, and pointed out to +him a life braver than that of a priest, more noble than that of a +knight, the life of a scholar. To Hutten's father Eitelwolf wrote: +"Would you bury a genius like that in the cloister? He must be a man +of letters." But the father had decided once for all. Ulrich must +never return to Steckelberg unless he came back as a priest. And the +son took his fate in his own hands, and fled from Fulda, to make his +way as a scholar in a world in which scholarship received scanty +recognition. +</P> + +<P> +At the same time another young man whose history was to be interwoven +with his own, Martin Luther, fled from the wickedness and deceit of +this same world to the solitude of the monastery of Erfurth. By very +different paths they came at last to work in the same cause, and their +modes of action were not less different. +</P> + +<P> +To the University of Cologne Hutten went, and with the students of that +day he was trained in the mysteries of scholasticism, and in the Latin +of the schoolmen and the priests. Wonderful problems they pondered +over, and they used to write long arguments in Latin for or against +propositions which came nowhere within the domain of fact. That +scholarship stood related to reality, and that it must find its end and +justification in action was no part of the philosophy of those times. +</P> + +<P> +But Hutten and his friends cared little for scholastic puzzles and they +gave themselves to the study of the beauties of Latin poetry and to the +newly opened mine of the literature of Greece. They delighted in +Virgil and Lucian, and still more in Homer and Aeschylus. +</P> + +<P> +The Turks had conquered Constantinople, and the fall of the Greek +Empire had driven many learned Greeks to the West of Europe. There +some of the scholars received them with open arms, and eagerly learned +from them to read Homer and Aristotle in the original tongue, and the +New Testament also. Those who followed these studies came to be known +as Humanists. But most of the universities and the monasteries in +Germany looked upon this revival of Greek culture as pernicious and +antichristian. Poetry they despised. The Latin Vulgate met their +religious needs, and Greek was only another name for Paganism. The +party name of Obscurantists ("Dunkelmänner") was given to these, and +this name has remained with them on the records of history. +</P> + +<P> +In the letters of one of Hutten's comrades we find this confession of +faith, which is interesting as expressing the feelings of young men of +that time: "There is but one God, but he has many forms, and many +names—Jupiter, Sol, Apollo, Moses, Christ, Luna, Ceres, Proserpine, +Tellus, Mary. But be careful how you say that. One must disclose +these things in secret, like Eleusinian mysteries. In matters of +religion, you must use the cover of fables and riddles. You, with +Jupiter's grace (that is, the grace of the best and greatest god), can +despise the lesser gods in silence. When I say Jupiter, I mean Christ +and the true God. The coat and the beard and the bones of Christ I +worship not. I worship the living God, who wears no coat nor beard, +and left no bones upon the earth." +</P> + +<P> +Hutten wished to know the world, not from books only, but to see all +cities and lands; to measure himself with other men; to rise above +those less worthy. The danger of such a course seemed to him only the +greater attraction. Content to him was laziness; love of home but a +dog's delight in a warm fire. "I live," he said, "in no place rather +than another; my home is everywhere." +</P> + +<P> +So he tramped through Germany to the northward, and had but a sorry +time. In his own mind he was a scholar, a poet, a knight of the +noblest blood of Germany; to others he was a little sickly and forlorn +vagrant. Never strong of body, he was stricken by a miserable disease +which filled his life with a succession of attacks of fever. He was +ship-wrecked on the Baltic Sea, sick and forlorn in Pomerania, and at +last he was received in charity in the house of Henning Lötz, professor +of law at Greifeswald. +</P> + +<P> +This action has given Lötz's name immortality, for it is associated +with the first of those fiery poems of Hutten which, in their way, are +unique in literature. For Hutten was restless and proud, and was not +to be content with bread and butter and a new suit of clothes. This +independence was displeasing to the professor, who finally, in utter +disgust, turned Hutten out of doors in midwinter. When the boy had +tramped a while in storm and slush, two servants of Lötz overtook him +on the road and robbed him of his money and clothing. In a wretched +plight he reached a little inn in Rostock, in Mecklenberg. Here the +professors in the university received him kindly, and made provision +for his needs. Then he let loose the fury of his youthful anger on +Lötz. As ever, his poetic genius rose with his wrath, and the more +angry he became the greater was he as a poet. +</P> + +<P> +Two volumes he published, ringing the changes of his contempt and +hatred of Lötz, at the same time praising the virtues of those who had +found in him a kindred spirit. A "knight of the order of poets," he +styles himself, and to all Humanists, to the "fellow-feeling among free +spirits" ("<I>Gemeingeist unter freien Geistern</I>") he appeals for +sympathy in his struggle with Lötz. +</P> + +<P> +He had, indeed, not found a foeman worthy of his steel, but he had +shown what a finely tempered blade he bore. Foemen enough he found in +later times, and his steel had need of all its sharpness and temper. +And it never failed him to the last. +</P> + +<P> +Meanwhile he wandered to Vienna, giving lectures there on the art of +poetry. But poetry was abhorred by the schoolmen everywhere, and the +students of the university were forbidden to attend his lectures. He +then went to Italy. When he reached Pavia, he found the city in the +midst of a siege, surrounded by a hostile French army. He fell ill of +a fever, and giving himself up for dead, he composed the famous epitaph +for himself, of which I give a rough translation: +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Here, also be it said, a life of ill-fortune is ended;<BR> + By evil pursued on the water; beset by wrong upon land.<BR> +Here lie Hutten's bones; he, who had done nothing wrongful,<BR> + Was wickedly robbed of his life by the sword in a Frenchman's hand.<BR> +By Fate, decided that he should see unlucky days only;<BR> + Decided that even these days could never be many or long;<BR> +Hemmed in by danger and death, he forsook not serving the muses,<BR> + And as well as he could, he rendered this service in song.<BR> +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +The Frenchman's sword did not rob him of his life. The Frenchman's +hand took only his money, which was not much, and again sent him +adrift. He now set his pen to writing epigrams on the Emperor, wherein +Maximilian was compared to the eagle which should devour the frogs in +the swamps of Venice. Meanwhile he enlisted as a common soldier in +Maximilian's army. +</P> + +<P> +In Italy, the abuses of the Papacy attracted his attention. Officials +of the Church were then engaged in extending the demand for +indulgences. The sale of pardons "straight from Rome, all hot," was +becoming a scandal in Christendom. All this roused the wrath of +Hutten, who attacked the Pope himself in his songs: +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"Heaven now stands for a price to be peddled and sold,<BR> +But what new folly is this, as though the fiat of Heaven<BR> +Needed an earthly witness, an earthly warrant and seal!"<BR> +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +More prosperous times followed, and we find Hutten honored as a poet, +living in the court of the Archbishop of Mainz. At this time a cousin, +Hans Hutten, a young man of great courage and promise, was a knight in +the service of Ulrich, Duke of Wurtemberg. He was a favorite of the +Duke, and he and his young wife were the life of the Würtemburg court. +And Duke Ulrich once came to Hans and threw himself at his feet, +begging that this wife, whom he loved, should be given over wholly to +him. Hans Hutten answered the Duke like a man, and the Duke arose with +murder in his heart. Afterward, when they were hunting in a wood, he +stabbed Hans Hutten in the back with his sword. +</P> + +<P> +All this came to the ear of Ulrich Hutten in Mainz. Love for his +cousin, love for his name and family, love for freedom and truth, all +urged him to avenge the murdered Hans. The wrongs the boy had suffered +from the coarse-hearted Professor Lötz became as nothing beside this +great crime against the Huttens and against manhood. +</P> + +<P> +In all the history of invective, I know of nothing so fierce as +Hutten's appeal against Duke Ulrich In five different pamphlets his +crime was described to the German people, and all good men, from the +Emperor down, were called on to help him in his struggle against the +Duke of Würtemberg. +</P> + +<P> +"I envy you your fame, you murderer," he wrote. "A year will be named +for you, and there shall be a day set off for you. Future generations +shall read, for those who are born this year, that they were born in +the year stained by the ineffaceable shame of Germany. You will come +into the calendar, scoundrel. You will enrich history. Your deed is +immortal, and you will be remembered in all future time. You have had +your ambition, and you shall never be forgotten." +</P> + +<P> +This struggle lasted long. Finally, after many appeals, the German +nobles rose in arms and besieged Stuttgart, and Duke Ulrich was driven +from the land he had disgraced. +</P> + +<A NAME="img-217"></A> +<CENTER> +<IMG SRC="images/img-217.jpg" ALT="Ulrich von Hutten." BORDER="2" WIDTH="369" HEIGHT="525"> +<H4> +[Illustration: Ulrich von Hutten.] +</H4> +</CENTER> + +<P> +Again Hutten visited Italy, this time by a partial reconciliation with +his father, who would overlook his failure to become a priest if he +would study law at Rome. At about this time Luther visited Rome. He +came, at first, in a spirit of reverence; but, at last, he wrote: +"<I>Wenn es gibt eine Hölle, Roma ist darauf gebant</I>." ("If there is a +hell, Rome is built on it.") +</P> + +<P> +The impression on Hutten was scarcely less vivid. Little by little he +began to see in the Pope of Rome a criminal greater that Professor +Lötz, greater than Duke Ulrich, one who could devour not one cousin +only, but the whole German people and nation. "For three hundred +years," said he, "the Pope and the schoolmen have been covering the +teachings of Christ with a mass of superstitious ceremonies and wicked +books." These feelings were poured out in an appeal to the German +rulers to shake off the yoke, and no longer send their money to "Simon +of Rome." +</P> + +<P> +Hutten's friends tried to quiet him. He was a man not of free thought +only, but of free speech, and knew no concealment. Milder men in those +times, as later Melancthon and Erasmus, were full of admiration of +Hutten, and valued his skill and force. But they were afraid of him, +and fearful always that the best of causes should be wrecked in his +hands. +</P> + +<P> +At this time, at the age of twenty-five, Hutten is described as a +small, thin man, of homely features, with blonde hair and black beard. +His pale face wore a severe, almost wild, expression. His speech was +sharp, often terrible. Yet with those whom he loved and respected his +voice had a frank and winning charm. He had but few friends, but they +were fast ones. His personal character, so far as records go, was +singularly pure, and not often in his writings does he strike a coarse +or unclean note. +</P> + +<P> +In these days, the two most learned men in Germany were Erasmus and +Reuchlin. They were leaders of the Humanists, skilled in Greek, and +even in the Hebrew tongue, and were called by Hutten "the two eyes of +Germany." A Jew named Pfefferkorn, who had become converted to +Christianity, was filled with an unholy zeal against his fellow-Jews +who had not been converted. Among other things, he asked an edict from +the Emperor that all Jewish books in Germany should be destroyed. +Reuchlin was a Hebrew scholar. He had written a Hebrew grammar, and +was learned in the Old Testament, as well as in the Talmud, and other +deposits of the ancient lore of the rabbis. The Emperor referred +Pfefferkorn's request to Reuchlin for his opinion. Reuchlin decided +that there was no valid reason for the destruction of any of the +ancient Jewish writings, and only of such modern ones as might be +decided by competent scholars to be hostile to Christianity. +</P> + +<P> +This enraged Pfefferkorn and his Obscurantist associates. Pamphlets +were written denouncing Reuchlin, and these were duly answered. A +general war of words between the Humanists and Obscurantists began, +which, in time, came before the Pope and the Emperor. Reuchlin was +regarded in those days as a man of unusual calmness and dignity. Next +to Erasmus, he was the most learned scholar in Europe. He would never +condescend in his controversies to the coarse terms used by his +adversaries. We may learn something of the temper of the times by +observing that, in a single pamphlet, as quoted by Strauss, the +epithets that the dignified Reuchlin applies to Pfefferkorn are: "A +poisonous beast," "a scarecrow," "a horror," "a mad dog," "a horse," "a +mule," "a hog," "a fox," "a raging wolf," "a Syrian lion," "a +Cerberus," "a fury of hell." In this matter Reuchlin was finally +triumphant. This triumph was loudly celebrated by his friend Hutten in +another poem, in which the Obscurantists were mercilessly attacked. +</P> + +<P> +We have seen with Hutten's growth a gradual increase in the importance +of those to whom he declared himself an enemy. He began as a boy with +the obscure Professor Lötz. He ended with the Pope of Rome. +</P> + +<P> +At this time Reuchlin published a volume called "<I>Epistolae Clarorum +Virorum</I>" ("letters of illustrious men"). It was made up of letters +written by the various learned men of Europe to Reuchlin, in sympathy +with him in his struggle. The title of this work gave the keynote to a +series of letters called "<I>Epistolae Obscurorum Virorum</I>" ("letters of +obscure men")—that is, of Obscurantists. +</P> + +<P> +These letters, written by different persons, but largely by Hutten, are +the most remarkable of all satires of that time. +</P> + +<P> +They are a series of imaginary epistles, supposed to be addressed by +various Obscurantists to a poet named Ortuinus. They are written with +consummate skill, in the degenerate Latin used by the priests in those +days, and they are made to exhibit all the secret meanness, ignorance, +and perversity of their supposed writers. +</P> + +<P> +The first of these epistles of the "obscure men" were eagerly read: by +their supposed associates, the Obscurantists. Here were men who felt +as they felt, and who were not afraid to speak. The mendicant friars +in England had a day of rejoicing, and a Dominican friar in Flanders +bought all the copies of the letters he could find to present to his +bishop. +</P> + +<P> +But in time even the dullest began to feel the severity of the satire. +The last of these letters formed the most telling blows ever dealt at +the schoolmen by the men of learning. In one of the earlier letters we +find this question, which may serve as a type of many others: +</P> + +<P> +A man ate an egg in which a chicken was just beginning to form, +ignorant of that fact, and forgetting that it was Friday. A friend +consoles him by saying that a chicken in that stage counts for no more +than worms in cheese or in cherries, and these can be eaten even in +fasting-time. But the writer is not satisfied. Worms, he had been +told by a physician, who was also a great naturalist, are reckoned as +fishes, which one can eat on fast-days. But with all this, he fears +that a young chicken may be really forbidden food, and he asks the help +of the poet Ortuinus to a righteous decision. +</P> + +<P> +Another person writes to Ortuinus: "There is a new book much talked of +here, and, as you are a poet, you can do us a good service by telling +us of it. A notary told me that this book is the wellspring of poetry, +and that its author, one Homer, is the father of all poets. And he +said there is another Homer in Greek. I said, 'What is the use of the +Greek? the Latin is much better.' And I asked, 'What is contained in +the book?' And he said it treats of certain people who are called +Greeks, who carried on a war with some others called Trojans. And +these Trojans had a great city, and those Greeks besieged it and stayed +there ten years. And the Trojans came out and fought them till the +whole plain was covered with blood and quite red. And they heard the +noise in heaven, and one of them threw a stone which twelve men could +not lift, and a horse began to talk and utter prophecies. But I can't +believe that, because it seems impossible, and the book seems to me not +to be authentic. I pray you give me your opinion." +</P> + +<P> +Another relates the story of his visit to Reuchlin: +</P> + +<P> +"When I came into his house, Reuchlin said, 'Welcome, bachelor; seat +yourself.' And he had a pair of spectacles ('<I>unum Brillum</I>') on his +nose, and a book before him curiously written, and I saw at once that +it was neither in German nor Bohemian, nor yet in Latin. And I said to +him, 'Respected Doctor, what do they call that book?' He answered, 'It +is called the Greek Plutarch, and it treats of philosophy.' And I +said, 'Read some of it, for it must contain wonderful things.' Then I +saw a little book, newly printed, lying on the floor, and I said to +him, 'Respected Doctor, what lies there?' He answered, 'It is a +controversial book, which a friend in Cologne sent me lately. It is +written against me. The theologians in Cologne have printed it, and +they say that Johann Pfefferkorn wrote it.' And I said, 'What will you +do about it? Will you not vindicate yourself?' And he answered, +'Certainly not. I have been vindicated long ago, and can spend no time +on these follies. My eyes are too weak for me to waste their strength +on matters which are not useful.'" +</P> + +<P> +We next find Hutten high in the favor of the Emperor Maximilian, by +whose order he was crowned poet-laureate of Germany. The wreath of +laurel was woven by the fair hands of Constance Peutinger, who was +called the handsomest girl in Germany, and with great ceremony she put +this wreath on his head in the presence of the Emperor at Mainz. +</P> + +<P> +Now, for the first time, Hutten seems to have thought seriously of +marriage. He writes to a friend, Friedrich Fischer: "I am overcome +with a longing for rest, that I may give myself to art. For this, I +need a wife who shall take care of me. You know my ways. I cannot be +alone, not even by night. In vain they talk to me of the pleasures of +celibacy. To me it is loneliness and monotony. I was not born for +that. I must have a being who can lead me from sorrows—yes, even from +my graver studies; one with whom I can joke and play, and carry on +light and happy conversations, that the sharpness of sorrow may be +blunted and the heat of anger made mild. Give me a wife, dear +Friedrich, and you know what kind of one I want. She must be young, +pretty, well educated, serene, tender, patient. Money enough give her, +but not too much. For riches I do not seek; and as for blood and +birth, she is already noble to whom Hutten gives his hand." +</P> + +<P> +A young woman—Cunigunde Glauburg—was found, and she seemed to meet +all requirements. But the mother of the bride was not pleased with the +arrangement. Hutten was a "dangerous man," she said, "a +revolutionist." "I hope," said Hutten, "that when she comes to know +me, and finds in me nothing restless, nothing mutinous, my studies full +of humor and wit, that she will look more kindly on me." To a brother +of Cunigunde he writes: "Hutten has not conquered many cities, like +some of these iron-eaters, but through many lands has wandered with the +fame of his name. He has not slain his thousands, like those, but may +be none the less loved for that. He does not stalk about on yard-long +shin-bones, nor does his gigantic figure frighten travelers; but in +strength of spirit he yields to none. He does not glow with the +splendor of beauty, but he dares flatter himself that his soul is +worthy of love. He does not talk big nor swell himself with boasting, +but simply, openly, honestly acts and speaks." +</P> + +<P> +But all his wooing came to naught; another man wedded the fair +Cunigunde, and the coming storm of Romish wrath left Hutten no +opportunity to turn his attention elsewhere. +</P> + +<P> +The old Pope was now dead, and one of the famous family of Medici, in +Florence, had succeeded him as Leo the Tenth. Leo was kindly disposed +toward the Humanist studies, and Hutten, as poet of the Humanists, +addressed to him directly a remarkable appeal, which made the +turning-point in his life, for it placed him openly among those who +resisted the Pope. +</P> + +<P> +Recounting to the new Pope Leo all the usurpations which in his +judgment had been made, one by one, by his predecessors—all the +robberies, impositions, and abuses of the Papacy, from the time of +Constantine down—he appeals to Leo, as a wise man and a scholar, to +restore stolen power and property, to correct all abuses, to abandon +all temporal power, and become once more the simple Bishop of Rome. +"For there can never be peace between the robber and the robbed till +the stolen goods are returned." +</P> + +<P> +Now, for the first time, the work of Luther came to Hutten's attention. +The disturbances at Wittenberg were in the beginning treated by all as +a mere squabble of the monks. To Leo the Tenth this discussion had no +further interest than this: "Brother Martin," being a scholar, was most +probably right. To Hutten, who cared nothing for doctrinal points, it +had no significance; the more monkish strifes the better—"the sooner +would the enemies eat each other up." +</P> + +<P> +But now Hutten came to recognize in Luther the apostle of freedom of +thought, and in that struggle of the Reformation he found a nobler +cause than that of the Humanists—in Luther a greater than Reuchlin. +And Hutten never did things by halves. He entered into the warfare +heart and soul. In 1520 he published his "Roman Trinity," his gage of +battle against Rome. +</P> + +<P> +He now, like Luther, began to draw his inspiration, as well as his +language, not from the classics, but from the New Testament. A new +motto he took for himself, one which was henceforth ever on his lips, +and which appears again and again in his later writings: "<I>Jacta est +alea</I>" ("the die is cast"); or, in the stronger German, in which he +more often gave it, "<I>Ich hab's gewagt</I>" ("I have dared it"). +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"Auf dasz ichs nit anheb umsunst<BR> +Wolauf, wir haben Gottes Gunst;<BR> +Wer wollt in solchem bleiben dheim?<BR> +Ich hab's gewagt! das ist mein Reim!"<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"Der niemand grössern Schaden bringt,<BR> +Dann mir als noch die Sach gelingt<BR> +Dahin mich Gott und Wahrheit bringt,<BR> + Ich hab's gewagt."<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"So breche ich hindurch, durch breche ich, oder ich falle,<BR> +Kämpfend, nach dem ich einmal geworfen das Loos!"<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +(So break I through the ranks else I die fighting--<BR> +Fighting, since once and forever the die I have cast!)<BR> +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +In this motto we have the keynote to his fiery and earnest nature. +Convinced that a cause was right, he knew no bounds of caution or +policy; he feared no prison or death. "I have dared it!" +</P> + +<P> +"To all free men of Germany," he speaks. "Their tyranny will not last +forever; unless all signs deceive me, their power is soon to fail—for +already is the axe laid at the root of the tree, and that tree which +bears not good fruit will be rooted out, and the vineyard of the Lord +will be purified. That you shall not only hope, but soon see with your +eyes. Meanwhile, be of good cheer, you men of Germany. Not weak, not +untried, are your leaders in the struggle for freedom. Be not afraid, +neither weaken in the midst of the battle, for broken at last is the +strength of the enemy, for the cause is righteous, and the rage of +tyranny is already at its height. Courage, and farewell! Long live +freedom! I have dared it!" ("<I>Lebe die Freiheit; ich hab's gewagt</I>.") +</P> + +<P> +Warnings and threats innumerable came to Hutten, from enemies who +feared and hated, from friends who were fearful and trembling; but he +never flinched: He had "dared it." The bull of excommunication which +came from the Pope frightened him no more than it did Luther. But at +last he was compelled to retire from the cities, and he took up his +abode in the Castle of Ebernburg, with Franz von Sickingen. +</P> + +<P> +Franz von Sickingen was one of the great nobles of Germany, and he +ruled over a region in the bend of the Rhine between Worms and Bingen. +His was one of the bravest characters of that time. A knight of the +highest order, he became a disciple of Hutten and Luther, and on his +help was the greatest reliance placed by the friends of the growing +reform. His strong Castle of Ebernburg, on the hills above Bingen, was +the refuge of all who were persecuted by the authorities. The "Inn of +Righteousness" ("<I>Herberge von Gerechtigkeit</I>"), the Ebernburg was +called by Hutten. +</P> + +<P> +The Humanists who had stood with Hutten in the struggle between +Reuchlin and Pfefferkorn saw with growing concern the gradual transfer +of the field of battle from questions of literature to questions of +religion. Reuchlin, growing old and weak, wrote a letter, disavowing +any sympathy with the new uprisings against the time-honored authority +of the Church. This letter came into Hutten's hands, and, with all his +reverence for his old friend and master, he could not keep silence. +</P> + +<P> +"Eternal Gods!" he writes. "What do I see? Have you sunk so deep in +weakness and fear, O Reuchlin! that you cannot endure blame even for +those who have fought for you in time of danger? Through such shameful +subservience do you hope to reconcile those to whom, if you were a man, +you would never give a friendly greeting, so badly have they treated +you? Yet reconcile them; and if there is no other way, go to Rome and +kiss the feet of Leo, and then write against us. Yet you shall see +that, against your will, and against the will of all the godless +courtesans, we shall shake off the shameful yoke, and free ourselves +from slavery. I am ashamed that I have written so much for you—have +done so much for you,—since when it comes to action you have made such +a miserable exit from the ranks. From me shall you know henceforth +that whether you fight in Luther's cause or throw yourself at the feet +of the Bishop of Rome, I shall never trust you more." The poor old +man, thus harassed on all sides, found no longer any rest or comfort in +his studies. Worn-out in body, and broken in spirit, he soon died. +</P> + +<P> +The great source of Luther's hold on Germany lay in his direct appeal +to the common people. For this he translated the Bible into +German—even now the noblest version of the Bible in existence. For in +translating a work of inspiration the intuition of a man like Luther, +as Bayard Taylor has said, counts for more than the combined +scholarship of a hundred men learned in the Greek and Hebrew. "The +clear insight of one prophet is better than the average judgment of +forty-seven scribes." The German language was then struggling into +existence, and scholars considered it beneath their notice. It was +fixed for all time by Luther's Bible. Luther often spent a week on a +single verse to find and fix the idiomatic German. "It is easy to plow +when the field is cleared," he said. "We must not ask the letters of +the Latin alphabet how to speak German, but the mother in the kitchen +and the plowman in the field, that they may know that the Bible is +speaking German, and speaking to them. Out of the abundance of the +heart the mouth speaketh. No German peasant would understand that. We +must make it plain to him. '<I>Wess das Herz voll ist, dess geht der +Mund über</I>.' ('Whose heart is full, his mouth runs over.')" +</P> + +<P> +The same influence acted on Hutten. All his previous writings were in +Latin, and were directed to scholars only. Henceforth he wrote the +language of the Fatherland, and his appeals to the people were in +language which the people could and did read. No Reformation ever came +while only the learned and the noble were in the secret of it. +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"Latein, ich vor geschrieben hab<BR> +Das war ein jeden nicht bekannt;<BR> +Jetzt schrei ich an das Vaterland,<BR> +Teutsch Nation in ihrer Sprach<BR> +Zu bringen diesen Dingen Rach."<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +("For Latin wrote I hitherto,<BR> +Which common people did not know.<BR> +Now cry I to the Fatherland,<BR> +The German people, in their tongue,<BR> +Redress to bring for all these wrongs.")<BR> +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +A song for the people he now wrote, the "New Song of Ulrich von +Hutten," a song which stands with Luther's "Em feste Burg" in the +history of the Reformation: +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"Ich hab's gewagt mit Sinnen,<BR> + Und trag des noch kein Reu,<BR> +Mag ich nit dran gewinnen,<BR> + Noch muss man spüren Treu.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> + "Darmit ich mein<BR> + Mit eim allein,<BR> +Wenn Man es wolt erkennen<BR> + Dem Land zu gut<BR> + Wiewol man thut<BR> +Ein Pfaffenfeind mich nennen."<BR> +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +Part of this may be freely translated— +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"With open eyes I have dared it;<BR> + And cherish no regret,<BR> +And though I fail to conquer,<BR> + The Truth is with me yet."<BR> +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +Hutten's dream in these days was of a league of nobles, cities, and +people, aided by the Emperor if possible, against the Emperor if +necessary, which should by force of arms forever free Germany from the +rule of the Pope. Luther had little faith in the power of force. +"What Hutten wishes," he wrote to a friend, "you see. But I do not +wish to strive for the Gospel with murder and violence. Through the +power of the Word is the world subdued; through the Word the Church +shall be preserved and freed. Even Antichrist shall be destroyed by +the power of the Word." +</P> + +<P> +Now came the Great Diet at Worms, whither Luther was called before the +Emperor to answer for his heretical teachings, and before which he +stood firm and undaunted, a noble figure which has been a turning-point +in history. "Here I stand. I can do nothing else. God help me." +</P> + +<P> +Hutten, on his sick-bed at Ebernburg, not far away, was full of wrath +at the trial of Luther. "Away!" he shouted, "away from the clear +fountains, ye filthy swine! Out of the sanctuary, ye accursed +peddlers! Touch no longer the altar with your desecrating hands. What +have ye to do with the alms of our fathers, which were given for the +poor and the Church, and you spend for splendor, pomp, and foolery, +while the children suffer for bread? See you not that the wind of +Freedom[2] is blowing? On two men not much depends. Know that there +are many Luthers, many Huttens here. Should either of us be destroyed, +still greater is the danger that awaits you; for then, with those +battling for freedom, the avengers of innocence will make common cause." +</P> + +<P> +I have wished, in writing this little sketch, that I could have a +novelist's privilege of bringing out my hero happily at the end. I +have hitherto had the struggles of a man living before his time to +relate; the voice of one crying in the wilderness. If this were a +romance, I might tell how, with Hutten's entreaties and Luther's +exhortations, and under the wise management of Franz von Sickingen, the +people banded together against foreign foes and foreign domination, and +German unity, German freedom, and religious liberty were forever +established in the Fatherland. But, alas! the history does not run in +that way; at least not till a hundred years of war had bathed the land +in blood. +</P> + +<P> +For Hutten henceforth I have only misery and failure to relate. The +union of knights and cities resulted in a ruinous campaign of Franz von +Sickingen against Trčves. Sickingen's army was driven back by the +Elector. His strong Castle of Landstühl was besieged by the Catholic +princes, and cannon was used in this siege for the first time in +history. The walls of Landstühl, twenty-five feet thick, were battered +down, and Sickingen himself was killed by the falling of a beam. The +war was over, and nothing worthy had been accomplished. +</P> + +<P> +When Luther heard of the death of Sickingen, he wrote to a friend: +"Yesterday I heard and read of Franz von Sickingen's true and sad +history. God is a righteous but marvelous Judge. Sickingen's fall +seems to me a verdict of the Lord, that strengthens me in the belief +that the force of arms is to be kept far from matters of the Gospel." +</P> + +<P> +Hutten was driven from the Ebernburg. He was offered a high place in +the service of the King of France; but, as a true German, he refused +it, and fled, penniless and sick, to Basle, in Switzerland. +</P> + +<P> +Here the great Humanist, Erasmus, reigned supreme. Erasmus disavowed +all sympathy with his former friend and fellow-student. He called +Hutten a dangerous and turbulent man, and warned the Swiss against him. +Erasmus had noticed, with horror, in those who had studied Greek, that +the influence of Lutheranism was fatal to learning; that zeal for +philology decreased as zeal for religion increased. Already Erasmus, +like Reuchlin, was ranged on the side of the Pope. So, in letters and +pamphlets, Erasmus attacked Hutten; and the poet was not slow in giving +as good as he received. And this war between the Humanist and the +Reformer gave great joy to the Obscurantists, who feared and hated them +both. +</P> + +<P> +"Humanism," says Strauss, "was broad-minded but faint-hearted, and in +none is this better seen than in Erasmus. Luther was a narrower man, +but his unvarying purpose, never looking to left nor right, was his +strength. Humanism is the broad mirror-like Rhine at Bingen. It must +grow narrower and wilder before it can break through the mountains to +the sea." +</P> + +<P> +Repulsed by Erasmus at Basle, Hutten fled to Mülhausen. Attacked by +assassins there, he left at midnight for Zürich, where he put himself +under the protection of Ulrich Zwingli. In Zwingli, the purest, +loftiest, and clearest of insight of all of the leaders of the +Reformation, Hutten found a congenial spirit. His health was now +utterly broken. To the famous Baths of Pfaffers he went, in hope of +release from pain. But the modern bath-houses of Ragatz were not built +in those days, and the daily descent by a rope from above into the dark +and dismal chasm was too much for his feeble strength. Then Zwingli +sent him to a kindly friend, the Pastor Hans Schnegg, who lived on the +little Island of Ufnau, in the Lake of Zürich. And here at Ufnau, worn +out by his long, double conflict with the Pope and with disease, Ulrich +von Hutten died in 1523, at the age of thirty-five. "He left behind +him," wrote Zwingli, "nothing of worth. Books he had none; no money, +and no property of any sort, except a pen." +</P> + +<A NAME="img-239"></A> +<CENTER> +<IMG SRC="images/img-239.jpg" ALT="Ulrich Zwingli." BORDER="2" WIDTH="379" HEIGHT="529"> +<H4> +[Illustration: Ulrich Zwingli.] +</H4> +</CENTER> + +<BR> + +<P> +What was the value of this short and troubled life? Three hundred +years ago it was easy to answer with Erasmus and the rest—Nothing. +Hutten had denounced the Pope, and the Pope had crushed him. He had +stirred up noble men to battle for freedom, and they, too, had been +destroyed. Franz von Sickingen was dead. The league of the cities and +princes had faded away forever. Luther was hidden in the Wartburg, no +one knew where, and scarcely a trace of the Reformation was left in +Germany. Whatever Hutten had touched he had ruined. He had "dared +it," and the force he had defied had crushed him in return. +</P> + +<P> +But, looking back over these centuries, the life of Hutten rises into +higher prominence. His writings were seed in good ground. At his +death the Reformation seemed hopeless. Six years later, at the second +Diet of Spires, half Germany signed the protest which made us +Protestants. "It was Luther alone who said <I>no</I> at the Diet of Worms. +It was princes and people, cities and churches, who said <I>no</I> at the +Diet of Spires." +</P> + +<P> +Hutten's dream of a United German people freed from the yoke of Rome +was for three hundred years unrealized. For the Reformation sundered +the German people and ruined the German Empire, and not till our day +has German unity come to pass. But, as later reformers said, "It is +better that Germany should be half German, than that it should be all +Roman." +</P> + +<P> +For the true meaning of this conflict does not lie in any question of +church against church or creed against creed, nor that worship in +cathedrals with altars and incense and rich ceremony should give way to +the simpler forms of the Lutheran litany. The issue was that of the +growth of man. The "right of private interpretation" is the +recognition of personal individuality. +</P> + +<P> +The death of Hutten was, after all, not untimely. He had done his +work. His was the "voice of one crying in the wilderness." The head +of John the Baptist lay on the charger before Jesus had fulfilled his +mission. Arnold Winkelried, at Sempach, filled his body with Austrian +spears before the Austrian phalanx was broken. John Brown fell at +Harper's Ferry before a blow was struck against slavery. Ulrich von +Hutten had set every man, woman, and child in Germany to thinking of +his relations to the Lord and to the Pope. His mission was completed; +and longer life for him, as Strauss has suggested, might have led to +discord among the Reformers themselves. +</P> + +<P> +For this lover of freedom was intolerant of intolerance. For fine +points of doctrine he had only contempt. When the Lutherans began to +treat as enemies all Reformers who did not with them subscribe to the +Confession of Augsburg, Hutten's fiery pen would have repudiated this +confession. For he fought for freedom of the spirit, not for the +Lutheran confession. +</P> + +<P> +Had he remained in Switzerland, he would have been still less in +harmony with the prevailing conditions. Not long after, Zwingli was +slain in the wretched battle of Kappel, and, after him, the Swiss +Reformation passed under the control of John Calvin. There can be no +doubt that the stern pietist of Geneva would have burned Ulrich von +Hutten with as calm a conscience as he did Michael Servetus. +</P> + +<P> +The idea of a united and uniform Church, whether Catholic, Lutheran, or +Calvinist, had little attraction for Hutten. He was one of the first +to realize that religion is individual, not collective. It is +concerned with life, not with creeds or ceremonies. In the high sense, +no man can follow or share the religion of another. His religion, +whatever it may be, is his own. It is built up from his own thoughts +and prayers and actions. It is the expression of his own ideals. Only +forms can be transferred unchanged from man to man, from generation to +generation; never realities. For whatever is real to a man becomes +part of him and partakes of his growth, and is modified by his +personality. +</P> + +<P> +Hutten was buried where he died, on the little island of Ufnau, in the +Lake of Zürich, at the foot of the mighty Alps. And some of his old +associates put over his grave a commemorative stone. Afterwards, the +monks of the abbey of Einsiedein, in Schwytz came to the island and +removed the stone, and obliterated all traces of the grave. +</P> + +<P> +It was well that they did so; for now the whole green island of Ufnau +is his alone, and it is his worthy sepulcher. +</P> + +<BR> +<BR> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +[1] For many of the details of the life of Hutten, and for most of the +quotations from Hutten's writings given in this paper, the writer is +indebted to the excellent memoir by David Friedrich Strauss, entitled +"Ulrich von Hutten." (Fourth Edition: Bonn, 1878.) No attempt has been +made to give here an account of Hutten's writings, only a few of the +more noteworthy being mentioned. +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +[2] "Sehet ihr nicht dasz die Luft der Freiheit weht?" +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap07"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +NATURE-STUDY AND MORAL CULTURE.[1] +</H3> + + +<P> +In pleading for nature-study as a means of moral culture, I do not wish +to make an overstatement, nor to claim for such study any occult or +exclusive power. It is not for us to say, so much nature in the +schools, so much virtue in the scholars. The character of the teacher +is a factor which must always be counted in. But the best teacher is +the one that comes nearest to nature, the one who is most effective in +developing individual wisdom. +</P> + +<P> +To seek knowledge is better than to have knowledge. Precepts of virtue +are useless unless they are built into life. At birth, or before, "the +gate of gifts is closed." It is the art of life, out of variant and +contradictory materials passed down to us from our ancestors, to build +up a coherent and effective individual character. +</P> + +<P> +The essence of character-building lies in action. The chief value of +nature-study in character-building is that, like life itself, it deals +with realities. The experience of living is of itself a form of +nature-study. One must in life make his own observations, frame his +own inductions, and apply them in action as he goes along. The habit +of finding out the best thing to do next, and then doing it, is the +basis of character. A strong character is built up by doing, not by +imitation, nor by feeling, nor by suggestion. Nature-study, if it be +genuine, is essentially doing. This is the basis of its effectiveness +as a moral agent. To deal with truth is necessary, if we are to know +truth when we see it in action. To know truth precedes all sound +morality. There is a great impulse to virtue in knowing something +well. To know it well, is to come into direct contact with its facts +or laws, to feel that its qualities and forces are inevitable. To do +this is the essence of nature-study in all its forms. +</P> + +<P> +The claim has been made that history treats of the actions of men, and +that it therefore gives the student the basis of right conduct. But +neither of these propositions is true. History treats of the records +of the acts of men and nations. But it does not involve the action of +the student himself. The men and women who act in history are not the +boys and girls we are training. Their lives are developed through +their own efforts, not by contemplation of the efforts of others. They +work out their problem of action more surely by dissecting frogs or +hatching butterflies than by what we tell them of Lycurgus or Joan of +Arc. Their reason for virtuous action must lie in their own knowledge +of what is right, not in the fact that Lincoln, or Washington, or +William Tell, or some other half-mythical personage would have done so +and so under like conditions. +</P> + +<P> +The rocks and shells, the frogs and lilies always tell the absolute +truth. Association with these, under right direction, will build up a +habit of truthfulness, which the lying story of the cherry-tree is +powerless to effect. If history is to be made an agency for moral +training, it must become a nature-study. It must be the study of +original documents. When it is pursued in this way it has the value of +other nature-studies. But it is carried on under great limitations. +Its manuscripts are scarce, while every leaf on the tree is an original +document in botany. When a thousand are used, or used up, the archives +of nature are just as full as ever. +</P> + +<P> +From the intimate affinity with the problems of life, the problems of +nature-study derive a large part of their value. Because life deals +with realities, the visible agents of the overmastering fates, it is +well that our children should study the real, rather than the +conventional. Let them come in contact with the inevitable, instead of +the "made-up," with laws and forces which can be traced in objects and +forms actually before them, rather than with those which seem arbitrary +or which remain inscrutable. To use concrete illustrations, there is a +greater moral value in the study of magnets than in the distinction +between <I>shall</I> and <I>will</I>, in the study of birds or rocks than in that +of diacritical marks or postage-stamps, in the development of a frog +than in the longer or the shorter catechism, in the study of things +than in the study of abstractions. There is doubtless a law underlying +abstractions and conventionalities, a law of catechisms, or +postage-stamps, or grammatical solecisms, but it does not appear to the +student. Its consideration does not strengthen his impression of +inevitable truth. There is the greatest moral value, as well as +intellectual value, in the independence that comes from knowing, and +knowing that one knows and why he knows. This gives spinal column to +character, which is not found in the flabby goodness of imitation or +the hysteric virtue of suggestion. Knowing what is right, and why it +is right, before doing it is the basis of greatness of character. +</P> + +<P> +The nervous system of the animal or the man is essentially a device to +make action effective and to keep it safe. The animal is a machine in +action. Toward the end of motion all other mental processes tend. All +functions of the brain, all forms of nerve impulse are modifications of +the simple reflex action, the automatic transfer of sensations derived +from external objects into movements of the body. +</P> + +<P> +The sensory nerves furnish the animal or man all knowledge of the +external world. The brain, sitting in absolute darkness, judges these +sensations, and sends out corresponding impulses to action. The +sensory nerves are the brain's sole teachers; the motor nerves, and +through them the muscles, are the brain's only servants. The untrained +brain learns its lessons poorly, and its commands are vacillating and +ineffective. In like manner, the brain which has been misued +[Transcriber's note: misused?], shows its defects in ill-chosen +actions—the actions against which Nature protests through her scourge +of misery. In this fact, that nerve alteration means ineffective +action, lying brain, and lying nerves, rests the great argument for +temperance, the great argument against all forms of nerve tampering, +from the coffee habit to the cataleptic "revival of religion." +</P> + +<P> +The senses are intensely practical in their relation to life. The +processes of natural selection make and keep them so. Only those +phases of reality which our ancestors could render into action are +shown to us by our senses. If we can do nothing in any case, we know +nothing about it. The senses tell us essential truth about rocks and +trees, food and shelter, friends and enemies. They answer no problems +in chemistry. They tell us nothing about atom or molecule. They give +us no ultimate facts. Whatever is so small that we cannot handle it is +too small to be seen. Whatever is too distant to be reached is not +truthfully reported. The "X-rays" of light we cannot see, because our +ancestors could not deal with them. The sun and stars, the clouds and +the sky are not at all what they appear to be. The truthfulness of the +senses fails as the square of the distance increases. Were it not so, +we should be smothered by truth; we should be overwhelmed by the +multiplicity of our own sensations, and truthful response in action +would become impossible. Hyperaesthesia of any or all of the senses is +a source of confusion, not of strength. It is essentially a phase of +disease, and it shows itself in ineffectiveness, not in increased power. +</P> + +<P> +Besides the actual sensations, the so-called realities, the brain +retains also the sensations which have been, and which are not wholly +lost. Memory-pictures crowd the mind, mingling with pictures which are +brought in afresh by the senses. The force of suggestion causes the +mental states or conditions of one person to repeat themselves in +another. Abnormal conditions of the brain itself furnish another +series of feelings with which the brain must deal. Moreover, the brain +is charged with impulses to action passed on from generation to +generation, surviving because they are useful. With all these arises +the necessity for choice as a function of the mind. The mind must +neglect or suppress all sensations which it cannot weave into action. +The dog sees nothing that does not belong to its little world. The man +in search of mushrooms "tramples down oak-trees in his walks." To +select the sensations that concern us is the basis of the power of +attention. The suppression of undesired actions is a function of the +will. To find data for choice among the possible motor responses is a +function of the intellect. Intellectual persistency is the essence of +individual character. +</P> + +<P> +As the conditions of life become more complex, it becomes necessary for +action to be more carefully selected. Wisdom is the parent of virtue. +Knowing what should be done logically precedes doing it. Good impulses +and good intentions do not make action right or safe. In the long run, +action is tested not by its motives, but by its results. +</P> + +<P> +The child, when he comes into the world, has everything to learn. His +nervous system is charged with tendencies to reaction and impulses to +motion, which have their origin in survivals from ancestral experience. +Exact knowledge, by which his own actions can be made exact, must come +through his own experience. The experience of others must be expressed +in terms of his own before it becomes wisdom. Wisdom, as I have +elsewhere said, is knowing what it is best to do next. Virtue is doing +it. Doing right becomes habit, if it is pursued long enough. It +becomes a "second nature," or, we may say, a higher heredity. The +formation of a higher heredity of wisdom and virtue, of knowing right +and doing right, is the basis of character-building. +</P> + +<P> +The moral character is based on knowing the best, choosing the best, +and doing the best. It cannot be built up on imitation. By imitation, +suggestion, and conventionality the masses are formed and controlled. +To build up a man is a nobler process, demanding materials and methods +of a higher order. The growth of man is the assertion of +individuality. Only robust men can make history. Others may adorn it, +disfigure it, or vulgarize it. +</P> + +<P> +The first relation of the child to external things is expressed in +this: What can I do with it? What is its relation to me? The +sensation goes over into thought, the thought into action. Thus the +impression of the object is built into the little universe of his mind. +The object and the action it implies are closely associated. As more +objects are apprehended, more complex relations arise, but the primal +condition remains—What can I do with it? Sensation, thought, +action—this is the natural sequence of each completed mental process. +As volition passes over into action, so does science into art, +knowledge into power, wisdom into virtue. +</P> + +<P> +By the study of realities wisdom is built up. In the relations of +objects he can touch and move, the child comes to find the limitations +of his powers, the laws that govern phenomena, and to which his actions +must be in obedience. So long as he deals with realities, these laws +stand in their proper relation. "So simple, so natural, so true," says +Agassiz. "This is the charm of dealing with Nature herself. She +brings us back to absolute truth so often as we wander." +</P> + +<P> +So long as a child is lead from one reality to another, never lost in +words or in abstractions, so long this natural relation remains. What +can I do with it? is the beginning of wisdom. What is it to me? is the +basis of personal virtue. +</P> + +<P> +While a child remains about the home of his boyhood, he knows which way +is north and which is east. He does not need to orientate himself, +because in his short trips he never loses his sense of space direction. +But let him take a rapid journey in the cars or in the night, and he +may find himself in strange relations. The sun no longer rises in the +east, the sense of reality in directions is gone, and it is a painful +effort for him to join the new impressions to the old. The process of +orientation is a difficult one, and if facing the sunrise in the +morning were a deed of necessity in his religion, this deed would not +be accurately performed. +</P> + +<P> +This homely illustration applies to the child. He is taken from his +little world of realities, a world in which the sun rises in the east, +the dogs bark, the grasshopper leaps, the water falls, and the relation +of cause and effect appear plain and natural. In these simple +relations moral laws become evident. "The burnt child dreads the +fire," and this dread shows itself in action. The child learns what to +do next, and to some extent does it. By practice in personal +responsibility in little things, he can be led to wisdom in large ones. +For the power to do great things in the moral world comes from doing +the right in small things. It is not often that a man who knows that +there is a right does the wrong. Men who do wrong are either ignorant +that there is a right, or else they have failed in their orientation +and look upon right as wrong. It is the clinching of good purposes +with good actions that makes the man. This is the higher heredity that +is not the gift of father or mother, but is the man's own work on +himself. +</P> + +<P> +The impression of realities is the basis of sound morals as well as of +sound judgment. By adding near things to near, the child grows in +knowledge. "Knowledge set in order" is science. Nature-study is the +beginning of science. It is the science of the child. To the child +training in methods of acquiring knowledge is more valuable than +knowledge itself. In general, throughout life sound methods are more +valuable than sound information. Self-direction is more important than +innocence. The fool may be innocent. Only the sane and wise can be +virtuous. +</P> + +<P> +It is the function of science to find out the real nature of the +universe. Its purpose is to eliminate the personal equation and the +human equation in statements of truth. By methods of precision of +thought and instruments of precision in observation, it seeks to make +our knowledge of the small, the distant, the invisible, the mysterious +as accurate as our knowledge of the common things men have handled for +ages. It seeks to make our knowledge of common things exact and +precise, that exactness and precision may be translated into action. +The ultimate end of science, as well as its initial impulse, is the +regulation of human conduct. To make right action possible and +prevalent is the function of science. The "world as it is" is the +province of science. In proportion as our actions conform to the +conditions of the world as it is, do we find the world beautiful, +glorious, divine. The truth of the "world as it is" must be the +ultimate inspiration of art, poetry, and religion. The world as men +have agreed to say it is, is quite another matter. The less our +children hear of this, the less they will have to unlearn in their +future development. +</P> + +<P> +When a child is taken from nature to the schools, he is usually brought +into an atmosphere of conventionality. Here he is not to do, but to +imitate; not to see, nor to handle, nor to create, but to remember. He +is, moreover, to remember not his own realities, but the written or +spoken ideas of others. He is dragged through a wilderness of grammar, +with thickets of diacritical marks, into the desert of metaphysics. He +is taught to do right, not because right action is in the nature of +things, the nature of himself and the things about him, but because he +will be punished somehow if he does not. +</P> + +<P> +He is given a medley of words without ideas. He is taught declensions +and conjugations without number in his own and other tongues. He +learns things easily by rote; so his teachers fill him with +rote-learning. Hence, grammar and language have become stereotyped as +teaching without a thought as to whether undigested words may be +intellectual poison. And as the good heart depends on the good brain, +undigested ideas become moral poison as well. No one can tell how much +of the bad morals and worse manners of the conventional college boy of +the past has been due to intellectual dyspepsia from undigested words. +</P> + +<P> +In such manner the child is bound to lose his orientation as to the +forces which surround him. If he does not recover it, he will spend +his life in a world of unused fancies and realities. Nonsense will +seem half truth, and his appreciation of truth will be vitiated by lack +of clearness of definition—by its close relation to nonsense. +</P> + +<P> +That this is no slight defect can be shown in every community. There +is no intellectual craze so absurd as not to have a following among +educated men and women. There is no scheme for the renovation of the +social order so silly that educated men will not invest their money in +it. There is no medical fraud so shameless that educated men will not +give it their certificate. There is no nonsense so unscientific that +men called educated will not accept it as science. +</P> + +<P> +It should be a function of the schools to build up common sense. Folly +should be crowded out of the schools. We have furnished costly lunatic +asylums for its accommodation. That our schools are in a degree +responsible for current follies, there can be no doubt. We have many +teachers who have never seen a truth in their lives. There are many +who have never felt the impact of an idea. There are many who have +lost their own orientation in their youth, and who have never since +been able to point out the sunrise to others. It is no extravagance of +language to say that diacritical marks lead to the cocaine habit; nor +that the ethics of metaphysics points the way to the Higher +Foolishness. There are many links in the chain of decadence, but its +finger-posts all point downward. +</P> + +<P> +"Three roots bear up Dominion—Knowledge, Will, the third, Obedience." +This statement, which Lowell applies to nations, belongs to the +individual man as well. It is written in the structure of his +brain—knowledge, volition, action,—and all three elements must be +sound, if action is to be safe or effective. +</P> + +<P> +But obedience must be active, not passive. The obedience of the lower +animals is automatic, and therefore in its limits measurably perfect. +Lack of obedience means the extinction of the race. Only the obedient +survive, and hence comes about obedience to "sealed orders," obedience +by reflex action, in which the will takes little part. +</P> + +<P> +In the early stages of human development, the instincts of obedience +were dominant. Great among these is the instinct of conventionality, +by which each man follows the path others have found safe. The Church +and the State, organizations of the strong, have assumed the direction +of the weak. It has often resulted that the wiser this direction, the +greater the weakness it was called on to control. The "sealed orders" +of human institutions took the place of the automatism of instinct. +Against "sealed orders" the individual man has been in constant +protest. The "warfare of science" was part of this long struggle. The +Reformation, the revival of learning, the growth of democracy, are all +phases of this great conflict. +</P> + +<P> +The function of democracy is not good government. If that were all, it +would not deserve the efforts spent on it. Better government than any +king or congress or democracy has yet given could be had in simpler and +cheaper ways. The automatic scheme of competitive examinations would +give us better rulers at half the present cost. Even an ordinary +intelligence office, or "statesman's employment bureau," would serve us +better than conventions and elections. But a people which could be +ruled in that way, content to be governed well by forces outside +itself, would not be worth the saving. But this is not the point at +issue. Government too good, as well as too bad, may have a baneful +influence on men. Its character is a secondary matter. The purpose of +self-government is to intensify individual responsibility; to promote +abortive attempts at wisdom, through which true wisdom may come at +last. Democracy is nature-study on a grand scale. The republic is a +huge laboratory of civics, a laboratory in which strange experiments +are performed; but by which, as in other laboratories, wisdom may arise +from experience, and having arisen, may work itself out into virtue. +</P> + +<P> +"The oldest and best-endowed university in the world," Dr. Parkhurst +tells us, "is Life itself. Problems tumble easily apart in the field +that refuse to give up their secret in the study, or even in the +closet. Reality is what educates us, and reality never comes so close +to us, with all its powers of discipline, as when we encounter it in +action. In books we find Truth in black and white; but in the rush of +events we see Truth at work. It is only when Truth is busy and we are +ourselves mixed up in its activities that we learn to know of how much +we are capable, or even the power by which these capabilities can be +made over into effect." +</P> + +<P> +Mr. Wilbur F. Jackman has well said: "Children always start with +imitation, and very few people ever get beyond it. The true moral act, +however, is one performed in accordance with a known law that is just +as natural as the law which determines which way a stone shall fall. +The individual becomes moral in the highest sense when he chooses to +obey this law by acting in accordance with it." Conventionality is not +morality, and may co-exist with vice as well as with virtue. Obedience +has little permanence unless it be intelligent obedience. +</P> + +<P> +It is, of course, true that wrong information may lead sometimes to +right action, as falsehood may secure obedience to a natural law which +would otherwise have been violated. But in the long run men and +nations pay dearly for every illusion they cherish. For every sick man +healed at Denver or Lourdes, ten well men may be made sick. Faith cure +and patent medicines feed on the same victim. For every Schlatter who +is worshiped as a saint, some equally harmless lunatic will be stoned +as a witch. This scientific age is beset by the non-science which its +altruism has made safe. The development of the common sense of the +people has given security to a vast horde of follies, which would be +destroyed in the unchecked competition of life. It is the soundness of +our age which has made what we call its decadence possible. It is the +undercurrent of science which has given security to human life, a +security which obtains for fools as well as for sages. +</P> + +<P> +For protection against all these follies which so soon fall into vices, +or decay into insanity, we must look to the schools. A sound +recognition of cause and effect in human affairs is our best safeguard. +The old common sense of the "un-high-schooled man," aided by +instruments of precision, and directed by logic, must be carried over +into the schools. Clear thinking and clean acting, we believe, are +results of the study of nature. When men have made themselves wise, in +the wisdom which may be completed in action, they have never failed to +make themselves good. When men have become wise with the lore of +others, the learning which ends in self, and does not spend itself in +action, they have been neither virtuous nor happy. "Much learning is a +weariness of the flesh." Thought without action ends in intense +fatigue of soul, the disgust with all the "sorry scheme of things +entire," which is the mark of the unwholesome and insane philosophy of +Pessimism. This philosophy finds its condemnation in the fact that it +has never yet been translated into pure and helpful life. +</P> + +<P> +With our children, the study of words and abstractions alone may, in +its degree, produce the same results. Nature-studies have long been +valued as a "means of grace," because they arouse the enthusiasm, the +love of work which belongs to open-eyed youth. The child <I>blasé</I> with +moral precepts and irregular conjugations turns with delight to the +unrolling of ferns and the song of birds. There is a moral training in +clearness and tangibility. An occult impulse to vice is hidden in all +vagueness and in all teachings meant to be heard but not to be +understood. Nature is never obscure, never occult, never esoteric. +She must be questioned in earnest, else she will not reply. But to +every serious question she returns a serious answer. "Simple, natural, +and true" should make the impression of simplicity and truth. Truth +and virtue are but opposite sides of the same shield. As leaves pass +over into flowers, and flowers into fruit, so are wisdom, virtue, and +happiness inseparably related. +</P> + +<BR> +<BR> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +[1] Read before the National Educational Association at Buffalo, New +York, 1896. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap08"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE HIGHER SACRIFICE.[1] +</H3> + + +<P> +Each man that lives is, in part, a slave, because he is a living being. +This belongs to the definition of life itself. Each creature must bend +its back to the lash of its environment. We imagine life without +conditions—life free from the pressure of insensate things outside us +or within. But such life is the dream of the philosopher. We have +never known it. The records of the life we know are full of +concessions to such pressure. +</P> + +<P> +The vegetative part of life, that part which finds its expression in +physical growth, and sustenance, and death, must always be slavery. +The old primal hunger of the protoplasm rules over it all. Each of the +myriad cells of which man is made must be fed and cared for. The +perennial hunger of these cells he must stifle. This hunger began when +life began. It will cease only when life ceases. It will last till +the water of the sea is drained, the great lights are put out, and the +useless earth is hung up empty in the archives of the universe. +</P> + +<P> +This old hunger the individual man must each day meet and satisfy. He +must do this for himself; else, in the long run, it will not be done. +If others help feed him, he must feed others in return. This return is +not charity nor sacrifice; it is simply exchange of work. It is the +division of labor in servitude. Directly or indirectly, each must pay +his debt of life. There are a few, as the world goes, who in luxury or +pauperism have this debt paid for them by others. But there are not +many of these fugitive slaves. The number will never be great; for the +lineage of idleness is never long nor strong. +</P> + +<P> +When this debt is paid, the slave becomes the man. Nature counts as +men only those who are free. Freedom springs from within. No outside +power can give it. Board and lodging on the earth once paid, a man's +resources are his own. These he can give or hold. By the fullness of +these is he measured. All acquisitions of man, Emerson tells us, "are +victories of the good brain and brave heart; the world belongs to the +energetic, belongs to the wise. It is in vain to make a paradise but +for good men." +</P> + +<P> +In the ancient lore of the Jews, so Rabbi Voorsanger tells us, it is +written, "Serve the Lord, not as slaves hoping for reward, but as gods +who will take no reward." The meaning of the old saying is this: <I>Only +the gods can serve</I>. +</P> + +<P> +Those who have nothing have nothing to give. He who serves as a slave +serves himself only. That he hopes for a reward shows that to himself +his service is really given. To serve the Lord, according to another +old saying, is to help one's fellow-men. The Eternal asks not of +mortals that they assist Him with His earth. The tough old world has +been His for centuries of centuries before it came to be ours, and we +can neither make it nor mar it. We were not consulted when its +foundations were laid in the deep. The waves and the storms, the +sunshine and the song of birds need not our aid. They will take care +of themselves. Life is the only material that is plastic in our hand. +Only man can be helped by man. +</P> + +<P> +When they hung John Brown in Virginia, many said, you remember, that in +resisting the Government he had thrown away his life, and would gain +nothing for it. He could not, as Thoreau said at the time, get a vote +of thanks or a pair of boots for his life. He could not get +four-and-sixpence a day for being hung, take the year around. But he +was not asking for a vote of thanks. It was not for the +four-and-sixpence a day that he stood between brute force and its +victims. It was to show men the nature of slavery. It was to help his +fellow-citizens to read the story of their institutions in the light of +history. "You can get more," Thoreau went on to say, "in your market +[at Concord] for a quart of milk than you can for a quart of blood; but +yours is not the market heroes carry their blood to." The blood of +heroes is not sold by the quart. The great, strong, noble, and pure of +this world, those who have made our race worthy to be called men, have +not been paid by the day or by the quart; not by riches, nor fame, nor +power, nor anything that man can give. Out of the fullness of their +lives have they served the Lord. Out of the wealth of their resources +have they helped their fellow-men. +</P> + +<P> +The great man cannot be a self-seeker. The greatness of a Napoléon or +an Alexander is the greatness of gluttony. It is slavery on a grand +scale. What men have done for their own glory or aggrandizement has +left no permanent impress. "I have carried out nothing," says the +warrior, Sigurd Slembe. "I have not sown the least grain nor laid one +stone upon another to witness that I have lived." Napoléon could have +said as much, if, like Sigurd, he had stood "upon his own grave and +heard the great bell ring." The tragedy of the Isle of St. Helena lay +not in the failure of effort, but in the futility of the aim to which +effort was directed. There was no tragedy of the Isle of Patmos. +</P> + +<P> +What such men have torn down remains torn down. All this would soon +have fallen of itself; for that which has life in it cannot be +destroyed by force. But what such men have built has fallen when their +hands have ceased to hold it up. The names history cherishes are those +of men of another type. Only "a man too simply great to scheme for his +proper self" is great enough to become a pillar of the ages. +</P> + +<P> +It is part of the duty of higher education to build up ideals of noble +freedom. It is not for help in the vegetative work of life that you go +to college. You are just as good a slave without it. You can earn +your board and lodging without the formality of culture. The training +of the college will make your power for action greater, no doubt; but +it will also magnify your needs. The debt of life a scholar has to pay +is greater than that paid by the clown. And the higher sacrifice the +scholar may be called upon to make grows with the increased fullness of +his life. Greater needs go with greater power, and both mean greater +opportunity for sacrifice. +</P> + +<P> +In the days you have been with us you should have formed some ideals. +You should have bound these ideals together with the chain of +"well-spent yesterdays," the higher heredity which comes not from your +ancestors, but which each man must build up for himself. You should +have done something in the direction of the life of higher sacrifice, +the life that from the fullness of its resources can have something to +give. +</P> + +<P> +Such sacrifice is not waste, but service; not spending, but +accomplishing. Many men, and more women, spend their lives for others +when others would have been better served if they had saved themselves. +Mere giving is not service. "Charity that is irrational and impulsive +giving, is a waste, whether of money or of life." "Charity creates +half the misery she relieves; she cannot relieve half the misery she +creates." +</P> + +<P> +The men you meet as you leave these halls will not understand your +ideals. They will not know that your life is not bound up in the +present, but has something to ask or to give for the future. Till they +understand you they will not yield you their sympathies. They may jeer +at you because the whip they respond to leaves no mark upon you. They +will try to buy you, because the Devil has always bid high for the +lives of young men with ideals. A man in his market stands always +above par. Slaves are his stock in trade. If a man of power can be +had for base purposes, he can be sure of an immediate reward. You can +sell your blood for its weight in milk, or for its weight in +gold—whatever you choose,—if you are willing to put it up for sale. +You can sell your will for the kingdoms of the earth; and you will see, +or seem to see, many of your associates making just such bargains. But +in this be not deceived. No young man worthy of anything else ever +sold himself to the Devil. These are dummy sales. The Devil puts his +own up at auction in hope of catching others. If you fall into his +hands, you had not far to fall. You were already ripe for his clutches. +</P> + +<P> +When a man steps forth from the college, he is tested once for all. It +takes but a year or two to prove his mettle. In the college high +ideals prevail, and the intellectual life is taken as a matter of +course. In the world outside it appears otherwise, though the +conditions of success are in fact just the same. It is not true, +though it seems so, that the common life is a game of "grasping and +griping, with a whine for mercy at the end of it." It is your own +fault if you find it so. It is not true that the whole of man is +occupied, with the effort "to live just asking but to live, to live +just begging but to be." The world of thought and the world of action +are one in nature. In both truth and love are strength, and folly and +selfishness are weakness. There is no confusion of right and wrong in +the mind of the Fates. It is only in our poor bewildered slave +intellects that evil passes for power. All about us in the press of +life are real men, "whose fame is not bought nor sold at the stroke of +a politician's pen." Such are the men in whose guidance the currents +of history flow. +</P> + +<P> +The lesson of values in life it should be yours to teach, because it +should be yours to know and to act. Men are better than they seem, and +the hidden virtues of life appear when men have learned how to +translate them into action. Men grasp and hoard material things +because in their poverty of soul they know of nothing else to do. It +is lack of training and lack of imagination, rather than total +depravity, which gives our social life its sordid aspect. When a plant +has learned the secret of flowers and fruit, it no longer goes on +adding meaningless leaf on leaf. And as "flowers are only colored +leaves, fruits only ripe ones," so are the virtues only perfected and +ripened forms of those impulses which show themselves as vices. +</P> + +<P> +It is your relation to the overflow of power that determines the manner +of man you are. Slave or god, it is for you to choose. Slave or god, +it is for you to will. It is for such choice that will is developed. +Say what we may about the limitations of the life of man, they are +largely self-limitations. Hemmed in is human life by the force of the +Fates; but the will of man is one of the Fates, and can take its place +by the side of the rest of them. The man who can will is a factor in +the universe. Only the man who can will can serve the Lord at all, and +by the same token, hoping for no reward. +</P> + +<P> +Likewise is love a factor in the universe. Power is not strength of +body or mind alone. One who is poor in all else, may be rich in +sympathy and responsiveness. "They also serve who only stand and wait." +</P> + +<P> +In a recent number of The Dial, Mr. W. P. Reeves tells us the tale, +half-humorous, half-allegorical, of the decadence of a scholar. +According to this story, one Thomson was a college graduate, full of +high notions of the significance of life and the duties and privileges +of the scholar. With these ideals he went to Germany, that he might +strengthen them and use them for the benefit of his fellow-men. He +spent some years in Germany, filling his mind with all that German +philosophy could give. Then he came home, to turn his philosophy into +action. To do this, he sought a college professorship. +</P> + +<P> +This he found it was not easy to secure. Nobody cared for him or his +message. The authority of "wise and sober Germany" was not recognized +in the institutions of America, and he found that college +professorships were no longer "plums to be picked" by whomsoever should +ask for them. The reverence the German professor commands is unknown +in America. In Germany, the authority of wise men is supreme. Their +words, when they speak, are heard with reverence and attention. In +America, wisdom is not wisdom till the common man has examined it and +pronounced it to be such. The conclusions of the scholar are revised +by the daily newspaper. The readers of these papers care little for +messages from Utopia. +</P> + +<P> +No college opened its doors to Thomson, and he saw with dismay that the +life before him was one of discomfort and insignificance, his ideals +having no exchangeable value in luxuries or comforts. Meanwhile, +Thomson's early associates seemed to get on somehow. The world wanted +their cheap achievements, though it did not care for him. +</P> + +<P> +Among these associates was one Wilcox, who became a politician, and, +though small in abilities and poor in virtues, his influence among men +seemed to be unbounded. The young woman who had felt an interest in +Thomson's development, and to whom he had read his rejected verses and +his uncalled-for philosophy, had joined herself to the Philistines, and +yielded to their influence. She had become Wilcox's wife. His friends +regarded Thomson's failure as a joke. He must not take himself too +seriously, they said. A man should be in touch with his times. "Even +Philistia," one said, "has its aesthetic ritual and pageantry." A wise +man will not despise this ritual, because Philistinism, after all, is +the life of the world. +</P> + +<P> +But Thomson held out. "I pledged my word in Germany," he said, "to +teach nothing that I did not believe to be true. I must live up to +this pledge." And so he sought for positions, and he failed to find +them. Finally, he had a message from a friend that a professorship in +a certain institution was vacant. This message said, "Cultivate +Wilcox." So, in despair, Thomson began to cultivate Wilcox. He began +to feel that Wilcox was a type of the world, a bad world, for which he +was not responsible. The world's servant he must be, if he received +its wages. When he secured the coveted appointment, through the +political pull of Wilcox and the mild kindness of Mrs. Wilcox, he was +ready to teach whatever was wanted of him, whether it was truth in +Germany or not. He found that he could change his notions of truth. +The Wilcox idea was that everything in America is all right just as it +is. To this he found it easy to respond. His salary helped him to do +so. And at last, the record says, he became "<I>laudator temporis +acti</I>," one who praises the times that are past. As such, he took but +little part in the times that are to be. +</P> + +<P> +So runs the allegory. How shall it be with you? There are many +Thomsons among our scholars. There may be some such among you. When +you pass from the world of thought you will find yourself in the world +of action. The conditions are not changed, but they seem to be +changed. How shall you respond to the seeming difference? Shall you +give up the truth of high thinking for the appearance of speedy +success? If you do this, it will not be because you are worldly-wise, +but because you do not know the world. In your ignorance of men you +may sell yourself cheaply. +</P> + +<P> +One must know life before he can know truth. He who will be a leader +of men must first have the power to lead himself. The world is selfish +and unsympathetic. But it is also sagacious. It rejects as worthless +him who suffers decadence when he comes in contact with its vulgar +cleverness. The natural man can look the world in the face. The true +man will teach truth wherever he is,—not because he has pledged +himself in Germany not to teach anything else, but because in teaching +truth he is teaching himself. His life thus becomes genuine, and, +sooner or later, the world will respond to genuineness in action. The +world knows the value of genuineness, and it yields to that force +wherever it is felt. "The world is all gates," says Emerson, "all +opportunities, strings of tension waiting to be struck." +</P> + +<P> +Thus, in the decadence of Thomson, it was not the times or the world or +America that was at fault; it was Thomson himself. He had in him no +life of his own. His character, like his microscope, "was made in +Germany," and bore not his mark, but the stamp of the German factory. +Truth was not made in Germany; and to know or to teach truth there must +be a life behind it. The decadence of Thomson was the appearance of +the real Thomson from under the axioms and formulae his teachers had +given him. +</P> + +<P> +Men do not fail because they are human. They are not human enough. +Failure comes from lack of life. Only the man who has formed opinions +of his own can have the courage of his convictions. Learning alone +does not make a man strong. Strength in life will show itself in +helpfulness, will show itself in sympathy, in sacrifice. "Great men," +says Emerson, "feel that they are so by renouncing their selfishness +and falling back on what is humane. They beat with the pulse and +breathe with the lungs of nations." +</P> + +<P> +It is not enough to know truth; one must know men. It is not enough to +know men; one must be a man. Only he who can live truth can know it. +Only he who can live truth can teach it. "He could talk men over," +says Carlyle of Mirabeau, "he could talk men over because he could act +men over. At bottom that was it." +</P> + +<P> +And at bottom this is the source of all power and service. Not what a +man knows, or what he can say; but what is he? what can he can do? Not +what he can do for his board and lodging, as the slave who is "hired +for life"; but what can he do out of the fullness of his resources, the +fullness of his helpfulness, the fullness of himself? The work the +world will not let die was never paid for—not in fame, not in money, +not in power. +</P> + +<P> +The decadence of literature, of which much is said to-day, is not due +to the decadence of man. It is not the effect of the nerve strain of +over-wrought generations born too late in the dusk of the ages. Its +nature is this—that uncritical and untrained men have come into a +heritage they have not earned. They will pay money to have their +feeble fancy tickled. The decadence of literature is the struggle of +mountebanks to catch the public eye. There is money in the literature +of decay, and those who work for money have "verily their reward." But +these performances are not the work of men. They have no relation to +literature, or art, or human life. These are not in decadence because +imitations are sold on street-corners or tossed into our laps on +railway trains. As well say that gold is in its decadence because +brass can be burnished to look like it; or that the sun is in his +dotage because we have filled our gardens with Chinese lanterns. +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"No ray is dimmed, no atom worn,<BR> + My oldest force is good as new<BR> +And the fresh rose on yonder thorn<BR> + Gives back the bending heavens in dew."<BR> +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +Literature has never been paid for. It has never asked the gold nor +the plaudits of the multitude. Job, and Hamlet, and Faust, and Lear, +were never written to fill the pages of a Sunday newspaper. John +Milton and John Bunyan were not publishers' hacks; nor were John +Hampden, John Bright, or Samuel Adams under pay as walking-delegates of +reform. +</P> + +<P> +No man was hired to find out that the world was round, or that the +valleys are worn down by water, or that the stars are suns. No man was +paid to burn at the stake or die on the cross that other men might be +free to live. The sane, strong, brave, heroic souls of all ages were +the men who, in the natural order of things, have lived above all +considerations of pay or glory. They have served not as slaves hoping +for reward, but as gods who would take no reward. Men could not reward +Shakespeare, or Darwin, or Newton, or Helmholtz for their services any +more than we could pay the Lord for the use of His sunshine. From the +same inexhaustible divine reservoir it all comes—the service of the +great man and the sunshine of God. +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"Twice have I molded an image,<BR> + And thrice outstretched my hand;<BR> +Made one of day and one of night,<BR> + And one of the salt sea strand<BR> +One in a Judean manger,<BR> + And one by Avon's stream;<BR> +One over against the mouths of Nile,<BR> + And one in the Academe."<BR> +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +And in such image are men made every day, not only in Bethlehem or in +Stratford, not alone on the banks of the Nile or the Arno; but on the +Columbia, or the Sacramento, or the San Francisquito, it may be, as +well. All over the earth, in this image, are the sane, and the sound, +and the true. And when and where their lives are spent arises +generations of others like them, men in the true order. Not alone men +in the "image of God," but "gods in the likeness of men." +</P> + +<P> +It is to the training of the genuine man that the universities of the +world are devoted. They call for the higher sacrifice, the sacrifice +of those who have powers not needed in the common struggle of life, and +who have, therefore, something over and beyond this struggle to give to +their fellows. Large or small, whatever the gift may be, the world +needs it all, and to every good gift the world will respond a +thousand-fold. Strength begets strength, and wisdom leads to wisdom. +"There is always room for the man of force, and he makes room for +many." It is the strong, wise, and good of the past who have made our +lives possible. It is the great human men, the "men in the natural +order," that have made it possible for "the plain, common men," that +make up civilization, to live, rather than merely to vegetate. +</P> + +<P> +We hear those among us sometimes who complain of the shortness of life, +the smallness of truth, the limited stage on which man is forced to +act. But the men who thus complain are not men who have filled this +little stage with their action. The man who has learned to serve the +Lord never complains that his Master does not give him enough to do. +The man who helps his fellow-men does not stand about with idle hands +to find men worthy of his assistance. He who leads a worthy life never +vexes himself with the question as to whether life is worth living. +</P> + +<P> +We know that all our powers are products of the needs and duties of our +ancestors. Wisdom too great to be translated into action is an +absurdity. For wisdom is only knowing what it is best to do next. +Virtue is only doing it. Virtue and happiness have never been far +apart from each other. To know and to do is the essence of the highest +service. Those the world has a right to honor are those who found +enough in the world to do. The fields are always white to their +harvest. +</P> + +<P> +Alexander the Great had conquered his neighbors in Greece and Asia +Minor, the only world he knew. Then he sighed for more worlds to +conquer. But other worlds he knew nothing of lay all about him. The +secrets of the rocks he had never suspected. Steam, electricity, the +growth of trees, the fall of snow,—all these were mysteries to him. +The only conquest he knew, the subjection of men's bodies, went but a +little way. All the men who in his lifetime knew the name of Alexander +the Great could find encampment on the Palo Alto farm. The great world +of men in his day was beyond his knowledge. His world was a very small +one, and of this he had seen but a little corner. +</P> + +<P> +For the need of more worlds to conquer is no badge of strength. It is +the stamp of ignorance. It is the cry only of him who knows that the +great earth about him still stands unconquered. No Lincoln ever sighed +for more nations to save; no Luther for more churches to purify; no +Darwin that nature had not more hidden secrets which he might follow to +their depths; no Agassiz that the thoughts of God were all exhausted +before he was born. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +And now, a final word to you as scholars: Higher education means the +higher sacrifice. That you are taught to know is simply that you may +do. Knowing the truth signifies that you should do right. Knowing and +doing have value only as translated into justice and love. There is no +man so strong as not to need your help. There is no man so weak that +you cannot make him stronger. There is none so sick that you cannot +bring him to the "gate called Beautiful." There is no evil in the +world that you cannot help turn to goodness. "We could lift up this +land," said Björnson of Norway, "we could lift up this land, if we +lifted as one." +</P> + +<P> +Therefore lift, and lift as one. You are strong enough and wise +enough. You shall seek strength and wisdom, that others through you +may be wiser and stronger. You shall seek your place to work as your +basis for helpfulness. Others will make the place as good as you +deserve. If your lives are sacrificed in helping men, it is to the +market of the ages you carry your blood, not to the milk-market of +Concord town. The honest man will not "pledge himself in Germany to +teach nothing which is not true." Being true himself, he can teach +nothing false. The more men of the true order there are in the world, +the greater is the world's need of men. +</P> + +<P> +As you are men, so will your places in life be secure. Every +profession is calling you. Every walk of life is waiting for your +effort. There will always be room for you, and each of you will make +room for many. +</P> + +<BR> +<BR> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +[1] Address to the Graduating Class, Leland Stanford Jr. University, +May 21, 1896. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap09"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE BUBBLES OF SÁKI. +</H3> + + +<P CLASS="poem"> +In sad, sweet cadence Persian Omar sings<BR> +The life of man that lasts but for a day;<BR> +A phantom caravan that hastes away,<BR> +On to the chaos of insensate things.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"The Eternal Sáki from that bowl hath poured<BR> +Millions of bubbles like us and shall pour,"<BR> +Thy life or mine, a half-unspoken word,<BR> +A fleck of foam tossed on an unknown shore.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"When thou and I behind the veil are past,<BR> +Oh, but the long, long while the world shall last?<BR> +Which of our coming and departure heeds,<BR> +As the seven seas shall heed a pebble cast."<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"Then, my beloved, fill the cup that clears<BR> +To-day of past regrets and future fears."<BR> +This is the only wisdom man can know,<BR> +"I come like water, and like wind I go."<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +But tell me, Omar, hast thou said the whole?<BR> +If such the bubbles that fill Sáki's bowl,<BR> +How great is Sáki, whose least whisper calls<BR> +Forth from the swirling mists a human soul!<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Omar, one word of thine is but a breath,<BR> +A single cadence in thy perfect song;<BR> +And as its measures softly flow along,<BR> +A million cadences pass on to death.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Shall this one word withdraw itself in scorn,<BR> +Because 't is not thy first, nor last, nor all--<BR> +Because 't is not the sole breath thou hast drawn,<BR> +Nor yet the sweetest from thy lips let fall?<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +I do rejoice that when "of Me and Thee"<BR> +Men talk no longer, yet not less, but more,<BR> +The Eternal Sáki still that bowl shall fill,<BR> +And ever stronger, purer bubbles pour.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +One little note in the Eternal Song,<BR> +The Perfect Singer hath made place for me;<BR> +And not one atom in earth's wondrous throng<BR> +But shall be needful to Infinity.<BR> +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR><BR> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Story of the Innumerable Company, +and Other Sketches, by David Starr Jordan + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE STORY OF THE INNUMERABLE *** + +***** This file should be named 18462-h.htm or 18462-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/8/4/6/18462/ + +Produced by Al Haines + +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. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you +do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the +rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose +such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and +research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do +practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is +subject to the trademark license, especially commercial +redistribution. + + + +*** START: FULL LICENSE *** + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project +Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project +Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at +http://gutenberg.org/license). + + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy +all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. +If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the +terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or +entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. + +1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement +and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation" +or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the +collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an +individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are +located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from +copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative +works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg +are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project +Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by +freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of +this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with +the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by +keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project +Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in +a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check +the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement +before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or +creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project +Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning +the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United +States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate +access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently +whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the +phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project +Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, +copied or distributed: + +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 + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived +from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is +posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied +and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees +or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work +with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the +work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 +through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the +Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or +1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional +terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked +to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the +permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any +word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or +distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than +"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version +posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), +you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a +copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon +request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other +form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided +that + +- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is + owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he + has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the + Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments + must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you + prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax + returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and + sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the + address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to + the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." + +- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm + License. You must require such a user to return or + destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium + and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of + Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any + money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days + of receipt of the work. + +- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set +forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from +both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael +Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the +Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm +collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain +"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual +property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a +computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by +your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right +of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with +your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with +the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a +refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity +providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to +receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy +is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further +opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS', WITH NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO +WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. +If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the +law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be +interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by +the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any +provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance +with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, +promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, +harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, +that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do +or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm +work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any +Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. + + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers +including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists +because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from +people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. +To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 +and the Foundation web page at http://www.pglaf.org. + + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive +Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at +http://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent +permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. + +The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. +Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered +throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at +809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email +business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact +information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official +page at http://pglaf.org + +For additional contact information: + Dr. Gregory B. Newby + Chief Executive and Director + gbnewby@pglaf.org + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide +spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To +SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any +particular state visit http://pglaf.org + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including checks, online payments and credit card +donations. To donate, please visit: http://pglaf.org/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart is the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + http://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. + +*** END: FULL LICENSE *** + + + +</pre> + +</BODY> + +</HTML> + diff --git a/18462-h/images/img-059.jpg b/18462-h/images/img-059.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..8d9557d --- /dev/null +++ b/18462-h/images/img-059.jpg diff --git a/18462-h/images/img-067.jpg b/18462-h/images/img-067.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..17491f8 --- /dev/null +++ b/18462-h/images/img-067.jpg diff --git a/18462-h/images/img-071.jpg b/18462-h/images/img-071.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..7494f73 --- /dev/null +++ b/18462-h/images/img-071.jpg diff --git a/18462-h/images/img-079.jpg b/18462-h/images/img-079.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..357f68d --- /dev/null +++ b/18462-h/images/img-079.jpg diff --git a/18462-h/images/img-101.jpg b/18462-h/images/img-101.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..62b6faa --- /dev/null +++ b/18462-h/images/img-101.jpg diff --git a/18462-h/images/img-115.jpg b/18462-h/images/img-115.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..a40219c --- /dev/null +++ b/18462-h/images/img-115.jpg diff --git a/18462-h/images/img-121.jpg b/18462-h/images/img-121.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..5f4a0e2 --- /dev/null +++ b/18462-h/images/img-121.jpg diff --git a/18462-h/images/img-133.jpg b/18462-h/images/img-133.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..1735420 --- /dev/null +++ b/18462-h/images/img-133.jpg diff --git a/18462-h/images/img-139.jpg b/18462-h/images/img-139.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..b936af2 --- /dev/null +++ b/18462-h/images/img-139.jpg diff --git a/18462-h/images/img-143.jpg b/18462-h/images/img-143.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..b050324 --- /dev/null +++ b/18462-h/images/img-143.jpg diff --git a/18462-h/images/img-147.jpg b/18462-h/images/img-147.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..7343846 --- /dev/null +++ b/18462-h/images/img-147.jpg diff --git a/18462-h/images/img-151.jpg b/18462-h/images/img-151.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..29adb96 --- /dev/null +++ b/18462-h/images/img-151.jpg diff --git a/18462-h/images/img-155.jpg b/18462-h/images/img-155.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..ac34427 --- /dev/null +++ b/18462-h/images/img-155.jpg diff --git a/18462-h/images/img-169.jpg b/18462-h/images/img-169.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..a2a428a --- /dev/null +++ b/18462-h/images/img-169.jpg diff --git a/18462-h/images/img-187.jpg b/18462-h/images/img-187.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..9c397af --- /dev/null +++ b/18462-h/images/img-187.jpg diff --git a/18462-h/images/img-199.jpg b/18462-h/images/img-199.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..b8d480d --- /dev/null +++ b/18462-h/images/img-199.jpg diff --git a/18462-h/images/img-203.jpg b/18462-h/images/img-203.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..1e5f482 --- /dev/null +++ b/18462-h/images/img-203.jpg diff --git a/18462-h/images/img-217.jpg b/18462-h/images/img-217.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..7775148 --- /dev/null +++ b/18462-h/images/img-217.jpg diff --git a/18462-h/images/img-239.jpg b/18462-h/images/img-239.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..c705401 --- /dev/null +++ b/18462-h/images/img-239.jpg diff --git a/18462.txt b/18462.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..2353aa4 --- /dev/null +++ b/18462.txt @@ -0,0 +1,5421 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Story of the Innumerable Company, and +Other Sketches, by David Starr Jordan + +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: The Story of the Innumerable Company, and Other Sketches + +Author: David Starr Jordan + +Release Date: May 28, 2006 [EBook #18462] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE STORY OF THE INNUMERABLE *** + + + + +Produced by Al Haines + + + + + + + + + + +THE STORY OF THE INNUMERABLE COMPANY, AND OTHER SKETCHES + + +BY + +DAVID STARR JORDAN + + + +PRESIDENT OF LELAND STANFORD JUNIOR UNIVERSITY + + + + + +SAN FRANCISCO + +THE WHITAKER & RAY COMPANY (INCORPORATED) + +1896 + + + + +COPYRIGHT, 1896, + +BY + +DAVID STARR JORDAN + + + + +TO MY WIFE, + +JESSIE KNIGHT JORDAN. + + + + +PREFATORY NOTE. + +This volume is made up of separate sketches, historical or allegorical, +having in some degree a bond of union in the idea of "the higher +sacrifice." + +I am under obligations to Professor William R. Dudley for the use of a +photograph of a record of Father Serra. This was secured through the +kindness of the late Father Casanova, of Monterey. + +PALO ALTO, CAL., June 1, 1896. + + + + + CONTENTS. + + + THE STORY OF THE INNUMERABLE COMPANY + THIS STORY OF THE PASSION + THE CALIFORNIA OF THE PADRE + THE CONQUEST OF JUPITER PEN + THE LAST OF THE PURITANS + A KNIGHT OF THE ORDER OF POETS + NATURE-STUDY AND MORAL CULTURE + THE HIGHER SACRIFICE + THE BUBBLES OF SAKI + + + + +ILLUSTRATIONS. + + +Peter Rendl as Saint John + +Johann Zwink as Judas + +Rosa Lang as Mary + +"Ecce Homo!" + +A Record of Junipero Serra + +Mission of San Antonio de Padua + +Mission of San Antonio de Padua--Interior of Chapel + +Mission of San Antonio de Padua--Side of Chapel, + with the Old Pear-trees + +The Great Saint Bernard + +Hospice of the Great Saint Bernard + +Hospice of the Great Saint Bernard--in Winter + +Jupitere (Great Saint Bernard Dog) + +Monks of the Great Saint Bernard + +Saint Bernard and the Demon + +John Brown + +The John Brown Homestead, North Elba, N. Y. + +John Brown's Grave + +Ulrich Von Hutten + +Ulrich Zwingli + + + + + _Men told me, Lord, it was a vale of tears + Where Thou hast placed me, wickedness and woe + My twain companions whereso I might go; + That I through ten and threescore weary years + Should stumble on beset by pains and fears, + Fierce conflict round me, passions hot within, + Enjoyment brief and fatal but in sin. + When all was ended then should I demand + Full compensation from thine austere hand: + For, 'tis thy pleasure, all temptation past, + To be not just but generous at last._ + + _Lord, here am I, my threescore years and ten + All counted to the full; I've fought thy fight, + Crossed thy dark valleys, scaled thy rocks' harsh height, + Borne all the burdens Thou dost lay on men + With hand unsparing threescore years and ten. + Before Thee now I make my claim, O Lord,-- + What shall I pray Thee as a meet reward?_ + + _I ask for nothing. Let the balance fall! + All that I am or know or may confess + But swells the weight of mine indebtedness; + Burdens and sorrows stand transfigured all; + Thy hand's rude buffet turns to a caress, + For Love, with all the rest. Thou gavest me here, + And Love is Heaven's very atmosphere, + Lo, I have dwelt with Thee, Lord. Let me die. + I could no more through all eternity._ + + + + +THE STORY OF THE INNUMERABLE COMPANY. + +There was once a great mountain which rose from the shore of the sea, +and on its flanks it bore a mighty forest. Beyond the crest of the +mountain were ridges and valleys, peaks and chasms, springs and +torrents. Farther on lay a sandy desert, which stretched its +monotonous breadth to the shore of a wide, swift river. What lay +beyond the river no one knew, because its shores were always hid in +azure mist. + +Year by year there came up from the shore of the sea an Innumerable +Company. Each one must cross the mountain and the forest, faring +onward toward the desert and the river. And this was one condition of +the journey--that whosoever came to the river must breast its waters +alone. Why this was so, no one could tell; nor did any one know aught +of the land beyond. For of the multitude who had crossed the river not +one had ever returned. + +As time went on there came to be paths through the forest. Those who +went first left traces to serve as guides for those coming after. Some +put marks on the trees; some built little cairns of stones to show the +way they had taken in going around great rocks. Those who followed +found these marks and added to them. And many of the travelers left +little charts which showed where the cliffs and chasms were and by what +means one could reach the hidden springs. So in time it came to pass +that there was scarcely a tree on the mountain which bore not some +traveler's mark; there was scarcely a rock that had not a cairn of +stones upon it. + +In early times there was One who came up from the sea and made the +journey over the mountain and across the desert by a way so fair that +the memory of it became a part of the story of the forest. Men spoke +to each other of his way, and many wished to find it out, that haply +they might walk therein. He, too, had left a Chart, which those who +followed him had carefully kept, and from which they had drawn help in +many times of need. + +The way he went was not the shortest way, nor was it the easiest. The +ways that are short and easy lead not over the mountain. But his was +the most _repaying_ way. It led by the noblest trees, the fairest +outlooks, the sweetest springs, the greenest pastures, and the shadow +of great rocks in the desert. And the chart of his way which he left +was very simple and very plain--easy to understand. Even a child might +use it. And, indeed, there were many children who did so. + +On this chart were the chief landmarks of the region--the mountain with +its forest, the desert with its green oases, the paths to the hidden +springs. But there were not many details. The old cairns were not +marked upon it, and when two paths led alike over the mountain, there +was no sign to show that one was to be taken rather than the other. +Not much was said as to what food one should take, or what raiment one +should wear, or by what means one should defend himself. But there +were many simple directions as to how one should act on the road, and +by what signs he should know the right path. One ought to look upward, +and not downward; to look forward, and not backward; to be always ready +to give a helping hand to his neighbor: and whomsoever one meets is +one's neighbor, he said. + +As to the desert, one need not dread it; nor should one fear the river, +for the lands beyond it were sweet and fair. Moreover, one should +learn to know the forest, that he might choose his course wisely. And +this knowledge each one should seek for himself. For, as he said, "If +the blind lead the blind, both shall fall into the ditch." + +There were many who followed his way and gave heed to his precepts. +The path seemed dangerous at times, especially at the outset; for it +lay along dizzy heights, through tangled underwood, and across swollen +torrents. But after a while all these were left behind. The way +passed on between cleft rocks, into green pastures, and by still +waters; and in the desert were sweet springs which gave forth +abundantly. + +But some who tried to follow him said that his Chart was not explicit +enough. Every step in the journey, they contended, should be laid out +exactly; for to travel safely one should never be left in doubt. + +Now, it chanced that on the slope of the mountain there was a huge +granite rock, which stood in the midst of the way. Some of the +travelers passed to the right of it, while others turned to the left. +Strangely enough, the Chart said nothing concerning this rock. No hint +was given as to how one should pass by it. + +When they came to the rock, many of the travelers took counsel one of +another, and at last a great multitude was gathered there. Which way +had he taken? For in the path he took they must surely go. Many +scanned the rock on every side, to find if haply he had left some +secret mark upon it. But they found none; or, rather, no one could +convince the others that the hidden marks he found were intended for +their guidance. + +At nightfall, after much discussion, the old men in the council gave +their decision. The safe way led to the right. So he who kept the +Chart marked upon it the place of the rock, and he wrote upon the Chart +that the one true path leads to the right. Henceforth each man should +know the way he must go. + +Moreover, those who bore the records showed that this decision was +justified. They wrote upon the Chart a long argument, chain upon chain +and reason upon reason, to prove that from the beginning it was decreed +that by this rock should the destiny of man be tested. + +But in spite of argument, there were still some who chose the left-hand +path because they verily believed that this was the only right way. +They, too, justified their course by arguments, line upon line and +precept upon precept. And each band tried to make its following as +large as it could. Some men stood all day by the side of the rock, +urging people to come with them to the right or to the left. For, +strangely enough, although each man had his own journey to make, and +must cross the river at last alone, he was eager that all others should +go along with him. + +And as each band grew larger, its members took pride in the growth of +its numbers. In the larger bands, trumpets were blown, harps were +sounded, and banners were waved in the wind. Those who walked shoulder +to shoulder under waving flags to the sound of trumpets felt secure and +confident, while those who journeyed alone seemed always to walk with +fear and trembling. It was said in the old Chart that where two or +three were gathered together on the way, strength and courage would be +given them. But men could not believe this, and few had the heart to +test whether it were true or no. + +So the bands went on to the right or to the left, each in its chosen +path. But after they had passed the first great rock, they came to +other rocks and trees and places of doubt. Other councils were held, +and at each step there were some who would not abide by the decision of +the elders. So these from time to time went their own ways. And they +made new inscriptions on the Chart, and erased the old ones, each +according to his own ideas. And there was much pushing and jostling +when the bands separated themselves one from another. + +At last one of the oldest travelers in the largest band--a man with a +long white beard, and wise with the experience of years--arose and said +that not in anger, nor in strife, should they journey on. Discord and +contention arise from difference of opinion. Let all men but think +alike, and they will walk in peace and harmony. Let each band choose a +leader. Let him carry the Chart, and let him night and day pore over +its precepts. No one else need distress himself. One had only to keep +step on the road, and to follow whithersoever the leader might direct. + +So the people chose a leader--a man grave and serious, wise in the lore +of the forest and the desert. He noted on the Chart each rock and +tree, drawing in sharp outlines every detail in the only safe path. +Moreover, all deviating trails he marked with the symbol of danger. + +And it came to pass that day by day other bands followed, and to them +the Chart was given as he had left it. And these bands, too, chose +leaders, whose part it was to interpret the Chart. But each one of +these added to the Chart some better way of his own, some short cut he +had found, or some new trail not marked with the proper sign of warning. + +And with all these changes and additions, as time went on, the true way +became very hard to find. At one point, so the story is told, there +were twenty-nine distinct paths, leading in as many directions; each of +these, if the Chart be true, came to its end in some frightful chasm. +With these there was a single narrow trail that led to safety; but no +two leaders could agree as to which was the right trail. One thing +only was certain: the true way was very hard to find, and no traveler +might discover it unaided. + +And some declared that the Chart was complicated beyond all need. +There was one who said, "The multiplication of non-essentials has +become the bane of the forest." Even a little meadow which he had +found, and which he called the "Saints' Rest," was so entangled in +paths and counterpaths that once out of sight of it one could never +find it again. + +All this time there were many bands that wandered about in circles, +finding everywhere cairns of stones, but no way of escape. Still +others remained day after day in the shadow of great rocks, disputing +and doubting as to how they should pass by them. There were arguments +and precedents enough for any course; but arguments and precedents made +no man sure. + +And it came to pass that most travelers followed the band they found +nearest. At last, to join some band became their only care. And they +looked with pity and distrust upon those who traveled alone. + +But the bands all made their way very slowly. No matter how wise the +leader, not all were ready to move at once, and not all could keep step +to the sound of even the slowest trumpet. There was often much ado at +nightfall over the pitching of the tents, and many were crowded out +into the forest. At times also, in the presence of danger, fear spread +through the band, and many of the weaker ones were trampled on and +sorely hurt. + +Then, too, as they passed through the rocky defiles, some of them lost +sight of the banners, and then the others would wait for them, or +perchance leave them behind, to struggle on as best they might without +chart or guide. + +And there were those who spoke in this wise: "Many paths lead over the +mountain, and sooner or later all come to the desert and the river. It +does not matter where we walk; the question is, How? We cannot know +step by step the way he went. Let us walk by faith, as he walked. If +our spirit is like his, we shall not lack for guidance when we come to +the crossing of the ways." And so they fared on. But many doubted +their own promptings. "Tell me, am I right?" each one asked of his +neighbor; and his neighbor asked it again of him. And those who were +in doubt followed those who were sure. + +So it came to pass that these who walked by faith likewise gathered +themselves into great companies, and each company followed some leader. +Some of these leaders had the gift of woodcraft, and saw clearly into +the very nature of things. But some were only headstrong, and these +proved to be but blind leaders of the blind. + +Then one said, "We must not be filled with our own conceit, but must +humbly imitate him. We must try to work as he worked; to rest as he +rested; to sleep as he slept. The deeds we do should be those he did, +and those only. For on his Chart he has told us, not the way he went +past rocks and trees, but the actions with which his days were filled." +Then those who tried to do as he had done, moved by his motives and +acting through his deeds, found the way wonderfully easy. The days and +the hours seemed all too short for the joy with which they were filled. + +But, again, there were many who said that his directions were not +explicit enough. The Chart said so little. "That we may make no +mistake," they said, "we must gather ourselves in bands and choose +leaders. We cannot act as he acted unless there is some one to show us +how." + +Thus it came to pass that leaders were chosen who could do everything +that he had done, in all respects, according to his method. And they +added to the Chart the record of their own practices--not only that "He +did thus and so," but also, "Thus and so he did not do." "Thus and +thus did he eat bread, and thus only. Thus and thus did he loose his +sandals. In this way only gave he bread and wine. Here on the way he +fasted; there he feasted. At this turn of the road he looked upward +thus, shading his eyes with his hand. Here he anointed his feet; there +his face wore a sad smile. Such was the cut of his coat; of this wood +was his staff; of such a number of words his prayer." And many were +comforted in the thought that for every turn in the road there was some +definite thing which he had done, and which they, too, might perform. + +Thus the duties of every moment were fixed. But as the days went on +these duties grew more and more difficult. No one had time to look at +the rocks or trees; no one could cast his eyes over a noble prospect; +no one could stop to rest by the sweet fountains or in the refreshing +shadows. One could hardly give a moment to such things, lest he should +overlook some needful service. + +Then many lost heart, and said that surely he cared not for times and +observances, else he would have said more about them. When he made the +journey, it was his chief reproach that he heeded not these things. +With him, ceremony or observance rose directly out of the need for it, +each one as the need was felt. To imitate him is to feel as he felt. +With him feelings gave rise to word and action. "So will it be with +us. It is not for us to imitate him in the fashion of his coat or the +cut of his beard. He went over the road giving help and comfort, as +the sun gives light or the flowers shed fragrance, all unconscious of +the good he did." And in this wise did many imitate him. They turned +aside the boughs of the trees, that the sunshine of heaven might fall +upon their neighbors. And behold, the same sunshine fell upon them +also. They removed the stones from the road, that others might not +stumble over them. And others removed the stones from their way also. + +But many were still in doubt and hesitation. The record, they said, +was not explicit enough. They counseled together, and gathered in +bands, and chose leaders who should tell them how to feel. And the +leaders gave close heed to all his feelings and to the times and +seasons proper to each. Here he was joyous, and at a signal all the +baud broke into merry laughter. Here he was stern, and the multitude +set its teeth. There he wept, and tears fell like rain from +innumerable eyes. + +As time went on, repeated action made action easy. The springs of +feeling were readily troubled. Still each one felt, or tried to feel, +all that he should have felt. No one dared admit to his fellows that +his tears were a sham, his joy a pretense, his sadness a lie. But +often, in the bottom of their hearts, men would confess with real tears +that they had no genuine feeling there. + +Then the people asked for leaders who could bring out real feelings. +And there arose leaders, who, by terrible words, could fill the hearts +with fear; by burning words, could stir the embers of zeal; by the +intensity of their own passions, could fill the throng with pity, with +sorrow, or with indignation. And the multitude hung on their lips; for +they sought for feelings real and not simulated. + +But here again division arose; for not all were touched alike by those +who had power over the hearts of men. Some followed the leader who +moved them to tears; others chose him who filled them with fear and +trembling. Still others loved to linger in the dark shadow of remorse. +Some said that right emotions were roused by loud and ringing tones. +Some said that the tones should be sad and sweet. + +Then there were some who said that feelings such as all these were idle +and common. When he trod the way of old, it was with radiant eyes and +with uplifted heart. He saw through the veil of clouds to the glory +which lay beyond. We follow him best when we too are uplifted. Now +and then on the way come to us moments of exultation, when we tread in +his very footsteps. These are the precious moments; then our way is +his way. In the rosy mists of morning, we may behold the glory which +encompassed him. In moments of silent communion in the forest, we may +feel his peace steal over us. In the gentle rain that falls upon the +just and the unjust, we may know the soft pity of his tears. When the +sun declines, its last rays touch with gold the far-off mountain tops +beyond the great river. + +And the uplifting of great moments, filling the souls of men with peace +that passeth understanding, came to many. As they went their way, this +peace fell upon their neighbors also. And no man did aught to make +them afraid. And others sought to go with these, and thus they became +a great band. + +So they chose as their leaders those whose visions were brightest. And +they made for themselves a banner like the white mist flung out from +the mountain-tops at the rising of the sun. They spoke much to each +other concerning the white banner and the peace which filled their +souls. + +But as they journeyed along, the dust of the way dimmed the banner, and +the bright visions one by one faded away. At last they came no more. + +Then the people murmured and called upon the leaders to grant them some +brighter vision, something that all could see and feel at once--some +sign by which they might know that they were still in his way. "Cause +that a path be opened through the thicket," they said, "and let a white +dove come forth to lead us on; or, let the mists beyond the river part +for a moment, that we may behold the far country beyond." + +And one of the leaders standing at the head of the column, clothed in +the morning light as with a garment, raised his staff high in the air. +The sun's rays fell upon it, touching the morning mists with gold, and +threw across them the long shadow of the upraised staff. The shadow +fell far out across the plains, and about it was a halo of bright +light. And all the band looked joyfully at the vision. Adown the +slope of the mountain and out into the plain they followed the way of +the shadow. And all the time the white banner waved at the head of the +column. The people said little to one another, but that little was a +word of praise and rejoicing. + +But it came to pass, as the day wore on, that the sun rose in the sky, +and drew the mists up from the valley. With them vanished the long +shadow of the staff, and in its place appeared the sandy plain. The +feet of the people were sore with the rocks and stones. The air was +thick with dust. Their hearts were uplifted no longer. Instead they +were filled with doubt and distress. + +And the people repined and murmured against their leader. But the +leader said that all was well; even in the way he went there had been +stones and hindrances. More than once had he carried a heavy burden +along a dusty road. But he never doubted nor complained, and so the +radiance round about him never faded away. + +But all the more the people clamored for a sign. Let the bright vision +of the morning appear to us again. At length, worn with much entreaty, +the leader raised once more his staff above his head. The sun at noon +fell upon it. But as the people gazed they saw no long line of +radiance stretching out across the plains amid a halo of shining mist. +The shadow of the staff was a little shapeless mark upon the sand at +their very feet. + +Then the leader cast his staff away and went by himself alone, sad and +sorrowful. That night, as he lay by the roadside, he looked upward to +the clear, calm, honest stars. They seemed to say to him, "See all +things as they really are. This was his way. 'In spirit and in truth' +means in the light of no illusion. Not all the visions of mist or of +sunshine can make the journey other than it is." + +So he came to look closely at all things on the road. Day by day he +read the lessons of the desert and the mountain. He learned to know +directions by the growth of the trees. By the perfume of the lilies, +he sought out the hidden springs. By the red clouds at evening, he +knew that the sky would be fair. By the red light in the morning, he +was warned of the coming storm. And there were many who followed him +and his way, though he did not will it so. + +And he taught his companions, saying: "We must seek his way in the +nature of the things that abide. To learn this nature of things is the +beginning of wisdom. For day unto day uttereth speech, and night unto +night showeth knowledge. The way of nature is solid, substantial, +vast, and unchanging. He who walks in it stands secure, as in the +shadow of a high tower or as if encompassed by a mighty fortress. The +wisdom of the forest shall be granted to him who seeks for it with calm +heart and quiet eye." + +But among his followers there were many who were eager and would hasten +on, and although they spoke much of the Nature of Things and of the Law +of the Forest, they were contented with speaking. "The road is long," +they said to themselves, "and the hours are fleeting." They had no +time to contemplate the glory of the heavens. The beauty of the lilies +fell on unobservant eyes. For all these things they trusted to the +report of others. The words passed from mouth to mouth, losing ever a +little of their truth. And in this wise the voice of wisdom was turned +to the language of folly. For the nature of things is truth. But no +man can find truth except he seek it for himself. And so they fared +on, each well or ill, according to the truth to which his way bore +witness. + +Meanwhile those who bore the white banner remained long in council. At +last one remembered that it was written, "Faith without works is dead, +being alone." And it was written again, "Those who follow me in spirit +must follow me in truth." The essence of truth lies not in thought or +feeling, but must be expressed in deeds. Right feelings follow right +actions. Thus it was with him; thus will it be with us. + +Then they went their way together, doing good to one another. And each +called his neighbor "brother"; and some bore cups of cold water, and +some balm for healing; some carried oil and wine and pots of precious +ointment. To whomsoever they met they gave help and comfort. The +hungry they fed. The thirsty were given drink. He who had fallen by +the wayside was lifted up and strengthened, and the blessing of +cleanliness was brought to him who lay in filth and shame. The +blessing of him that was ready to perish came upon them, and the heart +of the widow sang for joy. + +But soon those who were filled with zeal for good works were gathered +together in great bands, and each band wished to magnify its work. In +every way, to all men who asked, help was given. They searched out the +lame and the blind, and brought them that they might perforce be +healed. Cup after cup of cold water was given to the little ones, even +to those who might bring water for themselves. They cared for the +wounded wayfarer long after his wounds were made whole. It was their +joy to bathe his limbs in oil and wine, or to swathe them in fragrant +bands. And the wayfarer ceased to bear his own tent or to seek his own +raiment. What others would do for him, he need not do for himself. +And those who did not help themselves lost the power of self-help. And +those who had helped others overmuch came themselves to need the help +of others. + +At last the number of the helpless became so great that there was no +one to serve them. Many waited day after day for the aid that never +came, and they grew so weak with waiting that they could not take up +their burdens. The little ones were thrust aside by the strong, and as +the band went on many of them were forgotten and left behind. They +fainted and fell by the healing springs, because there was no one to +give them drink, and they could not help themselves. + +And the burden of the way grew very hard and grievous to bear. Then +there were those who said that one cannot help another save by leading +him to help himself. All that is given him must he repay. Sooner or +later each must bear his own burden. Each must make his own way +through the forest in such manner as he may. + +So they turned back to the old Chart. They would read his words again, +that they might be led to better deeds. In these words they found help +and cheer. These words spake they one to another. They came like rain +to a thirsty field, or as balm to a wound, or as good news from a far +country. And there was wonderful consolation in the thought that for +every step of the way he had spoken the right word. + +So those who knew his words best were chosen as leaders, and great +companies followed them. And as band after band passed along, his +message sounded from one to another. His words were ever on their +lips. Those who could run swiftly carried them far and wide, even into +the depths of the forest. To those who were in sorrow they came as +glad tidings of great joy, and beautiful upon the mountains seemed the +feet of those who bore them. Wherever men were weary and heavy laden, +they were cheered by his promise of rest. + +But there were some who turned to his message only to gratify sordid +hopes or vain desires. He who was lazy sought warrant for sleep. He +who was covetous looked for gain. He who was filled with anger sought +promise of vengeance. There were many who repeated his words for the +mere words' sake. And there were some who used them in disputations +about the way. And the words of help on the Chart they turned into +words of command. Each one took these commands not to himself alone, +but sought to enforce them upon others. "For it is our duty," they +said, "to see that no word of his shall be unheeded of any man." And +many rose in resistance. And the conflicts on the way were fierce and +strong; for with each different band there was diversity of +interpretation. Thus the words of kindness became the voice of hate. + +And it came to pass that all along the way the green sward was red with +the blood of wayfarers. Everywhere the leaves of the forest were +trampled by struggling hosts. And "In his name" was the watchword of +each warring band. And each band called itself "his army." And +whosoever bore the sword that was reddest, they called the "Defender of +the Faith." They placed his name upon their battle-flags, and beneath +it they wrote these fearful words, "In this sign, conquer." And each +went forth to conquer his neighbor, and the wayfarer fled from the +sight of their banners as from a pestilence. But "Conquer, conquer," +was no word of his. He spoke not of victory over others; only of +conquest of oneself. He had said, "Resist not, but overcome evil with +good." And till all men ceased to resist and ceased to conquer, no one +found himself in the right way. Then some one said: "By words alone +can no one truly follow him. His words without his faith and love are +like sounding brass or tinkling cymbal. Out of the abundance of the +heart the mouth speaketh. When the heart is empty the speech of the +mouth is idle as the crackling of thorns beneath a pot." + +And there appeared other bands from the number of those who had passed +to the right of the first great rock; and seeing the tumult and +confusion of the others, they said to themselves: "These are they who +followed not us. We have chosen the better part. Our leader bears the +only perfect Chart. All other charts are the invention of men. In the +right Chart there can be nothing false; in the others there can be +nothing true. Those who have not the true Chart can never go right, +not even for a moment. For even good deeds done in the paths of evil +must partake of the nature of sin. Straight is the way and narrow is +the gate, but there is no safety except ye walk therein." + +So they went on, stumbling ever along the rocky road, never resting, +never murmuring. "For the way at best is a vale of tears," said they, +"and no one would have it otherwise. He found it thus in his time. He +was ever a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief. More than all +others had he suffered. It was his glory to be despised and rejected +of men. For the greater the abasement the greater the exaltation in +the land beyond the river." So day by day they walked in the hardest +part of the road. But they spoke often together of a land of pure +delight, of sweet fields beyond the swelling floods, and of turf soft +as velvet that rose from the river's bank. + +If perchance on the way they came to green pastures, they would hasten +on, lest they should be tempted to rest before the day of rest was +come. From sweet springs they turned aside, that theirs might be the +greater satisfaction when they came to the sweetest springs of all. +They shut their eyes to beauty and their ears to music, that the light +and music of the unknown shore might burst upon them as a sudden +revelation. They looked not at the stars, lest perchance these should +declare a glory which was reserved for other days. Dreary and harsh +was the way they trod. But in its very dreariness they found safety. +They sought no pleasure, they fought no battles, they wasted no time. +In the pushing aside of all temptation, the scorn of all beauty and +idleness, they found delight. Against the strength of granite rock +they set the force of iron will. Withal, at the bottom their hearts +were light with the certainty of coming joy. Even the multitude of +conflicting paths gave them a peculiar satisfaction; for whatever way +they took was always the right way. + +But there were some among them who lost all heart. And they threw +their charts away and set forth in disorder through the forest and up +the mountain. Some of them came safely to the river, far in advance of +the bands they had left behind. But to most the way was strange, and +harder than of old. And as the journey wore on they began to hate the +forest and all its ways. + +So they fared on, together or apart, in ever-deepening shadow. They +distrusted their neighbors. They despised the joyous bands who trooped +after their leaders with mouthing of verses and waving of flags. They +were stirred by the sound of no trumpet. They were deceived by no +illusion of sunshine or of mist. They said: "We know the forest; no +one knows it but ourselves. There is no future; there is no way; there +is no rest; there is no better country. The azure mists are shadows +only, hiding some dreary plain, if haply they hide anything at all. +Evil is man; evil are all things about him. Love and joy, hope and +faith, all these are but flickering lights that lure him to +destruction. Vultures croak on the rocks. The fountains flow with +ink. Danger lurks in the desert. The name of the river is Death." +And when they came to the shore of the river they saw no rift in the +clouds above it, for their eyes were filled with gloom. + +But as time passed on, the way of man grew brighter, whether he would +or no. No day nor hour was without its joy to him who opened his heart +to receive it. And men saw that most of the difficulties and dangers +of the way were those which they unwittingly had made for themselves or +for others. Thus, as the road became more secure, it no longer seemed +dreary or lonely. + +And so it came to pass at last that men ceased to gather themselves in +great bands. Nor did they longer set store on the sound of trumpets or +the waving of flags. The men who were wisest ceased to be leaders of +hosts. They became teachers and helpers instead. + +And with all this a sure way was from day to day not hard to find. Men +fell into it naturally and unconsciously. And the ways which are safe +are innumerable as the multitude of those that may walk therein. + +And those who had gone by diverse paths came from time to time +together. Each praised the charms of the path he had taken, but each +one knew that in other paths other men found as great delight. And as +time went on many wise men passed over the way, and each in his own +fashion left a record of all that had come to him. + +But the old Chart men kept in ever-increasing reverence. They found +that its simple, honest words were words of truth, and whoso sought for +truth gained with it courage and strength. But they covered it no +longer with their own additions and interpretations. Nor did any one +insist that what he found helpful to himself should be law unto others. +No longer did men say to one another, "This path have I taken; this way +must thou go." + +And some one wrote upon the Chart this single rule of the forest: +"Choose thou thine own best way, and help thy neighbor to find that way +which for him is best." But this was erased at last; for beneath it +they found the older, plainer words, which One in earlier times had +written there, "_Thy neighbor as thyself._" + + + + +THE STORY OF THE PASSION. + +The Alps are not confined to Switzerland. They fill that little +country full and overflow in all directions, into Austria, Italy, +Germany, and France. Beautiful everywhere, these mountains are nowhere +more charming than in Southern Bavaria. Grass-carpeted valleys, lakes +as blue as the sky above them, dark slopes of pine and fir, over-topped +by crags of gray limestone dashed by perpetual snow, the Bavarian +Oberland is one of the most delightful regions in all Europe. When +Attila and the Huns invaded Germany fifteen centuries ago, it is said +that their cry was, "On to Bavaria--on to Bavaria! for there dwells the +Lord God himself!" + +In the heart of these mountains, shut off from the highways of travel +by great walls of rock, lies the valley of the little river Ammer. Its +waters are cold and clear, for they flow from mountain springs, and its +willow-shaded eddies are full of trout. At first a brawling torrent, +its current grows more gentle as the valley widens and the rocks +recede, and at last the little river flows quietly with broad windings +through meadows carpeted with flowers. On these meadows, a couple of +miles apart, lie the twin villages of the Ammer Valley--the one +world-famous, the other unheard of beyond the sound of its +church-bells--Ober and Unter Ammergau. + +Long, straggling, Swiss-like towns, these villages on the Ammer meadows +are. You may find a hundred such between Innsbruck and Zuerich. Stone +houses, plastered outside and painted white, stand close together, each +one passing gradually backward into woodshed, barn, and stable. You +may lose your way in the narrow, crooked streets, as purposeless in +their direction as the footsteps of the cows who first surveyed them. + +Oberammergau is a cleaner town than most, with a handsomer church, and +a general evidence of local pride and modest prosperity. Frescoes on +the walls of the houses here and there, paintings of saints and angels, +bear witness to a love of beauty and to the prevalence of a religious +spirit. These pictures, still bright after more than a century's wear, +go back to the time when the peasant boy, Franz Zwink, of Oberammergau, +mixed paints for a famous artist who painted the interior of the Ettal +Monastery and the village church. The boy learned the art as well as +the process, and when his master was gone, he covered the walls of his +native town with pictures such as made men famous in other times and in +other lands. The spirit of the Italian masters was his, and the work +of Zwink at Oberammergau has been called "a wandering wave from the +mighty sea of the Renaissance which has broken on a far-off coast." + +The Passion Play at Oberammergau has been characterized as a relic of +medieval times--the last remains of the old Miracle Play. This is +true, in the sense of historical continuity, and in that sense alone. +The spirit of the times has penetrated even to this isolated valley, +and its Passion Play is as much a product of our century as the poetry +of Tennyson. Miracle Plays were shown at Oberammergau and in the town +about it more than five hundred years ago, but the Passion Play of +to-day is not like them. The imps and devils and all the machinery of +superstition are gone. Harmony has taken the place of crudity, and the +Christ of Oberammergau is the Christ of modern conception. The Miracle +Play, dead or dying everywhere else, has lived and been perfected at +Oberammergau. + +It has been pre-eminently the work of the Church of Rome to teach the +common people, and to train them to obedience. In its teaching it has +made use of every means which could serve its purposes. Didactic +teaching is not effective with tired and sleepy peasants. Sermons +soothe, rather than instruct, after a week of hard labor in the fields. +Hence comes the need of object-teaching, if teaching is to be real. + +Images have been used in this way in the Catholic Church--not as +objects to be worshiped, but as representations of sacred things. +Paintings have served the same purpose. The noblest paintings in the +world have been wrought to this end. It was in such lines alone that +art could find worthy recognition. In like manner, processions and +"Passion[1] Plays" have served the same purpose. + +The old Miracle Plays were grotesque enough--made by common people for +the instruction of common people. Even amid the pathos of divine +suffering the peasants must be amused. Care was taken that the +character of Judas should meet this demand. So Judas was made at once +a traitor and a clown. His pathway was beset by devils of the most +ridiculous sort. And when at last he hung himself on the stage, his +body burst open, and the long links of sausages which represented +intestines were devoured by the imps amid the laughter and delight of +the peasant audience. Now all this has passed away. Wise and learned +men have taken the play in hand, and have left it a monument to their +piety and good taste. Everything grotesque, or barbarous, or +ridiculous has been eliminated. All else is subordinated to a faithful +and artistic representation of the life and acts of Christ. Stately +prose and the language of the Gospel narratives have been substituted +for doggerel verse. As a work of art, the Passion Play deserves a high +place in the literature of Germany. + +One striking feature of the Passion Play is the absence of +superstitious elements. Beyond the dominating influence of the purpose +of God, which is brought into strong prominence, there is almost +nothing which suggests the supernatural or miraculous. That little +even is forgotten in the intensity of human interest. The Devil and +his machinations have vanished entirely. One sees in the religious +customs of the people of Oberammergau few of the superstitions common +among the peasant classes of other parts of Europe. In his little +book, "Oberammergau und Seine Bewohner," Pastor Daisenberger says: +"Superstitious beliefs and customs one does not find here." Even the +ordinary ghost-stories and traditions of Germany are outworn and +forgotten in this town. + +In 1634, so the tradition says, the black death came to Oberammergau, +and one-tenth of the inhabitants died. The others made a vow, "a +trembling vow, breathed in a night of tears," that if God should stay +the plague, they would, on every tenth year, repeat in full, for the +edification of the people, the Tragedy of the Passion. Other +communities might build temples or monasteries, or could undertake +pilgrimages; it should be their duty to show "The Way of the Cross." +When this vow was taken, the pestilence ceased, and not another person +perished. This was regarded by the people as a visible sign of divine +approval. Thus every tenth year for nearly three centuries, ever since +the time when the Pilgrims landed on Plymouth Rock, with varying +fortunes and interruptions, the Passion Play has been represented in +Oberammergau. + +The play in its present form is essentially the work of Josef Alois +Daisenberger, who was for twenty years pastor of the church at +Oberammergau. In this town he was born in the last year of the last +century, and there he died, in 1888, revered and beloved by all who +came near him. + +"I wrote the play," Pastor Daisenberger said, "for the love of my +Divine Redeemer, and with no other object in view than the edification +of the Christian world." + +The first aim of the Passion Play has been the training of the common +people. To its various representations came the peasants of Bavaria, +Wuertemberg, and the Tyrol, on horses, on donkeys, on foot, a long and +difficult journey across mountain-walls and through great forests. It +was the memory and inspiration of a lifetime to have seen the Passion +Play. + +About forty years ago the tourist world discovered this scene; and +since then, on the decennial year, an ever-increasing interest has been +felt, an ever-growing stream of travel has been turned toward the Ammer +Valley. All, prince or peasant, are treated alike by the simple, +honest people, and the same preparation is made for the reception of +all. The purpose of the play should be kept in mind in any just +criticism. To have the right to discuss it at all, one must treat it +in a spirit of sympathy. + +We came into Oberammergau on Friday, the 1st day of August, 1890, to +witness the performance of the Sunday following. The city of Munich, +seventy miles away, was crowded with visitors, all bound to the Passion +Play. The express-train of twenty cars which carried us from Munich +was crowded with people from almost every part of the civilized world. + +At Oberau, six miles from Oberammergau, at the foot of the Ettal +Mountain, we left the railway, and there took part in a general +scramble for seats in the carriages. The fine new road winds through +dark pine woods, climbing the hill in long zigzags above wild chasms, +past the old monastery of Ettal, and then slowly descends to the soft +Ammer meadows. The great peak of the Kofel is ever in front, while the +main chain of the Bavarian Alps closes the view behind. + +Arrived in the little village, all was bustle and confusion. The +streets were full of people--some busy in taking care of strangers, +others sauntering idly about, as if at a country fair. Young women, in +black bodices and white sleeves, welcomed the visitors at the little +inns or served them in the shops. Everywhere were young men in +Tyrolese holiday attire--green coats, black slouch hats, with a feather +or sprig of Edelweiss in the hat-band, and with trousers, like those of +the Scottish Highlanders, which end hopelessly beyond the reach of +either shoes or stockings. Besides the rustics and the tourists, one +met here and there upon the streets men whose grave demeanor and long +black hair resting on their shoulders proclaimed them to be actors in +the Passion Play. + +On Sunday morning we were awakened by the sound of a cannon planted at +the foot of the Kofel, a sharp, conical, towering mountain, some two +thousand feet above the town, and bearing on its summit a tall gilded +cross. It was cold and rainy, but that made no difference with the +audience or the play. At eight o'clock, when the cannon sounds again, +all are in their places, and the play begins. It lasts for eight +hours--from eight o'clock in the morning to half-past five in the +afternoon, with a single interruption of an hour and a half at noon. +The stage is wide and ample. Its central part is covered, but the +front, which represents the fields and the streets of Jerusalem, is in +the open air. This feature lends the play a special charm. On the +left, across the stage, over which the fitful rain-clouds chase one +another, we can plainly see the long, green slope of Ettal mountain, +dotted from bottom to top with herdmen's huts or _chalets_, and on the +summit a tall pine-tree, standing out alone above all its brethren. On +the other side appear the wild crags of the Kofel, its gilded cross +glistening in the sunshine above the morning mists. Swallows fly in +and out among the painted palm-trees, their twitter sounding sharply +above the music of the chorus. The little birds raise their voices to +make themselves heard to each other. + +As the play progresses the intense truthfulness of the people of +Oberammergau steadily grows upon us. For many generations the best +intellects and noblest lives in the town have been devoted to the sole +end of giving a worthy picture of the life and acts of Christ. Each +generation of actors has left this picture more noble than it ever was +before. Their work has been wrought in a spirit of serious +truthfulness, which in itself places the Oberammergau stage in a class +by itself, above and beyond all other theaters. Everything is real, +and stands for what it is. Kings and priests are dressed, not in +flimsy tinsel, but in garments such as real kings and priests may have +worn. And so no artificial light or glare of fireworks is needed to +make these costumes effective. And this genuineness enables these +simple players to produce effects which the richest theaters would +scarcely dare to undertake; and all this in the open air, in glaring +sunshine or in pouring rain. The players themselves can scarcely be +called actors. In their way, they are strong beyond all mere actors, +and for this reason--that they do not seem to act. From childhood they +have grown up in the parts they play. Childish voices learn the solemn +music of the chorus in the schools, and childish forms mingle in the +triumphal procession in the regular church festivals. All the effects +of accumulated tradition, all the results of years of training tend to +make of them, not actors at all, but living figures of the characters +they represent. And we can look back over the history of Oberammergau, +and see how, through the growth of this purpose of its life, it has +come to be unique among all the towns of Europe. + +Many have wondered that in so small a town there should be so many men +of striking personality. The reason for this is to be sought in the +operation of natural selection. In the ordinary German village, the +best men find no career. They go from home to the cities or to foreign +lands, in search of the work and influence not to be secured at home. +The strongest go, and the dull remain. All, this is reversed at +Oberammergau. Only the native citizen takes part in the play. Those +who are stupid or vicious are excluded from it. Not to take part in +the play is to have no reason for remaining in Oberammergau. To be +chosen for an important part is the highest honor the people know. So +the influences at work retain the best and exclude the others. +Moreover, the leading families of Oberammergau, the families of Zwink, +Lang, Rendl, Mayr, Lechner, Diemer, etc., are closely related by +intermarriage. These people are all of one blood--all of one great +family. This family is one of actors, serious, intelligent, devoted, +and all these virtues are turned to effect in their acting. + +This work is that of a lifetime. Little boys and girls come on the +stage in the arms of the mothers--matrons of Jerusalem. Older boys +shout in the rabble and become at last Roman soldiers or servants of +the High Priest. Still later, the best of them are ranged among the +Apostles, and the rare genius becomes Pilate, John, Judas, or the +Christ. + +In the house of mine host, the chief of the money-changers in the +temple, the eldest daughter was called Magdalena. In 1890, at +fourteen, she was leader of the girls in the tableau of the falling +manna. In 1900, she may, perhaps, become Mary Magdalen, the end in +life which her parents have chosen for her. + +After the cannon sounds, the chorus of guardian spirits +(_Schuetzengeister_) comes forward to make plain by speech or action the +meaning of the coming scenes. This chorus is modeled after the chorus +in the Greek plays. It is composed of twenty-four singers, the best +that Oberammergau has, all picturesquely clad in Greek costumes,--white +tunics, trimmed with gold, and over these an outer mantle of some deep, +quiet shade, the whole forming a perfect harmony of soft Oriental +colors. Stately and beautiful the chorus is throughout. The time +which in ordinary theaters is devoted to the arranging of scenes behind +a blank curtain is here filled by the songs and recitations of the +guardian spirits. Once in the play the chorus appears in black, in +keeping with the dark scenes they come forth to foretell. But at the +end the bright robes are resumed, while the play closes with a burst of +triumph from their lips. + +At the beginning of each act, the leader of the singers, the village +schoolmaster, comes forth from the chorus, and the curtain parts, +revealing a tableau illustrative of the coming scenes. These tableaux, +some thirty or forty in number, are taken from scenes in the Old +Testament which are supposed to prefigure acts in the life of Christ. +Thus the treachery of Judas is prefigured by the sale of Joseph by his +brethren. The farewell at Bethany has its type in the mourning bride +in the Song of Solomon; the Crucifixion, in the brazen serpent of +Moses. Sometimes the connection between the tableaux and the scenes is +not easily traced; but even then the pictures justify themselves by +their own beauty. Often five hundred people are brought on the stage +at once. These range in size from the tall and patriarchal Moses to +children of two years. But, old or young, there is never a muscle or a +fold of garment out of place. The first tableau represents Adam and +Eve driven from Eden by the angel with the flaming sword. It was not +easy to believe that these figures were real. They were as changeless +as wax. They did not even wink. The critic may notice that the hands +of the women are large and brown, and the children's faces not free +from sunburn. But there is no other hint that these exquisite pictures +are made up from the village boys and girls, those who on other days +milk the cows and scrub the floors in the little town. The marvelously +varied costumes and the grouping of these tableaux are the work of the +drawing-teacher, Ludwig Lang. Without appearing anywhere in the play, +this gifted man makes himself everywhere felt in the delicacy of his +feeling for harmonies of color. + +At the beginning of the play the leader of the chorus addresses the +audience as friends and brothers who are present for the same reason as +the actors themselves--namely, to assist devoutly at the mystery to be +set forth, the story of the redemption of the world. The purpose is, +as far as may be, to share the sorrows of the Saviour and to follow him +step by step on the way of his sufferings to the cross and sepulcher. +Then comes the prologue, solemnly intoned, of which the most striking +words are these: + + "Nicht ewig zuernet Er + Ich will, so spricht der Herr, + Den Tod des Suenders nicht." + +"He will not be angry forever. I, saith the Lord, will not the death +of the sinner. I will forgive him; he shall live, and in my Son's +blood shall be reconciled." + +When its part is finished the chorus retires, and the Passion Play +begins with the entry of Christ into Jerusalem. Far in the distance we +hear the music, "Hail to thee, O David's son!" Then follows a +seemingly endless procession of men, women, and children who wave +palm-leaves and shout hosannas. One little flaxen-haired girl, dressed +in blue, and carrying a long, slender palm-leaf, is especially striking +in her beauty and naturalness. + +At last He comes, riding sidewise upon a beast that seems too small for +his great stature. He is dressed in a purple robe, over which is a +mantle of rich crimson. Beside him, in red and olive-green, is the +girlish-looking youth, Peter Rendl, who takes the part of Saint John. +Behind him follow his disciples, each with the pilgrim's staff. Two of +these are more conspicuous than the others. One is a white-haired, +eager old man, wearing a mantle of olive-green. The other, younger, +dark, sullen, and tangle-haired, dressed in a robe of saffron over dull +yellow, is the only person in the throng out of harmony with the +prevailing joyousness. + +[Illustration: Peter Rendl as Saint John.] + +Followed by the people, who stand apart in reverence as he passes among +them, Christ approaches the temple. His face is pale, in marked +contrast to his abundant black hair. His expression is serious, or +even care-worn, less mild than in the usual pictures of Jesus, but +certainly in keeping with the scenes of the Passion Play. A fine, +strong, masterful man of great stature and immense physical strength is +the wood-carver, Josef Mayr, who now for three successive decades has +taken this part. A man of attractive presence and lofty bearing, one +whom every eye follows as he goes about the town on the round of his +daily duties, yet simple-hearted and modest, as becomes one who takes +on himself not only the dress but the name and figure of the Saviour. + +Essays have been written on "Christus" Mayr and his conception of +Jesus, and I can only assent to the general impression. To me it seems +that Mayr's thought of Christ is one which all must accept. He appears +as "one driven by the Spirit,"--the great mild teacher, the man who can +afford to be silent before kings and before mobs, and to whom the pains +of Calvary are not more deep than the sorrows of Gethsemane, the man +who comes to do the work of his Father, regardless alike of human +praise or of human contempt. The great strength of the presentation is +that it brings to the front the essentials of Christ's life and death. +There is no suggestion of theological subtleties nor of the ceremonies +of any church. It is simply true and terrible. + +From one of his fellow-actors, I learned this of Josef Mayr. He has +always been what he is now, a hand-worker ("_gemeiner Arbeiter_") in +Oberammergau. He has never been away from his native town except once, +when he went as a workman to Vienna, and once when, in 1870, the play +was interrupted by the war with France, and Mayr himself was taken into +the army. Out of respect to his art, he was never sent to the front, +but kept in the garrison at Munich. When the war was over, and he came +back, in 1871, the grateful villagers resumed the play as their "best +method of thanking God who had given them the blessings of victory and +peace." + +Canon Farrar, of Westminster, has given us the best and most +sympathetic account yet published of the various actors. Of Mayr he +said: "It is no small testimony to the goodness and the ability of +Josef Mayr that in his representation of Christ he does not offend us +by a single word or a single gesture. If there were in his manner the +slightest touch of affectation or of self-consciousness; if there were +the remotest suspicion of a strut in his gait, we should be compelled +to turn aside in disgust. As it is, we forget the artist altogether. +For it is easy to see that Josef Mayr forgets himself, and wishes only +to give a faithful picture of the events in the Gospel story." + +As the Master enters the temple, he finds that its courts are filled +with a noisy throng of money-changers, peddlers, and dealers in animals +for sacrifice. He is filled with wrath and indignation. In a +commanding tone, he orders them to take their own and leave this holy +place. "There is room enough for trading outside. 'My house,' thus +saith the Lord, 'shall be a house of prayer to all the people.' Ye +have made it a den of thieves." ("_Zur Raeuberhoehle, habt Ihr es +gemacht!_") + +The peddlers pay no attention to his protest. Then, with a sudden +burst of wrath, he breaks upon them, overturning their tables, +scattering their gold upon the floor, and beating them with thongs. +The animals kept for sacrifice are released. The sheep scamper +backward to the rear of the stage, and escape through the open door. +The white doves fly out over the heads of the spectators, and are lost +against the green slopes of the Kofel. + +The play now follows the Gospel narrative very closely. It is, in +fact, the Gospel story, with only such changes as fit it for continuous +presentation. Events aside from the current of the story, such as the +wedding at Cana and the raising of Lazarus, are omitted. There are few +long speeches. The leading features of what may be called the plot, +the wrath of the money-changers, the fierce hatred of the Pharisees, +the avarice of Judas, which makes him their tool, are all sharply +emphasized. + +The next scene introduces us to the High Council of the Jews, and to +its leading spirit, Caiaphas. Caiaphas is represented by the +burgomaster of the village, Johann Lang. "No medieval pope," says +Canon Farrar, "could pronounce his sentences with more dignity and +verve. He is what has been called 'that terrible creature, the perfect +priest.'" Violent, unforgiving, and harsh, he is the soul of the +conspiracy. His strong determination is reflected in the weak +malignity of his colleague, Annas, as well as in the priests and +scribes. "While he lives," Caiaphas says, "there is no peace for +Israel. It is better that one man should die, that the whole nation +perish not." + +We next behold Jesus accompanied by his disciples on the road toward +the house of Simon of Bethany. As they walk along, he talks sadly of +his approaching death. None of them can understand his words; for to +them he has been victorious over all his enemies. "A word from thee," +says Peter, "and they are crushed." "I see not," says Thomas, "why +thou speakest so often of sorrow and death. Do we not read in the +prophets that Christ lives forever? Thou canst not die, for with thy +power thou wakest even the dead." Even John declares that Christ's +words are dark and dismal, while he and his associates use every effort +to cheer the Master. + +At the house of Simon of Bethany, Mary Magdalen breaks the costly dish +of ointment. Judas, who carries the slender purse of the disciples, is +vexed at the waste, and talks of all the good the value of this +ointment might have done if given to the poor. + +Very carefully worked out is the character of Judas, represented by +Johann Zwink, the miller of Oberammergau, who ten years ago took the +part of Saint John. The people of Oberammergau regard Zwink as the +most gifted of all their actors; for he can, they say, play any part. +("_Er spielt alle Rolle._") Gregor Lechner, who in his younger days +had the part of Judas, is now Simon of Bethany. Of all the actors of +Oberammergau, the people told us, Lechner is the most beloved +("_bestens beliebt_"). + +[Illustration: Johann Zwink as Judas.] + +In Zwink's conception, Judas is a man full of ambition, but without +enthusiasm. He is attracted by the power of Christ, from which he +expects great results. But Christ seems to care little for his own +mighty works. "My mission," he says, "is not to command, but to +serve." So Judas becomes impatient and dissatisfied. The eager +enthusiasm of Peter and the tender devotion of John alike bore and +disgust him. So the emissaries of Caiaphas find him half-prepared for +their mission. He admits that he has made a mistake in joining his +fortunes to those of an unpractical and sorrowful prophet who lets +great opportunities slip from his grasp, and who wastes a fortune in +precious ointment with no more thought than if it had been water. +"There has of late been a coolness between him and me," he confesses. +"I am tired," he says, "of hoping and waiting, with nothing before me +except poverty, humiliation, perhaps even torture and the prison." He +is especially ill at ease when the Master speaks of his approaching +death. "If thou givest up thy life," he says, "what will become of +us?" And so Judas reasons with himself that he can afford to be +prudent. If his Master fail, then he must be a false prophet, and +there is no use in following him. If he succeed, as with his mighty +power he can hardly fail to do, then, says Judas, "I will throw myself +at his feet. He is such a good man; never have I seen him cast a +penitent away. But I fear to face the Master. His sharp look goes +through and through me. Still at the most I shall only tell the +priests where my Master is." And thus the good and bad impulses +struggle for the mastery, giving to this character the greatest tragic +interest. He visibly shrinks before the words of Christ, "One of you +shall betray me." In the High Council he cringes under the scorching +reproach of Nicodemus. "Dost thou not blush," Nicodemus says, "to sell +thy Lord and Master? This blood-money calls to heaven for revenge. +Some day it will burn hot in thine avarice-sunken soul." + +But the High Priest says, "Come, Judas, take the silver, and be a man." +And when the thirty pieces are counted out to him, he cannot resist the +temptation, but clutches them with a miser's grasp and hurries off to +intercept the Master on his way through the Garden of Gethsemane. +Meanwhile, after a tender farewell from his mother, Christ leaves the +house of Simon of Bethany, and, with his disciples, takes the road to +Jerusalem. + +The part of Mary the mother of Christ is admirably taken by Rosa Lang. +In dress and mien, she seems to have stepped down from some +picture-frame of Raphael or Murillo. The Mary of Rosa Lang is in every +respect a worthy companion of Mayr's Christus. + +[Illustration: Rosa Lang as Mary.] + +The various scenes in which the Apostles appear are modeled more or +less after the great religious paintings, especially those of the +Bavarian artist, Albrecht Duerer. The Last Supper is a living +representation of the famous painting of Leonardo da Vinci in the +refectory at Milan. Peter and Judas are here brought into sharp +contrast. Next to Christ, is the slender figure of the beloved +disciple. The characters of the different Apostles are placed in bold +relief. We are at once interested in the fine face of Andreas Lang, +the Apostle Thomas, critical and questioning, but altogether loyal. +The Apostle Philip looks for signs and visions, and would see the +Father coming in His glory from the skies, not in the common every-day +scenes of life into which the Master led them. "Have I been so long +time with thee, and yet hast thou not known me, Philip?" + +Next comes the night scene in the Garden of Gethsemane on the Mount of +Olives. The tired Apostles rest upon the grassy bank, and one by one +they fall asleep. Even Peter, who is nearest the Master, can keep +awake no longer. Christ kneels upon the rocks above the sleeping +Peter. "O Father, if it be possible, let this cup pass from me." He +looks back to his disciples. "Are your eyes so heavy that ye cannot +watch? The weight of God's justice lies upon me. The sins of the +fallen world weigh me down. O Father, if it is not possible that this +hour go by, then may thy holy will be done." + +Suddenly a great tumult is heard. The faint light of the morning is +reflected from the clanging armor and from glittering spears. The +Apostles are rudely awakened. Judas comes forth and greets the Master +with a kiss. At this signal, the Master is seized by the soldiers and +roughly bound. Then he is carried away, first to Annas, and afterwards +to the house of Caiaphas. + +Of the scenes that immediately follow, the most striking is that of the +denial of Peter. Peter, as represented by the sexton of the church, +Jacob Hitt, is an old man with a young heart, eager and impulsive. He +dreams of the noble part he will take while standing by the Master's +side before kings and priests, but behaves very humanly when he is +brought face to face with an unexpected test. + +The scenes of the night have crowded thick and fast. The Apostles have +been scattered by the soldiers. The Master had been bound, and carried +away they know not whither. Peter had tried to defend him, but was +told to "put away his useless sword." In forlorn agony Peter and John +wander about in the dark, seeking news of Jesus. They meet a servant +who tells them that he has been carried before the High Priest, and +that the whole brood of his followers is to be rooted out. + +Near the house of the High Priest Annas we see a sort of inn occupied +by rough soldiers. The night is damp and cold. A maid has kindled a +fire in the courtyard, and Peter approaches it to warm his hands, and, +if possible, to gain some further news of the Master. He hears the +soldiers talking of Malchus, one of their number who had had his ear +cut off. They boast of what they will do with the culprit, if he +should ever fall into their power. "An ear for an ear," he hears them +say. Suddenly the maid turns towards Peter and says, "Yes, you, surely +you were with the Nazarene Jesus." Peter hesitates. Should he +confess, he would have his own ears cut off, an ear for an ear--and +most likely his head, too, while his body would be thrown out on the +rubbish heap behind the inn. Peter had said that he would die for the +Master; and so he would on the field of battle, or in any way where he +might have a glorious death. He would die for the Master, but not then +and there. The death of a martyr has its pleasures, no doubt, but not +the death of a dog. + +While Peter stood thus considering these matters, one and then another +of the servants insisted that he had surely been seen with the Nazarene +Jesus. Again and again Peter refused all knowledge of the Master. +When the cock crew once more he had denied his Master thrice. While +Peter still insisted, the door opened and the Master came forth under +the High Priest's sentence of death. "And the Lord turned and looked +upon Peter, and Peter went out and wept bitterly." "Oh, Master," he +says in the play: + + "Oh, Master, how have I fallen! + I have denied thee, how can it be possible? + Three times denied thee! Oh, thou knowest, Lord, + I was resolved to follow thee to death." + + +Meanwhile Judas hears the story of what has happened. He is at once +filled with agony and remorse, for he had not expected it. He was sure +that the great power of the Master would bring him through safely at +last. In helpless agony, he rushes before the Council and makes an +ineffective protest. "No peace for me forevermore; no peace for you," +he says. "The blood of the innocent cries aloud for justice." He is +repulsed with cold indifference. "Will it or not," says the High +Priest, "he must die, and it would be well for thee to look out for +thyself." + +In fury he cries out, "If he dies, then am I a traitor. May ten +thousand devils tear me in pieces! Here, ye bloodhounds, take back +your curse!" And flinging the blood-money at the feet of the priests, +he flies from their presence, pursued by the specter of his crime. + +The next scene shows us the field of blood--a wind-swept desert, with +one forlorn tree in the foreground. We see the wretched Judas before +the tree. He tears off his girdle, "a snake," he calls it, and places +it about his neck, snapping off a branch of the tree in his haste to +fasten it. "Here, accursed life, I end thee; let the most miserable of +all fruit hang upon this tree." In the action we feel that Judas is +not so much wicked as weak. He has little faith and little +imagination, and his folly of avarice hurries him into betrayal. Those +who see the play feel as the actors feel, that Christ knows the +weakness of man. He would have forgiven Judas, just as he forgave +Peter. + +In the early morning Christ is brought before Pontius Pilate. The +Roman governor, admirably represented by Thomas Rendl, appears in the +balcony and talks down to Caiaphas, who sends up his accusations from +the street below. His clear sense of justice makes Pilate at first +more than a match for the conspirators. With magnificent scorn he +tells Caiaphas that he is "astounded at his sudden zeal for Caesar." +Of Christ he says: "He seems to me a wise man--so wise that these dark +men cannot bear the light from his wisdom." Learning that Jesus is +from Galilee, he throws the whole matter into the hands of Herod, the +governor of that province. + +The words of Pilate are very finely spoken. "We marvel," says one +writer, "how the peasant Rendl learned to bear himself so nobly or to +utter the famous question, 'What is truth?' with a certain dreamy +inward expression and tone, as though outward circumstances had for the +instant vanished from his mind, and he were alone with his own soul and +the flood of thought raised by the words of Jesus." + +In contrast to Pilate, stands Herod, lazy and voluptuous. He, too, +finds nothing of evil in Jesus, whom he supposes to be a clever +magician. "Cause that this hall may become dark," he says, "or that +this roll of paper, which is thy sentence of death, shall become a +serpent." He receives Christ in good-natured expectancy, which changes +to disgust when he answers him not a word. Herod pronounces him "dumb +as a fish," and, after clothing him in a splendid purple mantle, he +sends him away unharmed, with the title of "King of Fools." + +Again Christ is brought before Pilate, who tells Caiaphas plainly that +his accusations mean only his own personal hatred, and that the voice +of the people is but the senseless clamor of the mob set in operation +by intrigue. Pilate orders Jesus to be scourged, in the hope that the +sight of his noble bearing amid unmerited cruelties may soften the +hearts of the people. Nowhere does the noble figure of Mayr appear to +better advantage than in this scene, where, after a brutal +chastisement, scarcely lessened in the presentation on the stage, the +Roman soldiers place a cattail flag in his hand and salute him as a +king. + +Pilate then brings forth an abandoned wreck of humanity, old Barabbas, +the murderer. As Christ stands before them, blood-stained and crowned +with thorns, half in hope and half in irony, Pilate invites them to +choose. "Behold the man," he said, "a wise teacher whom ye have long +honored, guilty of no evil deed. Jesus or Barabbas, which will ye +choose?" + +All the more fiercely the mob cries, "Crucify him! Crucify him!" + +[Illustration: "Ecce Homo!"] + +Pilate is puzzled. "I cannot understand these people," he said. "But +a few days ago, ye followed this man with rejoicing through the streets +of Jerusalem." The High Priest threatens to appeal to Rome. Pilate +fears to face such an appeal. He has little confidence in the favor or +the justice of the Caesar whom he serves. At last he consents to what +he calls "a great wrong in order to avert a greater evil." He calls +for water, and washes his hands in ostentatious innocence. Finally, as +he signs the verdict of condemnation in wrath and disgust, he breaks +his staff of office, and flings the fragments upon the stairs, at the +feet of the priests. + +Next we behold in the foreground of the stage, John and Mary the mother +of Jesus, and with them a little group of followers. A tumult is +heard, and, in the midst of a great throng of people, we see three +crosses borne by prisoners. Jesus beholds his mother. Suddenly he +faints, under the weight of the cross. The rough soldiers urge him on. +Simon of Cyrene, a sturdy passer-by, who is carrying home provisions +from the market, is seized by the soldiers and forced to give aid. At +first he refuses. "I will not do it," he says; "I am a free man, and +no criminal." But his indignant protests turn to pity, when he beholds +the Holy Man of Nazareth. "For the love of thee," he says, "will I +bear thy cross. Oh, could I make myself thus worthy in thy sight!" + +The closing scenes of the Passion Play, associated as they are with all +that has been held sacred by our race for nearly two thousand years, +are thrilling beyond comparison. No one can witness them unmoved. No +one can forget the impression made by the living pictures. In +simplicity and reverence, the work is undertaken, and it awakens in the +beholder only corresponding feelings. Every heart, for the time at +least, is stirred to its depths. + +When the curtain rises, two crosses are seen, each in its place. The +central cross is not yet raised. The Roman soldiers take their time +for it. "Come, now," says one of them, "we must put this Jewish king +upon his throne." So the heavy cross, with its burden, is raised in +its place. We see the bloody nails in his hands and feet; and so +realistic is the representation, that the nearest spectator cannot see +that he is not actually nailed to the cross. There is no haste shown +in the presentation. The Crucifixion is not a tableau, displayed for +an instant and then withdrawn. The scene lasts so long that one feels +a strange sense of surprise when Christus Mayr appears alive again. + +Twenty minutes is the time actually taken for the representation. "It +is hard," said our landlady, the good Frau Wiedermann, "to be on the +cross so long, even if one is not actually nailed to it. It is hard +for the thieves, too," she said, "as well as for Josef Mayr." + +The thieves themselves deserve a moment's notice. The one on the right +is a bald old man, who meets his death in patience and humility. The +one on the left is a robust young fellow, who defies his associates and +tormentors alike, and joins his voice to that of the rabble in scoffing +at the power of Jesus. "If thou be a god," he says, "save thyself and +us." There is at first a struggle over the inscription at the head of +the cross. "Let it read, 'He called himself the King of the Jews,'" +say the priests. But the Roman soldier is obdurate. "What I have +written I have written," and the centurion grimly nails it on the cross +above his head, regardless alike of their rage and protestations. + +Meanwhile, in the foreground the four Roman guards part the purple robe +of Christ, each one taking his share. But the seamless coat they will +not divide. So they cast the dice on the ground to see to whom this +prize shall fall. They are in no hurry. Traitors and thieves have all +night to die in, and they can wait for them. The first soldier throws +a low number, and gives up the contest. The second does better. The +third calls up to the cross, "If thou be a god, help me to throw a +lucky number." One cast of the dice is disputed. It has to be tried +again. + +Meanwhile we hear the poor dying body on the cross, in a voice broken +with agony, "Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do." +Again, amid the railings of the Jews, "My God, my God, why hast thou +forsaken me?" Then again, after a sharp cry of pain, "It is finished!" + +The captain drives the scoffing mob away, bidding the women come +nearer. Then a Roman soldier, sent by Pilate, comes and breaks the +legs of the thieves. We hear their bones crack under the club. Their +heads fall, their muscles shrink, as the breath leaves the body. But +finding that Jesus is already dead, the soldier breaks not his legs, +but thrusts a spear into his side. We can see the spear pierce the +flesh, but we cannot see that the blood flows from the spear-point +itself, and not from the Master's body. The soldiers fall back with a +feeling of awe. Then, one by one, as the darkness falls, we see them +file away on the road to Jerusalem, and the Son of Man is left in +silence. + +Then follows the descent from the cross, which suggests comparison with +Rubens' famous painting in the Cathedral at Antwerp, but here shown +with a fineness of touch and delicacy of feeling which that great +painter of muscles and mantles could never attain. We see Nicodemus +climb the ladder leaned against the back of the cross. He takes off +first the crown of thorns. It is laid silently at Mary's feet. He +pulls out the nails one by one. We hear them fall upon the ground. +With the last one falls the wrench with which he has drawn it. Passing +a long roll of white cloth over each arm of the cross, he lets the +Saviour down into the strong arms of Joseph of Arimathea, and, at last, +into the loving embrace of John and Mary. No description can give an +idea of the all-compelling force of this scene. A treatment less +reverent than is given by these peasants would make it an intolerable +blasphemy. As it is, its justification is its perfection. + +And this is the justification of the Passion Play itself. It can never +become a show. It can never be carried to other countries. It never +can be given under other circumstances. So long as its players are +pure in heart and humble in spirit, so long can they keep their +well-earned right to show to the world the Tragedy of the Cross. + + + +[1] The word "passion," as used in the term "Passionspiel," signifies +anguish or sorrow. The Passion Play is the story of the great anguish. + + + + +THE CALIFORNIA OF THE PADRE.[1] + +There is something in the name of Spain which calls up impressions +rich, warm, and romantic. The "color of romance," which must be +something between the hue of a purple grape and the red haze of the +Indian summer, hangs over everything Spanish. Castles in Spain have +ever been the fairest castles, and the banks of the Xenil and the +Guadalquivir still bound the dreamland of the poet. + + "There was never a castle seen + So fair as mine in Spain; + It stands embowered in green, + Overlooking a gentle slope, + On a hill by the Xenil's shore." + + +It has been said of Spanish rule in California, that its history was +written upon sand, only to be washed away by the advancing tide of +Saxon civilization. So far as the economic or political development of +our State is concerned, this is true; the Mission period had no part in +it, and its heroes have left no imperishable monuments. + +But in one respect our Spanish predecessors have had a lasting +influence, and the debt we owe to them, as yet scarcely appreciated, is +one which will grow with the ages. It is said that Father Crespi, in +1770, gave Spanish names to every place where he encamped at night, and +these names, rich and melodious, make the map of California unique +among the States of the Union. It is fitting that the most varied, +picturesque, and lovable of all the States should be the one thus +favored. We feel everywhere the charm of the Spanish language--Latin +cut loose from scholastic bonds, with a dash of firmness from the +Visigoth and a touch of warmth from the sun-loving Moor. The names of +Mariposa, San Buenaventura, Santa Barbara, Santa Cruz, and Monterey can +never grow mean or common. In the counties along the coast, there is +scarcely a hill, or stream, or village that does not bear some +melodious trace of Spanish occupation. + +To see what California might have been, we have only to turn away from +the mission counties to the foothills of the Sierras, where the +mining-camps of the Anglo-Saxon bear such names as Fiddletown, Red Dog, +Dutch Flat, Murder Gulch, Ace of Spades, or Murderer's Bar; these +changing later, by euphemistic vulgarity, into Ruby City, Magnolia +Vale, Largentville, Idlewild, and the like. Or, if not these, our +Anglo-Saxon practically gives us, not Our Lady of the Solitude, nor the +City of the Holy Cross, not Fresno, the ash, nor Mariposa, the +butterfly, but the momentous repetition of Smithvilles, Jonesboroughs, +and Brownstowns, which makes the map of the Mississippi Valley a waste +of unpoetical mediocrity. + +So the Spanish names constitute our legacy from the Mission Fathers. +It is now nearly three hundred and fifty years since Alta California +was discovered, one hundred and twenty years since it was colonized by +white people, and a little over forty years since it became a part of +our republic. In 1542, Cabrillo had sailed up the coast as far as Cape +Mendocino. In 1577, Sir Francis Drake came as far north as Point +Reyes, where, seeing the white cliffs of Marin County, he called the +country New Albion. Better known than these to Spanish-speaking people +was the voyage of Sebastian Vizcaino, who, in 1602, had coasted along +as far as Point Reyes, and had left a full account of his discoveries. +The landlocked harbor which Cabrillo had named San Miguel, Vizcaino +re-christened in honor of his flag-ship, San Diego de Alcala. Farther +north, Vizcaino found a glorious deep and sheltered bay, "large enough +to float all the navies of the world," he said; and this, in honor of +the Viceroy of Mexico, he called the Bay of Monterey. To a broad curve +of the coast to the north, between Point San Pedro and Point Reyes, he +gave the name of the Bay of San Francisco,[2] dedicating it to the +memory of St. Francis of Assisi. A rough chart of the coast was made +by his pilot, Cabrera Bueno, who left also an account of its leading +features. + +For a hundred and sixty years after Vizcaino's expedition, no use was +made of his discoveries. In Professor Blackmar's words: "During all +this time, not a European boat cut the surf of the northwest coast; not +a foreigner trod the shore of Alta California. The white-winged +galleon, plying its trade between Acapulco and the Philippines, +occasionally passed near enough so that those on board might catch +glimpses of the dark timber-line of the mountains of the coast or of +the curling smoke of the forest fires; but the land was unknown to +them, and the natives pursued their wandering life unmolested." + +Toward the end of the seventeenth century, Father Salvatierra, head of +the Jesuit missions in Lower California, fixed his eye on this region, +and made plans for its occupation. In this the good Father Kuehn--a +German from Bavaria, whom the Spaniards knew as "Quino,"--seconded him. +But these plans came to naught. The power of the Jesuit order was +broken; the charge of the missions in Lower California was given to the +Dominicans, that of Upper California to the Franciscans, and to these +and their associates the colonization of California is due. The +Franciscans, it is said, "were the first white men who came to live and +die in Alta California." + +And this is how it came about. One hundred and thirty years ago, the +port of La Paz, in Baja California, lay baking in the sun. La Paz was +then, as now, a little old town, with narrow, stony streets and adobe +houses, standing amidst palms, and chaparral, and cactus. To this port +of La Paz came, one eventful day, Don Jose de Galvez, envoy of the King +of Spain. He brought orders to the Governor of California, Don Gaspar +de Portola, that he should send a vessel in search of the ports of San +Diego and of Monterey, on the supposed island, or peninsula, of Upper +California, once found by Vizcaino, but lost for a century and a half. +There they were to establish colonies and missions of the Holy Catholic +Church. They were "to spread the Catholic religion," said the letter, +"among a numerous heathen people, submerged in the obscure darkness of +paganism, thereby to extend the dominion of the king, our lord, and to +protect this peninsula of California from the ambitious designs of the +foreign nations." + +"The land must be fertile for everything," says Galvez, "for it lies in +the same latitude as Spain." So they carried all sorts of household +and field utensils, and seeds of every useful plant that grew in Spain +and Mexico--the olive and the pomegranate, the grape and the orange, +not forgetting the garlic and the pepper. All these were placed in two +small ships, the San Carlos, under the gallant Captain Vila, and the +San Antonio, under Captain Perez. + +Padre Junipero Serra, chief apostle of these Spanish missions, blessed +the vessels and the flags, commending the whole enterprise to the Most +Holy Patriarch San Jose, who was supposed to feel a special interest in +this class of expeditions. His early flight into Egypt gave him a +peculiar fondness for schemes involving foreign travel. Galvez +exhorted the soldiers and sailors to respect the priests, and not to +quarrel with each other. And thus they sailed away for San Diego in +the winter of 1769. + +At the same time there was organized a land expedition, which should +cross the sandy deserts and cactus-covered hills and join the vessels +at San Diego. That there should be no risk of failure, Don Gaspar de +Portola divided the land forces into two divisions, one led by himself, +the other by Captain Rivera. These two parties were to take different +routes, so that if one were destroyed the other might accomplish the +work. In front of each band were driven a hundred head of cattle, +which were to colonize the new territories with their kind. + +Padre Serra went with the land expedition under the command of Portola. +A barefooted friar, clad in a rough cloak confined by a rope at the +waist, looks comfortable enough in the cool shade of an Italian +cathedral; but the garb of the Franciscan order is ill-fitted to the +peculiarities of the California mesa. For the vegetation of Lower +California makes up in bristliness what it lacks in luxuriance. Bush +cactuses, so prickly that it makes one's eyes smart to look at them, +and bunch cactuses, in wads of thorns as large as a bushel-basket, +swarm everywhere. Before the barefooted Padre had traveled far, so +Miss Graham tells us in her charming little paper on the Spanish +missions, he had made the acquaintance of many species of cactus. +Horses in that country become lame sometimes, and people say that they +are "cactus-legged." And soon Father Serra became "cactus-legged," +too, so that he could neither walk nor ride a mule. The Indians were +therefore obliged to carry him in a litter, for he would not go back to +La Paz. + +But the Father felt great compassion for the Indians, who had enough to +do to carry themselves. He prayed fervently for a time, and then, +according to the chronicler of the expedition, "He called a mule-driver +and said to him: 'Son, do you know some remedy for my foot and leg?' +But the mule-driver answered, 'Father, what remedy can I know? Am I a +surgeon? I am a mule-driver, and have cured only the sore backs of +beasts.' 'Then consider me a beast,' said the Father, 'and this sore +leg to be a sore back, and treat me as you would a mule.' Then said +the muleteer, 'I will, Father, to please you,' and taking a small piece +of tallow, he mashed it between two stones, mixing with it herbs that +grew close by. Then heating it over the fire, he anointed the foot and +leg, and left the plaster upon the sore. 'God wrought in such a +manner,' wrote the Padre Serra afterwards, 'that I slept all that +night, and awoke so much relieved that I got up and said matins and +prime, and afterwards mass, as if nothing had happened.'" + +But Father Serra did not show his faith by such simple miracles as +these alone. In one of his revival meetings in Mexico, Bancroft tells +us, he was beating himself with a chain in punishment for his imaginary +offenses, when a man seized the chain and beat himself to death as a +miserable sinner, in the presence of the people. At another time, +sixty persons who neglected to attend his meetings were killed by an +epidemic, and the disease went on, killing one after another, until the +people had been scared into attention to their religious duties. Then, +at a sign from Padre Serra, the plague abated. + +At one time the good Padre was well lodged and entertained in a very +neat wayside cottage on a desolate and solitary road. Later he learned +that there was no such cottage in that region, and, we are told, he +concluded that his entertainers were Joseph, Mary, and Jesus. + +Suffering greatly from thirst on one of his journeys, he said to his +companions, who were complaining: "The best way to prevent thirst is to +eat little and talk less." In a violent storm he was perfectly calm, +and the storm ceased instantly when a saint chosen by lot had been +addressed in prayer. And so on; for miracles like these are constant +accompaniments of a mind wholly given over to religious enthusiasm. + +In due season, Padre Serra and his party arrived at San Diego, having +followed the barren and dreary coast of Lower California for three +hundred and sixty miles, often carrying water for great distances, and +as often impeded by winter rains. The boats and the other party were +already there, and in the valley to the north of the _mesa_, on the +banks of the little San Diego River, they founded the first mission in +California. + +Within a fortnight of Serra's arrival at San Diego, a special land +expedition set out in search of Vizcaino's lost port of Monterey. The +expedition, under Don Gaspar de Portola, was unhappy in some respects, +though fortunate in others--unhappy, for after wandering about in the +Coast Range for six months, the soldiers returned to San Diego, weary, +half-starved, and disgusted, failing altogether, as they supposed, to +find Monterey; fortunate, for it was their luck to discover the far +more important Bay of San Francisco. It seems evident, from the +researches of John T. Doyle and others, that the company of Portola, +from the hills above what is now Redwood City, were the first white men +to behold the present Bay of San Francisco. The journal of Miguel +Costanzo, a civil engineer with Portola's command, is still preserved +in the Sutro Library in San Francisco, and Costanzo's map of the coast +has been published. The diary of Father Crespi, who accompanied +Portola, has also been printed. + +The little company went along the coast from San Diego northward, +meeting many Indians on the way, and having various adventures with +them. In the pretty valley which they named San Juan Capistrano, they +found the Indian men dressed in suits of paint, the women in bearskins. +On the site of the present town of Santa Ana, which they called Jesus +de los Temblores, they met terrific earthquakes day and night. At Los +Angeles, they celebrated the feast of Our Lady the Queen of the Angels +(Nuestra Senora, Reina de Los Angeles), from which the valley took the +name it still bears. They passed up the broad valley of San Fernando +Rey, and crossed the mountains to the present village of Saugus. +Thence they went down the Santa Clara River to San Buenaventura and +Santa Barbara, their route coinciding with that of the present +railroad. Above San Buenaventura they found Indians living in huts of +sagebrush. At Santa Barbara, the Indians fed on excellent fish, but +played the flute at night so persistently that Portola and his soldiers +could not sleep for the music. They next passed Point Concepcion, and +crossed the picturesque Santa Ynez and the fertile Arroyo Grande to the +basin-shaped valley of San Luis Obispo, with its row of four conical +mountains. At the last of these, Moro Rock, they reached the sea +again. Above Piedras Blancas, where the rugged cliffs of the Santa +Lucia crowd down to the ocean, they were blocked, and could go no +farther. Crossing the mountains to the east, they followed Nacimiento +Creek to below Paso Robles, then went down the dusty valley of the +Salinas, past the pastures on which the missions of San Miguel and +Soledad were later planted. Below Soledad, they came again to the sea. +They then went along the shore to the westward, past the present site +of Monterey and Pacific Grove, and on to the Point of Pines itself, the +southern border of the Bay of Monterey. Yet not one of them recognized +the bay or any of the landmarks described by Vizcaino. At the Point of +Pines, they were greatly disheartened, because they could nowhere find +a trace of the Bay of Monterey, or of any other bay which was +sheltered, or on which "the navies of the world could ride." Father +Crespi celebrated here "the Feast of Our Father in the New World"; +"or," he adds, "perhaps in a corner of the Old World, without any other +church or choir than a desert." Portola offered to return, but Crespi +said: "Let us continue our journey until we find the harbor of +Monterey; if it be God's will, we will die fulfilling our duty to God +and our country." So they crossed the Salinas again, and went +northward along the shore of the very bay they had sought so long. +Then they came to another river, where they killed a great eagle, whose +wings spread nine feet and three inches. They called this river +Pajaro, which means "bird," and devoutly added to it the name of Saint +Anne, "Rio del Pajaro de Santa Ana." To the memory of this bird, the +Pajaro River still remains dedicated. Farther on, they came to forests +of redwood--"_Palo Colorado_," they called it. Crespi describes the +trees "as very high, resembling cedars of Lebanon, but not of the same +color; the leaves different, and the wood very brittle." + +[Illustration: A Record of Junipero Serra.] + +At Santa Cruz, on the San Lorenzo River, they encamped, still bewailing +their inability to find Monterey Bay. Going northward, along the coast +past Pescadero and Halfmoon Bay, they saw the great headland of Point +San Pedro. They called it Point Guardian Angel (Angel Custodio), and +from its heights they could clearly see Point Reyes and the chalk-white +islands of the Farallones. These landmarks they recognized from the +charts of Cabrera Bueno. Crespi says: "Scarce had we ascended the +hill, when we perceived a vast bay formed by a great projection of land +extending out to sea. We see six or seven islands, white, and +differing in size. Following the coast toward the north, we can +perceive a wide, deep cut, and northwest we see the opening of a bay +which seems to go inside the land. At these signs, we come to +recognize this harbor. It is that of our Father St. Francis, and that +of Monterey we have left behind." "But some," he adds, "cannot believe +yet that we have left behind us the harbor of Monterey, and that we are +in that of San Francisco." + +But the "Harbor of San Francisco," as indicated by Cabrera Bueno, lay +quite outside the Golden Gate, in the curve between Point San Pedro on +the south, and Point Reyes on the north. The existence of the Golden +Gate, and the landlocked waters within, forming what is now known as +San Francisco Bay, was not suspected by any of the early explorers. +The high coast line, the rolling breakers, and, perhaps, the banks of +fog, had hidden the Golden Gate and the bay from Cabrillo, Drake, and +Vizcaino alike. By chance a few members of Portola's otherwise +unfortunate expedition discovered the glorious harbor. Some of the +soldiers, led by an officer named Ortega, wandered out on the Sierra +Morena, east of Point San Pedro. When they reached the summit and +looked eastward, an entirely new prospect was spread out before them. +From the foothills of these mountains, they saw a great arm of the +ocean--"a mediterranean sea," they termed it, according to Mr. Doyle's +account, "with a fair and extensive valley bordering it, rich and +fertile--a paradise compared with the country they had been passing +over." They rushed back to the seashore, waving their hats and +shouting. Then the whole party crossed over from Halfmoon Bay into the +valley of San Mateo Creek. Thence they turned to the south to go +around the head of the bay, passing first over into the Canada del +Raymundo, which skirts the foot of the mountain. Soon they came down +the "Bear Gulch" to San Francisquito Creek, at the point where +Searsville once stood, before the great Potola Reservoir covered its +traces and destroyed its old landmark, the Portola Tavern. They +entered what is now the University Campus, on which columns of +ascending smoke showed the presence of many camps of Indians. These +Indians were not friendly. The expedition was out of provisions, and +many of its members were sick from eating acorns. There seemed to be +no limit to the extension of the Estero de San Francisco. At last, in +despair, but against the wishes of Portola, they decided to return to +San Diego. They encamped on San Francisquito Creek, and crossed the +hills again to Halfmoon Bay. Then they went down the coast by Point +Ano Nuevo, to Santa Cruz. At the Point of Pines they spent two weeks, +searching again everywhere for the Bay of Monterey. + +At last they decided that Vizcaino's description must have been too +highly colored, or else that the Bay of Monterey must, since his time, +have been filled up with silt or destroyed by some earthquake. At any +rate, the bay between Santa Cruz and the Point of Pines was the only +Monterey they could find. According to Washburn, Vizcaino's account +was far from a correct one. It was no fault of Portola and Crespi +that, after spending a month on its shores, it never occurred to them +to recognize the bay. + +On the Point of Pines they erected a large wooden cross, and carved on +it the words: "Dig at the foot of this and you will find a writing." + +According to Crespi this is what was written: + +"The overland expedition which left San Diego on the 14th of July, +1769, under the command of Don Gaspar de Portola, Governor of +California, reached the channel of Santa Barbara on the 9th of August, +and passed Point Concepcion on the 27th of the same month. It arrived +at the Sierra de Santa Lucia on the 13th of September; entered that +range of mountains on the 17th of the same month, and emerged from it +on the 1st of October; on the same day caught sight of Point Pinos, and +the harbors on its north and south sides, without discovering any +indications or landmarks of the Bay of Monterey. We determined to push +on farther in search of it, and on the 30th of October got sight of +Point Reyes and the Farallones, at the Bay of San Francisco, which are +seven in number. The expedition strove to reach Point Reyes, but was +hindered by an immense arm of the sea, which, extending to a great +distance inland, compelled them to make an enormous circuit for that +purpose. In consequence of this and other difficulties--the greatest +of all being the absolute want of food,--the expedition was compelled +to turn back, believing that they must have passed the harbor of +Monterey without discovering it. We started on return from the Bay of +San Francisco on the 11th of November; passed Point Ano Nuevo on the +19th, and reached this point and harbor of Pinos on the 27th of the +same month. From that date until the present 9th of December, we have +used every effort to find the Bay of Monterey, searching the coast, +notwithstanding its ruggedness, far and wide, but in vain. At last, +undeceived and despairing of finding it, after so many efforts, +sufferings, and labors, and having left of all our provisions but +fourteen small sacks of flour, we leave this place to-day for San +Diego. I beg of Almighty God to guide us; and for you, traveler, who +may read this, that He may guide you also, to the harbor of eternal +salvation. + +"Done, in this harbor of Pinos, the 9th of December, 1769. + +"If the commanders of the schooners, either the San Jose or the +Principe, should reach this place within a few days after this date, on +learning the accounts of this writing, and of the distressed condition +of this expedition, we beseech them to follow the coast down closely +toward San Diego, so that if we should be happy enough to catch sight +of them, we may be able to apprize them by signals, flags, and firearms +of the place where help and provisions may reach us." + + +The next day the whole party started back to San Diego, making the +journey fairly well, in spite of illness and lack of proper food. +Though disappointed at Portola's failure, Serra had no idea of +abandoning his project of founding a mission at Monterey. He made +further preparations, and in about three months after Portola's return +a newly organized expedition left San Diego. It consisted of two +divisions, one by land, again commanded by Portola, and one by sea. +This time the good Father wisely chose for himself to go by sea, and +embarked on the San Antonio, which was the only ship he had in sailing +condition. In about a month Portola's land party reached the Point of +Pines, and there they found their cross still standing. According to +Laura Bride Powers, "great festoons of abalone-shells hung around its +arms, with strings of fish and meat; feathers projected from the top, +and bundles of arrows and sticks lay at its base. All this was to +appease the stranger gods, and the Indians told them that at nightfall +the terrible cross would stretch its white arms into space, and grow +skyward higher and higher, till it would touch the stars, then it would +burst into a blaze and glow throughout the night." + +Suddenly, as they came back through the forest from the Point of Pines, +the thought came both to Crespi and Portola that here, after all, was +the lost bay of Vizcaino. In this thought they ran over the landmarks +of his description, and found all of them, though the harbor was less +important than Vizcaino had believed. Since that day no one has +doubted the existence of the Bay of Monterey. + +A week later, the San Antonio arrived, coming in sight around the Point +of Pines, and was guided to its anchorage by bonfires along the beach. +The party landed at the mouth of the little brook which flows down a +rocky bank to the sea. On the 3rd of June, 1770, Father Serra and his +associates "took possession of the land in the name of the King of +Spain, hoisting the Spanish flag, pulling out some of the grass and +throwing stones here and there, making formal entry of the +proceedings." On the same day Serra began his mission by erecting a +cross, hanging bells from a tree, and saying mass under the venerable +oak where the Carmelite friars accompanying Vizcaino celebrated it in +1602. Around this landing grew up the town of Monterey. + +At a point just back from the shore, near the old live-oak tree under +which the Padre rendered thanks, there has long stood a commemorative +cross. On the hill above where the Padre stood looking out over the +beautiful bay, there was placed one hundred and twenty years later, by +the kind interest of a good woman, a noble statue, in gray granite, +representing Father Serra as he stepped from his boat. + +A fortress, or presidio, was built, and Monterey was made the capital +of Alta California. But the mission was not located at the town. It +was placed five miles farther south, where there were better pasturage +and shelter. This was on a beautiful slope of the hill, flanked by a +fertile valley opening out to the glittering sea, with the mountains of +Santa Lucia in front and a great pine forest behind. The valley was +named Carmelo, in honor of Vizcaino's Carmelite friars, and the mission +was named for San Carlos Borromeo. + +The present church of Monterey was not a mission church, but the chapel +of the _presidio_, or barracks. It is now, according to Father +Casanova, the oldest building in California. The old Mission of San +Diego, first founded of all, was burned by the Indians. It was +afterwards rebuilt, but this took place after the chapel in Monterey +was finished. The mission in Carmelo was not completed until later, as +the Padre was obliged to secure authority from Mexico, that he might +place it on the pasture lands of Carmelo, instead of the sand-hills of +Monterey. + +When the discoveries of Portola and Ortega had been reported at San +Diego, the shores of this inland sea of San Francisco seemed a most +favorable station for another mission. Among the missions already +dedicated to the saints, none had yet been found for the great father +of the Franciscan order, St. Francis of Assisi, the beloved saint who +could call the birds and who knew the speech of all animals. Before +this, Father Serra had said to Governor Galvez, "And for our Father St. +Francis is there to be no mission?" And Galvez answered, "If St. +Francis wants a mission, let him show his port, and we will found the +mission there." + +And now the lost port of St. Francis was found, and it was the most +beautiful of all, with the noblest of harbors, and the fairest of views +toward the hills and the sea. So the new mission was called for him, +the Mission San Francisco de los Dolores. For the Creek Dolores, the +"brook of sorrows," flowed by the mission, and gave it part of its +name. But Dolores stream is long since obliterated, forming part of +the sewage system of San Francisco.[3] + +Thus was founded + + "that wondrous city, now apostate to the creed, + O'er whose youthful walls the Padre saw the angel's golden reed." + + +Meanwhile, following San Diego de Alcala and San Carlos Borromeo, a +long series of missions was established, each one bearing the sonorous +Spanish name of some saint or archangel, each in some beautiful sunny +valley, half-hidden by oaks, and each a day's ride distant from the +next. In the most charming nook of the Santa Lucia Mountains was built +San Antonio de Padua; in the finest open pastures of the Coast Range, +San Luis Obispo de Tolosa. In the rich valley, above the city of the +Queen of the Angels, the beautiful church of San Gabriel Arcangel was +dedicated to the leader of the hosts of heaven. Later, came the +magnificent San Juan Capistrano, ruined by earthquakes in 1812. In its +garden still stands the largest pepper-tree in Southern California. + +Then Santa Clara was built in the center of the fairest valley of the +State. Next came San Buenaventura and Santa Barbara, for the coast +Indians of the south, and Santa Cruz, for those to the north of +Monterey Bay. In the Salinas Valley, along the "_Camino real_," or +royal highway, from the south to the north, were built Nuestra Senora +de la Soledad and San Miguel Arcangel. A day's journey from Carmelo, +in the valley of the Pajaro, arose San Juan Bautista. In the charming +valley of Santa Ynez, still hidden from the tourist, a day's journey +apart, were Santa Ynez and La Purisima Concepcion. East of the Bay of +San Francisco, in a nook famous for vineyards, arose the Mission San +Jose. + +[Illustration: Mission of San Antonio de Padua.] + +In the broad, rocky pastures above Los Angeles, arose San Fernando Key +de Espana, while midway between San Diego and San Juan Capistrano was +placed the stateliest of all the missions, dedicated, with its rich +river valley, to the memory of San Luis Rey de Francia. Finally, to +the north of San Francisco Bay, was built San Rafael, small, but +charmingly situated, and then San Francisco Solano, still farther on in +Sonoma. This, the northernmost outpost of the saints, the last, +weakest, and smallest, was first to die. It was founded in 1823, fifty +years after the Mission San Diego. + +Wherever you find in California a warm, sunny valley leading from the +ocean back to the purple mountains, with a clear stream in its midst, +and filled in summer with blue haze, around it steep slopes on which +grapes may grow, you have found a mission valley, and these grapes are +mission grapes. Somewhere in it you will see a cluster of large, +wide-spreading pepper-trees, with delicate light-green foliage, or a +grove of gnarled olives, looking like stunted willows, or, perhaps, a +cluster of old pear-trees, or sometimes a tall palm. Near these you +will find the ruins of old houses of adobe, wherein once dwelt the +Indian neophytes. These houses are clustered around the walls, now +almost in ruins, of the mission itself, which had its chapel, +refectory, and baptistry, and in all its details it resembled closely a +parish church of Italy of Spain. + +The mission was usually laid out in the form of a hollow square, +inclosed by a wall of adobe, twelve feet high, the whole inclosure +being two or three hundred feet square. In the center of this square +was a chapel, also of adobe; for the sun of California is kind to +California's children, and a house of dried mud will withstand the +scanty rains of a century. Some of these old chapels are still used, +but the roofs of most of them have long since fallen in, and the +ornaments have been removed to decorate some other building. The +mission churches were built like mimic cathedrals, cathedrals of mud +instead of marble, and, like their great models, each had its altar, +with candles and crucifix, its vessels of holy water, and on the walls +the inevitable paintings of heaven and purgatory. Their most charming +feature was the arched cloister, a feature which has been retained and +beautified in the architecture of Leland Stanford Jr. University, at +Palo Alto. + +Each church, too, had its little chime of bells, some of which were +partly of gold or silver, as well as of brass. During the early +enthusiasm, when the mission bells were cast, old heirlooms from Spain, +rings, vases, and ancestral goblets from which had been "drunk the red +wine of Tarragon," were thrown into the molten metal. And when these +consecrated bells chimed out the Angelas at the sunset hour, with the +sound of their voices all evil spirits were driven away, and no harm +could come to man or beast or growing grain. + + "Bells of the past, whose long-forgotten music + Still fills the wide expanse, + Tingeing the sober twilight of the present + With color of romance; + + I hear you call, and see the sun descending + On rock and wave and sand, + As down the coast the mission voices blending, + Girdle the heathen land. + + "Within the circle of your incantation + No blight nor mildew falls, + Nor fierce unrest nor sordid low ambition + Passes those airy walls. + + Borne on the swell of your long waves receding + I touch the farther past. + I see the dying glow of Spanish glory, + The sunset dream and last. + + * * * * * * + + "Your voices break and falter in the darkness, + Break, falter, and are still, + And veiled and mystic, like the Host descending, + The sun sinks from the hill." [4] + + +Around the church were built storehouses, workshops, granaries, +barracks for the soldiers,--in short, everything necessary for comfort +and security. Each mission was at once fortress, refuge, church, and +town. The little town grew in time more and more to resemble its +fellows in old Spain. Bull-fights and other festivals were held in the +_plaza_, or public square, in front of the _presidio_, or governor's +house, and the long, low, whitewashed _hacienda_, or tavern. + +About the mission arose a great farm. Vines and olives were planted, +and often long avenues of shade-trees. The level lands were sown to +barley and oats; great herds of cattle and horses roamed over the +hills. The sale of wine, and especially of hides, brought in each year +an increasing revenue. The poor, struggling missions became rich. The +commanders kept up a dignity worthy of the representatives of the +Spanish king, though often they had little enough to command. It is +said that one of them, wishing to fire a salute in honor of some +foreign vessel, first sent on board to borrow powder. In the words of +Bret Harte, with the _comandante_ the days "slipped by in a delicious +monotony of simple duties, unbroken by incident or interruption. The +regularly recurring feasts and saint's days, the half-yearly courier +from San Diego, the rare transport ship, and rarer foreign vessels, +were the mere details of his patriarchal life. If there was no +achievement, there was certainly no failure. Abundant harvests and +patient industry amply supplied the wants of the _presidio_ and +mission. Isolated from the family of nations, the wars which shook the +world concerned them not so much as the last earthquake; the struggle +that emancipated their sister colonies on the other side of the +continent had to them no suggestiveness. It was that glorious Indian +summer of California history, that bland, indolent autumn of Spanish +rule, so soon to be followed by the wintry storms of Mexican +independence and the reviving spring of American conquest." + +[Illustration: Mission of San Antonio de Padua--Interior of Chapel.] + +The Indians were usually gathered about the mission by force or by +persuasion. Being baptized with holy water, they were taught to build +houses, raise grain, and take care of cattle. In place of their savage +rites, they learned to count their beads and say their prayers. They +learned also to work, and were pious and generally contented. But +these California Indians, at the best, were far inferior to those of +the East. "When attached to the mission," Mr. Soule says, "they were +an industrious, contented, and numerous class, though, indeed, in +intelligence and manly spirit they were little better than the beasts, +after all." + +The Jesuit Father, Venegas, remarks, discouragingly: "It is not easy +for Europeans who were never out of their own country to conceive an +adequate idea of these people. Even in the least frequented quarters +of the globe there is not a nation so stupid, of such contracted ideas, +and weak, both in body and in mind, as the unhappy Californians. Their +characteristics are stupidity and insensibility, want of knowledge and +reflection, inconstancy, impetuosity, and blindness of appetite, +excessive sloth, abhorrence of all fatigue of every kind, however +trifling or brutal,--in fine, a most wretched want of everything which +constitutes the real man and makes him rational, inventive, tractable, +and useful to himself and others." All of which goes to show that +climate is not everything, and that contact with other minds and other +people, with the sifting that rigorous conditions enforce, may outweigh +all the advantages of the fairest climate. The highest development +comes with the fewest barriers to migration, to competition, and to the +spread of ideas. + +The destruction of the missions and the advent of our Anglo-Saxon +freedom has been for the Indian and his kind only loss and wrong. He +has become an alien and tramp, with his half-brother, the despised +Greaser. + +The mission fathers left no place for idleness on the part of their +converts, or "neophytes"; nor did they make much provision for the +development of the individual. The Indians were to work, and to work +hard and steadily, for the glory of the church and the prosperity of +the nation. In return they were insured from all harm in this world +and in the world to come. The rule of the Padre was often severe, +sometimes cruel, but not demoralizing, and the Indians reached a higher +grade of industry and civilization than the same race has attained +otherwise before or since. + +Believing that the use of the rod was necessary to the Indians' +salvation, the Padres were in no danger of sparing it, and thus +spoiling their children. The good Father Serra would as "soon have +doubted his right to breathe as his right to flog the Indian converts"; +and meek and quiet though these converts usually were, there were not +wanting times when they turned about in sullen resistance. The annals +of some of the missions show a series of events that may well have +discouraged the most enthusiastic of missionaries. The unconverted +Indians, or "gentiles," of Southern California were heathens indeed, +and they made repeated attacks upon the missions by day, or stole their +stock or burned their houses by night. Volleys of arrows not +unfrequently greeted the priests on their return from morning mass. + +In San Diego, faith in the power of gunpowder to hurt long preceded any +belief in the power of the cross to save. For a whole year after the +mission was founded, not a convert was made. The sole San Diego Indian +in Father Serra's service was a hired interpreter, who did not have a +particle of reverence for his employer's work. "In all these +missionary annals of the Northwest," says Bancroft, "there is no other +instance where paganism remained so long stubborn as in San Diego." + +And the converts made at such cost of threats and promises were always +ready to backslide. It was hard to convert any unless they subjugated +all. The influence of the many outside would often stampede the few +within the fold. + +In one of the numerous uprisings at San Diego the Fathers were +victorious over the Indians; the warriors were flogged, and thus +converted, and their four chiefs were condemned to death. The sentence +of death, according to Bancroft, read as follows: + + +"Deeming it useful to the service of God, the king, and the public +good, I sentence them to a violent death by musket shots, on the 11th +of April, at 9 A.M., the troops to be present at the execution, under +arms; and also all the Christian rancherias subject to the San Diego +Mission, that they may be warned to act righteously." + + +To the priests who were to assist at the last sacrament, the following +grim directions was given: + + +"You will co-operate for the good of their souls, in the understanding +that if they do not accept the salutary waters of holy baptism, they +die on Saturday morning; and if they do accept, they die all the same." + + +The character of the first great mission chief, Junipero Serra, is thus +summed up by Bancroft: + + +"All his energy and enthusiasm were directed to the performance of his +missionary duties as outlined in the regulations of his order and the +instruction of his superiors. Limping from mission to mission, with a +lame foot that must never be cured, fasting much and passing sleepless +nights, depriving himself of comfortable clothing and nutritious food, +he felt that he was imitating the saints and martyrs who were the +ideals of his sickly boyhood, and in recompense of abstinence he was +happy. He was kind-hearted and charitable to all, but most strict in +his enforcement of religious duties. It never occurred to him to doubt +his absolute right to flog his neophytes for any slight negligence in +matters of the faith. His holy desires trembled within him like +earthquake throbs. In his eyes there was but one object worth living +for--the performance of religious duty; and but one way to accomplish +that object--a strict and literal compliance with Franciscan rules. He +could never understand that there was anything beyond the narrow field +of his vision. He could apply religious enthusiasm to practical +affairs. Because he was a grand missionary, he was none the less a +money-maker and civilizer; but money-making and civilizing were +adjuncts only to mission work, and all not for his glory, but for the +glory of God." + + +After Junipero Serra came a saner and wiser, if not a better, man, the +Padre Fermin Lasuen. I need not go into details in regard to him or +his life. No miracles followed his path, and no saint made him the +object of spectacular intervention; but his gentle earnestness counted +for more in the development of Old California than that of any other +man. Of Lasuen, Bancroft says: + + +"In him were united the qualities that make up the ideal Padre, without +taint of hypocrisy or cant. He was a frank, kind-hearted old man, who +made friends of all he met. Of his fervent piety there are abundant +proofs, and his piety and humility were of an agreeable type, +unobtrusive, and blended with common sense. He overcame obstacles in +the way of duty, but he created no obstacles for the mere sake of +surmounting them. He was not a man to limp through life on a sore leg +if a cure could be found. . . . First among the Californian prelates +let us ever rank Fermin de Lasuen, as a friar who rose above his +environment and lived many years in advance of his times." + + +Thirteen years after the serene founding of the Mission San Francisco +came the first shock to the community, thus noticed in a letter from +the governor of the territory to the _comandante_ at San Francisco: + + +"Whenever there may arrive at the Port of San Francisco a ship named +the Columbia, said to belong to General Washington, of the American +States, commanded by John Kendrick, which sailed from Boston in +September, 1787, bound on a voyage of discovery to the Russian +establishments on the northern coast of this peninsula, you will cause +the said vessel to be examined with caution and delicacy, using for +this purpose a small boat which you have in your possession." + +Afterwards another enemy, almost as dangerous as the Yankee, appeared +in the shape of Russians from Alaska. They brought down a colony of +Kodiak Indians, or Aleuts, and established themselves at Fort Ross, +north of San Francisco. The Spaniards then founded the missions of San +Rafael and Solano in front of the Russians, to head them off, as the +priest makes the sign of the cross to ward off Satan. Trading with the +Russians was forbidden, but, nevertheless, the Russian vessels, on one +pretext or another, made repeated visits to the Bay of San Francisco. +The Spaniards had no boats in the bay, and could not prevent the +ingress of the Russian and American traders. One of the singular facts +in connection with the missions is that the Padres made no use of the +sea, and the missions usually kept no boats at all, and so the Spanish +officials were forced to receive in friendliness many encroachments +which they were powerless to prevent. + +In 1842, as the seals grew scarce around Bodegas Head, the Russians, to +the great satisfaction of the Spaniards, disappeared as suddenly as +they came. The joy of the missions was short-lived, for seven years +later gold was discovered, California was ceded to the United States, +and the most remarkable invasion known in history followed. Over the +mountains, across the plains, by the Isthmus, and by the Horn they +came, that wonderful procession which Bret Harte has made so familiar +to us--Truthful James, Tennessee's Partner, Jack Hamlin, John Oakhurst, +Flynn of Virginia, Abner Dean of Angels, Brown of Calaveras, Yuba Bill, +Sandy McGee, the Scheezicks, the Man of No Account, and all the rest. +And the California of the gambler and the gold-seeker succeeds the +California of the Padre. + +Numerous causes had meanwhile contributed to the decline of the Spanish +missions. They had been supported at first by a Pious Fund, obtained +by subscriptions in Mexico and Spain. After the separation of these +two countries, this fund was lost, its interest being regularly +embezzled by Mexican officials, and, finally, the principal, it is +said, was taken in one lump by the President, Santa Ana. Still the +missions were able to hold their own until the Mexican Government +removed the Indians from the control of the Padres, for the benefit, I +suppose, of the "Indian ring." The secular control of the native +tribes was, in Mexican hands, an utter failure. The Indians, now no +longer compelled to work, no longer well fed and comfortably clothed, +were scattered about the country as paupers and tramps. The missions, +after repeated interferences of this sort, fell into a rapid decline, +and at the time that California was ceded to the United States, not one +of them was in successful operation. A few of the churches are still +partly occupied, as at San Luis Obispo, San Capistrano, and San Miguel. +The Mission of Santa Barbara is still intact, and has yet its little +bands of monks. A few, like San Carlos, have been partially saved or +partially restored, thanks to the loving interest of Father Casanova +and others; but the Indians are gone, and neither wealth nor influence +remains with the missions. Most of them are crumbling ruins, and have +already taken their place as curiosities and relics of the past. Some +of them, as the noble San Antonio de Padua and the stately San Luis +Rey, are exquisitely beautiful, even in ruins. Of others, as San +Rafael, not a trace remains, and its spot can be kept green only in +memory. It is said that at San Antonio, a mission once numbering +fourteen hundred souls, and rearing the finest horses in California, +the last priest lived all alone for years, and supported himself by +raising geese and selling the tiles from the mission roof. When he +died, ten years ago, no one was left to care for his beloved mission, +which is rapidly falling into utter decay. + +[Illustration: Mission of San Antonio de Padua--side of the chapel, +with the old pear-trees.] + +So faded away the California of the Padre, and left no stain on the +pages of our history. + + + +[1] Address at the Teachers' Institute at Monterey, California, +September, 1893. + +[2] This stretch of water, as explained below, lies entirely outside of +what is now known as San Francisco Bay. + +[3] The limits of San Francisco Bay, as now understood, were +ascertained at the time of the founding of the mission, and the name +was then formally adopted. + +[4] Bret Harte. + + + + +THE CONQUEST OF JUPITER PEN. + +In a cleft of the high Alps stands the Hospice of the Great Saint +Bernard. Its tall, cold, stone buildings are half-buried in ice in the +winter, while even in summer the winds, dense with snow, shriek and +howl as they make their way through the notch in the mountain. Its +little lake, cold and dark, frozen solid in winter, is covered with +cakes of floating ice under the sky of July. The scanty grass around +it forms a thick, low turf, which is studded with bodiless blue +gentians, primroses, and other Alpine flowers. Overhanging the lake +are the frost-bitten crags of the Mountain of Death; and the other +mountains about, though less dismally named, are not more cheerful to +the traveler. Along the lake margin winds the narrow bridle-path, +which follows rushing rivulets in zigzags down steep flower-carpeted +slopes to the pine woods of Saint Remy, far below. Among the pines the +path widens to a wagon-road, whence it descends through green pastures, +purple with autumnal crocus, past beggarly villages, whose houses crowd +together, like frightened cattle in a herd, through beech woods, +vineyards, and grain-fields, till at last it comes to its rest amid the +high stone walls of the old city of Aosta, named for Augustus Caesar. +Above Aosta are the sources of the river Po, one of the chief of these +being the Dora Baltea, in a deep gorge half-hid by chestnut-trees. It +is twenty miles from the lake to the river--twenty miles of wild +mountain incline--twenty miles from Switzerland to Italy, from the +eternal snows and faint-colored flowers of the frigid zone, to the +dust, and glare of the torrid. + +The Hospice of the Great Saint Bernard stands thus in a narrow mountain +notch, with only room for itself and its lake, while above it, on +either side, are jagged heights dashed with snow-banks, their summits +frosted with eternal ice. + +[Illustration: The Great Saint Bernard.] + +It is a large stone building, three stories high, beside the two attic +floors of the steep, sloping roof. A great square house of cold, gray +stone, as unattractive as a barn or a woolen-mill, plain, cold, and +solid. At one end of the main building is a stone addition precisely +like the building itself. On the other side of the bridle-path is an +outbuilding--a tall stone shed, "the Hotel of Saint Louis," three +stories high, as plain and uncompromising as the Hospice is. The front +door of the main building is on the side away from the lake. From this +door down the north side of the mountain the path descends steeply from +the crest of the Pennine Alps to the valley of the Rhone, even more +swiftly than the path on the south side drops downward to the valley of +the Po. + +As one approaches the Hospice he is met by a noisy band of great dogs, +yellow and white, with the loudest of bass voices, barking incessantly, +eager to pull you out of the snow, and finding that you do not need +this sort of rescue, apparently equally eager to tear you to pieces for +having deceived them. Classical names these dogs still bear--names +worthy of the mountain long sacred to Jupiter, on which the Hospice is +built--Jupitere, Junon, Mars, Vulcan, Pluton, the inevitable Leon, and +the indomitable Turc, and all have for the traveler such a greeting as +only a band of big, idle dogs can give. These dogs are not so large +nor so well kept as the Saint Bernard dogs we see in American cities, +but they have the same great head, huge feet and legs, and the same +intelligent eye, as if they were capable of doing anything if they +would only stop barking long enough to think of something else. + +The inside of the house corresponds to its outer appearance. Thick, +heavy triple doors admit you to a cold hall floored with stone. +Adjoining this is a parlor, likewise floored with the coldest of stone, +and this parlor is used as the dining-room and waiting-room for +travelers. Its walls are hung with pictures, many of them valuable +works of art, the gifts of former guests, while its chilly air is +scantily warmed by a small fireplace, on which whoever will may throw +pine boughs and fragments of the spongy wood of the fir. By this fire +the guests take their turn in getting partly warmed, then pass away to +shiver in the outer wastes of the room. + +[Illustration: Hospice of the Great Saint Bernard.] + +In this room the travelers are served with plain repasts, princes and +peasants alike, coarse bread, red wine, coffee, and boiled meat; +everything about the table neat and clean, but with no pretense at +pampering the appetite. You take whatever you please without money and +without price. Should you care to pay your way, or care to help on the +work of the Hospice, you can leave your mite, be it large or small, in +a box near the door of the chapel. The guest-rooms are plain but +comfortable--a few religious pictures on the walls; tall, old-fashioned +bedsteads, with abundant feather-beds and warm blankets. For one night +only all persons who come are welcome. The next day all alike, unless +sick or crippled, must pass on. + +There are about a dozen monks in the Hospice now, all of them young +men, devoted to their work, and some of them at least intelligent and +generously educated. The hard climate and the exposure of winter +breaks down their health before they are old. When they become unable +to carry on the duties of the Hospice, they are sent down the mountains +to Martigny, while others come up to take their places. There are +beautiful days in the summer-time, but no season of the year is free +from severity. Even in July and August the ground is half the time +white with snow. Terrible blasts sweep through the mountains; for the +commonest summer shower in the valleys below is, in these heights, a +raging snow-storm, and its snow-laden winds are never faced with +impunity. + +We visited the Hospice in July, 1890. We drove from Aosta up to Saint +Remy, a little village crowded in on the side of the mountain, where +the pine-trees cease. The light rain which followed us out from Saint +Remy changed to snow as we came up the rocky slopes. By the time we +reached the Hospice it became a blinding sleet. The ground was only +whitened, so that the dogs who came barking to meet us had no need to +dig us out from the drifts. In this they seemed disappointed, and +barked again. + +Once inside the walls, one cared not to go out. Many travelers came up +the mountain that day. Among them were a man and his wife, Italian +peasants, who had been over the mountains to spend a day or two with +friends in some village on the Swiss side, and were now returning home. +Man and woman were dressed in their peasants' best, and with them was a +little girl, some four years old. The child carried a toy horse in her +hands, the gift of some friend below. As they toiled up the steep path +in the blinding snow, all of them thinly clad and dressed only for +summer, they seemed chilled through and through, while the child was +almost frozen. The monks came out to meet them, took the child in +their arms, and brought her and her parents to the fire, covered her +shoulders with a warm shawl, and, after feeding them, sent them down +the mountain to their home in the valley, warmed and filled. This was +a simple act, the easiest of all their many duties, but it was a very +touching one. Such duties make up the simple round of their lives. + +In the storms of winter the work of the Hospice takes a sterner cast. +From November to May the gales are incessant. The snow piles up in +billows, and in the whirling clouds all traces of human occupation are +obliterated. There are many peasants and workingmen who go forth from +Italy into Switzerland and France, and who wish to return home when +their summer labors are over. To these the pass of the Great Saint +Bernard is the only route which they can afford. The long railway +rides and the great distances of the Simplon and the Saint Gotthard +would mean the using up of their scanty earnings. If they go home at +all, they must trust their lives to the storms and the monks, and take +the path which leads by the Hospice. So they come over day after day, +the winter long. No matter how great the storm, the dogs are on the +watch. In the last winter, of the many who came, not one was lost. + +[Illustration: The Hospice in winter.] + +This is the Hospice as it stands to-day. I come next to tell its story +and the story of its founder. I tell it, in the most part, from a +little volume in French, which some modest and nameless monk of the +Hospice has compiled from the old Latin records of the monks who have +gone before him. This volume he has printed, as he says, "for the use +of the faithful in the parishes which lie next the Alps, and which, in +his time, the good Saint Bernard[1] passed through." This story I must +tell in his own spirit, in some degree at least, else I should have no +right to tell it at all. + +In the tenth century, he informs us, the dark ages of Europe could +scarcely have been darker. Weak and wicked kings, the dregs of the +worn-out blood of Charlemagne, misruled France, while along the +northern coast the Normans robbed and plundered at their will. Even +the church had her share of crimes and scandals. In this dark time, +says the chronicle, "God, who had promised to be with His own to the +end of the centuries, did not fail to raise up in that darkness great +saints who should teach the people to lift their eyes toward heaven; to +rise above afflictions; not to take the form of the world for a +permanent habitation, and to suffer its pains with patience, in the +prospect of eternity." + +[Illustration: Jupitere.] + +It happened that in the days of King Raoul, in the Castle of Menthon, +on the north bank of the lake of Annecy, in Savoy, in the year 923, +Bernard de Menthon was born. His father was the Baron Richard, famous +among the noblemen of the time, while his mother, the Lady Bernoline, +was illustrious for virtues. The young Bernard was a fair child, and +his history, as seen from the perspective of his monkish historian, +shows that even in his earliest youth he was predestined for saintship. +Even before he could walk, the little child would join his hands in the +attitude of supplication, and murmur words which might have been +prayers. While still very young, he brought in a book one day and +asked his mother to teach him to read, and when she would not, or could +not, he wept, for the books in which even then he delighted were the +prayer-books of the church. + +He grew up bright and beautiful, and his father was proud of him, and +determined that he should take his part in public life. But Bernard's +thoughts ran in other channels. He spent his moments in copying +psalms, and in writing down the words of divine service which he heard. +Even in his seventh year he began to practice austerities and +self-castigation, which he kept up through his life. He chose for his +model Saint Nicholas, the saint who through the ages has been kind to +children. Him he resolved to imitate, and to walk always in his steps. + +The University of Paris had been founded by Charlemagne more than a +century before, and this university was then the Mecca of all ambitious +youth. To the University of Paris his father decided to send him. But +his mother feared the influence of the gay capital, and wished to keep +Bernard by her side. But the boy said, "Virtue has too deep a root in +my heart, mother, for the air of Paris to tarnish it. I will bring +back more of science, but not less of purity." And to Paris he went. +Here he studied law, to please his father, and theology, to please +himself. "As Tobias lived faithful in Nineveh," so the chronicle says, +"thus lived Bernard in Paris." In the midst of snares unnumbered, he +only redoubled his austerities--"_in sanctitate persistens, studiosus +valde_," so the record says. + +[Illustration: Monks of the Great Saint Bernard.] + +His thoughts ran on the misery of humanity, which he measured by the +abasement to which Christ had submitted in order to effect its +redemption. A great influence in his life came from Germain, his +tutor, a man who had lived the life of a scholar in the world, and who +had at last withdrawn to sanctity and prayer. Although Bernard knew +that his father expected a brilliant future for him, and that he hoped +to effect for him a marriage in some family of the great of those days, +yet he took upon himself the vow of celibacy. "God lives in virgin +souls," he said. There is a record of an argument with Germain, in +which his tutor tries to test the strength of his purpose. Germain +tells him that even in a monastery evil cannot be excluded, and that +many even of the most austere monks live lives of petty jealousy and +ignoble ambition. "There are many," Germain says, "who are saved in +the struggle of the world who would be shipwrecked in a monastery." +But Bernard is steadfast in his choice. "Happy are those who have +chosen to dwell in God's court, and to sleep on His estate." Thus day +and night he struggles against all temptations of worldly glory or +pleasure. + +Then his father calls him home; and when he has returned to Annecy, +Bernard finds that every preparation has been made for his approaching +wedding with the daughter of the great Lord of Miolans. "_Sponsa +pulchra_," beautiful bride, this young woman was, according to the +record, and doubtless this was true. The attitude of Bernard toward +this marriage his father and mother could not understand. He held back +constantly, and urged all sorts of objections to its immediate +consummation, but on no ground which seemed to them reasonable. So the +wedding-day was set. The house was full of guests. Every gate and +door of the castle was crowded by armed retainers, and there seemed to +be no escape. Bernard retired to his own room, and in the oldest +manuscripts are given the words of his prayer: + + +"My adorable Creator, Thou who with thy celestial light enlightened +those who invoke with faith and confidence, and Thou my Jesus, Divine +Redeemer of men and Saviour of souls, lend a favorable ear to my humble +prayer; spread on thy servant the treasures of your infinite mercy. I +know that Thou never abandonest those who place in you their hope; +deliver me, I supplicate Thee, from the snares which the world have +offered me. Break these nets in which the world tries to take me; +permit not that the enemy prevail over thy servant, that adulation may +enfeeble my heart. I abandon myself entirely to Thee. I throw myself +into the arms of thy infinite mercy, hoping that Thou wilt save me, and +wilt reject not my demand." + + +Then to the good Saint Nicholas: + + +"Amiable shepherd, faithful guide, holy priest, thou who art my +protector and my refuge, together with God, and His holy mother, the +happy Virgin Mary, obtain me, I pray thee, by thy merits, the grace of +triumph over the obstacles the world opposes to my vow of consecrating +myself to God without reserve--in return for the property, the +pleasures, and honors here below, of which I abandon my part, obtain me +spiritual good all the course of my life, and eternal happiness after +my death." + + +Then Bernard retired to sleep, and in a dream Saint Nicholas stood +before him and uttered these words: + + +"Bernard, servant of God the Lord, who never betrays those who put +their confidence in Him, calls thee to follow Him. An immortal crown +is reserved for thee. Leave at once thy father's house and go to +Aosta. There in the cathedral thou shalt meet an old man called +Pierre. He will welcome thee; thou shalt live with him, and he shall +teach thee the road thou should traverse. For my part, I shall be thy +protector, and will not for an instant abandon thee." + + +Then Bernard opened his eyes and the vision had disappeared. He was +overcome with joy. His resolution was taken. Though he knew no way +out of the castle, nor from the bedroom in the tower, in which he had +been locked by his thoughtful father, yet he was ready to go. + +Taking up a pen, he wrote to his father this letter: + +"Very dear parents, rejoice with me that the Lord calls me to His +service. I follow Him to arrive sooner at the port of salvation, the +sole object of my vows. Do not worry about me, nor take the trouble to +seek me. I renounce the marriage, which was ever against my will. I +renounce all that concerns the world. All my desires turn toward +heaven, whither I would arrive. I take the road this minute. + +"BERNARD DE MENTHON." + + +Laying the letter on the table, he soon found himself on the way +outside the castle grounds, and along this path he hurried, over the +mountain passes, toward the city of Aosta. So say the oldest +manuscripts; but in the later stories the details are more fully +described. From these it would appear that Bernard leaped from the +window eighteen or twenty feet, his naked feet striking on a bare rock. +On he ran through the night; on over dark and lonely paths in a country +still uninhabited; over the stony fields and wild watercourses of the +Graian Alps, and when the morning dawned he found himself in the city +of Aosta, a hundred miles from Annecy. + +In an old painting the manner of his escape is shown in detail. As he +drops from the window he is supported by Saint Nicholas on the one +side, and an angel on the other, and underneath the painting is the +legend "_Emporte par Miracle_." It is said, too, that in former times +the prints of his hands on the stone window-sill, and of his naked feet +on the rock below, were both plainly visible. Eight hundred years +later the good Father Pierre Verre celebrated mass in the old room in +which Bernard was confined; and he reports at that time there was both +on the window-sill and on the rock below only the merest trace of the +imprints left by Bernard. One could not then "even be sure that they +were made by hand or foot." But the chronicle wisely says: "Time, in +effacing these marks and rendering them doubtful, has never effaced the +tradition of the fact among the people of Annecy." + +In the morning, consternation reigned within the castle. The Lord of +Menthon was filled with disgust, shame, and confusion. The Lord of +Miolans thought that he and his daughter were the victims of a trick, +and he would take no explanation or excuse. Only the sword might +efface the stain upon his honor. The marriage feast would have ended +in a scene of blood were it not, according to the chronicle, that "God, +always admirable in His saints," sent as an angel of peace the very +person who had been most cruelly wronged. The Lady of Miolans, +"_sponsa pulchra_" beyond a doubt, took up the cause of her delinquent +bridegroom, whom God had called, she said, to take some nobler part. +When peace had been made, she followed his example, taking the veil in +a neighboring convent, where, after many years of virtuous living, she +died, full of days and full of merits. "_Sponsa ipsius_," so the +record says, "_in qua sancte et religiose dies suos clausit_"; a bride +who in sanctity and religious days closed her life. + +Meanwhile, beyond the Graian Alps and beyond the reach of his father's +information, Bernard was safe. In Aosta he was kindly received by +Pierre, the Archdeacon. He entered into the service of the church, and +there, in spite of his humility and his self-abasement, he won the +favor of all with whom he had to deal. "God wills," the chronicle +says, "that His ministers should shine by their sanctity and their +science." "Saint Paul commends prudence, gravity, modesty, +unselfishness, and hospitality," and to these precepts Bernard was ever +faithful. He lived in the simplest way, like a hermit in his personal +relations, but never out of the life of the world. He was not a man +eager to save his own soul only, but the bodies and souls of his +neighbors. He dressed in the plainest garb. He drank from a rude +wooden cup. Wine he never touched, and water but rarely. The juice of +bitter herbs was his beverage, and by every means possible he strove to +reduce his body to servitude. When he came, years later, to his +deathbed, it was his sole regret that it was a _bed_ where he was to +die, instead of the bare boards on which he was wont to sleep. + +His fame as a preacher spread far and wide. There are many traditions +of his eloquence, and the memory of his words was fondly cherished +wherever his sweet, rich voice was heard. "From the mountains of Savoy +to Milan and Turin, and even to the Lake of Geneva," says the +chronicle, "his memory was dear." So, in due time, after the death of +Pierre, Bernard was made Archdeacon of Aosta. + +In these times the high Alps were filled with Saracen brigands and +other heathen freebooters, who celebrated in the mountain fastnesses +their monstrous rites. In the mountains above Aosta the god Pen had +long been worshiped; the word pen in Celtic meaning the highest. +Later, Julius Caesar conquered these wild tribes, and imposed upon them +the religion of the Roman Empire. A statue of Jupiter ("_Jove optimo +maximo_") was set up in the mountain in the place of the idol Pen. +Afterwards, by way of compromise, the Romans permitted the two to +become one, and the people worshiped Jovis Pennius (Jupiter Pen), the +great god of the highest mountains. A statue of Jupiter Pen was set up +by the side of the lake in the great pass of the mountain; and from +Jupiter Pen these mountains took the name of Pennine Alps, which they +bear to this day. The pass itself was called Mons Jovis, the Mountain +of Jove, and this, in due time, became shortened to Mont Joux. Through +this pass of Mont Joux the armies of every nation have marched, the +heroes of every age, from Saint Peter, who, the legend says, came over +in the year 57, down to Napoleon, who passed nearly eighteen centuries +later, on a much less worthy errand. The Hotel "Dejeuner de Napoleon," +in the little village of "Bourg Saint Pierre," recalls in its name the +story of both these visits. + +In the earliest days a refuge hut was built by the side of the statue +of Jupiter Pen. In the early pilgrimages to Rome this became a place +of some importance. Later on, marauding armies of Goths, Saracens, and +Hungarians, successively passing through, destroyed this refuge. In +the days of Bernard the pass was filled with a horde of brigands, +French, Italians, Saracens, and Jews, who had cast aside all religious +faith of their fathers, and had re-established the worship of the demon +in the temple of Jupiter Pen. + +The old manuscripts tell us that in the middle of the tenth century the +demons were in full sway on these mountains; that through the mouth of +the statue of Jupiter the worst of lies and blasphemies were spoken to +those who came to consult it. These worshipers of strange old gods +lived by plunder, and exacted toll of all who came through the pass. +The same conditions existed on the Graian Alps to the southward. On +one of these mountain passes, some fifty miles from Mont Joux, there +lived a rich man named Polycarpe. He, too, did homage to Jupiter, and +on the summit of a tall column which he built in the pass he had placed +a splendid diamond, which he called the "Eye of Jove." People came +from great distances to be healed by its magic glance, and the mountain +on which he dwelt was the mountain of the Columna Jovis. This became +changed, in time, to Colonne Joux, the Mountain of the Column of Jove. +And the demons of these two heights, the Mountain of Jove and the +Column of Jove, sent down their baleful call of defiance to the valley +over which Bernard ruled as Archdeacon of Aosta. + +It came to pass that a troop of ten French travelers crossed over the +pass of Mont Joux. In the pass they were attacked by marauders, and +one of their number was carried away captive. When they came down to +Aosta, Bernard, the Archdeacon, fearlessly offered to go back with them +to attack the giant of the mountain, to rescue their friend, and to +replace the standard of the cross over the altar of the demon. + +That night, so says the old chronicle, Saint Nicholas appeared to him +in the garb of a pilgrim and said: "Bernard, let us attack these +mountains. We shall put the demon to flight. We shall overturn this +statue of Jupiter, which the demons have taken possession of to bring +trouble among Christians. We will destroy it, and we will destroy the +column and its diamond, and in their place we will build two refuges +for the use of the pilgrims who cross the two mountains. Go thou, as +the tenth one in this band; then wilt thou conjure the demons. Thou +shalt bind the statue with a blessed stole, and its ruins will mingle +with the chaos of the mountains. Thus shalt thou destroy the power of +evil to the day of judgment." + +And in proof of the thoroughness with which Bernard performed his work, +it is told that a spiritualist who took pleasure in tipping tables came +through the pass in 1857. The monks were incredulous of his powers, +and he wished to convince them by an actual experience. His efforts +were all in vain. The tables, the record tells us, were quiet as the +rocks. The traveler, astonished, said: "This is the first time they +have failed to obey me." And thus, says the record, the pledge of +Saint Nicholas was accomplished. The enemy had never more an entrance +into the mountain. + +When Bernard and his followers reached Mont Joux, they found the +mountain filled with fog and storm, but his heart was undaunted. +Passing boldly between the guards of the temple, he flung, so the story +says, his blessed stole over the neck of the statue of Jupiter. It +changed at once into an iron chain, against which the statue, now +become a huge demon-monster, struggled in vain. The good man +overturned it and flung it at his feet. With the same chain he bound +the high priest who guarded the demon. The struggle was short, but +decisive. In a few minutes, so the chronicle says, Bernard had +banished the demon of Mont Joux and his accomplices to eternal snow and +ice to the end of time, and had commanded them to cease forever their +evil doings on the mountain. + +An old painting in the Hospice shows this scene in vivid portrait. +Bernard stands erect and fearless, his fine face lit up by celestial +zeal, his bare head surrounded by a halo, a pilgrim's staff in his +right hand, the stole, now become a chain, in his left, while one foot +is on the breast of the demon, which gasps helpless at his feet. The +demon has the body of a man, covered with a wolf's rough, shaggy hair, +his fingers and toes ending in sharp claws, a long tail, rough and +scaly, like the tail of a rat, coiled snake-like above his legs, the +head and ears of a wolf, the horns of a goat, and on his back an +indefinable outgrowth, perhaps the framework of a horrible pair of +wings, its long tongue thrust out from between its bloody teeth. He +was certainly a gruesome creature. + +[Illustration: Saint Bernard and the demon.] + +And thus it came to pass in the year 970, in the place of the temple of +Jupiter Pen, but at the other end of the lake, and in the very summit +of the pass, was built the Hospice of the Great Saint Bernard. From +that day to this, almost a thousand years, the work of doing good to +men has been humbly and patiently carried on. + +Not long afterward, in a similar way, Bernard attacked the Graian Alps, +overthrew the column of Jupiter, crushed its bright diamond to the +finest dust, which he scattered in the winds, and built in its place a +second Hospice, which, with the pass, has borne ever since the name of +the Little Saint Bernard. + +Silver and gold, the builders of this Hospice had none. Ever since the +beginning, they have exercised their charities at the expense of those +who cared for the Lord's work. All who pass by are treated alike. +Those who are received into the Hospice can leave much or +little--something or nothing, whatever they please,--to carry the same +same help to others. + +In the book of the good Saint Francis de Sales long ago, so the +chronicle says, these words were written: + + +"There are many degrees in charity. To lend to the poor, this is the +first degree. To give to the poor is a higher degree. Still higher to +give oneself; to devote one's life to the service of the poor. +Hospitality, when necessity is not extreme, is a counsel, and to +receive the stranger is its first degree. But to go out on the roads +to find and help, as Abraham did, this is a grade still higher. Still +higher is to live in dangerous places, to serve, aid, and save the +passers-by; to attend, lodge, succor, and save from danger the +travelers, who else would die in cold and storm. This is the work of +the noble friend of God, who founded the hospitals on the two +mountains, now for this called by his name, Great Saint Bernard, in the +diocese of Sion, and the Little Saint Bernard, in the Tarentaise." + + +And so the Hospice was built, and in the enthusiastic words of a +chronicle of the times, "Tears and sorrow were banished, peace and joy +have replaced them; abundance has made there her abode; the terrors +have disappeared, and there reigns eternal springtime. Instead of +hell, you will find there paradise." Not quite paradise, perhaps, so +far as the elements are concerned, but a dozen kindly men, a legion of +dogs, big, cheerful, and noisy, a warm fire, a simple meal, and a +God-speed to all men, whatever their race, or creed, or temper. + +I need add but a word more of the history of Bernard himself. One day +an old man and his wife came up to visit the Hospice and to pay their +respects to the monk who had founded it. Bernard met them there, and +at once recognized his father and mother. He received them +sympathetically, and they told him the story of their lost son. +Bernard spoke to them tenderly of the work to which God must have +called him. He told them they should rejoice that their child had been +found worthy of his purposes, and after a time they seemed to become +reconciled, and felt that He doeth all things well. Then Bernard told +them who he was, and when after many days they went away from the +Hospice, they left the money to build in each of them a chapel. + +Bernard died in the year 1007, at the age of eighty-three. His last +words were these: "O Lord, I give my soul into thy hands." The words, +"The saint is dead," passed on from mouth to mouth throughout these +Alpine regions. The peasants had canonized him already a hundred years +before the sanctity of his work was officially recognized at Rome. + +The story of his burial is again marked by miracles. Rich men vied +with each other in making funeral offerings. One gave him a +magnificent stone coffin, but this man had been a usurer. Usury was a +sin abhorred by Saint Bernard, and the people found that no force or +persuasion could place his body within this coffin. So another tomb, +less pretentious, but more worthy, was found. At the end Bernard's +remains were divided among the churches, each of whom claimed him as +its own. To the Hospice fell his ring and his cup, a tooth, and a few +finger-bones, and, most important of all, his name--the "Great Saint +Bernard." + +The chronicles give a long list of miracles which since then have been +wrought in his name. These are for the most part wonderful healings, +the stilling of storms, the bringing of rain, the driving away of +grasshoppers. However, men are prone always to look for the miracle in +the things that are of least moment. The life and work of the man was +the real miracle, not the flight of grasshoppers. The miracle of all +time is the power of humanity when it works in harmony with the laws +and purposes of God. Consecrated to God's work, and by the work's own +severity protected through the centuries from corruption and +temptation, the work of the monk of Aosta has outlasted palaces and +thrones. Through the influence of charity, and piety, and truth, the +demon has been driven from these mountains. When the love of man joins +to the love of God, all spirits of evil vanish as mist before the +morning sun. + + + +[1] St. Bernard de Menthon must not be confounded with Bernard de +Clairvaux, born in 1091, the preacher of the Crusades. + + + + +THE LAST OF THE PURITANS.[1] + +I have a word to say of Thoreau, and of an episode which brought his +character into bold relief, and which has fairly earned for him a place +in American history, as well as in our literature. + +I do not wish now to give any account of the life of Thoreau. In the +preface to his volume called "Excursions" you will find a biographical +sketch, written by the loving hand of Mr. Emerson, his neighbor and +friend. Neither shall I enter into any justification of Thoreau's +peculiar mode of life, nor shall I describe the famous cabin in the +pine woods by Walden Pond, already becoming the Mecca of the Order of +Saunterers, whose great prophet was Thoreau. His profession of +land-surveyor was one naturally adopted by him; for to him every hill +and forest was a being, each with its own individuality. This +profession kept him in the fields and woods, with the sky over his head +and the mold under his feet. It paid him the money needed for his +daily wants, and he cared for no more. + +He seldom went far away from Concord, and, in a half-playful way, he +used to view everything in the world from a Concord standpoint. All +the grandest trees grew there and all the rarest flowers, and nearly +all the phenomena of nature could be observed at Concord. + +"Nothing can be hoped of you," he said, "if this bit of mold under your +feet is not sweeter to you than any other in this world--in any world." + +Although one of the most acute of observers, Thoreau was never reckoned +among the scientific men of his time. He was never a member of any +Natural History Society, nor of any Academy of Sciences, bodies which, +in a general way, he held in not altogether unmerited contempt. When +men band together for the study of nature, they first draft a long +constitution, with its attendant by-laws, and then proceed to the +election of officers, and, by and by, the study of nature becomes +subordinate to the maintenance of the organization. + +In technical scientific work, Thoreau took little pleasure. It is +often pedantic, often bloodless, and often it is a source of +inspiration only to him by whom the work is done. Animals and plants +were interesting to him, not in their structure and genealogical +affinities, but in their relations to his mind. He loved wild things, +not alone for themselves, but for the tonic effect of their savagery +upon him. + +"I wish to speak a word for nature," he said, "for absolute freedom and +wildness, as contrasted with a freedom and culture merely civil, to +regard man as an inhabitant, a part and parcel of nature, rather than +as a member of society. I wish to make an extreme statement; if so, I +may make an emphatic one, for there are enough champions of +civilization. The minister and the school committees, and every one of +you, will take care of that." + +To Thoreau's admirers, he is the prophet of the fields and woods, the +interpreter of nature, and his every word has to them the deepest +significance. He is the man who + + "Lives all alone, close to the bone, + And where life is sweetest, constantly eatest." + +They resent all criticism of his life or his words. They are impatient +of all analysis of his methods or of his motives, and a word of praise +of him is the surest passport to their good graces. + +But the critics sometimes miss the inner harmony which Thoreau's +admirers see, and discern only queer paradoxes and extravagances of +statement where the others hear the voice of nature's oracle. With +most literary men, the power or disposition of those who know or +understand their writings is in some degree a matter of literary +culture. It is hardly so in the case of Thoreau. + +The most illiterate man I know who had ever heard of Thoreau, Mr. +Barney Mullins, of Freedom Centre, Outagamie County, Wisconsin, was a +most ardent admirer of Thoreau, while the most eminent critic in +America, James Russell Lowell, does him scant justice. To Lowell, the +finest thoughts of Thoreau are but strawberries from Emerson's garden, +and other critics have followed back these same strawberries through +Emerson's to still older gardens, among them to that of Sir Thomas +Browne. + +But, setting the critics aside, let me tell you about Barney Mullins. +Twenty years ago, I lived for a year in the northern part of Wisconsin. +The snow is very deep in the winter there, and once I rode into town +through the snowbanks on a sled drawn by two oxen and driven by Barney +Mullins. Barney was born on the banks of Killarney, and he could +scarcely be said to speak the English language. He told me that before +he came to Freedom Centre he had lived in a town called Concord, in +Massachusetts. I asked him if he had happened to know a man there by +the name of Henry Thoreau. He at once grew enthusiastic and he said, +among other things: "Mr. Thoreau was a land-surveyor in Concord. I +knew him well. He had a way of his own, and he didn't care naught +about money, but if there was ever a gentleman alive, he was one." + +Barney seemed much saddened when I told him that Mr. Thoreau had been +dead a dozen years. On parting, he asked me to come out some time to +Freedom Centre, and to spend a night with him. He had n't much of a +room to offer me, but there was always a place in his house for a +friend of Mr. Thoreau. Such is the feeling of this guild of lovers of +Thoreau, and some of you may come to belong to it. + +Here is a test for you. Thoreau says: "I long ago lost a hound, a bay +horse, and a turtle-dove, and am still on their trail. Many are the +travelers I have spoken to regarding them, describing their tracks, and +what calls they answered to. I have met one or two who have heard the +hound and the tramp of the horse, and even seen the dove disappear +behind the cloud, and they seemed as anxious to recover them as if they +had lost them themselves." + +Now, if any of you, in your dreams, have heard the horse, or seen the +sunshine on the dove's wings, you may join in the search. If not, you +may close the book, for Thoreau has not written for you. + +This Thoreau guild is composed, as he himself says, "of knights of a +new, or, rather, an old order, not equestrians or chevaliers, not +Ritters, or riders, but walkers, a still more ancient and honorable +class, I trust." + +"I have met," he says, "but one or two persons who understand the art +of walking; who had a genius for sauntering, which word is beautifully +derived from idle people who roved about the country in the Middle Ages +and asked charity, under pretense of going '_a la Sainte Terre_'--a +Sainte-terrer, a Holy Lander. They who never go to the Holy Land in +their walks, as they pretend, are indeed mere idlers and vagabonds; but +they who go there are saunterers, in the good sense. Every walk is a +kind of crusade preached by some Peter the Hermit within us, to go +forth and reconquer this Holy Land from the hands of the Infidels. + +"It is true that we are but faint-hearted crusaders, who undertake no +persevering, never-ending enterprises. Our expeditions are but tours, +and come round again at evening to the old hearthside from which we set +out. Half the walk is but retracing our steps. We should go forth on +the shortest walk, perchance, in the spirit of undying adventure, never +to return, prepared to send back our embalmed hearts only as relics to +our desolate kingdoms. If you are ready to leave father and mother, +and brother and sister, and wife and child, and friends; if you have +paid your debts, and made your will, and settled all your affairs, and +are a free man, you are ready for a walk." + +Though a severe critic of conventional follies, Thoreau was always a +hopeful man; and no finer rebuke to the philosophy of Pessimism was +ever given than in these words of his: "I know of no more encouraging +fact than the unquestionable ability of a man to elevate his life by a +conscious endeavor. It is something to be able to paint a particular +picture, or to carve a statue, and so make a few objects beautiful; but +it is far more glorious to carve and paint the very atmosphere and +medium through which we look. This, morally, we can do." + +But it is not of Thoreau as a saunterer, or as a naturalist, or as an +essayist, that I wish to speak, but as a moralist, and this in relation +to American politics. Thoreau lived in a dark day of our political +history. At one time he made a declaration of independence in a small +way, and refused allegiance and poll-tax to a Government built on a +corner-stone of human slavery. Because of this he was put into jail, +where he remained one night, and where he made some curious +observations on his townspeople as viewed from the inside of the bars. +Emerson came along in the morning, and asked him what he was there for. +"Why are you not in here, Mr. Emerson?" was his reply; for it seemed to +him that no man had the right to be free in a country where some men +were slaves. + +"Voting for the right," Thoreau said, "is doing nothing for it; it is +only expressing feebly your desire that right should prevail." He +would not for an instant recognize that political organization as his +government which was the slave's government also. "In fact," he said, +"I will quietly, after my fashion, declare war with the State. Under a +government which imprisons any unjustly, the true place for a just man +is also a prison. I know this well, that if one thousand, if one +hundred, or if one honest man in this State of Massachusetts, ceasing +to remain in this co-partnership, should be locked up in the county +jail therefor, it would be the abolition of slavery in America. It +matters not how small the beginning may seem to be, what is once well +done is done forever." + +Thoreau's friends paid his taxes for him, and he was set free, so that +the whole affair seemed like a joke. Yet, as Stevenson says, "If his +example had been followed by a hundred, or by thirty of his followers, +it would have greatly precipitated the era of freedom and justice. We +feel the misdeeds of our country with so little fervor, for we are not +witnesses to the suffering they cause. But when we see them awake an +active horror in our fellow-man; when we see a neighbor prefer to lie +in prison than be so much as passively implicated in their +perpetration, even the dullest of us will begin to realize them with a +quicker pulse." + +In the feeling that a wrong, no matter how great, must fall before the +determined assault of a man, no matter how weak, Thoreau found the +reason for his action. The operation of the laws of God is like an +incontrollable torrent. Nothing can stand before them; but the work of +a single man may set the torrent in motion which will sweep away the +accumulations of centuries of wrong. + +There is a long chapter in our national history which is not a glorious +record. Most of us are too young to remember much of politics under +the Fugitive Slave Law, or to understand the deference which +politicians of every grade then paid to the peculiar institution. It +was in those days in the Middle West that Kentucky blackguards, backed +by the laws of the United States, and aided not by Northern blackguards +alone, but by many of the best citizens of those States, chased runaway +slaves through the streets of our Northern capitals. + +And not the politicians alone, but the teachers and preachers, took +their turn in paying tribute to Caesar. We were told that the Bible +itself was a champion of slavery. Two of our greatest theologians in +the North declared, in the name of the Higher Law, that slavery was a +holy thing, which the Lord, who cursed Canaan, would ever uphold. + +In those days there came a man from the West--a tall, gaunt, grizzly, +shaggy-haired, God-fearing man, a son of the Puritans, whose ancestors +came over on the Mayflower. A dangerous fanatic or lunatic, he was +called, and, with the aid of a few poor negroes whom he had stolen from +slavery, he defied the power of this whole slave-catching United +States. A little square brick building, once a sort of car-shop, +stands near the railway station in the town of Harper's Ferry, with the +mountain wall not far behind it, and the Potomac River running below. +And from this building was fired the shot which pierced the heart of +slavery. And the Governor of Virginia captured this man, and took him +out and hung him, and laid his body in the grave, where it still lies +moldering. But there was part of him not in the jurisdiction of +Virginia, a part which they could neither hang nor bury; and, to the +infinite surprise of the Governor of Virginia, his soul went marching +on. + +[Illustration: John Brown.] + +When they heard in Concord that John Brown had been captured, and was +soon to be hung, Thoreau sent notice through the city that he would +speak in the public hall on the condition and character of John Brown, +on Sunday evening, and invited all to be present. + +The Republican Committee and the Committee of the Abolitionists sent +word to him that this was no time to speak; to discuss such matters +then was premature and inadvisable. He replied: "I did not send to you +for advice, but to tell you that I am going to speak." The selectmen +of Concord dared neither grant nor refuse him the hall. At last they +ventured to lose the key in a place where they thought he could find it. + +This address of Thoreau, "A Plea for Captain John Brown," should be a +classic in American history. We do not always realize that the time of +American history is now. The dates of the settlement of Jamestown, and +Plymouth, and St. Augustine do not constitute our history. Columbus +did not discover us. In a high sense, the true America is barely +thirty years old, and its first President was Abraham Lincoln. + +We in the North are a little impatient at times, and our politicians, +who are not always our best citizens, mutter terrible oaths, especially +in the month of October, because the South is not yet wholly +regenerate, because not all which sprang from the ashes of the +slave-pen were angels of light. + +But let us be patient while the world moves on. Forty years ago not +only the banks of the Yazoo and the Chattahoochee, but those of the +Hudson, and the Charles, and the Wabash, were under the lash. On the +eve of John Brown's hanging not half a dozen men in the city of +Concord, the most intellectual town in New England, the home of +Emerson, and Hawthorne, and Alcott, dared say that they felt any +respect for the man or sympathy for the cause for which he died. + +I wish to quote a few passages from this "Plea for Captain John Brown." +To fully realize its power, you should read it all for yourselves. You +must put yourselves back into history, now already seeming almost +ancient history to us, to the period when Buchanan was President--the +terrible sultry lull just before the great storm. You must picture the +audience of the best people in Massachusetts, half-sympathizing with +Captain Brown, half-afraid of being guilty of treason in so doing. You +must picture the speaker, with his clear-cut, earnest features and +penetrating voice. No preacher, no politician, no professional +reformer, no Republican, no Democrat; a man who never voted; a +naturalist whose companions were the flowers and the birds, the trees +and the squirrels. It was the voice of Nature in protest against +slavery and in plea for Captain Brown. + + +"My respect for my fellow-men," said Thoreau, "is not being increased +these days. I have noticed the cold-blooded way in which men speak of +this event, as if an ordinary malefactor, though one of unusual pluck, +'the gamest man I ever saw,' the Governor of Virginia said, had been +caught and was about to be hung. He was not thinking of his foes when +the Governor of Virginia thought he looked so brave. + +"It turns what sweetness I have to gall to hear the remarks of some of +my neighbors. When we heard at first that he was dead, one of my +townsmen observed that 'he dieth as the fool dieth,' which, for an +instant, suggested a likeness in him dying to my neighbor living. +Others, craven-hearted, said, disparagingly, that he threw his life +away because he resisted the Government. Which way have they thrown +their lives, pray? + +"I hear another ask, Yankee-like, 'What will he gain by it?' as if he +expected to fill his pockets by the enterprise. If it does not lead to +a surprise party, if he does not get a new pair of boots or a vote of +thanks, it must be a failure. But he won't get anything. Well, no; I +don't suppose he could get four-and-sixpence a day for being hung, take +the year around, but he stands a chance to save his soul--and such a +soul!--which you do not. You can get more in your market for a quart +of milk than a quart of blood, but yours is not the market heroes carry +their blood to. + +"Such do not know that like the seed is the fruit, and that in the +moral world, when good seed is planted, good fruit is inevitable; that +when you plant or bury a hero in his field, a crop of heroes is sure to +spring up. This is a seed of such force and vitality, it does not ask +our leave to germinate. + +"A man does a brave and humane deed, and on all sides we hear people +and parties declaring,' I didn't do it, nor countenance him to do it in +any conceivable way. It can't fairly be inferred from my past career.' +Ye need n't take so much pains, my friends, to wash your skirts of him. +No one will ever be convinced that he was any creature of yours. He +went and came, as he himself informs us, under the auspices of John +Brown, and nobody else.' + +"'All is quiet in Harper's Ferry,' say the journals. What is the +character of that calm which follows when the law and the slaveholder +prevail? I regard this event as a touchstone designed to bring out +with glaring distinctness the character of this Government. We needed +to be thus assisted to see it by the light of history. It needed to +see itself. When a government puts forth its strength on the side of +injustice, as ours, to maintain slavery and kill the liberators of the +slave, it reveals itself simply as brute force. It is more manifest +than ever that tyranny rules. I see this Government to be effectually +allied with France and Austria in oppressing mankind. + +"The only government that I recognize--and it matters not how few are +at the head of it, or how small its army,--is the power that +establishes justice in the land, never that which establishes +injustice. What shall we think of a government to which all the truly +brave and just men in the land are enemies, standing between it and +those whom it oppresses? + +"Treason! Where does such treason take its rise? I cannot help +thinking of you as ye deserve, ye governments! Can you dry up the +fountain of thought? High treason, when it is resistance to tyranny +here below, has its origin in the power that makes and forever +re-creates man. When you have caught and hung all its human rebels, +you have accomplished nothing but your own guilt. You have not struck +at the fountain-head. The same indignation which cleared the temple +once will clear it again. + +"I hear many condemn these men because they were so few. When were the +good and the brave ever in the majority? Would you have had him wait +till that time came? Till you and I came over to him? The very fact +that he had no rabble or troop of hirelings about him, would alone +distinguish him from ordinary heroes. His company was small, indeed, +because few could be found worthy to pass muster. Each one who there +laid down his life for the poor and oppressed was a picked man, called +out of many thousands, if not millions. A man of principle, of rare +courage and devoted humanity, ready to sacrifice his life at any moment +for the benefit of his fellow-man; it may be doubted if there were as +many more their equals in the country; for their leader, no doubt, had +scoured the land far and wide, seeking to swell his troop. These alone +were ready to step between the oppressor and the oppressed. Surely +they were the very best men you could select to be hung! That was the +greatest compliment their country could pay them. They were ripe for +her gallows. She has tried a long time; she has hung a good many, but +never found the right one before. + +"When I think of him and his six sons and his son-in-law enlisted for +this fight, proceeding coolly, reverently, humanely to work, for +months, if not years, summering and wintering the thought, without +expecting any reward but a good conscience, while almost all America +stood ranked on the other side, I say again that it affects me as a +sublime spectacle. + +"If he had had any journal advocating his cause, any organ monotonously +and wearisomely playing the same old tune and then passing around the +hat, it would have been fatal to his efficiency. If he had acted in +such a way as to be let alone by the Government, he might have been +suspected. It was the fact that the tyrant must give place to him, or +he to the tyrant, that distinguished him from all the reformers of the +day that I know. + +"This event advertises me that there is such a fact as death, the +possibility of a man's dying. It seems as if no man had ever died in +America before. If this man's acts and words do not create a revival, +it will be the severest possible satire on words and acts that do. + +"It is the best news that America has ever heard. It has already +quickened the feeble pulse of the North, and infused more generous +blood in her veins than any number of years of what is called political +and commercial prosperity. How many a man who was lately contemplating +suicide has now something to live for! + +"I am here to plead his cause with you. I plead not for his life, but +for his character, his immortal life, and so it becomes your cause +wholly, and it is not his in the least. + +"Some eighteen hundred years ago Christ was crucified; this morning, +perchance, Captain Brown was hung. These are the two ends of the chain +which is not without its links. He is not Old Brown any longer; he is +an angel of light. I see now that it was necessary that the bravest +and humanest man in all the country should be hung. Perhaps he saw it +himself. I almost fear that I may yet hear of his deliverance, +doubting if a prolonged life, if any life, can do as much good as his +death. + +"'Misguided! Garrulous! Insane! Vindictive!' So you write in your +easy chairs, and thus he, wounded, responds from the floor of the +Armory--clear as a cloudless sky, true as the voice of Nature is! 'No +man sent me here. It was my own promptings and that of my Maker. I +acknowledge no master in human form.' + +"And in what a sweet and noble strain he proceeds, addressing his +captors, who stand over him. + +"'I think, my friends, you are guilty of a great wrong against God and +humanity, and it would be perfectly right for any one to interfere with +you so far as to free those you willfully and wickedly hold in bondage. +I have yet to learn that God is any respecter of persons. + +"'I pity the poor in bondage, who have none to help them; that is why I +am here, not to gratify personal animosity, revenge, or vindictive +spirit. It is my sympathy with the oppressed and the wronged that are +as good as you are, and as precious in the sight of God. + +"'I wish to say, furthermore, that you had better, all of you people at +the South, prepare yourselves for a settlement of that question, that +must come up for settlement sooner than you are prepared for it. The +sooner you are prepared the better. You may dispose of me now very +easily--I am nearly disposed of already,--but this question is still to +be settled, this negro question, I mean; the end of that is not yet.'" + +"I foresee the time," said Thoreau, "when the painter will paint that +scene, no longer going to Rome for his subject. The poet will sing it; +the historian record it; and, with the Landing of the Pilgrims and the +Declaration of Independence, it will be the ornament of some future +national gallery, when at least the present form of slavery shall be no +more here. We shall then be at liberty to weep for Captain Brown. +Then, and not till then, we will take our revenge." + + +A few years ago, while on a tramp through the North Woods, I came out +through the forests of North Elba, to the old "John Brown Farm." Here +John Brown lived for many years, and here he tried to establish a +colony of freed slaves in the pure air of the mountains. Here, too, +his family remained through the stirring times when he took part in the +bloody struggles that made and kept Kansas free. + +The little old brown farmhouse stands on the edge of the great woods, a +few miles to the north of the highest peaks of the Adirondacks. There +is nothing unusual about the house. You will find a dozen such in a +few hours' walk almost anywhere in the mountain parts of New England or +New York. It stands on a little hill, "in a sightly place," as they +say in that region, with no shelter of trees around it. + +[Illustration: The John Brown Homestead, North Elba, N.Y.] + +At the foot of the hill in a broad curve flows the River Au Sable, +small and clear and cold, and full of trout. It is not far above that +the stream takes its rise in the dark Indian Pass, the only place in +these mountains where the ice of winter lasts all summer long. The +same ice on the one side sends forth the Au Sable, and on the other +feeds the fountain head of the infant Hudson River. + +In the little dooryard in front of the farmhouse is the historic spot +where John Brown's body still lies moldering. There is not even a +grave of his own. His bones lie with those of his father, and the +short record of his life and death is crowded on the foot of his +father's tombstone. Near by, in the little yard, lies a huge, +wandering boulder, torn off years ago by the glaciers from the granite +hills that hem in Indian Pass. The boulder is ten feet or more in +diameter, large enough to make the farmhouse behind it seem small in +comparison. On its upper surface, in letters two feet long, which can +be read plainly for a mile away, is cut the simple name-- + + JOHN BROWN. + +This is John Brown's grave, and the place, the boulder; and the +inscription are alike fitting to the man he was. + +[Illustration: John Brown's Grave.] + +Dust to dust; ashes to ashes; granite to granite; the last of the +Puritans! + + + +[1] Address before the California State Normal School, at San Jose, +1892. + + + + +A KNIGHT OF THE ORDER OF POETS.[1] + +"In London I saw two pictures. One was of a woman. You would not +mistake it for any of the Greek goddesses. It had a splendor and +majesty such as Phidias might have given to a woman Jupiter. But not +terrible. The culmination of the awful beauty was in an expression of +matchless compassion. If there had been other figures, they must have +been suffering humanity at her feet. + +"The other was also of a woman. Whose face it is hard to say. Not the +Furies, not Lady Macbeth, not Catherine de Medici, not Phillip the +Second, not Nero, not any face you have ever seen, but a gathering up +from all the faces you have seen--the greatness, the splendor, the +savagery, the greed, the pride, the hate, the mercilessness, into one +colossal, terrifyingly Satanic woman-face. The first was clothed in a +simple, soft, white robe; the other in a befitting tragic splendor, +mostly blood-red. I looked from one to the other. What immeasurable +distance between them! What single point have they in common? But as +I look back and forth I seem to see a certain formal similarity. It +grows upon me. I am incredulous. I am appalled. Then one touches me +and whispers: 'They are the same. It is the Church.' In London I saw +this--in the air."--WILLIAM LOWE BRYAN. + + +Four centuries ago began the great struggle for freedom of thought +which has made our modern civilization possible. I wish here to give +something of the story of a man who in his day was not the least in +this conflict--a man who dared to think and act for himself when +thought and act were costly--Ulrich von Hutten. + +Near Frankfort-on-the-Main, on a sharp pinnacle of rock above the +little railway station of Vollmerz, may still be found the scanty ruins +of an old castle which played a brave part in German history before it +was destroyed in the Thirty Years War. + +In this castle of Steckelberg, in the year 1488, was born Ulrich von +Hutten. He was the last of a long line of Huttens of Steckelberg, +strong men who knew not fear, who had fought for the Emperor in all +lands whither the imperial eagle had flown, and who, when the empire +was at peace, had fought right merrily with their neighbors on all +sides. Robber-knights they were, no doubt, some or all of them; but in +those days all was fair in love and in war. And this line of warriors +centered in Ulrich von Hutten, and with him it ended. "The wild +kindred has gone out with this its greatest." + +Ulrich was the eldest son, and bore his father's name. But he was not +the son his father had dreamed of. Slender of figure, short of +stature, and weak of limb, Ulrich seemed unworthy of his burly +ancestry. The horse, the sword, and the lute were not for him. He +tried hard to master them and to succeed in all things worthy of a +knight. But he was strong only with his books. At last to his books +his father consigned him, and, sorely disappointed, he sent Ulrich to +the monastery of Fulda to be made a priest. + +A wise man, Eitelwolf von Stein, became his friend, and pointed out to +him a life braver than that of a priest, more noble than that of a +knight, the life of a scholar. To Hutten's father Eitelwolf wrote: +"Would you bury a genius like that in the cloister? He must be a man +of letters." But the father had decided once for all. Ulrich must +never return to Steckelberg unless he came back as a priest. And the +son took his fate in his own hands, and fled from Fulda, to make his +way as a scholar in a world in which scholarship received scanty +recognition. + +At the same time another young man whose history was to be interwoven +with his own, Martin Luther, fled from the wickedness and deceit of +this same world to the solitude of the monastery of Erfurth. By very +different paths they came at last to work in the same cause, and their +modes of action were not less different. + +To the University of Cologne Hutten went, and with the students of that +day he was trained in the mysteries of scholasticism, and in the Latin +of the schoolmen and the priests. Wonderful problems they pondered +over, and they used to write long arguments in Latin for or against +propositions which came nowhere within the domain of fact. That +scholarship stood related to reality, and that it must find its end and +justification in action was no part of the philosophy of those times. + +But Hutten and his friends cared little for scholastic puzzles and they +gave themselves to the study of the beauties of Latin poetry and to the +newly opened mine of the literature of Greece. They delighted in +Virgil and Lucian, and still more in Homer and Aeschylus. + +The Turks had conquered Constantinople, and the fall of the Greek +Empire had driven many learned Greeks to the West of Europe. There +some of the scholars received them with open arms, and eagerly learned +from them to read Homer and Aristotle in the original tongue, and the +New Testament also. Those who followed these studies came to be known +as Humanists. But most of the universities and the monasteries in +Germany looked upon this revival of Greek culture as pernicious and +antichristian. Poetry they despised. The Latin Vulgate met their +religious needs, and Greek was only another name for Paganism. The +party name of Obscurantists ("Dunkelmaenner") was given to these, and +this name has remained with them on the records of history. + +In the letters of one of Hutten's comrades we find this confession of +faith, which is interesting as expressing the feelings of young men of +that time: "There is but one God, but he has many forms, and many +names--Jupiter, Sol, Apollo, Moses, Christ, Luna, Ceres, Proserpine, +Tellus, Mary. But be careful how you say that. One must disclose +these things in secret, like Eleusinian mysteries. In matters of +religion, you must use the cover of fables and riddles. You, with +Jupiter's grace (that is, the grace of the best and greatest god), can +despise the lesser gods in silence. When I say Jupiter, I mean Christ +and the true God. The coat and the beard and the bones of Christ I +worship not. I worship the living God, who wears no coat nor beard, +and left no bones upon the earth." + +Hutten wished to know the world, not from books only, but to see all +cities and lands; to measure himself with other men; to rise above +those less worthy. The danger of such a course seemed to him only the +greater attraction. Content to him was laziness; love of home but a +dog's delight in a warm fire. "I live," he said, "in no place rather +than another; my home is everywhere." + +So he tramped through Germany to the northward, and had but a sorry +time. In his own mind he was a scholar, a poet, a knight of the +noblest blood of Germany; to others he was a little sickly and forlorn +vagrant. Never strong of body, he was stricken by a miserable disease +which filled his life with a succession of attacks of fever. He was +ship-wrecked on the Baltic Sea, sick and forlorn in Pomerania, and at +last he was received in charity in the house of Henning Loetz, professor +of law at Greifeswald. + +This action has given Loetz's name immortality, for it is associated +with the first of those fiery poems of Hutten which, in their way, are +unique in literature. For Hutten was restless and proud, and was not +to be content with bread and butter and a new suit of clothes. This +independence was displeasing to the professor, who finally, in utter +disgust, turned Hutten out of doors in midwinter. When the boy had +tramped a while in storm and slush, two servants of Loetz overtook him +on the road and robbed him of his money and clothing. In a wretched +plight he reached a little inn in Rostock, in Mecklenberg. Here the +professors in the university received him kindly, and made provision +for his needs. Then he let loose the fury of his youthful anger on +Loetz. As ever, his poetic genius rose with his wrath, and the more +angry he became the greater was he as a poet. + +Two volumes he published, ringing the changes of his contempt and +hatred of Loetz, at the same time praising the virtues of those who had +found in him a kindred spirit. A "knight of the order of poets," he +styles himself, and to all Humanists, to the "fellow-feeling among free +spirits" ("_Gemeingeist unter freien Geistern_") he appeals for +sympathy in his struggle with Loetz. + +He had, indeed, not found a foeman worthy of his steel, but he had +shown what a finely tempered blade he bore. Foemen enough he found in +later times, and his steel had need of all its sharpness and temper. +And it never failed him to the last. + +Meanwhile he wandered to Vienna, giving lectures there on the art of +poetry. But poetry was abhorred by the schoolmen everywhere, and the +students of the university were forbidden to attend his lectures. He +then went to Italy. When he reached Pavia, he found the city in the +midst of a siege, surrounded by a hostile French army. He fell ill of +a fever, and giving himself up for dead, he composed the famous epitaph +for himself, of which I give a rough translation: + + Here, also be it said, a life of ill-fortune is ended; + By evil pursued on the water; beset by wrong upon land. + Here lie Hutten's bones; he, who had done nothing wrongful, + Was wickedly robbed of his life by the sword in a Frenchman's hand. + By Fate, decided that he should see unlucky days only; + Decided that even these days could never be many or long; + Hemmed in by danger and death, he forsook not serving the muses, + And as well as he could, he rendered this service in song. + + +The Frenchman's sword did not rob him of his life. The Frenchman's +hand took only his money, which was not much, and again sent him +adrift. He now set his pen to writing epigrams on the Emperor, wherein +Maximilian was compared to the eagle which should devour the frogs in +the swamps of Venice. Meanwhile he enlisted as a common soldier in +Maximilian's army. + +In Italy, the abuses of the Papacy attracted his attention. Officials +of the Church were then engaged in extending the demand for +indulgences. The sale of pardons "straight from Rome, all hot," was +becoming a scandal in Christendom. All this roused the wrath of +Hutten, who attacked the Pope himself in his songs: + + "Heaven now stands for a price to be peddled and sold, + But what new folly is this, as though the fiat of Heaven + Needed an earthly witness, an earthly warrant and seal!" + + +More prosperous times followed, and we find Hutten honored as a poet, +living in the court of the Archbishop of Mainz. At this time a cousin, +Hans Hutten, a young man of great courage and promise, was a knight in +the service of Ulrich, Duke of Wurtemberg. He was a favorite of the +Duke, and he and his young wife were the life of the Wuertemburg court. +And Duke Ulrich once came to Hans and threw himself at his feet, +begging that this wife, whom he loved, should be given over wholly to +him. Hans Hutten answered the Duke like a man, and the Duke arose with +murder in his heart. Afterward, when they were hunting in a wood, he +stabbed Hans Hutten in the back with his sword. + +All this came to the ear of Ulrich Hutten in Mainz. Love for his +cousin, love for his name and family, love for freedom and truth, all +urged him to avenge the murdered Hans. The wrongs the boy had suffered +from the coarse-hearted Professor Loetz became as nothing beside this +great crime against the Huttens and against manhood. + +In all the history of invective, I know of nothing so fierce as +Hutten's appeal against Duke Ulrich In five different pamphlets his +crime was described to the German people, and all good men, from the +Emperor down, were called on to help him in his struggle against the +Duke of Wuertemberg. + +"I envy you your fame, you murderer," he wrote. "A year will be named +for you, and there shall be a day set off for you. Future generations +shall read, for those who are born this year, that they were born in +the year stained by the ineffaceable shame of Germany. You will come +into the calendar, scoundrel. You will enrich history. Your deed is +immortal, and you will be remembered in all future time. You have had +your ambition, and you shall never be forgotten." + +This struggle lasted long. Finally, after many appeals, the German +nobles rose in arms and besieged Stuttgart, and Duke Ulrich was driven +from the land he had disgraced. + +[Illustration: Ulrich von Hutten.] + +Again Hutten visited Italy, this time by a partial reconciliation with +his father, who would overlook his failure to become a priest if he +would study law at Rome. At about this time Luther visited Rome. He +came, at first, in a spirit of reverence; but, at last, he wrote: +"_Wenn es gibt eine Hoelle, Roma ist darauf gebant_." ("If there is a +hell, Rome is built on it.") + +The impression on Hutten was scarcely less vivid. Little by little he +began to see in the Pope of Rome a criminal greater that Professor +Loetz, greater than Duke Ulrich, one who could devour not one cousin +only, but the whole German people and nation. "For three hundred +years," said he, "the Pope and the schoolmen have been covering the +teachings of Christ with a mass of superstitious ceremonies and wicked +books." These feelings were poured out in an appeal to the German +rulers to shake off the yoke, and no longer send their money to "Simon +of Rome." + +Hutten's friends tried to quiet him. He was a man not of free thought +only, but of free speech, and knew no concealment. Milder men in those +times, as later Melancthon and Erasmus, were full of admiration of +Hutten, and valued his skill and force. But they were afraid of him, +and fearful always that the best of causes should be wrecked in his +hands. + +At this time, at the age of twenty-five, Hutten is described as a +small, thin man, of homely features, with blonde hair and black beard. +His pale face wore a severe, almost wild, expression. His speech was +sharp, often terrible. Yet with those whom he loved and respected his +voice had a frank and winning charm. He had but few friends, but they +were fast ones. His personal character, so far as records go, was +singularly pure, and not often in his writings does he strike a coarse +or unclean note. + +In these days, the two most learned men in Germany were Erasmus and +Reuchlin. They were leaders of the Humanists, skilled in Greek, and +even in the Hebrew tongue, and were called by Hutten "the two eyes of +Germany." A Jew named Pfefferkorn, who had become converted to +Christianity, was filled with an unholy zeal against his fellow-Jews +who had not been converted. Among other things, he asked an edict from +the Emperor that all Jewish books in Germany should be destroyed. +Reuchlin was a Hebrew scholar. He had written a Hebrew grammar, and +was learned in the Old Testament, as well as in the Talmud, and other +deposits of the ancient lore of the rabbis. The Emperor referred +Pfefferkorn's request to Reuchlin for his opinion. Reuchlin decided +that there was no valid reason for the destruction of any of the +ancient Jewish writings, and only of such modern ones as might be +decided by competent scholars to be hostile to Christianity. + +This enraged Pfefferkorn and his Obscurantist associates. Pamphlets +were written denouncing Reuchlin, and these were duly answered. A +general war of words between the Humanists and Obscurantists began, +which, in time, came before the Pope and the Emperor. Reuchlin was +regarded in those days as a man of unusual calmness and dignity. Next +to Erasmus, he was the most learned scholar in Europe. He would never +condescend in his controversies to the coarse terms used by his +adversaries. We may learn something of the temper of the times by +observing that, in a single pamphlet, as quoted by Strauss, the +epithets that the dignified Reuchlin applies to Pfefferkorn are: "A +poisonous beast," "a scarecrow," "a horror," "a mad dog," "a horse," "a +mule," "a hog," "a fox," "a raging wolf," "a Syrian lion," "a +Cerberus," "a fury of hell." In this matter Reuchlin was finally +triumphant. This triumph was loudly celebrated by his friend Hutten in +another poem, in which the Obscurantists were mercilessly attacked. + +We have seen with Hutten's growth a gradual increase in the importance +of those to whom he declared himself an enemy. He began as a boy with +the obscure Professor Loetz. He ended with the Pope of Rome. + +At this time Reuchlin published a volume called "_Epistolae Clarorum +Virorum_" ("letters of illustrious men"). It was made up of letters +written by the various learned men of Europe to Reuchlin, in sympathy +with him in his struggle. The title of this work gave the keynote to a +series of letters called "_Epistolae Obscurorum Virorum_" ("letters of +obscure men")--that is, of Obscurantists. + +These letters, written by different persons, but largely by Hutten, are +the most remarkable of all satires of that time. + +They are a series of imaginary epistles, supposed to be addressed by +various Obscurantists to a poet named Ortuinus. They are written with +consummate skill, in the degenerate Latin used by the priests in those +days, and they are made to exhibit all the secret meanness, ignorance, +and perversity of their supposed writers. + +The first of these epistles of the "obscure men" were eagerly read: by +their supposed associates, the Obscurantists. Here were men who felt +as they felt, and who were not afraid to speak. The mendicant friars +in England had a day of rejoicing, and a Dominican friar in Flanders +bought all the copies of the letters he could find to present to his +bishop. + +But in time even the dullest began to feel the severity of the satire. +The last of these letters formed the most telling blows ever dealt at +the schoolmen by the men of learning. In one of the earlier letters we +find this question, which may serve as a type of many others: + +A man ate an egg in which a chicken was just beginning to form, +ignorant of that fact, and forgetting that it was Friday. A friend +consoles him by saying that a chicken in that stage counts for no more +than worms in cheese or in cherries, and these can be eaten even in +fasting-time. But the writer is not satisfied. Worms, he had been +told by a physician, who was also a great naturalist, are reckoned as +fishes, which one can eat on fast-days. But with all this, he fears +that a young chicken may be really forbidden food, and he asks the help +of the poet Ortuinus to a righteous decision. + +Another person writes to Ortuinus: "There is a new book much talked of +here, and, as you are a poet, you can do us a good service by telling +us of it. A notary told me that this book is the wellspring of poetry, +and that its author, one Homer, is the father of all poets. And he +said there is another Homer in Greek. I said, 'What is the use of the +Greek? the Latin is much better.' And I asked, 'What is contained in +the book?' And he said it treats of certain people who are called +Greeks, who carried on a war with some others called Trojans. And +these Trojans had a great city, and those Greeks besieged it and stayed +there ten years. And the Trojans came out and fought them till the +whole plain was covered with blood and quite red. And they heard the +noise in heaven, and one of them threw a stone which twelve men could +not lift, and a horse began to talk and utter prophecies. But I can't +believe that, because it seems impossible, and the book seems to me not +to be authentic. I pray you give me your opinion." + +Another relates the story of his visit to Reuchlin: + +"When I came into his house, Reuchlin said, 'Welcome, bachelor; seat +yourself.' And he had a pair of spectacles ('_unum Brillum_') on his +nose, and a book before him curiously written, and I saw at once that +it was neither in German nor Bohemian, nor yet in Latin. And I said to +him, 'Respected Doctor, what do they call that book?' He answered, 'It +is called the Greek Plutarch, and it treats of philosophy.' And I +said, 'Read some of it, for it must contain wonderful things.' Then I +saw a little book, newly printed, lying on the floor, and I said to +him, 'Respected Doctor, what lies there?' He answered, 'It is a +controversial book, which a friend in Cologne sent me lately. It is +written against me. The theologians in Cologne have printed it, and +they say that Johann Pfefferkorn wrote it.' And I said, 'What will you +do about it? Will you not vindicate yourself?' And he answered, +'Certainly not. I have been vindicated long ago, and can spend no time +on these follies. My eyes are too weak for me to waste their strength +on matters which are not useful.'" + +We next find Hutten high in the favor of the Emperor Maximilian, by +whose order he was crowned poet-laureate of Germany. The wreath of +laurel was woven by the fair hands of Constance Peutinger, who was +called the handsomest girl in Germany, and with great ceremony she put +this wreath on his head in the presence of the Emperor at Mainz. + +Now, for the first time, Hutten seems to have thought seriously of +marriage. He writes to a friend, Friedrich Fischer: "I am overcome +with a longing for rest, that I may give myself to art. For this, I +need a wife who shall take care of me. You know my ways. I cannot be +alone, not even by night. In vain they talk to me of the pleasures of +celibacy. To me it is loneliness and monotony. I was not born for +that. I must have a being who can lead me from sorrows--yes, even from +my graver studies; one with whom I can joke and play, and carry on +light and happy conversations, that the sharpness of sorrow may be +blunted and the heat of anger made mild. Give me a wife, dear +Friedrich, and you know what kind of one I want. She must be young, +pretty, well educated, serene, tender, patient. Money enough give her, +but not too much. For riches I do not seek; and as for blood and +birth, she is already noble to whom Hutten gives his hand." + +A young woman--Cunigunde Glauburg--was found, and she seemed to meet +all requirements. But the mother of the bride was not pleased with the +arrangement. Hutten was a "dangerous man," she said, "a +revolutionist." "I hope," said Hutten, "that when she comes to know +me, and finds in me nothing restless, nothing mutinous, my studies full +of humor and wit, that she will look more kindly on me." To a brother +of Cunigunde he writes: "Hutten has not conquered many cities, like +some of these iron-eaters, but through many lands has wandered with the +fame of his name. He has not slain his thousands, like those, but may +be none the less loved for that. He does not stalk about on yard-long +shin-bones, nor does his gigantic figure frighten travelers; but in +strength of spirit he yields to none. He does not glow with the +splendor of beauty, but he dares flatter himself that his soul is +worthy of love. He does not talk big nor swell himself with boasting, +but simply, openly, honestly acts and speaks." + +But all his wooing came to naught; another man wedded the fair +Cunigunde, and the coming storm of Romish wrath left Hutten no +opportunity to turn his attention elsewhere. + +The old Pope was now dead, and one of the famous family of Medici, in +Florence, had succeeded him as Leo the Tenth. Leo was kindly disposed +toward the Humanist studies, and Hutten, as poet of the Humanists, +addressed to him directly a remarkable appeal, which made the +turning-point in his life, for it placed him openly among those who +resisted the Pope. + +Recounting to the new Pope Leo all the usurpations which in his +judgment had been made, one by one, by his predecessors--all the +robberies, impositions, and abuses of the Papacy, from the time of +Constantine down--he appeals to Leo, as a wise man and a scholar, to +restore stolen power and property, to correct all abuses, to abandon +all temporal power, and become once more the simple Bishop of Rome. +"For there can never be peace between the robber and the robbed till +the stolen goods are returned." + +Now, for the first time, the work of Luther came to Hutten's attention. +The disturbances at Wittenberg were in the beginning treated by all as +a mere squabble of the monks. To Leo the Tenth this discussion had no +further interest than this: "Brother Martin," being a scholar, was most +probably right. To Hutten, who cared nothing for doctrinal points, it +had no significance; the more monkish strifes the better--"the sooner +would the enemies eat each other up." + +But now Hutten came to recognize in Luther the apostle of freedom of +thought, and in that struggle of the Reformation he found a nobler +cause than that of the Humanists--in Luther a greater than Reuchlin. +And Hutten never did things by halves. He entered into the warfare +heart and soul. In 1520 he published his "Roman Trinity," his gage of +battle against Rome. + +He now, like Luther, began to draw his inspiration, as well as his +language, not from the classics, but from the New Testament. A new +motto he took for himself, one which was henceforth ever on his lips, +and which appears again and again in his later writings: "_Jacta est +alea_" ("the die is cast"); or, in the stronger German, in which he +more often gave it, "_Ich hab's gewagt_" ("I have dared it"). + + "Auf dasz ichs nit anheb umsunst + Wolauf, wir haben Gottes Gunst; + Wer wollt in solchem bleiben dheim? + Ich hab's gewagt! das ist mein Reim!" + + "Der niemand groessern Schaden bringt, + Dann mir als noch die Sach gelingt + Dahin mich Gott und Wahrheit bringt, + Ich hab's gewagt." + + "So breche ich hindurch, durch breche ich, oder ich falle, + Kaempfend, nach dem ich einmal geworfen das Loos!" + + (So break I through the ranks else I die fighting-- + Fighting, since once and forever the die I have cast!) + + +In this motto we have the keynote to his fiery and earnest nature. +Convinced that a cause was right, he knew no bounds of caution or +policy; he feared no prison or death. "I have dared it!" + +"To all free men of Germany," he speaks. "Their tyranny will not last +forever; unless all signs deceive me, their power is soon to fail--for +already is the axe laid at the root of the tree, and that tree which +bears not good fruit will be rooted out, and the vineyard of the Lord +will be purified. That you shall not only hope, but soon see with your +eyes. Meanwhile, be of good cheer, you men of Germany. Not weak, not +untried, are your leaders in the struggle for freedom. Be not afraid, +neither weaken in the midst of the battle, for broken at last is the +strength of the enemy, for the cause is righteous, and the rage of +tyranny is already at its height. Courage, and farewell! Long live +freedom! I have dared it!" ("_Lebe die Freiheit; ich hab's gewagt_.") + +Warnings and threats innumerable came to Hutten, from enemies who +feared and hated, from friends who were fearful and trembling; but he +never flinched: He had "dared it." The bull of excommunication which +came from the Pope frightened him no more than it did Luther. But at +last he was compelled to retire from the cities, and he took up his +abode in the Castle of Ebernburg, with Franz von Sickingen. + +Franz von Sickingen was one of the great nobles of Germany, and he +ruled over a region in the bend of the Rhine between Worms and Bingen. +His was one of the bravest characters of that time. A knight of the +highest order, he became a disciple of Hutten and Luther, and on his +help was the greatest reliance placed by the friends of the growing +reform. His strong Castle of Ebernburg, on the hills above Bingen, was +the refuge of all who were persecuted by the authorities. The "Inn of +Righteousness" ("_Herberge von Gerechtigkeit_"), the Ebernburg was +called by Hutten. + +The Humanists who had stood with Hutten in the struggle between +Reuchlin and Pfefferkorn saw with growing concern the gradual transfer +of the field of battle from questions of literature to questions of +religion. Reuchlin, growing old and weak, wrote a letter, disavowing +any sympathy with the new uprisings against the time-honored authority +of the Church. This letter came into Hutten's hands, and, with all his +reverence for his old friend and master, he could not keep silence. + +"Eternal Gods!" he writes. "What do I see? Have you sunk so deep in +weakness and fear, O Reuchlin! that you cannot endure blame even for +those who have fought for you in time of danger? Through such shameful +subservience do you hope to reconcile those to whom, if you were a man, +you would never give a friendly greeting, so badly have they treated +you? Yet reconcile them; and if there is no other way, go to Rome and +kiss the feet of Leo, and then write against us. Yet you shall see +that, against your will, and against the will of all the godless +courtesans, we shall shake off the shameful yoke, and free ourselves +from slavery. I am ashamed that I have written so much for you--have +done so much for you,--since when it comes to action you have made such +a miserable exit from the ranks. From me shall you know henceforth +that whether you fight in Luther's cause or throw yourself at the feet +of the Bishop of Rome, I shall never trust you more." The poor old +man, thus harassed on all sides, found no longer any rest or comfort in +his studies. Worn-out in body, and broken in spirit, he soon died. + +The great source of Luther's hold on Germany lay in his direct appeal +to the common people. For this he translated the Bible into +German--even now the noblest version of the Bible in existence. For in +translating a work of inspiration the intuition of a man like Luther, +as Bayard Taylor has said, counts for more than the combined +scholarship of a hundred men learned in the Greek and Hebrew. "The +clear insight of one prophet is better than the average judgment of +forty-seven scribes." The German language was then struggling into +existence, and scholars considered it beneath their notice. It was +fixed for all time by Luther's Bible. Luther often spent a week on a +single verse to find and fix the idiomatic German. "It is easy to plow +when the field is cleared," he said. "We must not ask the letters of +the Latin alphabet how to speak German, but the mother in the kitchen +and the plowman in the field, that they may know that the Bible is +speaking German, and speaking to them. Out of the abundance of the +heart the mouth speaketh. No German peasant would understand that. We +must make it plain to him. '_Wess das Herz voll ist, dess geht der +Mund ueber_.' ('Whose heart is full, his mouth runs over.')" + +The same influence acted on Hutten. All his previous writings were in +Latin, and were directed to scholars only. Henceforth he wrote the +language of the Fatherland, and his appeals to the people were in +language which the people could and did read. No Reformation ever came +while only the learned and the noble were in the secret of it. + + "Latein, ich vor geschrieben hab + Das war ein jeden nicht bekannt; + Jetzt schrei ich an das Vaterland, + Teutsch Nation in ihrer Sprach + Zu bringen diesen Dingen Rach." + + ("For Latin wrote I hitherto, + Which common people did not know. + Now cry I to the Fatherland, + The German people, in their tongue, + Redress to bring for all these wrongs.") + + +A song for the people he now wrote, the "New Song of Ulrich von +Hutten," a song which stands with Luther's "Em feste Burg" in the +history of the Reformation: + + "Ich hab's gewagt mit Sinnen, + Und trag des noch kein Reu, + Mag ich nit dran gewinnen, + Noch muss man spueren Treu. + + "Darmit ich mein + Mit eim allein, + Wenn Man es wolt erkennen + Dem Land zu gut + Wiewol man thut + Ein Pfaffenfeind mich nennen." + + +Part of this may be freely translated-- + + "With open eyes I have dared it; + And cherish no regret, + And though I fail to conquer, + The Truth is with me yet." + + +Hutten's dream in these days was of a league of nobles, cities, and +people, aided by the Emperor if possible, against the Emperor if +necessary, which should by force of arms forever free Germany from the +rule of the Pope. Luther had little faith in the power of force. +"What Hutten wishes," he wrote to a friend, "you see. But I do not +wish to strive for the Gospel with murder and violence. Through the +power of the Word is the world subdued; through the Word the Church +shall be preserved and freed. Even Antichrist shall be destroyed by +the power of the Word." + +Now came the Great Diet at Worms, whither Luther was called before the +Emperor to answer for his heretical teachings, and before which he +stood firm and undaunted, a noble figure which has been a turning-point +in history. "Here I stand. I can do nothing else. God help me." + +Hutten, on his sick-bed at Ebernburg, not far away, was full of wrath +at the trial of Luther. "Away!" he shouted, "away from the clear +fountains, ye filthy swine! Out of the sanctuary, ye accursed +peddlers! Touch no longer the altar with your desecrating hands. What +have ye to do with the alms of our fathers, which were given for the +poor and the Church, and you spend for splendor, pomp, and foolery, +while the children suffer for bread? See you not that the wind of +Freedom[2] is blowing? On two men not much depends. Know that there +are many Luthers, many Huttens here. Should either of us be destroyed, +still greater is the danger that awaits you; for then, with those +battling for freedom, the avengers of innocence will make common cause." + +I have wished, in writing this little sketch, that I could have a +novelist's privilege of bringing out my hero happily at the end. I +have hitherto had the struggles of a man living before his time to +relate; the voice of one crying in the wilderness. If this were a +romance, I might tell how, with Hutten's entreaties and Luther's +exhortations, and under the wise management of Franz von Sickingen, the +people banded together against foreign foes and foreign domination, and +German unity, German freedom, and religious liberty were forever +established in the Fatherland. But, alas! the history does not run in +that way; at least not till a hundred years of war had bathed the land +in blood. + +For Hutten henceforth I have only misery and failure to relate. The +union of knights and cities resulted in a ruinous campaign of Franz von +Sickingen against Treves. Sickingen's army was driven back by the +Elector. His strong Castle of Landstuehl was besieged by the Catholic +princes, and cannon was used in this siege for the first time in +history. The walls of Landstuehl, twenty-five feet thick, were battered +down, and Sickingen himself was killed by the falling of a beam. The +war was over, and nothing worthy had been accomplished. + +When Luther heard of the death of Sickingen, he wrote to a friend: +"Yesterday I heard and read of Franz von Sickingen's true and sad +history. God is a righteous but marvelous Judge. Sickingen's fall +seems to me a verdict of the Lord, that strengthens me in the belief +that the force of arms is to be kept far from matters of the Gospel." + +Hutten was driven from the Ebernburg. He was offered a high place in +the service of the King of France; but, as a true German, he refused +it, and fled, penniless and sick, to Basle, in Switzerland. + +Here the great Humanist, Erasmus, reigned supreme. Erasmus disavowed +all sympathy with his former friend and fellow-student. He called +Hutten a dangerous and turbulent man, and warned the Swiss against him. +Erasmus had noticed, with horror, in those who had studied Greek, that +the influence of Lutheranism was fatal to learning; that zeal for +philology decreased as zeal for religion increased. Already Erasmus, +like Reuchlin, was ranged on the side of the Pope. So, in letters and +pamphlets, Erasmus attacked Hutten; and the poet was not slow in giving +as good as he received. And this war between the Humanist and the +Reformer gave great joy to the Obscurantists, who feared and hated them +both. + +"Humanism," says Strauss, "was broad-minded but faint-hearted, and in +none is this better seen than in Erasmus. Luther was a narrower man, +but his unvarying purpose, never looking to left nor right, was his +strength. Humanism is the broad mirror-like Rhine at Bingen. It must +grow narrower and wilder before it can break through the mountains to +the sea." + +Repulsed by Erasmus at Basle, Hutten fled to Muelhausen. Attacked by +assassins there, he left at midnight for Zuerich, where he put himself +under the protection of Ulrich Zwingli. In Zwingli, the purest, +loftiest, and clearest of insight of all of the leaders of the +Reformation, Hutten found a congenial spirit. His health was now +utterly broken. To the famous Baths of Pfaffers he went, in hope of +release from pain. But the modern bath-houses of Ragatz were not built +in those days, and the daily descent by a rope from above into the dark +and dismal chasm was too much for his feeble strength. Then Zwingli +sent him to a kindly friend, the Pastor Hans Schnegg, who lived on the +little Island of Ufnau, in the Lake of Zuerich. And here at Ufnau, worn +out by his long, double conflict with the Pope and with disease, Ulrich +von Hutten died in 1523, at the age of thirty-five. "He left behind +him," wrote Zwingli, "nothing of worth. Books he had none; no money, +and no property of any sort, except a pen." + +[Illustration: Ulrich Zwingli.] + + +What was the value of this short and troubled life? Three hundred +years ago it was easy to answer with Erasmus and the rest--Nothing. +Hutten had denounced the Pope, and the Pope had crushed him. He had +stirred up noble men to battle for freedom, and they, too, had been +destroyed. Franz von Sickingen was dead. The league of the cities and +princes had faded away forever. Luther was hidden in the Wartburg, no +one knew where, and scarcely a trace of the Reformation was left in +Germany. Whatever Hutten had touched he had ruined. He had "dared +it," and the force he had defied had crushed him in return. + +But, looking back over these centuries, the life of Hutten rises into +higher prominence. His writings were seed in good ground. At his +death the Reformation seemed hopeless. Six years later, at the second +Diet of Spires, half Germany signed the protest which made us +Protestants. "It was Luther alone who said _no_ at the Diet of Worms. +It was princes and people, cities and churches, who said _no_ at the +Diet of Spires." + +Hutten's dream of a United German people freed from the yoke of Rome +was for three hundred years unrealized. For the Reformation sundered +the German people and ruined the German Empire, and not till our day +has German unity come to pass. But, as later reformers said, "It is +better that Germany should be half German, than that it should be all +Roman." + +For the true meaning of this conflict does not lie in any question of +church against church or creed against creed, nor that worship in +cathedrals with altars and incense and rich ceremony should give way to +the simpler forms of the Lutheran litany. The issue was that of the +growth of man. The "right of private interpretation" is the +recognition of personal individuality. + +The death of Hutten was, after all, not untimely. He had done his +work. His was the "voice of one crying in the wilderness." The head +of John the Baptist lay on the charger before Jesus had fulfilled his +mission. Arnold Winkelried, at Sempach, filled his body with Austrian +spears before the Austrian phalanx was broken. John Brown fell at +Harper's Ferry before a blow was struck against slavery. Ulrich von +Hutten had set every man, woman, and child in Germany to thinking of +his relations to the Lord and to the Pope. His mission was completed; +and longer life for him, as Strauss has suggested, might have led to +discord among the Reformers themselves. + +For this lover of freedom was intolerant of intolerance. For fine +points of doctrine he had only contempt. When the Lutherans began to +treat as enemies all Reformers who did not with them subscribe to the +Confession of Augsburg, Hutten's fiery pen would have repudiated this +confession. For he fought for freedom of the spirit, not for the +Lutheran confession. + +Had he remained in Switzerland, he would have been still less in +harmony with the prevailing conditions. Not long after, Zwingli was +slain in the wretched battle of Kappel, and, after him, the Swiss +Reformation passed under the control of John Calvin. There can be no +doubt that the stern pietist of Geneva would have burned Ulrich von +Hutten with as calm a conscience as he did Michael Servetus. + +The idea of a united and uniform Church, whether Catholic, Lutheran, or +Calvinist, had little attraction for Hutten. He was one of the first +to realize that religion is individual, not collective. It is +concerned with life, not with creeds or ceremonies. In the high sense, +no man can follow or share the religion of another. His religion, +whatever it may be, is his own. It is built up from his own thoughts +and prayers and actions. It is the expression of his own ideals. Only +forms can be transferred unchanged from man to man, from generation to +generation; never realities. For whatever is real to a man becomes +part of him and partakes of his growth, and is modified by his +personality. + +Hutten was buried where he died, on the little island of Ufnau, in the +Lake of Zuerich, at the foot of the mighty Alps. And some of his old +associates put over his grave a commemorative stone. Afterwards, the +monks of the abbey of Einsiedein, in Schwytz came to the island and +removed the stone, and obliterated all traces of the grave. + +It was well that they did so; for now the whole green island of Ufnau +is his alone, and it is his worthy sepulcher. + + + +[1] For many of the details of the life of Hutten, and for most of the +quotations from Hutten's writings given in this paper, the writer is +indebted to the excellent memoir by David Friedrich Strauss, entitled +"Ulrich von Hutten." (Fourth Edition: Bonn, 1878.) No attempt has been +made to give here an account of Hutten's writings, only a few of the +more noteworthy being mentioned. + +[2] "Sehet ihr nicht dasz die Luft der Freiheit weht?" + + + + +NATURE-STUDY AND MORAL CULTURE.[1] + +In pleading for nature-study as a means of moral culture, I do not wish +to make an overstatement, nor to claim for such study any occult or +exclusive power. It is not for us to say, so much nature in the +schools, so much virtue in the scholars. The character of the teacher +is a factor which must always be counted in. But the best teacher is +the one that comes nearest to nature, the one who is most effective in +developing individual wisdom. + +To seek knowledge is better than to have knowledge. Precepts of virtue +are useless unless they are built into life. At birth, or before, "the +gate of gifts is closed." It is the art of life, out of variant and +contradictory materials passed down to us from our ancestors, to build +up a coherent and effective individual character. + +The essence of character-building lies in action. The chief value of +nature-study in character-building is that, like life itself, it deals +with realities. The experience of living is of itself a form of +nature-study. One must in life make his own observations, frame his +own inductions, and apply them in action as he goes along. The habit +of finding out the best thing to do next, and then doing it, is the +basis of character. A strong character is built up by doing, not by +imitation, nor by feeling, nor by suggestion. Nature-study, if it be +genuine, is essentially doing. This is the basis of its effectiveness +as a moral agent. To deal with truth is necessary, if we are to know +truth when we see it in action. To know truth precedes all sound +morality. There is a great impulse to virtue in knowing something +well. To know it well, is to come into direct contact with its facts +or laws, to feel that its qualities and forces are inevitable. To do +this is the essence of nature-study in all its forms. + +The claim has been made that history treats of the actions of men, and +that it therefore gives the student the basis of right conduct. But +neither of these propositions is true. History treats of the records +of the acts of men and nations. But it does not involve the action of +the student himself. The men and women who act in history are not the +boys and girls we are training. Their lives are developed through +their own efforts, not by contemplation of the efforts of others. They +work out their problem of action more surely by dissecting frogs or +hatching butterflies than by what we tell them of Lycurgus or Joan of +Arc. Their reason for virtuous action must lie in their own knowledge +of what is right, not in the fact that Lincoln, or Washington, or +William Tell, or some other half-mythical personage would have done so +and so under like conditions. + +The rocks and shells, the frogs and lilies always tell the absolute +truth. Association with these, under right direction, will build up a +habit of truthfulness, which the lying story of the cherry-tree is +powerless to effect. If history is to be made an agency for moral +training, it must become a nature-study. It must be the study of +original documents. When it is pursued in this way it has the value of +other nature-studies. But it is carried on under great limitations. +Its manuscripts are scarce, while every leaf on the tree is an original +document in botany. When a thousand are used, or used up, the archives +of nature are just as full as ever. + +From the intimate affinity with the problems of life, the problems of +nature-study derive a large part of their value. Because life deals +with realities, the visible agents of the overmastering fates, it is +well that our children should study the real, rather than the +conventional. Let them come in contact with the inevitable, instead of +the "made-up," with laws and forces which can be traced in objects and +forms actually before them, rather than with those which seem arbitrary +or which remain inscrutable. To use concrete illustrations, there is a +greater moral value in the study of magnets than in the distinction +between _shall_ and _will_, in the study of birds or rocks than in that +of diacritical marks or postage-stamps, in the development of a frog +than in the longer or the shorter catechism, in the study of things +than in the study of abstractions. There is doubtless a law underlying +abstractions and conventionalities, a law of catechisms, or +postage-stamps, or grammatical solecisms, but it does not appear to the +student. Its consideration does not strengthen his impression of +inevitable truth. There is the greatest moral value, as well as +intellectual value, in the independence that comes from knowing, and +knowing that one knows and why he knows. This gives spinal column to +character, which is not found in the flabby goodness of imitation or +the hysteric virtue of suggestion. Knowing what is right, and why it +is right, before doing it is the basis of greatness of character. + +The nervous system of the animal or the man is essentially a device to +make action effective and to keep it safe. The animal is a machine in +action. Toward the end of motion all other mental processes tend. All +functions of the brain, all forms of nerve impulse are modifications of +the simple reflex action, the automatic transfer of sensations derived +from external objects into movements of the body. + +The sensory nerves furnish the animal or man all knowledge of the +external world. The brain, sitting in absolute darkness, judges these +sensations, and sends out corresponding impulses to action. The +sensory nerves are the brain's sole teachers; the motor nerves, and +through them the muscles, are the brain's only servants. The untrained +brain learns its lessons poorly, and its commands are vacillating and +ineffective. In like manner, the brain which has been misued +[Transcriber's note: misused?], shows its defects in ill-chosen +actions--the actions against which Nature protests through her scourge +of misery. In this fact, that nerve alteration means ineffective +action, lying brain, and lying nerves, rests the great argument for +temperance, the great argument against all forms of nerve tampering, +from the coffee habit to the cataleptic "revival of religion." + +The senses are intensely practical in their relation to life. The +processes of natural selection make and keep them so. Only those +phases of reality which our ancestors could render into action are +shown to us by our senses. If we can do nothing in any case, we know +nothing about it. The senses tell us essential truth about rocks and +trees, food and shelter, friends and enemies. They answer no problems +in chemistry. They tell us nothing about atom or molecule. They give +us no ultimate facts. Whatever is so small that we cannot handle it is +too small to be seen. Whatever is too distant to be reached is not +truthfully reported. The "X-rays" of light we cannot see, because our +ancestors could not deal with them. The sun and stars, the clouds and +the sky are not at all what they appear to be. The truthfulness of the +senses fails as the square of the distance increases. Were it not so, +we should be smothered by truth; we should be overwhelmed by the +multiplicity of our own sensations, and truthful response in action +would become impossible. Hyperaesthesia of any or all of the senses is +a source of confusion, not of strength. It is essentially a phase of +disease, and it shows itself in ineffectiveness, not in increased power. + +Besides the actual sensations, the so-called realities, the brain +retains also the sensations which have been, and which are not wholly +lost. Memory-pictures crowd the mind, mingling with pictures which are +brought in afresh by the senses. The force of suggestion causes the +mental states or conditions of one person to repeat themselves in +another. Abnormal conditions of the brain itself furnish another +series of feelings with which the brain must deal. Moreover, the brain +is charged with impulses to action passed on from generation to +generation, surviving because they are useful. With all these arises +the necessity for choice as a function of the mind. The mind must +neglect or suppress all sensations which it cannot weave into action. +The dog sees nothing that does not belong to its little world. The man +in search of mushrooms "tramples down oak-trees in his walks." To +select the sensations that concern us is the basis of the power of +attention. The suppression of undesired actions is a function of the +will. To find data for choice among the possible motor responses is a +function of the intellect. Intellectual persistency is the essence of +individual character. + +As the conditions of life become more complex, it becomes necessary for +action to be more carefully selected. Wisdom is the parent of virtue. +Knowing what should be done logically precedes doing it. Good impulses +and good intentions do not make action right or safe. In the long run, +action is tested not by its motives, but by its results. + +The child, when he comes into the world, has everything to learn. His +nervous system is charged with tendencies to reaction and impulses to +motion, which have their origin in survivals from ancestral experience. +Exact knowledge, by which his own actions can be made exact, must come +through his own experience. The experience of others must be expressed +in terms of his own before it becomes wisdom. Wisdom, as I have +elsewhere said, is knowing what it is best to do next. Virtue is doing +it. Doing right becomes habit, if it is pursued long enough. It +becomes a "second nature," or, we may say, a higher heredity. The +formation of a higher heredity of wisdom and virtue, of knowing right +and doing right, is the basis of character-building. + +The moral character is based on knowing the best, choosing the best, +and doing the best. It cannot be built up on imitation. By imitation, +suggestion, and conventionality the masses are formed and controlled. +To build up a man is a nobler process, demanding materials and methods +of a higher order. The growth of man is the assertion of +individuality. Only robust men can make history. Others may adorn it, +disfigure it, or vulgarize it. + +The first relation of the child to external things is expressed in +this: What can I do with it? What is its relation to me? The +sensation goes over into thought, the thought into action. Thus the +impression of the object is built into the little universe of his mind. +The object and the action it implies are closely associated. As more +objects are apprehended, more complex relations arise, but the primal +condition remains--What can I do with it? Sensation, thought, +action--this is the natural sequence of each completed mental process. +As volition passes over into action, so does science into art, +knowledge into power, wisdom into virtue. + +By the study of realities wisdom is built up. In the relations of +objects he can touch and move, the child comes to find the limitations +of his powers, the laws that govern phenomena, and to which his actions +must be in obedience. So long as he deals with realities, these laws +stand in their proper relation. "So simple, so natural, so true," says +Agassiz. "This is the charm of dealing with Nature herself. She +brings us back to absolute truth so often as we wander." + +So long as a child is lead from one reality to another, never lost in +words or in abstractions, so long this natural relation remains. What +can I do with it? is the beginning of wisdom. What is it to me? is the +basis of personal virtue. + +While a child remains about the home of his boyhood, he knows which way +is north and which is east. He does not need to orientate himself, +because in his short trips he never loses his sense of space direction. +But let him take a rapid journey in the cars or in the night, and he +may find himself in strange relations. The sun no longer rises in the +east, the sense of reality in directions is gone, and it is a painful +effort for him to join the new impressions to the old. The process of +orientation is a difficult one, and if facing the sunrise in the +morning were a deed of necessity in his religion, this deed would not +be accurately performed. + +This homely illustration applies to the child. He is taken from his +little world of realities, a world in which the sun rises in the east, +the dogs bark, the grasshopper leaps, the water falls, and the relation +of cause and effect appear plain and natural. In these simple +relations moral laws become evident. "The burnt child dreads the +fire," and this dread shows itself in action. The child learns what to +do next, and to some extent does it. By practice in personal +responsibility in little things, he can be led to wisdom in large ones. +For the power to do great things in the moral world comes from doing +the right in small things. It is not often that a man who knows that +there is a right does the wrong. Men who do wrong are either ignorant +that there is a right, or else they have failed in their orientation +and look upon right as wrong. It is the clinching of good purposes +with good actions that makes the man. This is the higher heredity that +is not the gift of father or mother, but is the man's own work on +himself. + +The impression of realities is the basis of sound morals as well as of +sound judgment. By adding near things to near, the child grows in +knowledge. "Knowledge set in order" is science. Nature-study is the +beginning of science. It is the science of the child. To the child +training in methods of acquiring knowledge is more valuable than +knowledge itself. In general, throughout life sound methods are more +valuable than sound information. Self-direction is more important than +innocence. The fool may be innocent. Only the sane and wise can be +virtuous. + +It is the function of science to find out the real nature of the +universe. Its purpose is to eliminate the personal equation and the +human equation in statements of truth. By methods of precision of +thought and instruments of precision in observation, it seeks to make +our knowledge of the small, the distant, the invisible, the mysterious +as accurate as our knowledge of the common things men have handled for +ages. It seeks to make our knowledge of common things exact and +precise, that exactness and precision may be translated into action. +The ultimate end of science, as well as its initial impulse, is the +regulation of human conduct. To make right action possible and +prevalent is the function of science. The "world as it is" is the +province of science. In proportion as our actions conform to the +conditions of the world as it is, do we find the world beautiful, +glorious, divine. The truth of the "world as it is" must be the +ultimate inspiration of art, poetry, and religion. The world as men +have agreed to say it is, is quite another matter. The less our +children hear of this, the less they will have to unlearn in their +future development. + +When a child is taken from nature to the schools, he is usually brought +into an atmosphere of conventionality. Here he is not to do, but to +imitate; not to see, nor to handle, nor to create, but to remember. He +is, moreover, to remember not his own realities, but the written or +spoken ideas of others. He is dragged through a wilderness of grammar, +with thickets of diacritical marks, into the desert of metaphysics. He +is taught to do right, not because right action is in the nature of +things, the nature of himself and the things about him, but because he +will be punished somehow if he does not. + +He is given a medley of words without ideas. He is taught declensions +and conjugations without number in his own and other tongues. He +learns things easily by rote; so his teachers fill him with +rote-learning. Hence, grammar and language have become stereotyped as +teaching without a thought as to whether undigested words may be +intellectual poison. And as the good heart depends on the good brain, +undigested ideas become moral poison as well. No one can tell how much +of the bad morals and worse manners of the conventional college boy of +the past has been due to intellectual dyspepsia from undigested words. + +In such manner the child is bound to lose his orientation as to the +forces which surround him. If he does not recover it, he will spend +his life in a world of unused fancies and realities. Nonsense will +seem half truth, and his appreciation of truth will be vitiated by lack +of clearness of definition--by its close relation to nonsense. + +That this is no slight defect can be shown in every community. There +is no intellectual craze so absurd as not to have a following among +educated men and women. There is no scheme for the renovation of the +social order so silly that educated men will not invest their money in +it. There is no medical fraud so shameless that educated men will not +give it their certificate. There is no nonsense so unscientific that +men called educated will not accept it as science. + +It should be a function of the schools to build up common sense. Folly +should be crowded out of the schools. We have furnished costly lunatic +asylums for its accommodation. That our schools are in a degree +responsible for current follies, there can be no doubt. We have many +teachers who have never seen a truth in their lives. There are many +who have never felt the impact of an idea. There are many who have +lost their own orientation in their youth, and who have never since +been able to point out the sunrise to others. It is no extravagance of +language to say that diacritical marks lead to the cocaine habit; nor +that the ethics of metaphysics points the way to the Higher +Foolishness. There are many links in the chain of decadence, but its +finger-posts all point downward. + +"Three roots bear up Dominion--Knowledge, Will, the third, Obedience." +This statement, which Lowell applies to nations, belongs to the +individual man as well. It is written in the structure of his +brain--knowledge, volition, action,--and all three elements must be +sound, if action is to be safe or effective. + +But obedience must be active, not passive. The obedience of the lower +animals is automatic, and therefore in its limits measurably perfect. +Lack of obedience means the extinction of the race. Only the obedient +survive, and hence comes about obedience to "sealed orders," obedience +by reflex action, in which the will takes little part. + +In the early stages of human development, the instincts of obedience +were dominant. Great among these is the instinct of conventionality, +by which each man follows the path others have found safe. The Church +and the State, organizations of the strong, have assumed the direction +of the weak. It has often resulted that the wiser this direction, the +greater the weakness it was called on to control. The "sealed orders" +of human institutions took the place of the automatism of instinct. +Against "sealed orders" the individual man has been in constant +protest. The "warfare of science" was part of this long struggle. The +Reformation, the revival of learning, the growth of democracy, are all +phases of this great conflict. + +The function of democracy is not good government. If that were all, it +would not deserve the efforts spent on it. Better government than any +king or congress or democracy has yet given could be had in simpler and +cheaper ways. The automatic scheme of competitive examinations would +give us better rulers at half the present cost. Even an ordinary +intelligence office, or "statesman's employment bureau," would serve us +better than conventions and elections. But a people which could be +ruled in that way, content to be governed well by forces outside +itself, would not be worth the saving. But this is not the point at +issue. Government too good, as well as too bad, may have a baneful +influence on men. Its character is a secondary matter. The purpose of +self-government is to intensify individual responsibility; to promote +abortive attempts at wisdom, through which true wisdom may come at +last. Democracy is nature-study on a grand scale. The republic is a +huge laboratory of civics, a laboratory in which strange experiments +are performed; but by which, as in other laboratories, wisdom may arise +from experience, and having arisen, may work itself out into virtue. + +"The oldest and best-endowed university in the world," Dr. Parkhurst +tells us, "is Life itself. Problems tumble easily apart in the field +that refuse to give up their secret in the study, or even in the +closet. Reality is what educates us, and reality never comes so close +to us, with all its powers of discipline, as when we encounter it in +action. In books we find Truth in black and white; but in the rush of +events we see Truth at work. It is only when Truth is busy and we are +ourselves mixed up in its activities that we learn to know of how much +we are capable, or even the power by which these capabilities can be +made over into effect." + +Mr. Wilbur F. Jackman has well said: "Children always start with +imitation, and very few people ever get beyond it. The true moral act, +however, is one performed in accordance with a known law that is just +as natural as the law which determines which way a stone shall fall. +The individual becomes moral in the highest sense when he chooses to +obey this law by acting in accordance with it." Conventionality is not +morality, and may co-exist with vice as well as with virtue. Obedience +has little permanence unless it be intelligent obedience. + +It is, of course, true that wrong information may lead sometimes to +right action, as falsehood may secure obedience to a natural law which +would otherwise have been violated. But in the long run men and +nations pay dearly for every illusion they cherish. For every sick man +healed at Denver or Lourdes, ten well men may be made sick. Faith cure +and patent medicines feed on the same victim. For every Schlatter who +is worshiped as a saint, some equally harmless lunatic will be stoned +as a witch. This scientific age is beset by the non-science which its +altruism has made safe. The development of the common sense of the +people has given security to a vast horde of follies, which would be +destroyed in the unchecked competition of life. It is the soundness of +our age which has made what we call its decadence possible. It is the +undercurrent of science which has given security to human life, a +security which obtains for fools as well as for sages. + +For protection against all these follies which so soon fall into vices, +or decay into insanity, we must look to the schools. A sound +recognition of cause and effect in human affairs is our best safeguard. +The old common sense of the "un-high-schooled man," aided by +instruments of precision, and directed by logic, must be carried over +into the schools. Clear thinking and clean acting, we believe, are +results of the study of nature. When men have made themselves wise, in +the wisdom which may be completed in action, they have never failed to +make themselves good. When men have become wise with the lore of +others, the learning which ends in self, and does not spend itself in +action, they have been neither virtuous nor happy. "Much learning is a +weariness of the flesh." Thought without action ends in intense +fatigue of soul, the disgust with all the "sorry scheme of things +entire," which is the mark of the unwholesome and insane philosophy of +Pessimism. This philosophy finds its condemnation in the fact that it +has never yet been translated into pure and helpful life. + +With our children, the study of words and abstractions alone may, in +its degree, produce the same results. Nature-studies have long been +valued as a "means of grace," because they arouse the enthusiasm, the +love of work which belongs to open-eyed youth. The child _blase_ with +moral precepts and irregular conjugations turns with delight to the +unrolling of ferns and the song of birds. There is a moral training in +clearness and tangibility. An occult impulse to vice is hidden in all +vagueness and in all teachings meant to be heard but not to be +understood. Nature is never obscure, never occult, never esoteric. +She must be questioned in earnest, else she will not reply. But to +every serious question she returns a serious answer. "Simple, natural, +and true" should make the impression of simplicity and truth. Truth +and virtue are but opposite sides of the same shield. As leaves pass +over into flowers, and flowers into fruit, so are wisdom, virtue, and +happiness inseparably related. + + + +[1] Read before the National Educational Association at Buffalo, New +York, 1896. + + + + +THE HIGHER SACRIFICE.[1] + +Each man that lives is, in part, a slave, because he is a living being. +This belongs to the definition of life itself. Each creature must bend +its back to the lash of its environment. We imagine life without +conditions--life free from the pressure of insensate things outside us +or within. But such life is the dream of the philosopher. We have +never known it. The records of the life we know are full of +concessions to such pressure. + +The vegetative part of life, that part which finds its expression in +physical growth, and sustenance, and death, must always be slavery. +The old primal hunger of the protoplasm rules over it all. Each of the +myriad cells of which man is made must be fed and cared for. The +perennial hunger of these cells he must stifle. This hunger began when +life began. It will cease only when life ceases. It will last till +the water of the sea is drained, the great lights are put out, and the +useless earth is hung up empty in the archives of the universe. + +This old hunger the individual man must each day meet and satisfy. He +must do this for himself; else, in the long run, it will not be done. +If others help feed him, he must feed others in return. This return is +not charity nor sacrifice; it is simply exchange of work. It is the +division of labor in servitude. Directly or indirectly, each must pay +his debt of life. There are a few, as the world goes, who in luxury or +pauperism have this debt paid for them by others. But there are not +many of these fugitive slaves. The number will never be great; for the +lineage of idleness is never long nor strong. + +When this debt is paid, the slave becomes the man. Nature counts as +men only those who are free. Freedom springs from within. No outside +power can give it. Board and lodging on the earth once paid, a man's +resources are his own. These he can give or hold. By the fullness of +these is he measured. All acquisitions of man, Emerson tells us, "are +victories of the good brain and brave heart; the world belongs to the +energetic, belongs to the wise. It is in vain to make a paradise but +for good men." + +In the ancient lore of the Jews, so Rabbi Voorsanger tells us, it is +written, "Serve the Lord, not as slaves hoping for reward, but as gods +who will take no reward." The meaning of the old saying is this: _Only +the gods can serve_. + +Those who have nothing have nothing to give. He who serves as a slave +serves himself only. That he hopes for a reward shows that to himself +his service is really given. To serve the Lord, according to another +old saying, is to help one's fellow-men. The Eternal asks not of +mortals that they assist Him with His earth. The tough old world has +been His for centuries of centuries before it came to be ours, and we +can neither make it nor mar it. We were not consulted when its +foundations were laid in the deep. The waves and the storms, the +sunshine and the song of birds need not our aid. They will take care +of themselves. Life is the only material that is plastic in our hand. +Only man can be helped by man. + +When they hung John Brown in Virginia, many said, you remember, that in +resisting the Government he had thrown away his life, and would gain +nothing for it. He could not, as Thoreau said at the time, get a vote +of thanks or a pair of boots for his life. He could not get +four-and-sixpence a day for being hung, take the year around. But he +was not asking for a vote of thanks. It was not for the +four-and-sixpence a day that he stood between brute force and its +victims. It was to show men the nature of slavery. It was to help his +fellow-citizens to read the story of their institutions in the light of +history. "You can get more," Thoreau went on to say, "in your market +[at Concord] for a quart of milk than you can for a quart of blood; but +yours is not the market heroes carry their blood to." The blood of +heroes is not sold by the quart. The great, strong, noble, and pure of +this world, those who have made our race worthy to be called men, have +not been paid by the day or by the quart; not by riches, nor fame, nor +power, nor anything that man can give. Out of the fullness of their +lives have they served the Lord. Out of the wealth of their resources +have they helped their fellow-men. + +The great man cannot be a self-seeker. The greatness of a Napoleon or +an Alexander is the greatness of gluttony. It is slavery on a grand +scale. What men have done for their own glory or aggrandizement has +left no permanent impress. "I have carried out nothing," says the +warrior, Sigurd Slembe. "I have not sown the least grain nor laid one +stone upon another to witness that I have lived." Napoleon could have +said as much, if, like Sigurd, he had stood "upon his own grave and +heard the great bell ring." The tragedy of the Isle of St. Helena lay +not in the failure of effort, but in the futility of the aim to which +effort was directed. There was no tragedy of the Isle of Patmos. + +What such men have torn down remains torn down. All this would soon +have fallen of itself; for that which has life in it cannot be +destroyed by force. But what such men have built has fallen when their +hands have ceased to hold it up. The names history cherishes are those +of men of another type. Only "a man too simply great to scheme for his +proper self" is great enough to become a pillar of the ages. + +It is part of the duty of higher education to build up ideals of noble +freedom. It is not for help in the vegetative work of life that you go +to college. You are just as good a slave without it. You can earn +your board and lodging without the formality of culture. The training +of the college will make your power for action greater, no doubt; but +it will also magnify your needs. The debt of life a scholar has to pay +is greater than that paid by the clown. And the higher sacrifice the +scholar may be called upon to make grows with the increased fullness of +his life. Greater needs go with greater power, and both mean greater +opportunity for sacrifice. + +In the days you have been with us you should have formed some ideals. +You should have bound these ideals together with the chain of +"well-spent yesterdays," the higher heredity which comes not from your +ancestors, but which each man must build up for himself. You should +have done something in the direction of the life of higher sacrifice, +the life that from the fullness of its resources can have something to +give. + +Such sacrifice is not waste, but service; not spending, but +accomplishing. Many men, and more women, spend their lives for others +when others would have been better served if they had saved themselves. +Mere giving is not service. "Charity that is irrational and impulsive +giving, is a waste, whether of money or of life." "Charity creates +half the misery she relieves; she cannot relieve half the misery she +creates." + +The men you meet as you leave these halls will not understand your +ideals. They will not know that your life is not bound up in the +present, but has something to ask or to give for the future. Till they +understand you they will not yield you their sympathies. They may jeer +at you because the whip they respond to leaves no mark upon you. They +will try to buy you, because the Devil has always bid high for the +lives of young men with ideals. A man in his market stands always +above par. Slaves are his stock in trade. If a man of power can be +had for base purposes, he can be sure of an immediate reward. You can +sell your blood for its weight in milk, or for its weight in +gold--whatever you choose,--if you are willing to put it up for sale. +You can sell your will for the kingdoms of the earth; and you will see, +or seem to see, many of your associates making just such bargains. But +in this be not deceived. No young man worthy of anything else ever +sold himself to the Devil. These are dummy sales. The Devil puts his +own up at auction in hope of catching others. If you fall into his +hands, you had not far to fall. You were already ripe for his clutches. + +When a man steps forth from the college, he is tested once for all. It +takes but a year or two to prove his mettle. In the college high +ideals prevail, and the intellectual life is taken as a matter of +course. In the world outside it appears otherwise, though the +conditions of success are in fact just the same. It is not true, +though it seems so, that the common life is a game of "grasping and +griping, with a whine for mercy at the end of it." It is your own +fault if you find it so. It is not true that the whole of man is +occupied, with the effort "to live just asking but to live, to live +just begging but to be." The world of thought and the world of action +are one in nature. In both truth and love are strength, and folly and +selfishness are weakness. There is no confusion of right and wrong in +the mind of the Fates. It is only in our poor bewildered slave +intellects that evil passes for power. All about us in the press of +life are real men, "whose fame is not bought nor sold at the stroke of +a politician's pen." Such are the men in whose guidance the currents +of history flow. + +The lesson of values in life it should be yours to teach, because it +should be yours to know and to act. Men are better than they seem, and +the hidden virtues of life appear when men have learned how to +translate them into action. Men grasp and hoard material things +because in their poverty of soul they know of nothing else to do. It +is lack of training and lack of imagination, rather than total +depravity, which gives our social life its sordid aspect. When a plant +has learned the secret of flowers and fruit, it no longer goes on +adding meaningless leaf on leaf. And as "flowers are only colored +leaves, fruits only ripe ones," so are the virtues only perfected and +ripened forms of those impulses which show themselves as vices. + +It is your relation to the overflow of power that determines the manner +of man you are. Slave or god, it is for you to choose. Slave or god, +it is for you to will. It is for such choice that will is developed. +Say what we may about the limitations of the life of man, they are +largely self-limitations. Hemmed in is human life by the force of the +Fates; but the will of man is one of the Fates, and can take its place +by the side of the rest of them. The man who can will is a factor in +the universe. Only the man who can will can serve the Lord at all, and +by the same token, hoping for no reward. + +Likewise is love a factor in the universe. Power is not strength of +body or mind alone. One who is poor in all else, may be rich in +sympathy and responsiveness. "They also serve who only stand and wait." + +In a recent number of The Dial, Mr. W. P. Reeves tells us the tale, +half-humorous, half-allegorical, of the decadence of a scholar. +According to this story, one Thomson was a college graduate, full of +high notions of the significance of life and the duties and privileges +of the scholar. With these ideals he went to Germany, that he might +strengthen them and use them for the benefit of his fellow-men. He +spent some years in Germany, filling his mind with all that German +philosophy could give. Then he came home, to turn his philosophy into +action. To do this, he sought a college professorship. + +This he found it was not easy to secure. Nobody cared for him or his +message. The authority of "wise and sober Germany" was not recognized +in the institutions of America, and he found that college +professorships were no longer "plums to be picked" by whomsoever should +ask for them. The reverence the German professor commands is unknown +in America. In Germany, the authority of wise men is supreme. Their +words, when they speak, are heard with reverence and attention. In +America, wisdom is not wisdom till the common man has examined it and +pronounced it to be such. The conclusions of the scholar are revised +by the daily newspaper. The readers of these papers care little for +messages from Utopia. + +No college opened its doors to Thomson, and he saw with dismay that the +life before him was one of discomfort and insignificance, his ideals +having no exchangeable value in luxuries or comforts. Meanwhile, +Thomson's early associates seemed to get on somehow. The world wanted +their cheap achievements, though it did not care for him. + +Among these associates was one Wilcox, who became a politician, and, +though small in abilities and poor in virtues, his influence among men +seemed to be unbounded. The young woman who had felt an interest in +Thomson's development, and to whom he had read his rejected verses and +his uncalled-for philosophy, had joined herself to the Philistines, and +yielded to their influence. She had become Wilcox's wife. His friends +regarded Thomson's failure as a joke. He must not take himself too +seriously, they said. A man should be in touch with his times. "Even +Philistia," one said, "has its aesthetic ritual and pageantry." A wise +man will not despise this ritual, because Philistinism, after all, is +the life of the world. + +But Thomson held out. "I pledged my word in Germany," he said, "to +teach nothing that I did not believe to be true. I must live up to +this pledge." And so he sought for positions, and he failed to find +them. Finally, he had a message from a friend that a professorship in +a certain institution was vacant. This message said, "Cultivate +Wilcox." So, in despair, Thomson began to cultivate Wilcox. He began +to feel that Wilcox was a type of the world, a bad world, for which he +was not responsible. The world's servant he must be, if he received +its wages. When he secured the coveted appointment, through the +political pull of Wilcox and the mild kindness of Mrs. Wilcox, he was +ready to teach whatever was wanted of him, whether it was truth in +Germany or not. He found that he could change his notions of truth. +The Wilcox idea was that everything in America is all right just as it +is. To this he found it easy to respond. His salary helped him to do +so. And at last, the record says, he became "_laudator temporis +acti_," one who praises the times that are past. As such, he took but +little part in the times that are to be. + +So runs the allegory. How shall it be with you? There are many +Thomsons among our scholars. There may be some such among you. When +you pass from the world of thought you will find yourself in the world +of action. The conditions are not changed, but they seem to be +changed. How shall you respond to the seeming difference? Shall you +give up the truth of high thinking for the appearance of speedy +success? If you do this, it will not be because you are worldly-wise, +but because you do not know the world. In your ignorance of men you +may sell yourself cheaply. + +One must know life before he can know truth. He who will be a leader +of men must first have the power to lead himself. The world is selfish +and unsympathetic. But it is also sagacious. It rejects as worthless +him who suffers decadence when he comes in contact with its vulgar +cleverness. The natural man can look the world in the face. The true +man will teach truth wherever he is,--not because he has pledged +himself in Germany not to teach anything else, but because in teaching +truth he is teaching himself. His life thus becomes genuine, and, +sooner or later, the world will respond to genuineness in action. The +world knows the value of genuineness, and it yields to that force +wherever it is felt. "The world is all gates," says Emerson, "all +opportunities, strings of tension waiting to be struck." + +Thus, in the decadence of Thomson, it was not the times or the world or +America that was at fault; it was Thomson himself. He had in him no +life of his own. His character, like his microscope, "was made in +Germany," and bore not his mark, but the stamp of the German factory. +Truth was not made in Germany; and to know or to teach truth there must +be a life behind it. The decadence of Thomson was the appearance of +the real Thomson from under the axioms and formulae his teachers had +given him. + +Men do not fail because they are human. They are not human enough. +Failure comes from lack of life. Only the man who has formed opinions +of his own can have the courage of his convictions. Learning alone +does not make a man strong. Strength in life will show itself in +helpfulness, will show itself in sympathy, in sacrifice. "Great men," +says Emerson, "feel that they are so by renouncing their selfishness +and falling back on what is humane. They beat with the pulse and +breathe with the lungs of nations." + +It is not enough to know truth; one must know men. It is not enough to +know men; one must be a man. Only he who can live truth can know it. +Only he who can live truth can teach it. "He could talk men over," +says Carlyle of Mirabeau, "he could talk men over because he could act +men over. At bottom that was it." + +And at bottom this is the source of all power and service. Not what a +man knows, or what he can say; but what is he? what can he can do? Not +what he can do for his board and lodging, as the slave who is "hired +for life"; but what can he do out of the fullness of his resources, the +fullness of his helpfulness, the fullness of himself? The work the +world will not let die was never paid for--not in fame, not in money, +not in power. + +The decadence of literature, of which much is said to-day, is not due +to the decadence of man. It is not the effect of the nerve strain of +over-wrought generations born too late in the dusk of the ages. Its +nature is this--that uncritical and untrained men have come into a +heritage they have not earned. They will pay money to have their +feeble fancy tickled. The decadence of literature is the struggle of +mountebanks to catch the public eye. There is money in the literature +of decay, and those who work for money have "verily their reward." But +these performances are not the work of men. They have no relation to +literature, or art, or human life. These are not in decadence because +imitations are sold on street-corners or tossed into our laps on +railway trains. As well say that gold is in its decadence because +brass can be burnished to look like it; or that the sun is in his +dotage because we have filled our gardens with Chinese lanterns. + + "No ray is dimmed, no atom worn, + My oldest force is good as new + And the fresh rose on yonder thorn + Gives back the bending heavens in dew." + + +Literature has never been paid for. It has never asked the gold nor +the plaudits of the multitude. Job, and Hamlet, and Faust, and Lear, +were never written to fill the pages of a Sunday newspaper. John +Milton and John Bunyan were not publishers' hacks; nor were John +Hampden, John Bright, or Samuel Adams under pay as walking-delegates of +reform. + +No man was hired to find out that the world was round, or that the +valleys are worn down by water, or that the stars are suns. No man was +paid to burn at the stake or die on the cross that other men might be +free to live. The sane, strong, brave, heroic souls of all ages were +the men who, in the natural order of things, have lived above all +considerations of pay or glory. They have served not as slaves hoping +for reward, but as gods who would take no reward. Men could not reward +Shakespeare, or Darwin, or Newton, or Helmholtz for their services any +more than we could pay the Lord for the use of His sunshine. From the +same inexhaustible divine reservoir it all comes--the service of the +great man and the sunshine of God. + + "Twice have I molded an image, + And thrice outstretched my hand; + Made one of day and one of night, + And one of the salt sea strand + One in a Judean manger, + And one by Avon's stream; + One over against the mouths of Nile, + And one in the Academe." + + +And in such image are men made every day, not only in Bethlehem or in +Stratford, not alone on the banks of the Nile or the Arno; but on the +Columbia, or the Sacramento, or the San Francisquito, it may be, as +well. All over the earth, in this image, are the sane, and the sound, +and the true. And when and where their lives are spent arises +generations of others like them, men in the true order. Not alone men +in the "image of God," but "gods in the likeness of men." + +It is to the training of the genuine man that the universities of the +world are devoted. They call for the higher sacrifice, the sacrifice +of those who have powers not needed in the common struggle of life, and +who have, therefore, something over and beyond this struggle to give to +their fellows. Large or small, whatever the gift may be, the world +needs it all, and to every good gift the world will respond a +thousand-fold. Strength begets strength, and wisdom leads to wisdom. +"There is always room for the man of force, and he makes room for +many." It is the strong, wise, and good of the past who have made our +lives possible. It is the great human men, the "men in the natural +order," that have made it possible for "the plain, common men," that +make up civilization, to live, rather than merely to vegetate. + +We hear those among us sometimes who complain of the shortness of life, +the smallness of truth, the limited stage on which man is forced to +act. But the men who thus complain are not men who have filled this +little stage with their action. The man who has learned to serve the +Lord never complains that his Master does not give him enough to do. +The man who helps his fellow-men does not stand about with idle hands +to find men worthy of his assistance. He who leads a worthy life never +vexes himself with the question as to whether life is worth living. + +We know that all our powers are products of the needs and duties of our +ancestors. Wisdom too great to be translated into action is an +absurdity. For wisdom is only knowing what it is best to do next. +Virtue is only doing it. Virtue and happiness have never been far +apart from each other. To know and to do is the essence of the highest +service. Those the world has a right to honor are those who found +enough in the world to do. The fields are always white to their +harvest. + +Alexander the Great had conquered his neighbors in Greece and Asia +Minor, the only world he knew. Then he sighed for more worlds to +conquer. But other worlds he knew nothing of lay all about him. The +secrets of the rocks he had never suspected. Steam, electricity, the +growth of trees, the fall of snow,--all these were mysteries to him. +The only conquest he knew, the subjection of men's bodies, went but a +little way. All the men who in his lifetime knew the name of Alexander +the Great could find encampment on the Palo Alto farm. The great world +of men in his day was beyond his knowledge. His world was a very small +one, and of this he had seen but a little corner. + +For the need of more worlds to conquer is no badge of strength. It is +the stamp of ignorance. It is the cry only of him who knows that the +great earth about him still stands unconquered. No Lincoln ever sighed +for more nations to save; no Luther for more churches to purify; no +Darwin that nature had not more hidden secrets which he might follow to +their depths; no Agassiz that the thoughts of God were all exhausted +before he was born. + + +And now, a final word to you as scholars: Higher education means the +higher sacrifice. That you are taught to know is simply that you may +do. Knowing the truth signifies that you should do right. Knowing and +doing have value only as translated into justice and love. There is no +man so strong as not to need your help. There is no man so weak that +you cannot make him stronger. There is none so sick that you cannot +bring him to the "gate called Beautiful." There is no evil in the +world that you cannot help turn to goodness. "We could lift up this +land," said Bjoernson of Norway, "we could lift up this land, if we +lifted as one." + +Therefore lift, and lift as one. You are strong enough and wise +enough. You shall seek strength and wisdom, that others through you +may be wiser and stronger. You shall seek your place to work as your +basis for helpfulness. Others will make the place as good as you +deserve. If your lives are sacrificed in helping men, it is to the +market of the ages you carry your blood, not to the milk-market of +Concord town. The honest man will not "pledge himself in Germany to +teach nothing which is not true." Being true himself, he can teach +nothing false. The more men of the true order there are in the world, +the greater is the world's need of men. + +As you are men, so will your places in life be secure. Every +profession is calling you. Every walk of life is waiting for your +effort. There will always be room for you, and each of you will make +room for many. + + + +[1] Address to the Graduating Class, Leland Stanford Jr. University, +May 21, 1896. + + + + + THE BUBBLES OF SAKI. + + In sad, sweet cadence Persian Omar sings + The life of man that lasts but for a day; + A phantom caravan that hastes away, + On to the chaos of insensate things. + + "The Eternal Saki from that bowl hath poured + Millions of bubbles like us and shall pour," + Thy life or mine, a half-unspoken word, + A fleck of foam tossed on an unknown shore. + + "When thou and I behind the veil are past, + Oh, but the long, long while the world shall last? + Which of our coming and departure heeds, + As the seven seas shall heed a pebble cast." + + "Then, my beloved, fill the cup that clears + To-day of past regrets and future fears." + This is the only wisdom man can know, + "I come like water, and like wind I go." + + But tell me, Omar, hast thou said the whole? + If such the bubbles that fill Saki's bowl, + How great is Saki, whose least whisper calls + Forth from the swirling mists a human soul! + + Omar, one word of thine is but a breath, + A single cadence in thy perfect song; + And as its measures softly flow along, + A million cadences pass on to death. + + Shall this one word withdraw itself in scorn, + Because 't is not thy first, nor last, nor all-- + Because 't is not the sole breath thou hast drawn, + Nor yet the sweetest from thy lips let fall? + + I do rejoice that when "of Me and Thee" + Men talk no longer, yet not less, but more, + The Eternal Saki still that bowl shall fill, + And ever stronger, purer bubbles pour. + + One little note in the Eternal Song, + The Perfect Singer hath made place for me; + And not one atom in earth's wondrous throng + But shall be needful to Infinity. + + + + + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Story of the Innumerable Company, +and Other Sketches, by David Starr Jordan + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE STORY OF THE INNUMERABLE *** + +***** This file should be named 18462.txt or 18462.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/8/4/6/18462/ + +Produced by Al Haines + +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. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you +do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the +rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose +such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and +research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do +practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is +subject to the trademark license, especially commercial +redistribution. + + + +*** START: FULL LICENSE *** + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project +Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project +Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at +http://gutenberg.org/license). + + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy +all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. +If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the +terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or +entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. + +1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement +and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation" +or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the +collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an +individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are +located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from +copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative +works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg +are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project +Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by +freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of +this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with +the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by +keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project +Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in +a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check +the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement +before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or +creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project +Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning +the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United +States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate +access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently +whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the +phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project +Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, +copied or distributed: + +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 + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived +from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is +posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied +and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees +or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work +with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the +work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 +through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the +Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or +1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional +terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked +to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the +permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any +word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or +distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than +"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version +posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), +you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a +copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon +request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other +form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided +that + +- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is + owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he + has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the + Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments + must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you + prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax + returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and + sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the + address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to + the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." + +- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm + License. You must require such a user to return or + destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium + and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of + Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any + money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days + of receipt of the work. + +- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set +forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from +both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael +Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the +Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm +collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain +"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual +property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a +computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by +your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right +of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with +your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with +the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a +refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity +providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to +receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy +is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further +opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS', WITH NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO +WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. +If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the +law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be +interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by +the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any +provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance +with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, +promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, +harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, +that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do +or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm +work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any +Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. + + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers +including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists +because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from +people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. +To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 +and the Foundation web page at http://www.pglaf.org. + + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive +Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at +http://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent +permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. + +The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. +Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered +throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at +809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email +business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact +information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official +page at http://pglaf.org + +For additional contact information: + Dr. Gregory B. Newby + Chief Executive and Director + gbnewby@pglaf.org + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide +spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To +SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any +particular state visit http://pglaf.org + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including checks, online payments and credit card +donations. To donate, please visit: http://pglaf.org/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart is the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + http://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. + +*** END: FULL LICENSE *** + diff --git a/18462.zip b/18462.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..f27cc24 --- /dev/null +++ b/18462.zip diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..5d00b63 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #18462 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/18462) |
