The Story of Chautauqua Part 6

[Ill.u.s.tration: The Golden Gate

Prof. W. C. Wilkinson, Dr. J. H. Vincent, Lyman Abbott, Bishop H. W.

Warren]

On the extreme southwestern limit of the old camp ground was a ravine, unoccupied until 1877. On the slopes of this valley the declivity was cleared and terraced, seats--this time with backs--were arranged upon its sides; toward the lake it was somewhat banked up to form a place for the speakers' platform. Over it was spread the tent, formerly known as "the pavilion," brought from the hill beside Vincent Avenue. This was the nucleus out of which grew in after years the famous Chautauqua Amphitheater. At first it was used only on rainy days, but after a year or two gradually took the place of the out-of-doors Auditorium.

Near the book-store on the hill stands a small gothic, steep-roofed building, now a flower-shop. It was built just before the a.s.sembly of 1877 as a church for the benefit of those who lived through the year at Chautauqua, numbering at that time about two hundred people. The old chapel was the first permanent public building erected at Chautauqua and still standing.

The program of '77 began with a council of Reform and Church Congress, from Sat.u.r.day, August 4th to Tuesday, August 7th. Anthony Comstock, that fearless warrior in the cause of righteousness, whose face showed the scars of conflict, who arrested more corrupters of youth, and destroyed more vile books, papers, and pictures than any other social worker, was one of the leading speakers. He reported at that time the arrest of 257 dealers in obscene literature and the destruction of over twenty tons of their publications. There is evil enough in this generation, but there would have been more if Anthony Comstock had not lived in the last generation. Another reformer of that epoch was Francis Murphy, who had been a barkeeper, but became a worker for temperance. His blue ribbon badge was worn by untold thousands of reformed drunkards. He had a power almost marvelous of freeing men from the chain of appet.i.te. I was present once at a meeting in New York where from the platform I looked upon a churchful of men, more than three hundred in number, whose faces showed that the "pleasures of sin" are the merest mockery; and after his address a mult.i.tude came forward to sign Mr. Murphy's pledge and put on his blue ribbon. At Chautauqua Mr. Murphy made no appeal to victims of the drink habit, for they were not there to hear him, but he _did_ appeal, and most powerfully, in their behalf, to the Christian a.s.semblage before him. Another figure on the platform was that of John B. Gough,--we do not call him a voice, for not only his tongue, but face, hands, feet, even his coat-tails, were eloquent. No words can do justice to this peerless orator in the cause of reform. These were the three mighty men of the council, but the report shows twice as many names almost as distinguished.

On the evening of Tuesday, August 7th, came the regular opening of the a.s.sembly proper, in the Auditorium on the Point. The report of attendance was far above that of any former opening day. Dr. Vincent presided and conducted the responsive service of former years--the same opening sentences and songs used every year since the first a.s.sembly in 1874. We find fifteen names on the list of the speakers on that evening, representing many churches, many States, and at least two lands outside our own.

Is another story of Frank Beard on that evening beneath the dignity of history? When he came upon the platform, he found the chairs occupied, and sat down among the alto singers, where he insisted on remaining despite the expostulations of Mr. Sherwin. In the middle of the exercises, the steamboat whistle at the pier gave an unusually raucous scream. Mr. Sherwin came forward and told the audience that there was no cause for alarm; the sound was merely Mr. Beard tuning his voice to sing alto. Two or three speakers afterward incidentally referred to Mr. Beard as a singer, and hoped that he might favor the congregation with a solo.

One of the speakers, an Englishman, prefaced his talk by singing an original song, set to Chautauqua music. That he might see his verses, Mr. Sherwin took down a locomotive headlight hanging on one of the trees, and held it by the side of the singer. The Englishman, short and fat, and Sherwin with dignity supporting the big lantern, formed a tableau. Immediately afterward Dr. Vincent called on Mr. Beard to speak; and this was his opening, delivered in his peculiar drawl.

"I was a good mind to sing a song instead of making a speech, but I was sure that Professor Sherwin wouldn't hold the lantern for me to sing by.

He knows that he can't hold a candle to me, anyhow!"

With Professor Sherwin, in charge of the music in 1877, was a.s.sociated Philip Phillips, whose solos formed a prelude to many of the lectures.

No one who listened to that silvery yet sympathetic voice ever forgot it. It will be remembered that President Lincoln in Was.h.i.+ngton, after hearing him sing _Your Mission_, sent up to the platform his written request to have it repeated before the close of the meeting. Mr.

Phillips ever after cherished that sc.r.a.p of paper with the n.o.blest name in the history of America. Another musical event of the season of 1877 was the visit of the Young Apollo Club of New York, one of the largest and finest boy-choirs in the country. They gave three concerts at Chautauqua, which in the rank and rendering of their music were a revelation to the listening mult.i.tudes.

While we are speaking of the music we must make mention of songs written and composed especially for Chautauqua. In Dr. Vincent's many-sided nature was a strain of poetry, although I do not know that he ever wrote a verse. Yet he always looked at life and truth through poetic eyes. Who otherwise would have thought of songs for Chautauqua, and called upon a poet to write them? Dr. Vincent found in Miss Mary A. Lathbury another poet who could compose fitting verses for the expression of the Chautauqua spirit. If I remember rightly her first song was prepared for the opening in 1875, the second a.s.sembly, and as the earliest, it is given in full. In it is a reference to some speakers at the first a.s.sembly who went on a journey to the Holy Land, and to one, the Rev. F.

A. Goodwin, whose cornet led the singing in 1874, who became a missionary in India.

A HYMN OF GREETING

The flush of morn, the setting suns Have told their glories o'er and o'er One rounded year, since, heart to heart We stood with Jesus by the sh.o.r.e.

We heard his wondrous voice; we touched His garment's hem with rev'rent hand, Then at his word, went forth to preach His coming Kingdom in the land.

And following him, some willing feet The way to Emmaus have trod; And some stand on the Orient plains, And some--upon the mount of G.o.d!

While over all, and under all, The Master's eye, the Master's arm, Have led in paths we have not known, Yet kept us from the touch of harm.

One year of golden days and deeds, Of gracious growth, of service sweet; And now beside the sh.o.r.e again We gather at the Master's feet.

"Blest be the tie that binds," we sing; Yet to the bending blue above We look, beyond the face of friends, To mark the coming of the Dove.

Descend upon us as we wait With open heart--with open Word; Breathe on us, mystic Paraclete Breathe on us, Spirit of the Lord!

Another song of the second a.s.sembly, and sung through the years since at the services of the Chautauqua Circle, was written and set to music by Miss Lucy J. Rider of Chicago, afterward Mrs. Lucy Rider Meyer, one of the founders of the Deaconess movement in the Methodist Episcopal Church. It begins with the lines:

The winds are whispering to the trees, The hill-tops catch the strain, The forest lifts her leafy gates To greet G.o.d's host again.

In the year of which we are writing, 1877, Mary A. Lathbury gave to Chautauqua two songs which have become famous, and are to be found in every hymnal published during the last generation. One is the Evening Song of Praise, "Day is dying in the West," written to be sung at the even-tide conferences beside the lake. The other, beginning, "Break thou the bread of life," was the study song for the Normal Cla.s.ses. Another, less widely known abroad, but sung every year at Chautauqua is the Alumni Song, "Join, O friends, in a memory song." These were a few of the many songs written by Miss Lathbury at Dr. Vincent's request, and set to music by Professor Sherwin. Originally composed for the Normal Cla.s.s, then the most prominent feature on the program, after the Chautauqua Circle arose to greatness in 1878, they were adopted as the songs of that widespread organization. For the C. L. S. C. a cla.s.s song was written each year, until the Chautauqua songs grew into a book. Not all of these cla.s.s songs have become popular, but quite a number are still sung at the Inst.i.tution, especially at cla.s.s-meetings and in the Recognition Day services.

At the a.s.sembly of 1877 the Normal Cla.s.s still stood in the foreground.

Special courses of lessons were given to Primary Teachers, by Mrs.

Emily Huntington Miller, Mrs. Wilbur F. Crafts, and the ever-popular "Pansy"--Mrs. G. R. Alden. The record informs us that the average attendance at the four normal tents was more than five hundred. Thorough reviews after the course were held from time to time, and this year two compet.i.tive examinations, one on August 14th for those unable to remain until the close, but received examination on the entire course--fifty questions in number; the other on Tuesday, August 21st with three hundred candidates for the diploma.

From 1876 for a number of years it was the custom to hold an anniversary service on one evening, for the Normal Alumni. The graduates marched in procession, led by a band, a silken banner before each cla.s.s, and every member wearing a badge, to the Pavilion in the ravine and afterward to its successor the Amphitheater, where Chautauqua songs were sung, and an address given by an orator, the President of the Normal Alumni introducing the speaker. It may have been in 1877, or maybe in a later year, that John B. Gough was the orator of the evening; and he began his address in this wise:

I don't know why I have been chosen to speak to the Alumni of Chautauqua, unless it is because I am an Alumni myself, if that is the right word for one of them. I am art alumni of Amherst College; M.A., Master of Arts. I have a diploma, all in Latin. I can't read a word of it, and don't know what it means, but those long Latin words look as if they must mean something great. When I was made an alumni I sat on the platform of the Commencement Day; the salutatorian--they told me that was his t.i.tle--came up and began to speak in Latin. He said something to the President, and he bowed and smiled as if he understood it. He turned to the trustees, and spoke to them and they looked as wise as they could. He said something to the graduating cla.s.s, and they seemed to enjoy it--all in Latin; and I hadn't the remotest idea what it was all about. I kept saying to myself, "I wish that he would speak just one word that I could understand." Finally, the orator turned straight in my direction and said, "Ignoramus!" I smiled, and bowed, just as the others had. There was one word that I could understand, and it exactly fitted my case!

On the lecture platform of 1877, the outstanding figure was the ma.s.sive frame, the Jupiter-like head, and the resonant voice of Joseph Cook, one of the foremost men of that generation in the reconciliation of science with religion--if the twain ever needed a reconciliation. He gave six lectures, listened to by vast audiences. The one most notable was that ent.i.tled, "Does Death End All?" in which he a.s.sembled a host of evidences, outside of the Scriptures, pointing to the soul's immortality. Joseph Cook is well-nigh forgotten in this day, but in his generation he was an undoubted power as a defender of the faith.

If we were to name the Rev. James M. Buckley, D.D., in the account of each year when he spoke in the platform and the subjects of his addresses, there would be room in our record for few other lecturers. He was present at the opening session in 1874, and at almost every session afterward for more than forty years,--aggressive in debate, instantaneous in repartee, marvelous in memory of faces and facts, and ready to speak upon the widest range of subjects. Every year, Dr.

Buckley held a question-drawer, and few were the queries that he could not answer; although in an emergency he might dodge a difficulty by telling a story. For many years he was the editor of the _Christian Advocate_ in New York, known among Methodists as the "Great Official"; and he made his paper the champion of conservatism, for he was always ready to break a lance in behalf of orthodox belief or the Methodist system. Another speaker this year was Dr. P. S. Henson, a Baptist pastor successively in Philadelphia, in Chicago, and in Boston, but by no means limited to one parish in his ministry. He spoke under many t.i.tles, but most popularly on "Fools," and "The Golden Calf," and he knew how to mingle wisdom and wit in just proportions. Abundant as were his resources in the pulpit and on the platform, some of us who sat with him at the table or on a fallen tree in the forest, thought that he was even richer and more delightful, as well as sagacious in his conversation.

Dr. Charles F. Deems, pastor of the Church of the Stranger in New York, also came to Chautauqua for the first time this year. He was at home equally in theology, in science, and on the questions of the day, with a remarkable power of making truth seemingly abstruse simple to common people. I recall a lecture on a scientific subject, at which he saw on the front seat two boys, and he made it his business to address those boys and simplify his message seemingly for them while in reality for his entire audience. But we cannot even name the speakers who gave interest to the program of 1877.

One event of that season, however, must not be omitted, for it became the origin of one noteworthy Chautauqua custom. Mr. S. L. Greene, from Ontario, Canada, a deaf-mute, gave an address before a great audience in the Auditorium under the trees. He spoke in the sign-language, telling several stories from the gospels; and so striking were his silent symbols that everyone could see the picture. We were especially struck with his vivid representation of Christ stilling the tempest. As he closed, the audience of at least two thousand burst into applause, clapping their hands. Dr. Vincent came forward, and said, "The speaker is unable to hear your applause; let us wave our handkerchiefs instead of clapping our hands."

In an instant the grove was transformed into a garden of white lilies dancing under the leaves of the trees, or as some said, "into a snow-covered field." The Superintendent of Instruction then and there adopted the Chautauqua Salute of the waving handkerchiefs as a token of special honor. It is sparingly given, only two or three times during the season, and never except when called for by the head of Chautauqua in person.

At the annual commemoration on "Old First Night" the Chautauqua salute is now given in a peculiar manner to the memory of Lewis Miller and other leaders who are no longer among us. At the call of the President, the handkerchiefs are slowly raised and held in absolute stillness for a moment; then as silently lowered. The Chautauqua salute is one of the traditions observed in minutest detail after the manner of the Founders.

Among the early issues of the _a.s.sembly Herald_ appear some verses worthy of a place in our history.

THE CHAUTAUQUA SALUTE

BY MAY M. BISBEE

Have you heard of a wonderful lily That blooms in the fields of air?

With never a stem or a pale green leaf, Spotless, and white, and fair?

Unnamed in the books of wise men, Nor akin to the queenly rose; But the white Chautauqua lily Is the fairest flower that grows.

Never in quiet meadows, By brookside cool and green, In garden-plot, nor in forest glen, This wonderful flower is seen.

It grows in goodly companies, A theme for the poet's pen; It loves not silence, nor cold nor dark, But it blooms in the haunts of men.

The nation trails its great men Of high and honored name, With clapping of hands and roll of drums And trump that sings of fame; But a sweet and silent greeting To the ones we love the best, Are the white Chautauqua lilies In our summer home of rest.

When the beautiful vesper service Has died on the evening air, And a thousand happy faces Are raised at the close of prayer, The voice of our well-loved leader Rings out in its clear-toned might; "We will give our salutation To an honored guest to-night."

Then out of the speaking silence The white wings rise to air, Faintest of flutter and softest of sound, Hail to the lilies rare!

Thousands and tens of thousands, Swiftly the lilies grow, Till the air is filled with the fluttering flowers, As the winter air with snow.

Hail to the fair white lilies!

Sweetest of salutations!

The love of a thousand hearts they bear The greeting of the nations.

The fairest of earth-born flowers Must wither by-and-by; But the lilies that live in the hearts they hail Will never, never die.

O cold blast, spare the lily-bed That bears the wonderful flower!

Give largely, O sky, of summer sun, Largely of summer shower, Till the white flowers born in our summer home To earth's outermost rim be given; And the lilies open their cups of snow In the garden beds of heaven.

At the final meeting of the a.s.sembly in 1877, on Monday evening, August 20th, Dr. Vincent outlined some plans for the coming year,--a large hotel to replace the tented walls of the Pavilion Palace, a new meeting-place to be built with walls and roof over the natural amphitheater in the ravine, some further courses of study, and many improvements to the grounds. Then he added, "And I shall not be surprised if--well, I will not tell you--I have another dream I will not give you." (A voice: "Let's have it.") "No, I am going to hold that back, so you will want me to come next year. But I believe that something higher and larger is just out yonder in the near future. Next summer, if we all live, I will tell you about it." We shall see in the coming chapter what that new development of Chautauqua was to be,--the greatest in its history, and perhaps the greatest in the history of education through the land.