Four hundred and thirty-four years—1452-1886. What wonderful events have been taking place all along through these years since the young Girolamo first saw the light! And I have been wondering what Savonarola would have said and done had he lived in this nineteenth century. He is spoken of as one whose soul was stirred by ardent faith which burned through all obstacles; as a fervid orator and as a sagacious ruler, who evolved order out of chaos; as one who to maintain his cause of reform braved single-handed the whole power of the Papacy. He is described as a serious, quiet child, early showing signs of mental power. The books which were his favorites would, I fear, be pronounced dry by the boys of to-day. But although he was given to solid reading, he wasfond of music and poetry, and even wrote verses himself. He enjoyed solitude, and loved to wander alone along the banks of the River Po. I ought to have told you that his native city was Ferrara, in Italy. He was expected to succeed his grandfather who was an eminent physician, and with that end in view he was carefully trained. But as he grew older, he found himself growing to regard the thought with disfavor, and as time went on he became convinced that "his vocation was to cure men's souls instead of men's bodies." Yet he was for a long time restrained from entering upon the priesthood by regard for the hopes and desires of his parents. But at length after having made this his daily prayer, "Lord, teach me the way my soul must walk," the path of duty became clear and he, avoiding the painful farewells, slipped away from home one day when the rest of the family were absent at a festival, writing an affectionate note of explanation and farewell. He entered a monastery at Bologna, where he gave himself up to the work of special preparation for the duties of his profession.
After some years he was sent to Florence to preach. At first his plain and severe denunciations of the prevailing sins of the time repelled the people who preferred to go where they could hear more polished and less conscience-awakening sermons, and Savonarola mourned over his apparent failure to reach the hearts of the multitude who were rushing on in the ways of sinful indulgence. But his soul was moved with zeal "for the redemption of the corrupt Florentines. He must, he would, stir them from their lethargy of sin." He was convinced that he was in the line of duty, and the more indifferent his hearers were the more anxious he grew for their awakening. Actuated by this motive he suddenly found his voice and revealed his powers as an orator. God had shown him how to reach men's hearts at last, and "he shook men's souls by his predictions and brought them around him in panting, awestruck crowds;" then at the close of his denunciations of sin, his voice would sink into tender pleading and sweetly he would speak of the infinite love and mercy of God the Father.
After a time, St. Mark's Church would not hold the crowds which came to hear him and he was invited to preach in the Cathedral. He was now acknowledged as a power in Florence, and the great Lorenzo de' Medici who was then atthe height of his fame as a ruler, was alarmed, and he sent a deputation of five of the leaders of the government to advise the monk to be more moderate in his preaching, hinting that trouble might follow a disregard of this advice. But the monk was unmoved. He replied, "Tell your master that although I am an humble stranger and he the city's lord, yet I shall remain and he will depart." He also declared that he owed his election to God, and not to Lorenzo, and to God alone would he render obedience.
Lorenzo was very angry, but he tried to silence the monk by bribery, but Savonarola would not be bribed nor driven. He continued to preach with great fervor, denouncing sin in high places as well as in low. You know that in those times corruption had crept into the Church of Christ, and it was against these sins of the Church that his most scathing denunciations were hurled. He had many followers, and he pushed his reforms in Church and State. His enemies grew more bitter and fiercer. Remonstrances from those in authority had no effect. He was offered a cardinal's hat, but would not accept the conditions. He said, "I will have no hat but that of the martyr, red with mine own blood."
And this was his fate; at last he was put to death in 1498. Almost his last words were, "You cannot separate me from the Church triumphant! that is beyond thy power." In the convent of St. Mark's are preserved various relics of the martyed monk, among which are his Bible with notes by his own hand, and a portrait said to have been painted by Fra Bartolommeo. I have seen a copy of this portrait. It is in profile, with the Friar's cowl. At the first glance the expression of the prominent features seems strangely stern, but as you study the face it seems to soften and the sternness becomes sadness mingled with tenderness. One can imagine those worn and pallid features lighted up with excitement, the eyes animated and glowing with zeal, and the lips so expressive of power, relaxing into a smile even, and thus looking upon it we wonder not that crowds hung upon his words.
Hatred of sin, zeal for its removal from Church and State, seems to have been two of his strong characteristics. And he was ever bold and active in lifting up and carrying forward the standard of truth. If sometimes his zeal outran his wisdom and judgment, if sometimeshis enthusiasm seemed to reach what we might call a religious frenzy in which he heard supernatural voices and saw visions, we can but believe in his sincerity and admire his boldness and commend his fearless exposure of sin. And as we study his character again and again we wonder as in the beginning of this sketch, how he would have acted in these days when sin "comes in like a flood!" Have we not need of a Savonarola? Have we not need of an army of strong, fearless men and women who shall lift up the standard of the Gospel against the tide of sin? One thought more: will each of my young readers enlist in this army and be diligent in preparing to meet the attacks of the enemy?
The birthplace of Alfred Tennyson, Poet-Laureate, is described as an old white rectory, standing on the slope of a hill, the winding lanes shadowed by tall ashes and elms, with two brooks meeting at the bottom of the glebe field. One who has written of the poet says: "In the early beginning of this century the wind came sweeping through the garden of this old Lincolnshire rectory, and as the wind blew, a sturdy child of five years old, with shining locks, stood opening his arms upon the blast and letting himself be blown along, and as he travelled on he made his first line of poetry, and said, 'I hear a voice that's speaking in the wind;' and ever since that hour voices have been speaking to him and he has given to us the thoughts borne on winds and waves and by circumstances and surroundings,in language that we can understand. Through his poems we catch glimpses of babbling brooks, and gardens, and ivied walls; of Italian skies and summer mornings, of peaceful homes and of battle crash, and as we read we may take in the pure and grand sentiments which cannot fail to have an elevating and inspiring influence upon our hearts and lives."
Alfred Tennyson first saw the light in Lincolnshire, England, in the year 1809. His father was a clergyman, and a man of great abilities, who carefully educated his children, and from whom his sons may have inherited their poetical genius. Of their mother it has been said that "she was intensely and fervently religious, as a poet's mother should be."
The story of Alfred's first attempt at verse-making is this: one Sabbath all the elders of the family were going to church, leaving the child alone. An older brother gave him a slate and a subject, "The Flowers in the Garden," and when the family returned from service he handed the slate to his brother covered over with blank verse, then waited while the critic read! Imagine his satisfaction when the slate was handed back with, "Yes, you can write."
It is also said that the first money he earned by his pen was upon the occasion of his grandmother's death, when he wrote an elegy, at his grandfather's request, for which the old gentleman paid him ten shillings, saying, "There, that is the first money you have earned by your poetry, and, take my word for it, it will be the last."
Thatmust have been rather discouraging. If the old grandfather could know of the honors and the money which have come to his grandson through his writings, he would doubtless be astonished.
He began to write for the press when quite young, and has written much, and I have no doubt his poems are familiar to you all. He was made Poet-Laureate in 1850.
A boy who lived in the neighborhood of Tennyson's home in the Isle of Wight, gave his definition of Poet-Laureate to a lady who asked him if he knew Mr. Tennyson.
"He makes moets for the Queen," was the boy's reply.
"What do you mean?" asked the lady.
"I don't know what they means," said the boy, "but p'licemen often seen him walking about a-making of 'em under the stars."
After Mr. Tennyson's marriage he settled at Freshwater, in the Isle of Wight. This home of the poet is described as "a charmed palace, with green walls without, and speaking walls within. There hung Dante with his solemn nose and wreath; Italy gleamed over the doorways; friends' faces lined the way, books filled the shelves, and a glow of crimson was everywhere; the great oriel drawing-room window was full of green and golden leaves, and the sound of birds and the distant sea. Beautiful in spring-time when all day the lark trills overhead, and when the lark has flown out of our hearing the thrushes begin and the air is sweet with scents from many fragrant shrubs.
"Later, when the health of Mrs. Tennyson required a more quiet place, for Freshwater had become a fashionable summer resort, the family made for themselves a new home on the summit of a high lonely hill in Surrey."
Now I might copy for you some bits out of the poems I like the best; or, I might gather here a cluster of bright gems, but I think you will enjoy the search if you each try this for yourselves instead.
Once I had occasion to select for a literaryexercise "Gems from Tennyson," and I found it a delightful task, only it was hard to choose, and harder to find a stopping place. I will give the boys just one extract:
"Not once or twice in our fair island story,The path of duty was the way to glory;He that ever following her commands,On with toil of heart and knees and hands,Through the long gorge to the far light has wonHis path upward and prevail'd,Shall find the toppling crags of duty scaledAre close upon the shining table-landsTo which our God himself is moon and sun."
"Not once or twice in our fair island story,The path of duty was the way to glory;He that ever following her commands,On with toil of heart and knees and hands,Through the long gorge to the far light has wonHis path upward and prevail'd,Shall find the toppling crags of duty scaledAre close upon the shining table-landsTo which our God himself is moon and sun."
Long, long ago, about two centuries after our Saviour ascended into Heaven from the midst of the wondering disciples, a calamity befell a Christian family living in Cappadocia. You will find if you turn to the second chapter of Acts, that among those who listened to Peter's first sermon were men who dwelt in Cappadocia; and again Peter addresses his first epistle to the Christians in Cappadocia, or, as the revision has it, "To the elect who are sojourners" in various places, this one among others.
So you will see that the Christian religion had already, even in Peter's time, spread thus far.
Upon the occasion of an invasion of the Goths, the family of which I write was carried away into captivity. Among these pagans our hero Ulfila was born, in the year 313. His earlyhome was upon the northern bank of the Danube. Belonging to a Christian family he was educated in the principles of the Christian religion, and became a bishop. He taught the Goths the truths of the Bible, and many embraced Christianity. Indeed, so successful were the good bishop's labors among the people, that their chief showed his displeasure by persecuting the Christians. Then Ulfila and many of his followers, those whom he had shown the way of life, left the Goths, and, securing the permission of the Roman emperor, they settled upon Roman territory.
These were afterwards called Moesogoths, from the name of the district in which they settled—Moesia. They gave up their warlike life, and became an agricultural people. And the colony increased through the immigration of others of their own people. For it seems that though Ulfila had left, the influence of his preaching did not cease, and others embraced Christianity, and as the persecutions continued these determined to join Ulfila, so it came about that through the efforts of this one man large numbers were taught the truths of the Bible. He translated the Bible into the language of the Goths. This was an immense labor, for he was obliged to invent a new alphabet.
In a public library in Upsal, Sweden, there is a curious volume known as the Codex Argenteus, or, silvered book. It is a translation of the four Gospels, and its letters are in silver, on leaves of purple vellum. This is a fragment of Ulfila's translation. The whole work was lost for about five centuries, but was discovered, at least parts of it found, by a man named Mercator, in an old abbey of Werden, in the sixteenth century. Other parts of the New Testament have been found, but only some fragments of Ezra and Nehemiah have been discovered of the Old Testament.
We have had handed down to us very few particulars of Ulfila's life. He died at Constantinople, in 383.
I have written down the name of the "great man" which I have chosen to stand in this Alphabet, and here I pause as I reflect that to many of you his face and form and speech are familiar. You have seen him upon the platform and upon the avenues of Chautauqua and Framingham, and in other places. Some of you have welcomed him at your own homes; his smiles and his talks are among the things which will be always, so long as you live, a pleasant memory. What can I tell you about him that you do not already know? Yet I am not willing that another name should take the place of this, and therefore we will talk a little together of this friend of the young people, and idol of the older people.
Dr. Vincent's early home was in the Sunny South. "In the land of orange blossoms andmagnolia groves," he first saw the light. Six years of his life were spent in the home of the flowers; then the family came North and settled in Pennsylvania.
Like the mothers of many of our great men, John H. Vincent's mother might fill a place in the book called "Some Remarkable Women."
She is described as "patient, amiable, living as though she belonged to heaven rather than earth. Often at the twilight hour, especially on Sundays, she would take her children to her own room, and there sweetly and tenderly tell them about the life to come, and point out their faults and spiritual needs."
Mrs. Bolton in her sketch of Dr. Vincent, in "How Success is Won," gives some amusing incidents of the childhood of our Great Man. I quote from memory, but I think it is she who tells the story of the boy of six years gathering the children of the neighborhood, and after getting them quiet by threatening them with the lash of a whip, he would preach to them. And so far did his zeal carry him, that upon one occasion he tore into several parts a small red-covered hymn book, which he valued as the gift of his pastor, and distributed thepieces through his audience, doubtless thinking it highly important that all should be supplied with hymn books. Whether they all sang together from the different parts of the book given them, we are not informed.
Very early in life the boy seems to have decided that he woulddo something with his life worth while; that he would do that which should help others, and realizing that there is a world to be saved, he grew up with the hope of one day becoming a minister. His studies were carried on for a time at home, afterwards at a neighboring academy. Later he engaged in teaching, continuing his studies by himself, and finally he had fitted himself for college. Not every boy would have the will and perseverance to carry on a course of study while teaching six hours or more each day. However, he did not finish his college course. Not for any want of persistence, neither did he consider such a course unimportant. But he was anxious to be about his Master's work, and thus it was that before he was twenty-one years old he set out to preach "on a thirty-mile circuit, over the mountains and through the valleys of Luzerne County, Pennsylvania."
He travelled on horseback, studying and thinking out his sermons as he journeyed. Everybody, young and old, were glad to see his bright, smiling face and feel the warm grasp of his hand. It has been said that "he never shook hands with the tips of his fingers, nor preached dry sermons."
It was during this period of his life that his mother whose parting words when he went out into the world were, "My son, live near to God; live near to God," went to be with God. One near the throne in heaven, the other living near the throne on earth; is this the secret of John H. Vincent's success in the Lord's vineyard?
REV. JOHN H. VINCENT, D.D.REV. JOHN H. VINCENT, D.D.
REV. JOHN H. VINCENT, D.D.
At length he became a pastor, preaching for a few years in New Jersey, afterwards in the vicinity of Chicago. But all the time he was busy with plans of an educational character. These plans which were at first carried out in the establishing of Saturday afternoon classes of young people, called Palestine Classes, with the purpose of studying about the Holy Land, have at length developed a Chautauqua. I need not tell you about Chautauqua; about the C.L.S.C., nor about the C.Y.F.R.U.; you do not need to be told about the town and country clubs, norabout the society of Christian ethics. Many of you have listened to those Sunday afternoon talks in the Children's Temple, and afterwards gone to the vesper service in the Hall of Philosophy.
I ought to tell you that although Dr. Vincent postponed his college course, he never gave it up, but outside college walls, he continued his studies by himself, even in the midst of a busy life, until by regular examinations he took his degrees, and also passed through the regular theological course of study of the Methodist Episcopal Church, to which denomination he belongs.
To the boys especially I recommend the study of the life and character of Dr. Vincent. A gentleman remarked in my hearing the other day, "probably no man living is exerting a wider influence over the hearts and minds of the young people than Dr. Vincent!" And I thought, what a responsibility! and how thankful the fathers and mothers should be that he is just the man he is; that his influence is ever on the side of truth and right; that his aim is to uplift, and that Christ is ever the centre of his thought. To see and hear Dr. Vincent is to understand something of the secret of his power. The sympathy which manifests itself in every look and tone, the enthusiasm with which he enters into his work, and which tides him over the hard places, and the personal magnetism—which makes you, whether you will or not; these qualities, sanctified and consecrated, make the man a power for good.
A long time ago, not quite a century, however, upon a New England farm, a mischievous woodchuck was caught after much time and patience had been expended. It was the intention of the farmer's sons to put the animal to death, but the younger boy's heart was touched with pity; he begged that the captive might go free. His brother objecting, the case was carried to the father.
"Well, my boys," said the farmer, "there is the prisoner; you shall be the counsel and plead the case for and against his life and liberty, while I will be the judge."
The older boy, whose name was Ezekiel, opened the case. He urged the mischievous nature of the animal, cited the great harm already done, said that much time and strength had been spent in securing him, and now, if he wereset free, he would only renew his depredations. He also urged that it would be more difficult to catch him again, for he would profit by this experience and be more cunning in the future. It was a long and practical argument, and the proud father was apparently quite affected by it. Then came the younger boy's turn. He pleaded the right, of anything which God had made, to life. He said that God furnished man with food, and all they needed; could they not spare this little creature who was not destructive, and who had as much right to his share of God's bounty as they had; could they not spare to him the little food necessary to existence? Should they in selfishness and cold-heartedness take the life which they could not restore again, and which God had given?
During this appeal tears started to the father's eyes, and while the boy was in the midst of his argument, not thinking that he had won the case, the judge started from his chair, and, dashing the tears away, exclaimed:
"Zeke! Zeke! you let that woodchuck go!"
DANIEL WEBSTER AT MARSHFIELD.DANIEL WEBSTER AT MARSHFIELD.
DANIEL WEBSTER AT MARSHFIELD.
This incident I have briefly written out for you is told of the early life of the man who forty years later made his celebrated speech in the Senate Chamber in defence of the Constitution, which ended with these memorable words, "Liberty and union, now and forever, one and inseparable!"
Daniel Webster, the orator and statesman, was born at Salisbury, N.H. The house in which he first saw the light is, I think, still standing, though not as it was originally; some years ago it became the wing, or kitchen part of a new house. The farm was rugged and not very fertile; it is said that granite rocks visible in every direction, gave an air of barrenness to the scene. Among "wild bleak hills and rough pastures," his boyhood was spent. His advantages of education were limited. The family library consisted of "a copy of Watts' Hymns, a cheap pamphlet copy of Pope's Essay on Man, and the Bible, from which he learned to read, together with an occasional almanac."
He struggled with poverty through his college days, and after graduating at Dartmouth, went to Boston to study law. He is described as "raw, awkward, shabby in dress, his rough trousers ceasing a long distance above his feet." After much discouragement he was entered in a law office as a student. He was admitted to the bar in 1805, and in 1808 he married Miss GraceFletcher. A pretty story is told of his engagement. One day he was assisting the young lady in disentangling a skein of silk; suddenly he said: "Grace, cannot you help me tie a knot that will never untie?" "I don't know, but I can try," she said.
And they tied the knot, and the writer who tells the story, says, "Though eighty years have sped by, it lies before me to-day, time-colored, it is true, but nevertheless still untied."
Mr. Webster was a member of Congress eight years; was in the United States Senate nineteen years, and a Cabinet officer five years. It is related of him that he tore up his college diploma, saving, "My industry may make me a great man, but this parchment cannot." A classmate says he was remarkable in college for three things: steady habits of life, close application to study, and the ability to mind his own business. Is it any wonder that he became a great man?
There is much in the life and character of Daniel Webster worthy of study, and many incidents are related which illustrate his greatness. One of the best things on record is this: at a dinner party given in his honor, some one asked him this question. "Mr. Webster, what was themost important thought that ever occupied your mind?" To this he replied, "The most important thought that ever occupied my mind was the thought of my individual responsibility to God."
Mr. Webster died in 1852. Thousands came to attend the funeral, and amid the sorrowing throng they laid him away in the family tomb at Marshfield. Thirty years more passed, and 1882 had come. It was then one hundred years since his birth, and again thousands upon thousands came to honor the memory of this son of New England. Men high in office—even the President of the United States—military men, scholars, judges, lawyers and ministers, men and women of the city and from the hillsides and from the valleys came to the sad, solemn celebration. And a long procession moved amid the tolling of bells, the booming of cannon, and the low, solemn dirge played by military bands.
Xenophon was an Athenian who lived about four hundred and fifty years before Christ. He was a celebrated general, historian and philosopher. He was a learner at the school of Socrates, and counted as one of his most gifted disciples. The life and the teachings of the great philosopher have been given to us by the writings of Xenophon, and his sober and practical style gives a good idea of the original. Quintilian, a Roman orator and critic, says of Xenophon, "The Graces dictated his language, and the Goddess of Persuasion dwelt upon his lips."
His style is pure and sweet, and he seems to have been a man of elegant tastes and amiable disposition, as well as extensive knowledge of the world.
Perhaps his greatest exploit as a general was the leading of the Greek troops across the mountain ranges and the plains of Asia Minor. This was after the battle of Cunaxa, where the younger Cyrus was defeated and slain. Xenophon had joined this expedition against the brother of Cyrus, Artaxerxes Mnemon, with ten thousand Greek troops. After the defeat many of the Greek leaders were treacherously murdered in the Persian camp. The Greeks were almost in despair. They were two thousand miles from home, surrounded by enemies, and the only way of retreat lay across mountain ranges, deep and rapid rivers, and broad deserts. It seemed as if fatigue and starvation and the hostility of those whom they must encounter would effectually prevent their return to their native land, but Xenophon roused them from their despondency, rallied the forces, and they began the march. It was a time of great suffering, for they had literally to fight their way. But when they reached a Grecian city after untold peril, it was found that of the ten thousand led forth, eight thousand and six hundred still remained. During the latter part of his life he lived at Corinth, having been expelled from Athens. Though the decree of banishment was revoked, he never returned. His literary workwas mostly performed during these later years. Of all his writings, his Anabasis has been pronounced the most remarkable. It is a work giving an account of the nations in the interior of Asia Minor, and of the Persian Empire and its government.
He died at Corinth, in his ninetieth year.
The Full Stature of a Man.By Julian Warth.
Grafenburg People.By Reuen Thomas.
The Rusty Linchpin and Luboff Archipovna.By Mme. Kokhanovsky.
The Romance of a Letter.By Lowell Choate.
Dorothy Thorne.By Julian Warth.