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The First American 
 
 and other 
 
 Sunday Evening Studies 
 
 m 
 
 Biography 
 
 By CHARLES J. BALDWIN, D. D. 
 
 Published by the First Baptist Church of Granville, Ohio, in 
 Recognition of Twenty-five Years of Service by the Author as 
 Pastor of the Church. 
 
 GRANVILLE, OHIO 
 1911 
 

 COPYRIGHT, 1911 
 
 BY 
 
 CHARLES J. BALDWIN 
 Published December, 1911 
 
 ©CI.A303372 
 
 THE CHAMPLIN PRESS 
 COLUMBUS, OHIO 
 
"T^^sc^ ^^Clrt.-xX^ P^L,*^ Ax:<.4y^t- ^-*-*y>\ ^^-^<^<»*/^ 
 
 cnr- 
 
Contents 
 
 PAGE 
 
 I. The First American 5 
 
 II. The Real Washington 37 
 
 III. Jonathan Edwards and Benjamin Franklin. . 57 
 
 IV. Thomas Paine 81 
 
 V. Benedict Arnold 103 
 
 VI. Aaron Burr and Alexander Hamilton 1 29 
 
 VII. Ulysses S. Grant 153 
 
 VIII. Savonarola 177 
 
 IX. Joan of Arc 201 
 
 X. John Wiclif 225 
 
 XI. Luther and Erasmus 245 
 
 XII. John Knox and Mary Queen of Scots 269 
 
ABRAHAM LINCOLN 
 
The First American 
 
 I 
 
 N his "Commemoration Ode" Lowell 
 speaks of Abraham Lincoln as 
 
 " The kindly-earnest, brave, foreseeing 
 
 man — 
 Sagacious, patient, dreading praise, not 
 
 blame- 
 New birth of our new soil, the first 
 
 American. 
 
 But does not this ascribed pre-eminence conflict 
 with the well-known epithet which crowns George 
 Washingt©n as "first in war, first in peace, first in the 
 hearts of his countrymen?" 
 
 N»: — In the sense intended by the poet, it is 
 true that, as a new birth of the new soil of this 
 Republic, Lincoln was its most typical production. 
 He was "the first American" as embodying most 
 fully the peculiar elements of the new nation of the 
 western world. 
 
 For it should be remembered that Washington 
 was not an American in the modern sense of the 
 term. He belonged to the Colonial period, and was 
 
6 STUDIES IN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 the consummate flower of a time and a condition of 
 things which do not belong to our era. Sprung from 
 an ancient English stock — a descendant of the Cav- 
 aliers and inheriting their aristocratic blood, the Vir- 
 ginia gentleman was from first to last of the patrician 
 order. His youth was nurtured under the shadow 
 of reverent loyalty to the crown. Until near mid- 
 dle life he had never heard the word "Independence" 
 applied to political ideas. The few books that he 
 read, all of the tuition he received, the religion 
 which he practiced, were imported from England. 
 In common with his class, he would have shrunk 
 with dread from the suggestion of a republican form 
 of government. Thus he grew up in the wild west- 
 ern forests — an oak sapling transplanted from the 
 gardens of Albion. And to the end of his life he 
 remained — in the stateliness of his manner, the punc- 
 tilio of his deportment, and the elegance of his dress 
 — a realization of the European ideal of a gentle- 
 man. 
 
 It is difficult for us to reproduce that figure which 
 was toward the close of the last century the pride 
 of the young Republic: — tall and dignified, with 
 powdered hair, clad in black velvet edged with cost- 
 ly lace, with yellow gloves, and silver shoe buckles 
 and a white scabbard sword at side, and a cocked 
 
THE FIRST AMERICAN 7 
 
 hat plumed on the head, the Father of his Country 
 was evidently not a man of the 1 9th century. And 
 as he rode abroad in state as President — in a cream 
 colored carriage, drawn by six white horses, and at- 
 tended by servants in livery of white trimmed with 
 green — he was in all respects a contrast to that 
 gaunt ungainly man, clad in ill-fitting garments of 
 plebeian type, who arrived in Washington by stealth 
 in a sleeping car on the morning of Feb. 25, 1861, 
 as the President-elect of the United States. 
 
 Between the splendid statuesque form of the one, 
 and the common, even coarse, appearance of the oth- 
 er, there was apparently but little in common. They 
 were in fact representatives of two widely different 
 epochs of our national history. But of the two it 
 is certain that Lincoln was the more truly an Amer- 
 ican. He owed nothing to the old world. By 
 birth and breeding he was a child of the west. Even 
 the eccentricities which marred his character and the 
 roughness of his style at times, showed the soil from 
 which he sprang — the rude, unsightly, but firm, 
 strong and fruitful elements of America. And when 
 we consider the environments of the two personages, 
 and the vastly variant nature of the work given them 
 to do, we may be grateful that neither of them was 
 put in the other's place. 
 
8 STUDIES IN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 Washington was perfectly adapted to his world 
 — that small and poor provincial sphere, with its 
 thirteen little colonies scattered along the coast, and 
 containing a population all told hardly larger than 
 the city of New York now contains — when there 
 was nothing west of the Allegheny mountains but a 
 howling wilderness; when along the difficult roads 
 a laboring coach struggled three times a week from 
 New York to Philadelphia at the rate of four or five 
 miles an hour; when there were but nine colleges, 
 two hospitals, fifteen newspapers, and no public li- 
 braries, nor any free schools in the land; when the 
 people were in the infant stage of political and in- 
 tellectual progress, needing leaders and directors, 
 and ready to submit to any wise authority — then was 
 the time for such a magisterial man, such a paternal 
 power as that of Washington, with all of the acces- 
 sories of rank, culture and wealth, to become the 
 centralizing head — the crystalizing focus of a new 
 nation. 
 
 But a very different kind of endowment was need- 
 ed for the Chief Magistrate who confronted the na- 
 tional crisis of 1861. What an unspeakable differ- 
 ence between the nation of that day and one century 
 before! — a vast empire stretching from ocean to 
 ocean — the intervening space filled with states and 
 
THE FIRST AMERICAN 9 
 
 territories teeming with people drawn from all parts 
 of the world — the land covered with a network of 
 canals, railroads, and telegraph wires — all of the 
 arts and industries flourishing — manufactures and 
 commerce, education and religion everywhere and 
 eminent, — such was the sphere that called Abraham 
 Lincoln to its leadership. But the other side of the 
 picture! — instead of a few colonies struggling to- 
 ward union, a great federation threatened with dis- 
 union! — instead of a foreign power asserting its au- 
 thority, an intestine element claiming for itself su- 
 premacy ! — in place of an invasion from without, an 
 insurrection from within! — in place of Liberty as 
 the ideal and motive. Slavery as the secret if un- 
 avowed impulse! Such was the emergency that 
 Lincoln must confront. 
 
 And for this issue he, not Washington, was the 
 man. The time had long gone by when the aris- 
 tocratic elements of the old regime could fitly hold 
 the reins of the young Republic. The day of the 
 Federalists, of whom Washington was the ideal and 
 Hamilton was the advocate, came to an end with 
 the administrations of Madison, Monroe and Adams. 
 With them the "gentleman in politics" stepped down 
 and out, and with Jackson the reign of the common 
 people began. This was the Jeffersonian ideal, and 
 
10 STUDIES IN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 with all of its rudeness and violence, its blunders and 
 failures, the new regime was more strictly true to the 
 American type than its predecessor. It brought the 
 politician to the front, the spoils system and the ma- 
 chine; but it also lifted the commonalty to the na- 
 tional plane. The new race — heterogeneous and 
 ill equipped, but full of the potentialities of a bound- 
 less future — the farmer, the workman, the pioneer, 
 the settler — these plebeian elements thenceforth ruled 
 the land. And of this new era, rough but strong, 
 unmannerly but mighty with the untrained forces of 
 the western world, Abraham Lincoln was the best 
 exponent. 
 
 His derivation was significant. He came from 
 the yeoman class, — sons of the soil whose genera- 
 tions had never known the graces of culture and rank. 
 The family stock was transplanted from England to 
 Massachusetts in 1638; moved next from Massachu- 
 setts to Pennsylvania; then from Pennsylvania to 
 Virginia; next from Virginia to Kentucky where 
 Abraham Lincoln was born in 1809; then from 
 Kentucky to Indiana where he lived until eight years 
 old; finally from Indiana to Illinois, of which state 
 he was a citizen after the age of twenty-one. Such 
 was his ancestry — a long series of hard-working, 
 intelligent, upright men and women, who had forced 
 
THE FIRST AMERICAN 11 
 
 their way westward, with toil and trouble, but in- 
 domitable and overcoming energy. And this per- 
 severing, progressive tendency was typical of the 
 American people at large; always on the move to- 
 ward the more and better ; never satisfied, ever aspir- 
 ing and advancing. It was the stored up traditional 
 force of this energy of five generations that made 
 Lincoln the Moses of the new Exodus. 
 
 And so he stands before us on the frontier, amidst 
 the stumps and brushwood of the clearings, where 
 the log houses invade the primeval forests with 
 omens of a great change in the order of nature, — a 
 tall gaunt figure, six feet four inches in height, with 
 sallow face and bushy hair and keen gray eyes. 
 
 Not a trace of cultivation in dress or deportment. 
 Clad in the coarse homespun of the backwoods — 
 utterly careless of appearance, he is an average man 
 of his class. But a leader also from the first; a 
 champion in athletics, stronger with the axe and 
 spade than any of his fellows, foremost in all sports, 
 indomitable and unconquerable; also a social char- 
 acter — witty, full of stories, the pride of the village 
 store, where his endless fund of anecdotes and his 
 shrewd maxims made him a Socrates of the fron- 
 tier, a Franklin of the woods; also a growing in- 
 tellect; — with but one year of schooling after the 
 
12 STUDIES IN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 age of ten, he was yet always reading, pondering, 
 exploring. He mastered arithmetic and geometry 
 after a fashion of his own, absorbed Burns' poems 
 and was familiar with Shakespeare ; his darling book 
 was Weems' Life of Washington, which mendacious 
 but fascinating story was at one time his companion 
 by night and day. He had purchased a copy of it by 
 three days' work in the woods. Also he was from 
 the first of a profoundly moral nature ; the conscience 
 was his strongest attribute; a sense of right and 
 wrong his keenest perception. No one ever lived 
 who had a more intense natural love for abstract 
 justice. This he inherited from his step-mother — a 
 woman of great mental and moral power, of whom 
 he said, "all that I am or hope to be I owe to my 
 mother." He was known far and wide as a young 
 man who never used tobacco, or drank liquor, or 
 gambled, or swore, but the best worker, wrestler, 
 fighter, story-teller in the region, and incorruptible 
 in all things, such as the payment of debts and the 
 use of money. "Honest Abe Lincoln" became his 
 popular soubriquet. But can we wonder at this 
 when we learn from his intimate friend Arnold that 
 Lincoln knew the Bible from end to end, more 
 thoroughly than many ministers of the Gospel ? And 
 
THE FIRST AMERICAN 13 
 
 it was from that source he drew the inspiration for 
 his lofty ideals of duty and absolute righteousness. 
 
 He never became a church member or professed 
 what we call regeneration; but he had a religion of 
 his own which embraced the doctrines of God, the 
 immortality of the soul, the authority of the Bible, 
 the duty of prayer and the cultivation of practical 
 righteousness. His public life abounds in illustra- 
 tions of his belief in Divine Providence and his own 
 dependence on Divine help; but he seems to have 
 shared with Franklin an aversion to the formalities 
 of creed and Christian profession. 
 
 TTius we see the first American growing up in the 
 backwoods, with few of the helps of civilization but 
 with the higher assistance of self-reliance and Divine 
 impulse. When in after years he astonished the 
 scholars of Boston with the classic simplicity of his 
 style and the logical energy of his thought, he ac- 
 counted for it to one who inquired for the reason, by 
 saying that perhaps he had acquired it through the 
 habit of thinking out for himself the problems of 
 mathematics and putting truthful thoughts into the 
 most exact language that he could find. 
 
 But there was always a mystery about Abraham 
 Lincoln. His most intimate friends never under- 
 stood him fully. There was so much of contrariety 
 
14 STUDIES IN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 about him. His nature was paradoxical. On one 
 side he seemed to be a jovial hearty person delighting 
 in humor and good fellowship. And this was car- 
 ried to extremes at times. There is no need of dei- 
 fying him, as some have done, or of ignoring the 
 coarse fibre which spoke of his low extraction. Un- 
 deniably he was offensive to some of refined taste, 
 with his ill-timed jests and inveterate story telling. 
 The President of the United States who could open 
 an important Cabinet meeting, where the most ser- 
 ious matters were to be decided, by reading a chap- 
 ter from Artemus Ward and delighting in its buf- 
 foonery, could not have had a perfectly well-bal- 
 anced nature. But it must be remembered that his 
 levity was only occasional and that his humor was 
 but incidental. A familiar friend has declared that 
 Abraham Lincoln rarely told a joke or even a good 
 story for its own sake, for mere amusement. It was 
 always to illustrate a truth or point an argument. 
 The motive was often serious and the aim lofty. He 
 himself said that his jocularity was merely a means 
 of relief to him from the prevailing sadness of his 
 thought. To one who remonstrated with him for 
 his story-telling at momentous crises he said, "Were 
 it not for this occasional vent I should die." Who 
 indeed could begrudge to that sore-tried and heavy 
 
THE FIRST AMERICAN 15 
 
 laden soul a pleasantry now and then, even though 
 it were not always as delicate as Irving, Holmes or 
 Lowell might prefer? 
 
 But on the other hand, he was capable of the most 
 opposite experiences. He was often of a melan- 
 choly mood that saddened his days. As easily de- 
 pressed as elevated, he was capable of the most in- 
 tense suffering. This sensitiveness of temperament 
 was aggravated by personal sorrow and domestic in- 
 felicity in his early life ; and it gave to him that weary 
 haggard look which, as President, he wore through 
 the dark times of the national agony. 
 
 He had not the magnificent equipoise of Washing- 
 ton, his cultivated repose and self-command. Lin- 
 coln had a feminine soul, of acute susceptibility to 
 joy and sorrow; and perhaps this was necessary to 
 his great work of sympathy for the oppressed. Also 
 he was both a realist and an idealist. Of the most 
 practical bent, by nature and expression, he ignored 
 all abstractions and speculations. He would have 
 nothing to do with philosophy as such, in law or in 
 religion. 
 
 And yet there was a vein of dreamy idealism in 
 his nature, which showed itself in his fondness for 
 poetry (of a tender sentimental kind, such as Burns, 
 his favorite.) He believed in omens and dreams to 
 
16 STUDIES IN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 the verge of superstition. He was always a man of 
 intuitions and premonitory signs. In his youth he 
 firmly believed and often said that he was destined 
 to be the President of the nation ; and during his life 
 at Washington, he frequently affirmed that he was 
 sure he would come to some sad end. The night 
 before his death he had a dream of warning. All 
 this is not to us a psychological mystery, for we rec- 
 ognize the signs of that peculiar organization which 
 is frequently given to men to whom a great mission 
 is entrusted. They have a nature open toward the 
 spiritual sphere, and their visionary tendencies are 
 the means of Divine inspiration. This endowment 
 makes of one, a Hebrew prophet; of another, a 
 Grecian seer; of another, a soldier like Cromwell, 
 a preacher like Edwards. If unaccompanied by 
 practical efficiency, this strange gift results in mere 
 mysticism; but when, as in Lincoln's case, it is con- 
 ditioned by positive qualities, it becomes a connecting 
 link between the supernatural world and this. 
 
 And so it came to pass that this plain backwoods- 
 man was always ahead of and above his fellow men. 
 There was something in him that they could not 
 understand or meet. When suddenly elevated (by 
 a most unlocked for nomination and almost miracu- 
 lous election) to the leadership of the nation, the 
 
THE FIRST AMERICAN 17 
 
 veteran party leaders thought that they would have 
 no difficulty in managing this raw recruit from the 
 prairies. But they soon found themselves mistaken. 
 Thurlow Weed, an astute politician who was accus- 
 tomed to rule everyone, confessed after an interview 
 with the new candidate, that he was the first man he 
 had ever met who was too much for him. Seward 
 also, and Chase and Cameron and Blair, the mem- 
 bers of his Cabinet, expected as a matter of course 
 that they would have their way in the Government 
 councils over this inexperienced man of the West; 
 but at the very first meeting he quietly took command, 
 reduced them to subordination, and never afterward 
 yielded his supremacy. 
 
 So when the delegations of bankers and mer- 
 chants and citizens called on him with their appeals 
 or demands or protests, he always treated them with 
 the easy grace of natural superiority. Assuming no 
 forced dignity or arbitrary authority, he was still 
 above and aloof from them in the calm consciousness 
 of a higher power. It seemed to be as natural for 
 him to be Commander-in-Chief of the Army and 
 Navy, as it had been to run a little law office in 
 Springfield. And although uncouth in manner and 
 careless in his appearance, he could at times assume 
 the statehness of a decorum well befitting his position. 
 
18 STUDIES IN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 But we cannot follow him through the consecu- 
 tive stages of his romantic career, the story of which 
 is one of the most adventurous and impressive chap- 
 ters of American history. Our study of his char- 
 acter can be conducted best by observing him in the 
 light of three great contrasts. We may compare 
 him with Stephen Douglas, Charles Sumner, and 
 Jefferson Davis, with each of whom he came in con- 
 tact officially. 
 
 In the first instance, we see Lincoln as a pioneer 
 politician and reformer. He had drifted into the 
 legal profession, by following the bent of his own 
 nature, which inclined easily in that direction. He 
 had a logical mind, of keen analysis and ready pow- 
 er of debate. Always delighting in argument and 
 gifted with a persuasive skill, he needed no forensic 
 schooling to render him an effective pleader. No 
 technical training or diploma of the schools was re- 
 quired in those primitive settlements, so that the 
 young lawyer soon found himself in practice. 
 
 But he had one trait peculiar to himself. He was 
 firmly devoted to the abstract right in everything. 
 He would accept no case of the justice of which he 
 was not convinced. He could even abandon a 
 cause when he found it was no longer defensible 
 morally. Nor was he ever at his best as an advo- 
 
THE FIRST AMERICAN 19 
 
 cate, save when some principle of righteousness was 
 at stake ; then he seemed to rise into an impassioned 
 power that was always irresistible. 
 
 As a lawyer he soon became identified with local 
 politics; and since the great slavery agitation was 
 then convulsing the land, he was drawn into the 
 irrepressible conflict. His reputation as a party 
 leader soon brought him into prominence in the 
 State contests, and he became the champion of those 
 who were already beginning to carry the old Whig 
 principles to the new Republican platform. This 
 brought him into collision with Stephen A. Douglas, 
 who was the leader of the party of compromise in 
 the West. These two men appeared before the 
 public in a series of debates, in 1 854-8, the fame of 
 which spread throughout the Union. 
 
 They presented a contrast of the most impressive 
 character. Douglas was a great popular favorite, 
 and deservedly so. Short and full in person — of 
 broad, vigorous frame, handsome face and bold 
 spirited manner, the Little Giant was the best stump 
 speaker of his day. He was master of all the arts 
 of debate — adroit in oratorical methods, and of a 
 magnetic personality. As a politician he was clev- 
 er, unscrupulous, ready to buy success at any cost. 
 
20 STUDIES IN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 Lincoln was no match for such a man in the or- 
 dinary management of a campaign. Slow and ser- 
 ious in his style of speaking — conscientious in his 
 treatment of topics, and unwilling to stoop to any 
 compromise of principle — he was at a disadvantage 
 with the crowd. But when it came to dealing with 
 such a great national issue as Freedom or Slavery, 
 the result was different. Then Douglas showed his 
 weakness; for he was a man of expediency. Caring 
 nothing at all for moral principles, and looking at 
 the crisis from a party point of view, he was dis- 
 tinctly below the level of the occasion. Lincoln, 
 on the other hand, was in his element. His native 
 passion for justice — his keen perception of abstract 
 right and wrong — his deep and tender sympathy for 
 human suffering, all these attributes were developed 
 by the great question of the hour. They made of 
 him a Prophet, an Apostle of the Truth. Rising 
 above all technicalities of legislative law, he grasped 
 the central ideas of the American Constitution, and 
 with as keen a logic and as mighty a force as Web- 
 ster, he argued the case of Freedom against Slavery 
 with a power which Webster never wielded so well 
 — that of Conscience and the Moral Law. 
 
 Those who heard him — out on the prairies, under 
 the dome of heaven, in the midst of a vast multitude 
 
THE FIRST AMERICAN 21 
 
 of hushed and intent auditors — heard Demosthenes 
 against PhiHp, and Edmund Burke against Hast- 
 ings, or Patrick Henry against the British Crown. 
 For oratory never reaches its acme until it becomes 
 the voice of the right pleading against the wrong. 
 But the secret of his wonderful success as a popular 
 speaker lay in his religious convictions. As he 
 told a friend, "Douglas don't care whether slavery 
 is voted up or down; but God cares, and humanity 
 cares, and I care; and with God's help I shall not 
 fail. The future would be something awful, as I 
 look at it, but for this rock on which I stand," (hold- 
 ing up a Bible as he spoke.) 
 
 This leads us to another of the contrasts which 
 illustrate the character of Abraham Lincoln — his 
 association with Charles Sumner. Therein we see 
 him as a conslriictive statesman. When he assumed 
 command of the Ship of State at Washington, he 
 was at once confronted by men who were the very 
 antipodes of Douglas. They were the champions 
 of the great battle in the East which had precipitated 
 the crisis of Secession. Charles Sumner was the 
 representative in Congress of such men as Garrison, 
 Phillips, and Greely — the redoubtable abolitionists 
 who had forced the nation to address itself to the 
 righting of a great wrong. When, therefore, the 
 
22 STUDIES IN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 new President, who stood for the triumph of those 
 principles, entered upon his duties, they naturally 
 supposed that he would follow their policy. This 
 was one of direct and extreme treatment of slavery. 
 Garrison and Phillips had been, avowedly, disun- 
 ionists before the outbreak — willing to let the South 
 go in order to get rid of its curse at any cost. But 
 the least that they could accept was that the govern- 
 ment should at once abolish slavery by law, and de- 
 clare the immediate emancipation of all the bonds- 
 men. This was the program submitted to Mr. Lin- 
 coln by the radical reformers, as their demand and 
 his duty. 
 
 But he refused it. He told them that his first 
 duty was to assert and maintain the integrity of the 
 Union. Against the prayers and protests of the 
 extreme radicals, in spite of their complaints and in 
 some cases their abuse, he for more than a year 
 refused to use his power to abolish slavery. He ne- 
 gatived the action of Fremont and Hunter in freeing 
 the slaves. He forbade the army to be used for 
 such a purpose. It was the preservation of the Un- 
 ion which he made the war cry of the hour. Yet 
 all the time he was studying the problem profoundly. 
 
 Lincoln knew the South better than the North 
 knew it; and he knew the North better than the 
 
THE FIRST AMERICAN 23 
 
 South did. He knew that beneath the brag and 
 bluster of the fire-eaters were, as afterward showed, 
 the splendid valor, the romantic sacrifice, the con- 
 summate ability which made of the Lost Cause in 
 some respects the admiration of the world. And 
 he also knew that behind the money and mechanics 
 of the North were the high-minded ideal, the deep- 
 hearted enthusiasm, the indomitable temper and the 
 inexhaustible resources of what proved to be the 
 conquering cause. Knowing all this and feeling 
 what an awful thing a conflict between the two sec- 
 tions would be, he stood between the two with per- 
 sistent effort to compose their strife. But when he 
 saw that this result could not be reached, he stripped 
 for the fray; and before the Southern leaders were 
 through with him they found out what he was, — a 
 tough specimen of that grim old pioneer breed' — 
 men who had fought the battles of the wilderness 
 and wrestled with the forces of nature and learned 
 how to take hold and not let go. At first inclined 
 to a process of gradual and compensated emancipa- 
 tion, he became convinced of its futility; and then 
 biding his time, he waited for the due occasion for 
 more extreme measures. This came after the battle 
 of Antietam; and then the nation and the world 
 were electrified with the Proclamation of Emanci- 
 
24 STUDIES IN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 pation, on January 1 , 1 863, by which the shackles 
 were finally and forever broken from the American 
 slave. 
 
 Now consider this picture of Lincoln as a Re- 
 former. Suppose that he had adopted the advice 
 of Charles Sumner and begun his administration with 
 the Proclamation of Emancipation. It is historical- 
 ly certain that the North would have been paralyzed 
 and Secession would have triumphed. For public 
 opinion was not yet ready for the abolition of slavery. 
 Democrats and Republicans would never have har- 
 monized on that issue. There could have been no 
 such general uprising, no such universal enlistment 
 as at once gave to the North an army. This Lin- 
 coln saw with the instinct of a true statesman. He 
 felt that the only appeal which could unify the 
 North and enable it to overcome the Solid South 
 was the battle cry of Webster, "The Union must 
 be preserved!" And the result approved his wis- 
 dom. 
 
 We tremble now to think of what would have 
 happened if Sumner had been in Lincoln's place. 
 Without a doubt the Union would have perished 
 and slavery been forever established on American 
 soil. For we can now see the supreme wisdom of 
 the President's decision. By waiting for the course 
 
THE FIRST AMERICAN 25 
 
 of events to provide an opportunity, he let public 
 opinion educate itself: so that when the time came, 
 every one (North and South alike) admitted that as 
 a war measure Emancipation was justifiable and nec- 
 essary. Of course our government had as much 
 right to free the negroes as to seize any other property 
 of the enemy. 
 
 And thus Lincoln showed that he was a construc- 
 tive statesman. He knew what so many reformers 
 seem not to know, — that it is needful not only to do 
 the right thing, but to do it in the right way and at 
 the right time. He had that rare blending of oppo- 
 site qualities which fitted him to be the master of all 
 occasions. In his debates with Douglas he showed 
 himself a Radical, fearless and unsparing. In his 
 dealing with Sumner he was a Conservative, calm, 
 cautious and patient. At both times he was exactly 
 true to the duty of the hour. But whence came 
 such a union of courage and caution, readiness and 
 patience, swiftness and slowness to this inexperienced 
 unlettered man? Listen to these words spoken by 
 him to a friend shortly before his election : 'T know 
 there is a God, and He hates injustice and slavery. 
 I see the storm coming. I know that His hand is 
 in it. If He has a place and work for me — and I 
 think He has — I believe I am ready. I am nothing. 
 
26 STUDIES IN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 but truth is everything. I know I am right because 
 I know that liberty is right, for Christ teaches it and 
 Christ is God." That was the secret of Lincoln's 
 bold and fervid radicalism. 
 
 But when beset by the extremists at Washington 
 who were anxious for immediate results, he replied, 
 "If I can learn God's will, I will do it. If it is 
 probable that He would reveal His will to others, 
 it may be supposed that He would reveal it to me. 
 Whatever shall appear to be God's will, I will do." 
 That was the secret of his conservatism, — a defer- 
 ence to and dependence on Divine authority rather 
 than human suggestion. 
 
 And so these two great energies balanced each 
 other and co-operated to give his life a true orbit, 
 as the centrifugal and centripetal forces combine to 
 keep the planets in their shining path. Has not this 
 nation reason to be grateful that loyalty to the Di- 
 vine Law was the principle of its great leader's life, 
 at the crisis of its destiny? 
 
 The final contrast which we will consider is that 
 which presents to us Abraham Lincoln and Jefferson 
 Davis. This will reveal to us the subject of our 
 study as a competent ruler. It is an impressive fact 
 that these two were born in the same state (Ken- 
 tucky) in the same year, and within a few months 
 
THE FIRST AMERICAN 27 
 
 and miles of each other, — the one a nursHng of pros- 
 perity, endowed with the best of circumstantial for- 
 tunes, the other a mere waif of privation and adver- 
 sity. Was there ever a more striking, wonderous pic- 
 ture than that which the whole world looked upon in 
 the year 1 861 ? The Great Republic had fallen apart 
 into two distinct nations, confronting each other with 
 angry mien and hostile intent. The North and the 
 South seemed as separate and antagonistic as Prussia 
 and Austria in the campaign of Sadowa. In the 
 character of their people, institutions and spirit, they 
 appeared to be antipodal to each other. But not 
 more so than the leaders whom they had respectively 
 chosen as their champions. On the one hand ap- 
 peared a man who had been by nature and experi- 
 ence specially prepared for such a position. Jeffer- 
 son Davis was the exponent of all that was finest in 
 Southern history and culture. A gentleman of high 
 birth and choicest education, a professional soldier, 
 an experienced statesman, he was amply endowed 
 with the gifts of leadership. He had served his 
 country in the army and the legislature, and com- 
 manded the respect of all who knew him. Person- 
 ally also he was admirable, of stately presence and 
 manners, accustomed to the highest society, and in 
 morals irreproachable. Such was the chieftain who 
 
28 STUDIES IN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 stood forth to represent and preside over the fortunes 
 of the South in the great struggle. 
 
 Opposed to him the North displayed as their cap- 
 tain a man without special experience of any kind 
 in the art of government, who had nothing but self- 
 culture to depend upon, and was disadvantaged also 
 by certain personal traits which did not commend 
 him to the eyes of the critical. This was what the 
 world saw; and many were the sneers and doubt- 
 ings with which it regarded the contrast of the rail- 
 splitter with the gentleman. But as time rolled on, 
 the world began to modify its judgment. Jefferson 
 Davis proved to be less qualified for his position 
 than was expected: and because of his very excel- 
 lences. The consciousness of his superior endow- 
 ments made of him an autocrat. He thought he 
 knew more about war than his generals, more about 
 statecraft than his advisers. From the first he show- 
 ed an imperious, self-willed spirit which became the 
 cause of many mistakes. Southern writers have al- 
 ways deplored his interference with the campaigns 
 of such men as Johnston and Beauregard. It is 
 claimed that but for this, Washington would have 
 been captured after the battle of Bull Run, Vicks- 
 burg need not have fallen, nor Atlanta been lost. 
 The extreme partisanship of Davis is held respon- 
 
THE FIRST AMERICAN 29 
 
 sible for the ill-conduct of the commissariat of the 
 southern armies and the frequent employment of in- 
 ferior men. For no one could advise or move Jef- 
 ferson Davis. He was the Dictator of the South, 
 arbitrary and unyielding, who wasted its substance 
 and brought it too soon to its final failure. 
 
 With Abraham Lincoln it was just the other way. 
 Conscious of his deficiencies, he never assumed to 
 be infallible or supreme. Open to suggestion and 
 considerate of others, his patient, comprehensive 
 mind gradually asserted its native authority and be- 
 came at last the central pillar of the state. He 
 made mistakes, often, but he did not repeat them. 
 He always accepted advice and profited by experi- 
 ence. Sometimes mortifying his friends and em- 
 barrassing his subordinates by ill-timed levity or a 
 certain perverseness of temper, he would rectify any 
 wrong and avoid any error that was pointed out to 
 him. For he was open-minded and humble-heart- 
 ed: and such souls are ever growing in power and 
 wisdom even through their own defects. History 
 is only beginning to see what almost superhuman 
 wisdom and goodness was needed to regulate all the 
 conflicting elements of the North — to encourage the 
 timid conservatives and restrain the fiery radicals, 
 to deal firmly with disloyalty while rewarding fidel- 
 
30 STUDIES IN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 ity. We look with amazement on the skill with 
 which he held together in one cabinet such antagon- 
 istic spirits as the irascible Stanton, the cautious Se- 
 ward, the dictatorial Chase, the impetuous Blair. 
 With what marvelous sagacity and good temper did 
 he at once support and rule his many generals — the 
 much promising, never performing McClellan; the 
 pedantic Halleck; the Fabian Buell; the rash Hook- 
 er; the slow but sure Thomas; the brilliant Sherman; 
 the late developing but all conquering Grant ! What 
 could these different and often discordant warriors 
 have done without the calm providence over them 
 of a sympathetic but sovereign Ruler? 
 
 Then, too, the foreign policy of the government — 
 so complicated and difficult, in the face of a hostile 
 world, yet so wisely conducted as to out-maneuver 
 all the plots of European statesmen and compel them 
 to respect the flag whose dishonor they desired. His 
 management of the Trent affair alone showed him 
 to be a first-class diplomatist. But no need to pur- 
 sue the subject. History has already decided be- 
 tween the hero of the North and the champion of 
 the South; and its verdict is, that all of the experi- 
 ence and accomplishments of the latter soon paled 
 before the native power of the former. Indeed, I 
 heard a Confederate soldier say at the close of the 
 
THE FIRST AMERICAN 31 
 
 war, "If you had had Davis, and we had had Lin- 
 coln, the result would have been very different." 
 
 Perhaps the greatest claim of Abraham Lincoln 
 to the admiration and affection of the people whom 
 he served so well, lay in his kind-heartedness. It 
 was the genuine goodness of the man — his gener- 
 osity toward his enemies, his leniency toward offend- 
 ers, his sympathy for the suffering, that made us love 
 him so. He could not be brought to retaliate for the 
 ill-treatment of our prisoners. He would pardon 
 criminals against the protests of his officers. This 
 touched the American heart. Edward Everett's 
 classic oration at Gettysburg has faded out of mem- 
 ory, but the simple words of Lincoln will live for- 
 ever, — "The world will little heed nor long remem- 
 ber what we say here, but can never forget what 
 they did here." And when will the glory fade of 
 those sublime words of his last inaugural, spoken in 
 the midst of all the cost and agony and peril of a 
 still undecided war — "with malice toward none, 
 with charity for all, with firmness in the right as 
 God gives us to see the right, let us finish the work 
 we are to do." 
 
 If now it is asked, as it should be, whence came 
 to a man of such an origin, such training and such 
 equipm.ent, this well-poised wisdom, this rare com- 
 
32 STUDIES IN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 bination of strength and humility, courage and ten- 
 derness, statesmanship and simpHcity? let the ans- 
 wer be found in his own words, when leaving Spring- 
 field to assume his high office at Washington in Feb- 
 ruary, 1861. Standing on the platform of the car 
 and looking for the last time on the familiar faces of 
 the multitude who had known him from his youth, 
 he said: "My friends: I now leave you, not know- 
 ing whether I may return, with a task before me 
 greater than that which rested upon Washington. 
 Without the assistance of that Divine Being who 
 ever attended him, I cannot succeed. With that 
 assistance I cannot fail. To his care commending 
 you, as I hope that in your prayers you will com- 
 mend me, I bid you farewell." Thus Abraham 
 Lincoln struck the keynote of his career as Presi- 
 dent, and with these words he passed out of their 
 sight, on his way to Duty, Death, and Glory. 
 
 At the end of the month of April, 1865, I was 
 serving as a staff officer under General Potter in 
 South Carolina. Our division had been operating 
 in the interior of the state, and was returning to the 
 seaboard. A large company of contrabands were 
 under our charge — colored people fleeing from home 
 to the shelter of the Northern flag. Hiey were full 
 of the thoughtless hopefulness and jollity of their 
 
THE FIRST AMERICAN 33 
 
 race. Of the future they knew and cared nothing 
 — enough for them that the Year of Jubilee had 
 come, and the Lord had said to Pharaoh, let my 
 people go. So, out of Egypt they were thronging, 
 with their mules and carts and all their worldly 
 goods packed up, ready for the land of Canaan. 
 Father Abraham had called them, and they had in 
 him the faith of Israel in Moses. One night — I 
 shall never forget the scene — the command was en- 
 camped somewhere in the pine woods by the Edisto 
 river. It was a wild, wet night; the darkness hung 
 heavy over the forest, and the camp fires threw their 
 red light across the smoky air, over a bivouac of the 
 soldiers and the rude groups of the negroes. All 
 was bustle and noise — familiar to us then, after years 
 of out-door life, hardships and peril; but suddenly 
 a hush began to steal through the encampment. A 
 strange whisper stole around from group to group, — 
 "The President has been assassinated." Men stood 
 still and held their breath. They stared in each 
 others' faces without a word. If the Archangel's 
 trump had announced the end of the world there 
 would not have been a more awe-struck, bewildered 
 multitude. Abraham Lincoln dead? — incredible! 
 impossible ! And so through the rest of the night we 
 remained silent, or spoke only in whispers. The 
 
34 STUDIES IN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 freedmen had no songs by the campfire. They 
 crouched terror-stricken. "What was to become of 
 them? Where should they go?" When the day- 
 light came we resumed the march, hoping against 
 hope for some contradiction of the awful, the in- 
 conceivable tidings. But it was confirmed only too 
 soon and surely. And there hangs over me to this 
 day the heavy gloom of the South Carolina forest, 
 whenever I think of the death of Abraham Lincoln. 
 I cannot shake off the nameless horror of that noctur- 
 nal fright — fit emblem of the deed of darkness that 
 whelmed a nation in its gloom. It was more than 
 a crime — it was a national catastrophe so great as to 
 defy all philosophy to measure it. 
 
 The cruel questions which so many have asked 
 in its shadow — "Why was such a life taken away 
 just when it was needed most? What would have 
 been the results to North and South if the wise, pat- 
 ient, maternal man could have continued his gracious 
 administration? Where shall we look for the Pro- 
 vidential compensation which we believe attended 
 this as every other ill ?" those sorrowful problems we 
 must leave, where Lincoln himself laid down so 
 many of his mysterious burdens — at the feet of that 
 Supreme One who is too wise to err, too good to be 
 unkind. Suffice it for us that Israel moves forward, 
 
THE FIRST AMERICAN 35 
 
 though Moses must be left behind. And there he 
 rests forever on Nebo's lonely height, his broken life 
 a monument on which his countrymen will always 
 gaze with wonder and with gratitude to the myster- 
 ious Providence and Grace of God. 
 
The Real Washington 
 
 |W ERO- WORSHIP is one of the most pop- 
 * * ular forms of natural religion. It takes 
 rank with the idolatries that have led the 
 hearts of men in all ages toward supreme 
 objects of reverence. And who can wonder that the 
 same kind of gratitude, respect and admiration which 
 is rendered to Nature, or the Ideals of Faith, should 
 be bestowed upon the grand realities of Life? But 
 hero-worship is as easily carried to extremes as any 
 other form of religion. Superstition rises to obscure 
 it, and in the course of time myths and legends often 
 gather around the popular name, magnifying and 
 haloing it with fictitious attributes. 
 
 The present age, however, is peculiarly one of 
 careful inquiry. Beginning with Niebuhr, the sci- 
 ence of historical criticism has entered all depart- 
 ments of research into the past and revolutionized 
 many of our opinions respecting it. This spirit is 
 challenging many of the time-honored faiths of men, 
 and examining with cold candor their claims to 
 perpetuity. Hence disillusionment! The romance 
 has faded from many a storied scene, and the char- 
 
38 STUDIES IN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 acters of history are being elevated or depressed from 
 their long familiar positions. 
 
 This process of disenchantment has not spared 
 our own views of the New World and its past. We 
 have been called upon to give up the romantic vision 
 of Aztec civilization and the prehistoric wonders of 
 the Mound Builders that we formerly believed in. 
 Columbus is no longer regarded as the first and only 
 discoverer of this continent, nor do we blame Amer- 
 icus for the naming of the Western world. We at- 
 tribute less of our national strength to the Puritans 
 and more to the Dutch settlers than our fathers did. 
 Many in the North are willing to take milder views 
 of slavery and secession than were possible formerly, 
 and to acknowledge that the honors of the Civil War 
 may be shared with the South. For Truth — truth 
 at any cost — is now the watchword of history as of 
 science. 
 
 It is in this clear, unsparing light, that the name of 
 Washington is now being placed. The absorbed 
 and unqualified admiration for him which used to 
 be regarded as a patriotic duty is passing away. 
 That deification of the Father of his Country which 
 exalted and hallowed his life beyond the reach of 
 all criticism, is no more. It was once a kind of 
 American religion to speak with bowed head and 
 
THE REAL WASHINGTON 39 
 
 bated breath of the Moses of our national career. 
 In him there were no faults, and for him there could 
 be no blame. And we cannot overestimate the 
 blessing to our personal and collective character of 
 such a grand, overshadowing influence. The ex- 
 ample of George Washington has been the inspira- 
 tion of American youth, the ideal of American sol- 
 diers and statesmen. His career has been a criterion 
 by which all patriotism has been judged. He struck 
 the keynote high for our country's voice, and all our 
 destiny has been elevated because of that pitch. We 
 do not like to imagine what the United States would 
 have been if the name of George Washington had 
 been a synonym of selfish ambition or of political 
 corruption. 
 
 But it is not in derogation of all this that historical 
 criticism is compelling us to somewhat revise our 
 judgments. The Father of his Country was not a 
 demigod. He was not a faultless human being. 
 The true story of his life does not justify an apotheo- 
 sis. Rather it becomes all the more instructive and 
 valuable when we find the reality behind the ro- 
 mance, and see George Washington in the actual 
 human garb that he wore, as a man like ourselves, 
 with the infirmities and liabilities of our common 
 
40 STUDIES IN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 nature, albeit graced and glorified with excellences 
 such as humanity rarely possesses. 
 
 It has been said that "character is moral order 
 seen through the medium of an individual." Each 
 true life is a facade of the Deity, giving front and 
 expression to some of the eternal truths. What then 
 does the real Washington stand for as an interpreter 
 to history of moral principles? 
 
 1 . We see in his life and character the import- 
 ance of earl]) preparation to public success. 
 
 It is the old lesson that "the heights by great men 
 reached and kept, were not attained by sudden 
 flight." Washington did not step at once into the 
 full maturity of power and place, but reached his 
 meridian by long and gradual ascent. There was 
 nothing precocious, abnormal, or unaccountable 
 about his development. This, however, is the judg- 
 ment of recent historical criticism. For we can all 
 remember how we were taught in our childhood to 
 think of the Father of his Country as at one time a 
 boy of almost superhuman moral quality. The stories 
 of his angelic truthfulness, as shown in reported con- 
 versations with his father, his refusal to believe that 
 his name printed in the garden with plants was a 
 product of chance, and the wonderful dream which 
 his mother described as showing the faith of her son 
 
THE REAL WASHINGTON 41 
 
 George in Divine Providence, these romantic inci- 
 dents were once the staple instruction of American 
 youth respecting the great hero. And they invested 
 his name with a halo of early precocity which made 
 of him a demigod in our esteem. 
 
 But investigation has dispelled the illusion entire- 
 ly. All of these stories were fictitious, and their 
 origin is now well known. It seems that the Rev. 
 Mason Lee Weems was a poor parson of the Epis- 
 copal church, whose parish included Mount Vernon 
 in Virginia. To eke out his scanty living he was 
 accustomed to sell books through the country. As 
 soon as General Washington died, in 1 799, it oc- 
 curred to him that he might turn the great event to 
 account for his own advantage. This he did by hur- 
 riedly composing and publishing a biography of the 
 great man. Within three months it was published, 
 February 22, 1800, at first as a small pamphlet, for 
 twenty-five cents, and afterwards enlarged to a re- 
 spectable volume. Naturally it met with a ready 
 sale, eleven editions in ten years; and for some time 
 it was the only popular record of the life of the hero 
 whose death the whole nation was then mourning 
 with grief and veneration. 
 
 Now if Parson Weems had been a truthful or 
 even careful historian, he might have rendered an 
 
42 STUDIES IN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 invaluable service to his theme and to the country 
 in this unequalled privilege. But he actually in- 
 vented most of the stories that he told, describing the 
 early years and character of his subject as what they 
 might have been, and ought to have been, according 
 to his own clerical imagination. Adopting a few 
 of the stories that he found circulating among the old 
 people who still cherished reports which they had 
 heard in former times about the Virginia hero, he 
 improved on them by the help of his own unscrupu- 
 lous imagination, and invested his theme with unusual 
 but very attractive adventures. Of such a character 
 was the now classic incident of the cherry tree and 
 the hatchet; also the lesson taught the boy by his 
 father, through the appearance of his name spelled 
 in flowers in the garden, against the probability of 
 chance or accident having anything to do with the 
 origin of the world. 
 
 This case is perhaps without a parallel in the an- 
 nals of history. All the national heroes have been 
 invested with legendary virtues in the course of 
 time; but there is no other instance of a character 
 deliberately draped with unusual qualities by a pro- 
 fessional biographer who thus succeeds in establish- 
 ing his fiction as one of the statues of historic renown. 
 There have been fictitious biographies, but none so 
 
THE REAL WASHINGTON 43 
 
 immediately successful and widely influential as this. 
 The only parallel to it in American history is to be 
 found in the work of another clergyman, the Rev. 
 Samuel Peters, LL. D., who wrote a "General 
 History of Connecticut" after the Revolutionary 
 War. This abounded in malicious misrepresenta- 
 tions, among them the famous "Blue Laws," which 
 have given a totally false idea of the Puritan prin- 
 ciples and practices of early times. 
 
 For a long time this preternatural boy, thus por- 
 trayed, was the only George Washington known to 
 our nation. But now we see him as he really was. 
 Born and raised in a stately home of the Old Do- 
 minion, he was surrounded from birth with all the 
 advantages of the best society of the period. His 
 parents were of good intellectual and moral quali- 
 ties, the mother especially, who survived the father 
 by many years. It was a time of social culture, but 
 few scholarly accomplishments. Such was the en- 
 vironment in which George grew up. He was neith- 
 er better nor worse than the most of the lads around 
 him. He was a fair specimen of the average young 
 Virginian — truthful, honorable, spirited, fond of ath- 
 letic sports and contests, brave to a fault and fore- 
 most in all deeds of daring. He had the natural 
 power of command, the leader's gift. He was 
 
44 STUDIES IN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 never sent to school, but had careful training under 
 a private tutor by whom he was made acquainted 
 with good English literature. Addison was his fa- 
 vorite author. But he could never have been a 
 scholar or a literary man. His aptitudes were all 
 for practical and public life. At the age of fifteen 
 he was already a surveyor. This was his chosen 
 profession, and at that time it was a very important 
 office in the new country, where boundaries must be 
 fixed continually in the wilderness. Young Wash- 
 ington proved to be a thorough and accurate surveyor 
 whose work remains to this day unchallenged. It 
 was his service to the pioneers in the wilderness that 
 brought him before the public and led the way to his 
 after eminence. 
 
 As such we are to think of him. For ten years 
 he was a patient toiler on the frontiers, braving the 
 hardships of the most exposed business then possible 
 to a gentleman. Thus he slowly matured in char- 
 acter, learning the lessons of self-control, industry 
 and fidelity to duty which were so prominent in his 
 after life. During the Indian and French Vv'^ars 
 he served as a subordinate and there acquired the 
 rudiments of military knowledge. It was in the 
 midst of dangers and difficulties of the most trying 
 kind, of defeat and disaster, that he acquired the 
 
THE REAL WASHINGTON 45 
 
 strong, stern qualities that fitted him for the leader- 
 ship of the American Revolution. Never was an 
 unconscious candidate for the honors of fame sub- 
 jected to a more rigorous and painful ordeal of 
 preparation. 
 
 Needless to pause here and apply this great prin- 
 ciple to our own instruction, that no great success is 
 ever achieved except along the lines of natural and 
 orderly evolution. If David, or Paul, or Luther, 
 or Cromwell, or Napoleon, or Washington, stepped 
 suddenly forth and surprised the world with their 
 mastery of a crisis, it is only because they had been 
 in training for the emergency beforehand. 
 
 2. We are taught the value of self-control and 
 moral restraint in the development of character. 
 
 The real Washington was very far from being the 
 faultless, perfectly-endowed being whom American 
 patriotism has worshiped. He had in fact his full 
 share of the infirmities of humanity. For one thing, 
 his temperament was naturally ardent, his passions 
 strong. He was very sensitive to annoyances, and 
 showed on certain occasions extreme irascibility. But 
 who ever thinks of George Washington as an irri- 
 table, ill-tempered man? He had all the elements 
 of volcanic explosion in his heart; but he knew that 
 they were there and it was the study and practice of 
 
46 STUDIES IN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 his life to master them. In this he succeeded so well 
 as to become an exemplar of calmness, self-posses- 
 sion, and evenness of temper. Occasionally the se- 
 cret fire burst forth and then his wrath was said to 
 be something tremendous and terrible, as when he 
 stormed at Lee for his cowardice at Monmouth and 
 checked with tempestuous invective the flying troops 
 on Long Island. But few of those who gazed with 
 reverence on his patient endurance amid agitations 
 and annoyances that disheartened everyone else, sus- 
 pected that he was superior to others simply because 
 of his greater self-control. 
 
 Physically, he was, like Lincoln, of giant mold. 
 Over six feet in height, with the limbs of an athlete, 
 and weighing two hundred pounds, he was, in his 
 prime, the strongest man in the army. His boots 
 were number thirteen. His hands were so large that 
 gloves must be made to order for him. He could 
 lift with one arm a weight which it required two men 
 to carry. To hold a musket in one hand and dis- 
 charge it at arm's length was a common feat with 
 him. Yet in all his movements he showed the grace 
 and lightness of perfect equipoise, never parading 
 his strength or impressing others with the idea of 
 brute force. His weak points were of a bronchial 
 
THE REAL WASHINGTON 47 
 
 and pulmonary character, by which his death v/as 
 caused at last. 
 
 He was also by nature inclined to pride and re- 
 serve. Patrician blood flowed in his veins. His 
 family were of the higher order of the province and 
 in those times the aristocratic distinctions of society 
 were as marked in Virginia as in England. There 
 was a wide remove, it must be remembered, between 
 the plain commonalty of Massachusetts or Connecti- 
 cut, where all were on one basis of mental and moral 
 worth, and the artificial divisions of the Southern 
 Colonies, where the caste spirit prevailed. The real 
 Washington was marked by this peculiarity, and he 
 never quite parted with the grand air, the hauteur, 
 of his high-born ancestry. Something of the lord 
 of the manor always invested him with a reserve 
 which repelled any familiarity. No one ever ven- 
 tured to lake a liberty with General Washington. 
 It was said that Lafayette once, for a wager, address- 
 ed him in a jocose, hail-fellow manner, but he never 
 repeated the experiment. 
 
 And yet there was not a trace of haughtiness or 
 exclusive disdain in the manner of the great leader. 
 Dignified and self-contained, he was yet at all times 
 open and affable to all, treating every one, high and 
 low, with the same considerateness which he required 
 
48 STUDIES IN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 for himself. Although at the outbreak of the 
 Revolution probably the richest man in America, and 
 always distinguished for the elegance of his attire 
 and the splendor of his equipage, traveling in state 
 wherever he went, he impressed no one with a sense 
 of aristocratic privilege. For he made of his special 
 advantages the means of popular benefit. The poor- 
 est and the weakest looked up to him with con- 
 fidence. 
 
 This, too, was the result of self-culture on his 
 part; for it was not a common trait with the gentry 
 of his class. Hie Virginia land-holder of the old 
 regime was usually far removed from the plebeian 
 multitude. But what Thomas Jefferson learned of 
 social equality and republican simplicity, by his con- 
 tact with the revolutionists of France, George Wash- 
 ington acquired by his own good sense and moral 
 consciousness. 
 
 Again we are taught the truth which history 
 everywhere affirms, that all goodness, all greatness, 
 is capable of and demands cultivation. It is not 
 self-procured or spontaneous. Nor is moral nobil- 
 ity always a product of favorable conditions. As 
 in the case of George Washington, it may be the 
 harvest of a painful preparation. There was much 
 in his endowment and environment to make of him a 
 
THE REAL WASHINGTON 49 
 
 proud, choleric, self-willed man, vain of his birth, 
 extravagant with his money, arbitrary in his power. 
 What was it that gave to him the grand, statuesque 
 demeanor of serene justice and generous utility which 
 presides over our country's history like an ideal of 
 perfect manhood? It was the painstaking self-cul- 
 ture of a soul aware of its own weakness and deter- 
 mined to make itself strong. 
 
 The real Washington was a man not entirely su- 
 perior to the level of his day. He purchased lottery 
 tickets without compunction; he indulged in wine- 
 drinking, temperately; he took part in social festiv- 
 ities, which included dancing and theatre-going at 
 times; he raised and sold tobacco, although he nevei 
 used it himself; he owned slaves, but strongly dis- 
 approved of the slave trade. With regard to relig- 
 ion, he had neither the fervid spirituality of Jonathan 
 Edwards nor the ethical self-righteousness of Ben- 
 jamin Franklin. A devout communicant of the 
 Episcopal Church, he professed no experience of 
 grace such as orthodoxy in our sense of the term 
 requires. But his reverence for the Bible was pro- 
 found. At the crises of his life he was known to de- 
 pend upon humble prayer to God for help. In his 
 orders to the army and in his communications to Con- 
 gress, he repeatedly professed faith in Divine Provi- 
 
50 STUDIES IN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 dence. This was what moral principle meant with 
 him. It was the inspiration of the will of God. And 
 when we observe how humility and unselfishness al- 
 ways accompanied his professional greatness, that he 
 was as unwilling to take up his high office at the first 
 as he was ready to lay it down at the last, we feel that 
 such a life must have been under the influence of 
 Divine authority. 
 
 What else could have inspired him with the almost 
 superhuman wisdom which he showed as a general 
 and statesman, the patience under crushing burdens, 
 the calm confidence in the midst of darkness? He 
 might have repeated the course of Cromwell and as- 
 sumed a crown, which the army and many of the 
 people were ready to bestow upon him at the close 
 of the war; but Ambition had no power over a life 
 whose guiding star was Duty. The self-denial which 
 prompted the sacrifices of comfort at the first bade 
 him also refuse the rewards of victory at the last. 
 And now that we look back and see the splendor 
 of his entire career, we learn from it no higher lesson 
 than this — the benign results of loyalty to the moral 
 law, the 
 
 " High, stern-featured beauty 
 Of plain devotedness to duty." 
 
THE REAL WASHINGTON 51 
 
 Oh, that in our day, when hberty so often means 
 hcense, and self-conceit takes the place of self-cul- 
 ture, when Young America is the synonym for rash 
 independence of restraint and precocious progress 
 of all kinds, the grand shadow of the Father of his 
 Country might fall with solemnizing and softening 
 effect upon the noisy waves of modern selfishness 
 and agitation. 
 
 3 The real Washington illustrates the supe- 
 rior excellence of sijmme/rij of character. 
 
 If we ask what was his special claim to our su- 
 preme regard, we may find it difficult to answer. For, 
 on examination, we find that at no one point was he 
 peculiarly gifted in advance of other great men. He 
 had not the military genius of Napoleon, nor the 
 practical versatility of Franklin, nor the financial 
 skill of Hamilton nor the political finesse of Jefferson. 
 There have been many of the heroes of time who 
 were his superiors in certain salient features of char- 
 acter. But no man ever lived who was his equal in 
 compass and combination. His life had that rarest 
 of qualities, equipoise and symmetry. It was well- 
 balanced and rounded out on all sides. He seemed 
 to be equally great in the cabinet or in the camp, 
 as a warrior and as a ruler, as a public functionary 
 and as a private citizen. He carried the same stately 
 
52 STUDIES IN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 bearing through the routine of home hfe as amid the 
 duties of official position. As a householder and 
 planter, he showed extreme attention to trifles, econo- 
 my in details and painstaking industry. His business 
 accounts, written in a careful, clerkly hand, remain 
 as evidence that nothing escaped his attention in the 
 domestic management or that of his plantation. And 
 this at the very times when, as General or as Presi- 
 dent, he was apparently absorbed in national affairs. 
 And perhaps it was this evenness of outline which 
 has prevented his character from making the impres- 
 sion on the world which other lives, sharper or more 
 distinguished at particular points, have made. We 
 can easily understand why Thomas Carlyle did not 
 think much of George Washington. For truly one 
 whose ideal of greatness was satisfied with Frederick, 
 and his eccentric, stormy career, would find little 
 to admire in the self-denial and moderation of the 
 American patriot. That a man should refuse an 
 offered crown and sheathe his sword at the close of 
 war without regret, should unwillingly assume the 
 Chief Magistracy of a new nation and then retire 
 to private life when his duties were over, with alac- 
 rity, and subside into complete subordination with 
 a proud humility — all this was below (or above) 
 the level of Carlyle's dramatic ideas of heroism. 
 
THE REAL WASHINGTON 53 
 
 But we, as a nation, cannot be too grateful to Divine 
 Providence that the Father of his Country belonged 
 to the race of Samuel, Cincinnatus, Gustavus Vasa 
 and William of Orange — patriots whose unselfish 
 zeal was their real greatness, and whose claim to 
 immortality lay as much in what they did not, as in 
 what they did. 
 
 4 Finally; we must not forget that no true 
 success can be achieved in this world without extreme 
 and painful cost. 
 
 If the name of Washington now shines peerless 
 in the firmament of American history, it did not 
 rise to that meridian glory unchallenged. Nor was 
 it alone in its worth. Let us remember how many 
 others contributed to the success of which he was 
 the brightest exponent. At the very outset of his 
 military career, Washington owed much to the 
 patriotic devotion of General Artemas Ward, the 
 first soldier of New England, who sacrificed his own 
 ambition in welcoming the Virginia stranger as 
 head of the army and greatly helped him in the 
 conquest of Boston. And the final victory at York- 
 town was largely due to the wise advice of Robert 
 Morris, then Secretary of the Treasury, who not 
 only urged the American and French generals to 
 attack Cornwallis instead of New York, as they 
 
54 STUDIES IN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 at first intended, but by his contributions of money 
 and means at his own expense enabled them to make 
 a great campaign. Robert Morris died a poor man, 
 having sacrificed everything to his country's service. 
 These names are httle heeded now, but they should 
 not be suffered to lapse into oblivion ! For Washing- 
 ton fully acknowledged his indebtedness to them 
 at the time. 
 
 But he had his enemies as well. All through his 
 public life he encountered opposition. While in 
 command of the army he was plotted against by 
 some of his own officers, and a very powerful party 
 was once formed in Congress, for the purpose of 
 displacing him by General Gates. Afterward, as 
 President, he was unsparingly attacked by the ex- 
 treme Republicans, who resented his affiliation with 
 the Federalists, the aristocratic party, as they were 
 called. It is surprising to look through the literature 
 of that day and observe the caricatures and offensive 
 remarks often directed against the head of the nation. 
 On the day of his retirement from the Presidency a 
 Philadelphia paper published an outrageous article 
 in abuse of him, because of his opposition to radical 
 measures; "If ever a nation has been deceived by a 
 man, the American nation has been deceived by 
 Washington. Let his conduct serve as a warning 
 
THE REAL WASHINGTON 55 
 
 that no man should be an idol." But the storm 
 passed by and left the mountain great and grand as 
 ever. And there it has been towering ever since, 
 like a peak scarred by the lightning and worn by 
 the wind and weather of the years, but dominating 
 the landscape still, heir of the sunset and herald 
 of morn. 
 
 Such trials only form a new link in the chain 
 which has been uncoiling through the ages, wit- 
 nessing to every land that pain is the price of good 
 forever. With nations as with individuals, life 
 costs life ; and true patriotism is ever of that maternal 
 spirit which makes a sacrifice of itself for the sake of 
 the unborn generations. 
 
 Chateaubriand saw Washington only once, but 
 the impressionable Frenchman never forgot that sight. 
 "I have felt warmed by it all the rest of my life", 
 said he. "Nothing base, or vile, or selfish could 
 live in the presence of Washington." 
 
 The Indians of the West used to have a tradition 
 that the Great Father, as they called him, was 
 carried at death to their own happy hunting-grounds. 
 Alone of all white men, he was admitted to that 
 blest abode; and there he sits in solemn dignity for- 
 ever, receiving the reverence of every Indian who 
 enters that land of rest. 
 
56 STUDIES IN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 In the city that bears his name, on the shore of 
 the river that he loved, not far from his own manorial 
 home, a stately shaft was for a long time rising. 
 Complete at last, it is composed of stones furnished 
 by every state of the vast confederation whose in- 
 fancy he helped to rear. But the true monument 
 of Washington is one not yet finished and that can- 
 not be finished while time endures. It is rising 
 higher perpetually, as each generation adds its trib- 
 ute to his memory. Let our lives help it upward, 
 by their recognition of his worth and their imitation 
 of his example. 
 
JONATHAN EDWARDS 
 
Jonathan Edwards and 
 Benjamin Franklin 
 
 "^T y ■ T would be difficult to estimate the debt 
 ^^■^ which this nation owes to New England. 
 ^^^§ As the geologist finds the northern part 
 of the American continent ground and worn 
 with traces of the Ice Period, whose drift was 
 from the northeast towards the southwest, 
 fashioning hills and valleys according to its an- 
 cient flow, so does the historian discover every- 
 where through the records of the northern 
 States witnesses of the great influence which the 
 northeastern section of this country has had on the 
 political, religious, mental and social life of our land. 
 That region of rigorous climate, rugged scenery, 
 and thriftj'^ intellectual and moral habits has exerted 
 a great formative force on the development of our 
 nation. 
 
 Going back to the New England of two hundred 
 years ago, we behold a cluster of colonies settled 
 by an influx of the best popular elements of the 
 Old World. It was the England of Shakespeare 
 
58 STUDIES IN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 and Milton, of Cromwell and the Commonwealth, 
 of the Puritans and their biblical faith, that gave 
 to the Americans of that period their distinctive 
 characteristics.. They were intensely devoted to 
 mental and moral culture. An illiterate person was 
 despised. Some kind of schooling was compulsory 
 on all children. The early establishment of Harvard 
 College bore witness to their respect for education, 
 as the endowment of Brown University, at Provi- 
 dence, showed their insistence on freedom of thought. 
 It must be acknowledged that the religion of 
 those times was often extreme in its requirements. 
 No person could vote in a Town Meeting who was 
 not a church member, and no one could remain 
 outside the pale of that membership without being 
 treated as a heathen and a reprobate. All the officers 
 of the church and their functions were of political 
 appointment. The minister of each New England 
 parish was appointed by law, and his support was 
 provided by general taxation. Invested with secular 
 as well as spiritual authority, he was treated by the 
 local community with the respect due to a divine- 
 human office. Anyone criticizing a sermon was pun- 
 ishable by law. The pulpit of those times was often 
 the sole source of popular instruction. No objection 
 was made to sermons of one, two, or three hours' 
 
EDWARDS AND FRANKLIN 59 
 
 duration. The long prayer in the Sabbath service 
 might be an hour in length, and the psalm rendered 
 by the choir half an hour long. This too in bleak, 
 wintry weather, when there was no means of warm- 
 ing the wooden edifice on the hill-top. The obser- 
 vance of the Lord's Day was enforced in the most 
 rigorous manner, which to us now seems bigoted 
 and despotic. 
 
 But it must be remembered that the dogmatic, 
 polemic and severe type of religion thus developed 
 was exactly adapted to the needs of a pioneer race, 
 who must conquer the wilderness and endure 
 the hardships of an exposed and perilous 
 life. It was the stern, strong spirit of the 
 Puritans which sowed the seed and laid the founda- 
 tions of the ethical, intellectual and progressive enter- 
 prises of after days. To those early impulses was 
 due the subsequent development of a Lowell, a Long- 
 fellow, an Emerson, a Sumner, a Phillips and a 
 Garrison. 
 
 It is to two typical characters which represent 
 different aspects of this colonial life that attention 
 is now invited. Jonathan Edwards may be regarded 
 as the best specimen of its spiritual and intellectual 
 power, Benjamin Franklin of its ethical and material 
 tendencies. 
 
60 STUDIES IN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 Jonathan Edwards has always been spoken of as 
 the most eminent production of a class of men to 
 whom our colonial period owes more than to any 
 other — the Ministers of the Gospel. He was born in 
 1 703, his mother being a woman of superior charac- 
 ter and culture, remarkable for her fervent piety 
 and her theological knowledge. His father and 
 grandfather were Christian ministers, and all his 
 ancestors for many generations had been persons of 
 intellectual and moral power. It was no wonder 
 then that the child of such antecedents should de- 
 velop a mental and spiritual precocity which in his 
 early years gave promise of great results. At the 
 age of twelve he was already an advanced scholar, 
 not only versed in the classics but busy with the prob- 
 lems of philosophy. Entering Yale College when 
 he was thirteen years old, he was graduated at 
 seventeen, with the highest honors then obtainable. 
 
 His scholarship embraced all of the knowledge 
 taught in the schools, but his chosen field was intel- 
 lectual and moral philosophy. He soon showed 
 himself to be, what throughout life he remained, the 
 first metaphysician of the age. Deeply read in the 
 sensational philosophy of Locke, which was then 
 very popular, he was also an independent thinker. 
 As a boy he was fond of pondering the problems of 
 
EDWARDS AND FRANKLIN 61 
 
 existence, such as the nature of the will, of abstract 
 truth, the Being of God, and the relation of His 
 government to human freedom. Berkeley's system 
 of philosophic idealism, and Spinoza's grand idea 
 of the universal immanence of the Deity shaped and 
 colored his mind ; but he was the servant of no master. 
 Alone and independently he worked his way to a 
 philosophy of his own, which embraced the mysti- 
 cism of the Schoolmen with the scientific accuracy 
 and logical completeness of Augustine and Calvin. 
 He was indeed a rare combination of lofty imagina- 
 tion with rigid intellectuality, a poet's idealism with 
 a logician's method. Throughout life he continued 
 to be a seer like John; a theologian like Paul. 
 
 Naturally his religious experience was of a pecu- 
 liar, even phenomenal, character. Brought up in 
 that intense Puritan atmosphere, charged with the 
 ozone of religious thought and belief, he absorbed 
 its stimulating influence from infancy. To this pen- 
 sive child, alert at every pore with spiritual con- 
 sciousness, the cold, bare meeting house with its 
 austere simplicity of service, was a temple of God, 
 full of the Shechinah glory. No cathedral with 
 high embossed roof, and dim religious light, and 
 rolling music, and altar splendor, was needed to 
 make of him a worshiper. Wherever he was, — at 
 
62 STUDIES IN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 home, in the woods, the fields, the solemn night, he 
 was surrounded and attended by the Divine pres- 
 ence. Indeed he seems never to have been a mere 
 boy, with the usual characteristics of juvenile ignor- 
 ance and folly. From the first he was a grave, 
 thoughtful character, reverent and pure, gentle and 
 good, as Samuel ministering before the Lord in the 
 Tabernacle of old. 
 
 His conversion was characteristic. Although he 
 was probably regenerated in his early youth, his 
 distinct religious experience began with a vision of 
 God granted him during his college course. There, 
 on reading one day the words; "Now unto the King 
 eternal, immortal, invisible, the only God, be honor 
 and glory forever. Amen!" there came to him an 
 inward and sweet delight in Divine things. Like 
 Paul, he was caught up to the third heaven and 
 heard the unspeakable language. Thenceforth he 
 was filled with the love of Christ and a sense of the 
 Holy Spirit. All things became new to him, and 
 all things were of God. On the one hand he was 
 filled with horror at the abysmal depths of depravity, 
 the awful guilt and danger of sin, in himself and 
 in the world. On the other, he was enraptured 
 with the beauty of holiness. He saw the Divine 
 beauty in the flowers of the field, the Divine power 
 
EDWARDS AND FRANKLIN 63 
 
 in winds and waters, the Divine mystery in the night, 
 and the Divine glory in sunrise and sunset. Like 
 Enoch, he walked with God. And all this spirit- 
 ual meditation took form in resolutions for the 
 religious life as exact, minute and practical as any 
 that ever bound monk or nun to their life of devo- 
 tional routine. Every thought and word and deed, 
 every process of mind and operation of heart, must 
 be devoted to the Spirit's divine service. He would 
 live in God and for God and by God. 
 
 And yet Jonathan Edwards did not become a 
 mere mystic or ascetic recluse. Perhaps in other 
 times and places he might have been drawn into the 
 retired abstractions of a St. Jerome or a John Tauler; 
 but living in practical New England, his piety was 
 constrained into the definite channel of church work. 
 Ordained to the ministry of the Gospel in his twenty- 
 fourth year, after careful theological preparation, 
 he became the pastor of the large and flourishing 
 parish at Northampton, then one of the most emi- 
 nent in the colony. Here he approved himself as 
 a thoroughly successful Christian preacher. So far 
 from being a mere idealist, he was a man of rich 
 and varied qualities. As the husband of a gifted 
 woman (of whom he has left a most romantic de- 
 scription, fervent with poetic rhapsody) as the father 
 
64 STUDIES IN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 of a large family, as a citizen and a friend, he 
 showed himself versatile and vigorous in all the 
 relations of life. 
 
 It was as a preacher that he excelled. Devoting 
 himself to thirteen hours of daily toil in his study, 
 his sermons were models of learning, spirituality, 
 and practical usefulness. Tall and slender in person, 
 with a face of feminine purity and intellectual power, 
 refined in manner, yet capable of the most intense 
 earnestness, he soon became known as the first 
 preacher of the land. For he was more than a phil- 
 osopher and a theologian. He possessed the spiritual 
 insight of a prophet and the fiery zeal of an apostle. 
 His sermons were metaphysical in their acute analysis 
 of truth, but they were also fervently evangelical 
 and practical. He preached the law of God in 
 all its authority. The terrible nature and desert 
 of sin were insisted on. The sinner was warned 
 of his danger and urged toward the way of salvation 
 by Christ. These great doctrines were proclaimed 
 with a fidelity and power which were overwhelming. 
 Tradition still bears witness to the tremendous 
 effect of Jonathan Edwards' appeal to sinners to 
 flee from the wrath to come. His sermon on Sin- 
 ners in the Hands of an Angr}) God is historical in 
 the annals of the pulpit. Yet he was equally true 
 
EDWARDS AND FRANKLIN 65 
 
 to the beauties and the attractiveness of the Gospel. 
 No preacher ever set forth the hohness of God in its 
 winsome aspects and the glories of the ideal hfe 
 more effectively than he. 
 
 Now all this pulpit ministration must be set against 
 a background of general religious declension. For 
 the land was then full of spiritual coldness and dark- 
 ness. The capital mistake of New England puri- 
 tanism in identifying church and state was already 
 bearing fruit. By taking everyone into the church, 
 the church had become secularized. Religion was 
 largely a matter of conventionality and form. The 
 preaching of the day corresponded to this state of 
 things, in its avoidance of spiritual truth and its pref- 
 erence for mere moralities. The Half-way Cove- 
 nant, 1662, had made of church membership a 
 compromise between worldliness and spirituality. 
 Against all this Edwards protested. He restored 
 the standard of apostolic purity, and insisted on the 
 Divine life as the test of religion. So fervently did 
 he preach the necessity of regeneration that a genu- 
 ine revival of grace broke out in his own parish, and 
 thence extended throughout the entire region. It 
 was known as "the Great Awakening" and by it one 
 tenth of the population of New England are said to 
 have been converted. 
 
66 STUDIES IN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 But this recurrence to the primitive piety of the 
 church aroused the enmity of the formal professors 
 of rehgion. The faithful preaching of the man of 
 God was unwelcome to the Pharisees and Saddu- 
 cees of the day; and as they were in the majority, 
 he was deposed from his eminent position, to the 
 irreparable loss of the pulpit of New England. This 
 humiliation was intensified by what followed. The 
 one position which was opened to him was that of 
 missionary to the Indians at the small frontier vil- 
 lage of Stockbridge, where in poverty and ill health 
 this noble and renowned man found himself restrict- 
 ed to a small and unappreciative circle of settlers 
 and aborigines. 
 
 It seemed at first like the putting of a great light 
 under a bushel, but it proved to be only another 
 of the mysterious ways of Providence, which have 
 so often led through darkness into greater light. 
 For the banishment of Edwards was like the im- 
 prisonment of Bunyan and the blindness of Milton. 
 It forced him into a new and larger scope of influence. 
 There, in the solitude of the wilderness, he com- 
 posed the immortal works by which he has since 
 been most widely known' the Essa^ on the Freedom 
 of the Will, the Doctrine of Original Sin, and other 
 famous treatises of philosophy and theology. His 
 
EDWARDS AND FRANKLIN 67 
 
 writings soon gave him a reputation far beyond the 
 range of his pulpit. His fame spread throughout the 
 colonies and extended to Europe. After a few 
 years he was invited to the Presidency of Princeton 
 College, the greatest honor then possible to a Chris- 
 tian minister, but he did not long survive his return 
 to civilization, dying in 1 758, at the age of fifty-four. 
 Thus terminated the richest and most influential 
 career known to the Christian ministry in America, 
 before the Revolution. No other name shines so 
 brightly as that of Jonathan Edwards in the Annals 
 of the American pulpit. He represented all that 
 was best in the religious development of New Eng- 
 land, and he gave to its history a new and needed 
 impulse. Rescuing the church from the bonds of 
 formalism, he bequeathed to its future that won- 
 derful blending of intellectual and spiritual 
 power which rendered the Christian ministry 
 one of the strongest elements of success in the 
 Revolutionary period and afterward. We owe 
 it largely under God to him and his lofty 
 ideal of religious life that Christianity has been 
 the corner-stone of our history as a nation. It 
 should be said also that the family lines which were 
 originated by him have been wonderfully prolific 
 in the richest tributes of life to this nation. Among 
 
68 STUDIES IN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 his lineal descendants have been counted one hun- 
 dred college presidents and professors and clergy- 
 men, twenty-five officers in the army and navy, one 
 hundred and thirty lawyers and judges, sixty phy- 
 sicians and eighty governors, senators and mayors. 
 But there was another side of New England life 
 and history which deserves attention. In addition 
 to its intense religiousness, its profound moral cul- 
 ture and devotion to the forms of doctrinal Chris- 
 tianity, there was an equally fervid spirit of practi- 
 cal and independent thought. This was, from the 
 first, expressed in the habits of industry, commercial 
 enterprise and mechanical ingenuity, which have 
 given to the Yankee his special reputation. None of 
 the other colonies equalled the New Englanders 
 for shrewd thrift, acute thoughtfulness and the 
 genius of profit and loss. There is no need to show 
 that these traits flourish pre-eminently to the pres- 
 ent day. Now it was as the best product and promo- 
 ter of this phase of New England character that 
 Benjamin Franklin appeared and lived his life during 
 the eighteenth century. He was the most complete 
 embodiment of the material, as Edwards was of the 
 spiritual, tendencies of his age. And no other man 
 of his times contributed so much of impulse and 
 education to the ethical and mechanical develop- 
 
EDWARDS AND FRANKLIN 69 
 
 ment of the American people. If Edwards was 
 the seer, the prophet of our early history, the apostle 
 of its spiritual idealism, Franklin was the incarnation 
 of its common-sense, the pioneer of American utili- 
 tarianism, of that strong, practical wisdom which 
 has been the guiding principle of our national history. 
 There could hardly be a greater contrast than that 
 between the early years of Franklin and Edwards. 
 The former was born in 1 706, in the town of 
 Boston. His ancestors had been sturdy English 
 yeomen, remarkable for nothing but industry and 
 Protestantism. His father was a plain working 
 man, a maker of candles, and Benjamin was one of 
 the youngest in a very large family of children. 
 The lad grew up in an atmosphere of manual labor, 
 and had no intellectual advantages except the com- 
 pulsory education which Boston then provided for 
 all the boys. According to law, he must go to 
 school and learn to read and write. With this 
 scant equipment, Benjamin began his career as a 
 laborer in his father's shop. But he had an irre- 
 pressible thirst for knowledge. Books were few 
 and costly then, but every volume that the boy could 
 beg or borrow or buy was eagerly devoured by him. 
 He soon showed the independent mind and critical 
 spirit which distinguished him through life. At 
 
70 STUDIES IN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 the age of fifteen he was studying Addison's Spec- 
 tator and forming from it the clear and vigorous style 
 which always marked his writings. 
 
 More remarkable still, he had become a skeptic 
 in religious matters. Reading the works of English 
 free-thinkers, Shaftesbury and Collins, he adopted 
 their principles with regard to the supernatural ele- 
 ment in Christianity. This, in New England, the 
 very home of orthodoxy, and in Boston, the shrine 
 of Colonial faith, was something phenomenal. What- 
 ever shadow it casts on his moral nature, it speaks 
 volumes for the intellectual courage and originality 
 of this boy of fifteen, that he had the mind to form 
 and the spirit to avow unbelief then and there. 
 He was connected with an elder brother in 
 publishing a newspaper, which was nearly the 
 first of its kind in New England; and for it he 
 wrote many articles which were very popular. But 
 his independency of criticism cost him his position 
 and at the age of seventeen he left Boston, — in fact, 
 ran away, to seek his fortune elsewhere. 
 
 Thus began that romantic story, so well known 
 to all American readers, of the young adventurer 
 making his way slowly by water to New York, fail- 
 ing to find employment there and then trudging on 
 foot across New Jersey to the far-distant town of 
 
EDWARDS AND FRANKLIN 71 
 
 Philadelphia. The picture of the tired youth, 
 dusty and wayworn, walking up the streets of the 
 Quaker settlement, a roll of bread under each arm 
 and a few shillings in his pocket, looking anxiously 
 for a place to work and sleep, is a favorite scene in 
 our historic gallery. Thus Franklin entered the 
 place of his life-long labors, and became a member 
 of the city which was to prize his name as the no- 
 blest ornament of its history. 
 
 We can give but the briefest sketch of his private 
 and public career. Beginning as a journeyman 
 printer, he became the publisher of a paper and of 
 other works which were very influential. By faith- 
 ful industry, shrewd thrift and enterprise, he was 
 successful in business and amassed property. He 
 was also very active in public affairs. Gradually 
 he acquired great influence with the people as a 
 critic of wrongs and a constructor of reforms. He 
 was always suggesting improvements and introduc- 
 ing better ways of life. He was the first to propose 
 and form a public library, a hospital in Philadelphia, 
 a free academy, and the use of fertilizers by the 
 farmers. He invented a stove for the consump- 
 tion of coal, and a lightning-rod for the protection 
 of houses. He was the first to advocate an efficient 
 fire department. He reorganized the Post Office 
 
72 STUDIES IN BIOGRAPHY' 
 
 and gave it the beginning of its present usefulness. 
 He was the father of the newspaper and the maga- 
 zine in their present popular forms. He opened the 
 scientific study of electricity, and tried to form a 
 society for scientific intercourse. He was the first 
 American scientist to be recognized as such in 
 Europe, and the first American writer to gain gen- 
 eral attention in the world of literature. In short, 
 he \vas perpetually busy on the practical side of life, 
 pointing out defects and remedying them, advising 
 and providing the means of progress. 
 
 He was thus the pioneer of American invention 
 and improvement, the embodiment of that restless 
 spirit of advance which has since become a national 
 trait, and of the inductive philosophy which has en- 
 riched our land with scientific discoveries. TTie 
 shrewd, ingenious American who can turn his hand 
 to everything, ^vho has opened the great West to 
 civilization and filled the land with labor-saving 
 machinery and scientific achievements, who has 
 made the whole world feel the stress and stir of 
 American enterprise, — he should look back to Ben- 
 jamin Franklin as to his ancestor or his prototype. 
 This genius of utilitarianism found its best expres- 
 sion in the Almanac which Franklin published year- 
 ly for a long time and which, known as "Poor Rich- 
 
EDWARDS AND FRANKLIN 73 
 
 ard's Almanack," was in its day the most popular 
 thing of the kind ever known. Indeed, it should be 
 regarded as one of the important elements in the 
 formation of our national character; for no publi- 
 cation of the eighteenth century had a more pro- 
 found influence on the young life of the Colonial 
 period. 
 
 In the eighteenth century the yearly Almanac was 
 the one universal book of the common people. It 
 took the place now filled by the newspaper. Every 
 farmer, every artisan, possessed and used a small 
 rude pamphlet which, with the monthly and week- 
 ly calendar, contained a brief digest of other and use- 
 ful information. Franklin adopted this method of 
 supplying the people with periodical literature in its 
 simplest form. He used the daily calendar as a 
 cord on which to string maxims, general observations, 
 ethical precepts, which, as the utterances of "Poor 
 Richard," passed into general circulation as the 
 coin-current of popular thought. Ten thousand 
 copies of this book were issued yearly, and it was 
 regarded as, next to the Bible, the most familiar 
 authority with the common people. The results of 
 this instruction of the people were illimitable. How 
 great the influence on a young and growing race of 
 such rules for life as these: "Keep thy shop, and 
 
74 STUDIES IN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 thy shop will keep thee;" "God helps them that 
 help themselves;" "Lost time is never found again;" 
 "Constant dropping vv^ears aw^ay stones;" "Exper- 
 ience keeps a dear school, but fools will learn in 
 no other;" "If you would have a faithful servant, 
 serve yourself;" "Rather go to bed supperless than 
 rise in debt." 
 
 These wise maxims, scattered broadcast over the 
 virgin soil of the colonies, were the best possible 
 seed with which to provide for its future. Franklin 
 imbued the infancy and youth of our nation with the 
 principles of industry, thrift, enterprise, honesty, — 
 the practical virtues of worldly success. What the 
 sayings of Epictetus and Aesop's Fables were to 
 Greece, and Solomon's Proverbs to the Hebrews, 
 and Rochefoucauld's Aphorisms, and Tupper's 
 Proverbial Philosophy, and Spurgeon's John 
 Ploughman's Talk were to modern civiliza- 
 tion, that was the shrewd, homely wit of 
 Franklin to our Colonial history. He was, 
 in fact, the Socrates of America, a universal critic 
 and instructor, who made it his business from first 
 to last to expose all errors and build up practical 
 righteousness. As a writer, his style was simple, 
 clear, direct and powerful, the Addison of our lit- 
 erature. But his humor was so keen and his logic 
 
EDWARDS AND FRANKLIN 75 
 
 so strong that he reached every mind and convinced 
 all alike. No wonder that as a moralist he was 
 everywhere listened to, that as a scientific explorer 
 he acquired a world-wide reputation, that as a poli- 
 tician he took rank with the leaders of the day. 
 
 We need hardly speak of his services to his coun- 
 try during the Revolution, as a public adviser during 
 the French wars, as a member of the Continental 
 Congress, as a representative of the Colonies in Eng- 
 land, and afterwards in France. His patriotic use- 
 fulness at home and abroad associate him with the 
 great names of Adams, Jefferson and Washington. 
 His calm and catholic wisdom, his shrewd sense and 
 versatile ability, gave to the struggling colonies a 
 European celebrity that helped them to the French 
 alliance without which their cause could not have 
 triumphed. Thus he lived the most varied and, in 
 the practical sense, the most useful life ever lived 
 by an American. And when he died both the Old 
 World and the New did homage to his memory. 
 The signature of Benjamin Franklin is the only 
 American name written to the Declaration of Inde- 
 pendence, the Treaty of French Alliance, the Trea- 
 ty of Peace, and the Federal Constitution. It is 
 also the most eminent ornament of the literature and 
 civilization of the eighteenth century. 
 
76 STUDIES IN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 But now think of the contrast between FrankHn 
 and Edwards. Both were among the formative 
 influences of our early history, yet how different in 
 spirit, style and effect. Edwards was the spiritual 
 seer, the religious leader, the theological organizer of 
 his day. Franklin was the incarnation of its com- 
 mon-sense, the inspirer of practical wisdom, the 
 teacher of morality. The philosophy of Franklin 
 was purely utilitarian. His one ideal was profit. 
 Whatever made men wiser, more industrious and 
 economical, more intelligent and comfortable and 
 secure, that was good to him. For creeds and dog- 
 mas he cared nothing. All the subtleties of meta- 
 physical debate which Edwards delighted in, all 
 the polemics of theology which the New England 
 divines were devoted to, were useless and meaning- 
 less to him. He recognized the church and its 
 forms of worship, was always respectful toward oth- 
 er men's conscientious beliefs, but for himself virtue 
 was the chief good. He professed a firm belief in 
 a personal God and His government over the world. 
 He prized the Bible for its pure laws and ethical 
 wisdom, but Self-knowledge, Self-culture, Self-con- 
 trol, were the leading doctrines of Franklin's creed. 
 Yet no one saw more clearly the beauty of Jesus 
 of Nazareth as the ideal of humanity, and when he 
 
EDWARDS AND FRANKLIN 77 
 
 died his last gaze was directed to a picture of the 
 Man of Nazareth, which hung on the wall above 
 his bed. 
 
 We have said that Jonathan Edwards and Ben- 
 jamin Franklin represent two opposite developments 
 of the New England character and life. They 
 were almost antipodal in their extreme divergence 
 from each other. And yet, in the retrospect of his- 
 tory, it is plain that each was an incomplete contri- 
 bution to the formation of our national life. Neith- 
 er of these two men could have done the work of the 
 other, nor could either of them have been spared 
 from the general composition; for if the pure spirit- 
 uality and the refined intellectualism of the great 
 preacher were needed to give to American thought 
 a lofty religious ideal, not less was the practical 
 wisdom and moralistic influence of the other nec- 
 essary to shape our growing life with positive virtues. 
 
 Indeed, does not Christianity embrace both of 
 these elements, the heavenly and the earthly, the 
 spiritual and the material, in its perfect scope? 
 Certainly the Bible contains and insists upon them. 
 If it presents the abstract holiness of the Divine ex- 
 istence as our model, it also lays down the Ten Com- 
 mandments and the Golden Rule as the concrete 
 path of human duty. If it reveals to us the Son of 
 
78 STUDIES IN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 God in his pre-existent glory, it also shows him as 
 the man of active obedience and practical usefulness 
 in the world. Side by side with the sentimental 
 effusions of the Psalms is the practical wisdom of 
 the Proverbs. The Gospels contain the Sermon 
 on the Mount, with its outline of positive virtues, as 
 well as the prayer of Jesus for a heavenly home for 
 his disciples. 
 
 It is the Acts of the apostles, not their Theories, 
 Hopes, or Aspirations, that we read in the New 
 Testament. And if John opens to us the visionary 
 splendors of the City of God on high, James keeps 
 us down to the plain routine of duty here and now. 
 Thus we find the dualism of Truth. It has ever 
 the two sides of the abstract and the concrete, the 
 general and the particular, the spiritual and the ma- 
 terial; just as our own nature is composed of soul 
 and body, the immaterial and the physical, both of 
 which must be cultivated to secure a complete human 
 development. 
 
 Therefore, we rejoice in the Providence which 
 provided for the infancy of our national life two 
 such elemental forces as Edwards and Franklin. 
 Without the unworldly idealism of the former, 
 American civilization might have been limited to the 
 low plane of merely moral culture and mechanical 
 
EDWARDS AND FRANKLIN 79 
 
 success. Without the utilitarian genius of the other, 
 this country might have been the home of visionaries, 
 incapable of more than religious enthusiasm or a 
 mystical theology. It was the happy combination 
 of these distinct attributes which has resulted in our 
 complex nationality, at once idealistic in its theories 
 and realistic in its practices, developing theology on 
 its metaphysical side and also morality in its personal 
 values. Nowhere has doctrinal Christianity been 
 more freely discussed and elaborately cultivatecf 
 than by the American pulpit; and nowhere in the 
 world have the fruits of righteousness been brought 
 forth more successfully than by the American laity. 
 This land has always cherished the church, the 
 college, the theological seminary. It has also pro- 
 vided the schoolhouse, the hospital, the laboratory. 
 Side by side with the thinker and author stands the 
 inventor, the manufacturer. Thus abstract principle 
 and practical work have ever gone hand in hand 
 through our history. And it is this holy wedlock 
 which has made of our country a home of prosperity, 
 a parent of new life in the world. We could ask 
 nothing better for our future than that the spirit of 
 Edwards and of Franklin may never cease to in- 
 spire the course of American history. 
 
THOMAS PAINE 
 
Thomas Pai 
 
 N the year 1737 a human hfe appeared in 
 Europe which was destined to exert a very 
 important influence on the early history of 
 this nation. In that year Thomas Paine was 
 born in England. His father was a Qua- 
 ker, a member of the Society of Friends, which 
 George Fox brought into prominence in the 
 days of the Commonwealth, and which has 
 flourished in a limited degree in England ever 
 since. The youth was reared in the midst of the 
 peculiarly pure and peaceful associations of this or- 
 der, and he followed his father in the business of a 
 mechanical craftsman. But he early developed a 
 thirst for knowledge, a pugnacious disposition, and 
 an intellectual activity which dissatisfied him with a 
 life of manual toil. He engaged in school-teaching 
 and afterward entered the government service as an 
 exciseman. 
 
 According to the custom of the day, when author- 
 ship was largely confined to the writing of pam- 
 phlets on current topics, he soon became known as a 
 
82 STUDIES IN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 writer of considerable ability. He published ar- 
 ticles on political reform which commended him to 
 the notice of Benjamin Franklin, who was then liv- 
 ing in London as the representative of colonial in- 
 terests. The wise American, himself a veteran crit- 
 ic and reformer, at once recognized in this young 
 author a mind of original ability, — shrewd in per- 
 ception and fearless in expression, with a radical 
 spirit of progressiveness which was just what his own 
 people in the New World needed to help them for- 
 ward in their political career. So he advised him 
 to go to America where, in the simpler society and 
 freer air, he would find more congenial conditions 
 for his own growth, and a wider field of usefulness. 
 There was another reason for this sympathy be- 
 tween the old American and the young Englishman. 
 Franklin was a free-thinker, although of a mild and 
 generous type. From childhood he had abjured 
 the tenets of Calvinism, and he had constructed for 
 himself in after years a personal religion, consisting 
 of belief in the Being and Government of God, and 
 of practical morality on the part of man. But while 
 rejecting the supernatural element of Christianity, 
 he had never been a public advocate of skepticism. 
 His New England inheritance of birth and breeding 
 had endowed him with an instinctive reverence for 
 
THOMAS PAINE 83 
 
 religious forms, which kept him all his life on good 
 terms with Christianity. 
 
 Thomas Paine was an unbeliever of a more pro- 
 nounced sort. His early education had developed 
 the spiritual capacities of his nature so as to render 
 him peculiarly sensitive to all the evils of religious 
 formalism. When therefore he came in contact 
 with the Established Church of England, and by 
 his official relations was compelled to breathe the at- 
 mosphere of a purely ceremonial faith, his moral 
 sense revolted. He saw nothing in the ecclesiasti- 
 cism of the day but civilized idolatry. The crit- 
 icisms of Gibbon, Hume, Hobbs and others con- 
 vinced him that Reason was against the church. 
 The sentimental theories of Rousseau, and the sharp 
 strictures of Voltaire, inflamed his heart with a crav- 
 ing for moral independency. Thus moved, this vig- 
 orous thinker and ardent idealist believed that the 
 interests of humanity demanded the emancipation 
 of the soul from the fetters of Christianity, and he 
 devoted himself for life to religious as well as politi- 
 cal reform. 
 
 Before we condemn him and his action, however, 
 let us remember the provocations of his lot. For it 
 cannot be denied that Christianity, as he saw it, well 
 deserved the reprobation of honest thinkers and pure 
 
84 STUDIES IN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 moralists. The Church of England was then as 
 corrupt as the Government of England was oppres- 
 sive. Its clergy were mere place-holders, as a rule, 
 whose sermons were but moral homilies, and their 
 spiritual influence of the coldest kind. When such 
 men as John Wesley and George Whitefield were 
 driven into secession from the Establishment by its 
 perversion of spiritual truth, we cannot wonder that 
 an enthusiast for progress like Thomas Paine should 
 go further, and become an avowed infidel. For it 
 must be remembered that he had never experienced 
 personal regeneration, and therefore knew nothing 
 about Christianity as an inward life. 
 
 Thus it came to pass that the calm and wise 
 Franklin, whose catholic comprehensiveness em- 
 braced all varieties of belief with equal considerate- 
 ness, was moved with intellectual and moral sympa- 
 thy for this young thinker, who had the courage of 
 his convictions and whose ideal was so free and 
 bold. It should be borne in mind also that at this 
 date Paine had not reached the stage of public and 
 fierce opposition to Christianity which he afterward 
 occupied. 
 
 Following the advice of Franklin, Thomas Paine 
 left his native city and went to the American colo- 
 nies, making his home in Philadelphia, in the year 
 
THOMAS PAINE 85 
 
 1 774, where he at once identified himself, mind and 
 heart, with the interests of the new people among 
 whom he found himself. And impartial history 
 has declared that the coming of Thomas Paine to 
 America was one of the most important and useful 
 gifts which the Old World ever made to the New. 
 For he imparted to the nascent, struggling life of 
 colonial independence just that sharp and strong 
 impulse which it needed at that particular time. 
 
 He found the elements of a future nation still in 
 the embryonic state of scattered and chaotic being. 
 Far and wide through the wilderness of a sparsely 
 settled country, the inhabitants were groping their 
 way blindly toward they knew not what. Conscious 
 of political wrongs and commercial grievances, eager 
 for some change of government or administration, 
 they were still without a common ground to stand 
 upon or any definite plan of action. Few of the 
 boldest patriots of the day dared to think, much less 
 speak, of rebellion against the Crown which they 
 feared and hated. Franklin in London, Washing- 
 ton in Virginia, and Adams in Boston, were still un- 
 certain as to the true duties of the hour. The mass 
 of the people were ignorant of their powers, unwill- 
 ing to assert their rights, or too apprehensive of the 
 possible consequences. It was in fact a crisis of 
 
86 STUDIES IN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 vague and gathering preparation, when Destiny 
 waits for some sharp stroke of decision to precipitate 
 its results. 
 
 Thomas Paine was the man for the hour. With 
 the instinct of genius he saw his occasion and seized 
 it firmly and fearlessly. Soon the American public 
 began to hear a new voice. Pamphlets appeared 
 from time to time in Philadelphia bearing the title 
 "Serious Thoughts," and "Common Sense." They 
 were written in a plain, vigorous style which every- 
 one could understand, and they set forth the prin- 
 ciples of political freedom in the most emphatic man- 
 ner. That there was but one method of redressing 
 American wrongs, and that by severing the bonds 
 of subordination to the British Crown; that there 
 was but one path to the true future of the American 
 colonists, and that by becoming an independent na- 
 tion, — this was the message which swept through 
 the land. 
 
 Coming from an Englishman and a stranger, it 
 had special force with the people, and it is not too 
 much to say that it was the most active force at just 
 that period which brought about the final decision 
 of the masses. Thomas Paine did not originate the 
 ideas of the Declaration of Independence, nor even 
 develop them. But he certainly helped to precipi- 
 
THOMAS PAINE 87 
 
 tate the crystalization of American sentiment at 
 the crisis of its formation. Without his opportune 
 and powerful impulse, the American Revolution 
 might have been delayed, if not prevented. 
 
 And he continued to render these services all 
 through the war. Serving in the army as a soldier 
 his pen still proved to be mightier than the sword. 
 He published a series of pamphlets called ''The 
 Crisis" of which thirteen in number appeared at 
 different times, and thus at just the moments of need 
 all the people would hear that brave and strong 
 voice lifted in counsel, cheer and leadership; and 
 they never failed to respond to its appeal. In the 
 dark days of disaster one of these issues was regard- 
 ed as so important that it was ordered to be read at 
 the head of every regiment in the army for its en- 
 couraging effect. He rendered these invaluable ser- 
 vices until the attainment of peace, in 1 783, when 
 in recognition of his usefulness he was honored by 
 being appointed clerk to the Assembly of Pennsyl- 
 vania. He also received from Congress a donation 
 of $3,000, with a formal recognition of his great 
 service to the nation. The state of New York also 
 honored him with substantial proofs of favor. He 
 was indeed at this time regarded as a great public 
 benefactor, whom all men delighted to honor. Nor 
 
88 STUDIES IN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 have subsequent events detracted at all from his 
 claims on the national gratitude. Rather do we see 
 now more clearly than was possible then, the extent 
 of his services to the American people. By his 
 writings he sowed the land with the seeds of many 
 of its best products. He was the first to urge the 
 extension of freedom to the negro as well as the 
 white man; the first to advocate a close national 
 unity for the different colonies; the first to propose 
 international arbitration; the first to denounce duel- 
 ing and divorce; the first to plead for kindness to 
 animals, a national copyright, and justice to woman. 
 In fact a large number of the reforms and im- 
 provements which American history has given to the 
 world can be traced back to the prolific mind and 
 the impulsive spirit of Thomas Paine. And it is 
 safe to say that if he had died, or had ceased to 
 write, at the close of the Revolutionary period, his 
 name would have been shining ever since among the 
 brightest benefactors of our land and of the world. 
 So it has been said of Benedict Arnold that if he 
 had perished at the battle of Saratoga, he would 
 have been immortalized as the most brilliant soldier 
 of the Continental army. But he lived, — lived to 
 find that life may be worse than death. 
 
THOMAS PAINE 89 
 
 What then was it that has so obscured the lustre 
 of his memory that now few Americans ever think 
 of "Tom Paine" without an impulse of execration? 
 The answer to this question is found in the second 
 part of his strange and adventurous career. After 
 the establishment of American Independence, he re- 
 turned to England and found himself at once in- 
 volved in the new agitation which preceded and pre- 
 pared for the outbreak of the French Revolution. 
 He was of an ardent temperament and a vigorous 
 mental habit which could not long endure repose 
 of any kind, and as public opinion in France and 
 England had begun to be affected by the revolution- 
 ary ideas imported from America, he entered heart- 
 ily into the new crusade, naturally supposing that 
 he could be as successful as a champion in the Old 
 World as in the New. But his published book. 
 The Rights of Man, only procured for him the hos- 
 tility of the English government and his exile from 
 his native land. Going to France, he was at first 
 warmly welcomed as "the friend of liberty." Join- 
 ing the ranks of the Girondists, he advocated the 
 policy of a mild and reasonable revolution. This 
 brought on him the enmity of the Jacobins, by whom 
 he was imprisoned when they came into power. 
 During the dreadful excesses of the Reign of Ter- 
 
90 STUDIES IN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 ror he was in extreme peril; and he only escaped 
 the guillotine by the fall of Robespierre. These 
 reverses proved to be not only a physical but a moral 
 trial which Paine found it hard to bear. Deprived 
 of liberty, defeated in his honest endeavor to en- 
 lighten and direct the public, he was thrown back 
 upon his own inner life, and that proved to be not 
 the friend but the foe of his fame. 
 
 For adversity did not reveal to him what it 
 brought to Bunyan in his captivity, to Milton in his 
 blindness, to Edwards in his exile, — the comforts 
 and compensations of Divine Providence. Thomas 
 Paine had no faith in a personal experience of the 
 Holy Spirit. Instead, his heart was filled with a 
 bitter hatred for that religion which he identified 
 with the government that he hated; and it was with 
 that impulse and spirit that he entered upon a new 
 crusade. 
 
 He was a born polemic. Naturally frank and 
 fearless, his entire life had been spent on the battle- 
 field of contending principles and policies. He was 
 not happy, in fact, unless he was defending or as- 
 saulting something. Accordingly he devoted his 
 enforced inactivity in Paris to the composition and 
 publication of a work. The Age of Reason, in 
 which he inaugurated a new crusade against Chris- 
 
THOMAS PAINE 91 
 
 tianity. Published in England, it became immense- 
 ly popular with the multitude who were discon- 
 tented with the abuses and tyranny of the Establish- 
 ed Church. Reissued in this country, it awoke and 
 developed all the skeptical influences which Frank- 
 lin's Deism and the French alliance had engendered 
 in the new nation. It must be remembered that at 
 that time the name of Thomas Paine was honored 
 throughout the land as one of the champions of lib- 
 erty. Everyone thought well and spoke well of the 
 gallant Englishman who had come to the rescue of 
 the colonies in their darkest hour, and fought so 
 good a fight in their behalf. This prestige there- 
 fore naturally recommended his book to the popular 
 mind, and gave it a power which it would not have 
 had otherwise. It is hardly possible to overestimate 
 that power. Coming to a new nation in its youth, 
 when the people were in a plastic state of public 
 opinion, just forming their habits of collective 
 thought, the Age of Reason had a tremendous in- 
 fluence, and of the most baleful kind. Its violence 
 and coarseness, the sharpness and brightness of its 
 arguments and attacks, rendered it an easy and agree- 
 able book for the common people to read. And 
 they did read it. Widely and with avidity it was 
 absorbed by the public mind. Its poison entered 
 
92 STUDIES IN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 into the life of the nation and has been working de- 
 structively ever since. No one force has wrought 
 the moral harm to the American republic which that 
 book has caused. We must rank it as one of the 
 greatest curses which has blighted our land; for no 
 one can estimate the number of souls ruined and the 
 amount of obstruction to Christianity which the Age 
 of Reason is accountable for. 
 
 No wonder that the religious spirit of the Amer- 
 ican people was so offended by this attack on their 
 principles, that organized resistance to Paine and 
 has work became a Christian duty. For nearly 
 half a century Tom Paine's Age of Reason was the 
 target for all the arrows of the pulpit and the relig- 
 ious press in this country. The churches, the re- 
 ligious public generally, were trained to regard that 
 name as the very synonym for all that is false and 
 dangerous to the soul of man. For this they have 
 been condemned as bigoted, etc., but why so? If 
 he had the right to attack, had they not the right to 
 defend? He began the battle, and nothing could 
 exceed his violence. But it is so still. Let anyone 
 impeach the Bible and arraign the church and he 
 is lauded as an independent thinker, a critical spirit, 
 etc. But as soon as Christians stand by their guns 
 and open a return fire, they are narrow, intolerant. 
 
THOMAS PAINE 93 
 
 illiberal. But is battle a one-sided privilege? If 
 there is attack, may there not also be defense? 
 
 And thus the apostle of error brought upon him- 
 self the punishment which he deserved. All his 
 great services to the cause of liberty were forgotten. 
 His name was branded with an infamy that has 
 blackened it to this day. Probably very few of the 
 Christian people of the United States ever think of 
 him now with any feeling but that of moral indigna- 
 tion. Even before his death he began to reap this 
 sad harvest. Escaping from France he returned to 
 this country, hoping to find here an asylum for his 
 last years. But he was disappointed. His book 
 had made as many enemies for him as it had awaken- 
 ed friends. The better classes all held aloof and 
 would have nothing more to do with the discipline 
 of Voltaire. He became a lonely, hopeless, mel- 
 ancholy man. The brand of Cain was on him. 
 His last days were spent in poverty and sorrow. 
 Conflicting reports have been preserved about the 
 incidents of his death, but there is no need to insist 
 upon any special aggravation of his miserable end. 
 
 He died friendless and alone, abandoned of God 
 and man. Even his bones could not rest in Amer- 
 ican soil: transferred years afterwards to England 
 they were rejected there by public sentiment and no 
 
94 STUDIES IN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 one now knows the place of his sepulture. Until 
 recently no monument, no sepulchre, no grave ever 
 bore the name of Thomas Paine. 
 
 So perished the once brilliant favorite of the new 
 nation which he had helped to found. In such a 
 gloom of final condemnation expired the light which 
 Genius had kindled to guide the steps of American 
 Liberty to its glorious triumph. 
 
 The story of this eventful life, which began so 
 brightly and ended in such great darkness, suggests 
 certain lessons which deserve to be heeded. 
 
 1 . We are taught the alarming truth thai the 
 friends of Christianity are sometimes responsible for 
 the development of its enemies. 
 
 It is certain that the skepticism of Thomas Paine 
 was occasioned at the start by the shams and frauds 
 in the name of religion which he saw in the Establish- 
 ed Church of England. It was the heartless form- 
 alism, there paraded as Christianity, which so of- 
 fended his sensitive spirit, trained in the pure simplic- 
 ity of the Quaker faith, as to drive it to the extreme 
 of disbelief in all Christian doctrines. This was, 
 of course, unreasonable on his part; nor can he be 
 held unaccountable for his infidelity because of the 
 hypocrisy of the church with which he came in con- 
 tact. His writings remain to show that he was a dili- 
 
THOMAS PAINE 95 
 
 gent reader of the Bible, in which he might have 
 found, he did find, Divine Truth in its purity and 
 power. And so he is without excuse. 
 
 Nevertheless, the fact remains that but for the 
 unworthy lives of professors of religion, he might 
 not have been repelled in the first instance from the 
 faith in which he had been reared. This is an ob- 
 servation which ought to sink deep into the hearts 
 of all Christians, for it has been paralleled in every 
 age of religious history. It is a dreadful but un- 
 doubted fact that a great part of the opposition to 
 the Gospel in this world has been caused by the 
 misrepresentation of that Gospel at the hands of its 
 advocates. Infidels are being made all the time by 
 this cause. Think of the Thomas Paines of today, 
 — young minds, eager, bold and insistent truth-seek- 
 ers : they want truth and righteousness, but they care 
 nothing for tradition. They are impatient of form- 
 alism, they despise pretense. They ask for right- 
 eousness in the shape of reality. What do they 
 hear in our sermons? What do they find in our 
 churches? Heaven help us! for we are attracting 
 or repelling all the time. 
 
 2. We observe the inevitable groivth of infidel- 
 itv on the part of those Tvho indulge in it. Thomas 
 Paine began with only intellectual objections to what 
 
96 STUDIES IN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 he regarded as the errors of the Christian scheme. 
 He was not an utter opponent of all the truths of the 
 Bible. He tried to discriminate between the true 
 and the false in the Bible. He claimed to be the 
 emancipater of humanity from superstition. It was 
 his aim to sift the chaff from the wheat and give to 
 humanity a pure religion of simple morality and eth- 
 ical wisdom. 
 
 But he was drawn into a current of conflict which 
 soon swept him away to extremes of which he did 
 not dream at first. Renouncing the cardinal truths 
 of Revelation, he lost hold at last of all its virtues, 
 and became a fierce iconoclast, bitter and destruc- 
 tive. With Franklin, free-thinking was a philosoph- 
 ical exercise, perfectly consistent with respect for 
 religion. In his hands skepticism was safe and re- 
 spectable. But when he invited Paine to America 
 he let loose a destructive force upon his native land; 
 for Paine's infidelity was positive and aggressive. 
 It should be stated that Franklin strongly urged 
 Paine not to publish his attacks on Christianity, fore- 
 telling the harm to himself and others which would 
 result. But his advice was not heeded. He found 
 that he could not check the torrent he had liberated. 
 
 A lesson this to be heeded by those who are re- 
 peating his mistake today. Those who now insist 
 
THOMAS PAINE 97 
 
 on rejecting the supernatural element of the Bible, 
 and confining themselves to the cultivation of pure 
 morals alone, should learn that we cannot have the 
 fruits of religion w^ithout cultivating its roots. Chris- 
 tianity without Christ is a body without a heart. 
 Subtract spiritual grace from human experience and 
 you send a ship to sea without rudder or chart. 
 The beginnings of error may be small but the end 
 thereof is great. The doubt of one age is the denial 
 of the next. Skepticism in the parent becomes Ath- 
 eism in the child. So with the individual unbeliever. 
 Error like Truth is sure to grow. Many a person 
 is now beginning with rational objections to Christian 
 doctrines who will, if he pause not, end with bitter 
 hatred for all revealed religion. It is the logic of 
 error, which leads from bad to worse, down all the 
 grades of doubt and unbelief to everlasting death. 
 
 3. We are taught the solemn truth that great 
 usefulness to humanit]) may consist with enmity to- 
 ward Cod. 
 
 It is no final evidence that a person is right mor- 
 ally who is sound politically, nor is a wise head al- 
 ways proof of a pure heart. It is beyond question 
 that one of the most successful champions of liberty 
 in the New World was at the same time a victim and 
 a servant of Error. This ought not to obscure to 
 
98 STUDIES IN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 our eyes the value of his services. History should 
 never let the name of Thomas Paine die, for the 
 good that he wrought in the time of our nation's 
 need. But on the other hand the purity and vigor 
 of his devotion to the cause of political freedom 
 ought not to atone for his enmity to the cause of 
 moral truth. Efforts are now being made to revive 
 his memory and rehabilitate his fame, by those who 
 insist that Paine the infidel should be forgotten in our 
 gratitude to Paine the Patriot. But it will not do. 
 Impartial history reminds us that Paine did his ut- 
 most to subject the young nation to a far worse 
 tyranny than that of the British Crown. To him 
 we owe the tares and thistles of evil which are 
 still infesting the harvest fields of America. Irre- 
 ligion, immorality, criminal tendencies without end, 
 are still flourishing as the baleful products of the 
 Age of Reason. 
 
 4. Let Americans never forget this painful pic- 
 ture of the personal results of religious unbelief. 
 
 There was a time when no name shone more 
 brightly in the esteem of our people than the 
 name of Thomas Paine. He was ranked by them, 
 and with reason, in the galaxy of noble men who 
 clustered about the central sovereign form of Wash- 
 ington. Franklin, the wise counselor; Greene, 
 
THOMAS PAINE 99 
 
 Knox, and Schuyler, the brave soldiers; Lafayette 
 and Steuben, the noble allies from Europe; Hamil- 
 ton, the shrewd organizer; Morris, the generous fin- 
 ancier; Jefferson, the able statesman, were not 
 more well known and revered than was Paine, the 
 writer, with his sharp and patriotic pen. And so 
 it might have been to this day. We should now be 
 revering his memory and perpetuating his fame to 
 future generations with gratitude and praise but for 
 the fact that he tried to make this nation an infidel 
 people. That one fact has overturned his monu- 
 ment, blackened his reputation, and consigned his 
 name to infamy forever. 
 
 Does then infidelity pay? Is it, on the low 
 ground of personal interest, worth one's while to 
 serve Error rather than Truth? Look through his- 
 tory and study the final awards of time. Can you 
 find an instance of an atheist or an unbeliever achiev- 
 ing immortal honor because of his atheism or unbe- 
 lief? They have reaped temporary triumphs by 
 their opposition to the truth, as the Pharisees and 
 Scribes, Pilate and Felix, did of old. They have 
 also in some instances been employed in the service 
 of philanthropy, as Parker, Ingersoll, and Paine 
 have been. But was it their opposition to Christianity 
 which made them philanthropists? In the far fu- 
 
100 STUDIES IN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 ture it will be only what they did for Truth itself 
 which will keep their memory green. And now, 
 when it is regarded as scientific to deny the supernat- 
 ural authority of the Scriptures, philosophical to dis- 
 pute the reality of prayer and Providence, intellec- 
 tual to question the reality of the atonement and 
 the mission of the Holy Spirit, wise to prefer moral- 
 ity to religion, and progressive to outgrow the church 
 and its creeds, — when multitudes of the young and 
 ambitious are entering these paths that promise so 
 plausibly, — Tvould that the}^ might heed the Jvarn- 
 ings of history! 
 
 5. Finally. — The Vitality of the Truth. 
 
 How often has the Bible been defeated and de- 
 stroyed! From the times of Lucian in the second 
 century, Celsus in the third, Porphyry in the fourth, 
 down to Bolingbroke and Semler in the eighteenth, 
 and Strauss and Renan in the nineteenth, every age 
 has witnessed an attack on Christianity claiming to 
 be triumphant. Yet the tide recedes, leaving the 
 coast line the same; the clouds depart, and the stars 
 are shining still. 
 
 Thomas Paine verily thought that he had put an 
 end to the authority of the Bible; but he died, and 
 the Bible survived him. Charles Bradlaugh, in 
 England, boasted that he had proved God not to 
 
THOMAS PAINE 101 
 
 exist; but he passed away, and the Eternal One is 
 still on the throne. Robert Ingersoll was not long 
 ago rampant as the champion of infidelity; but he, 
 too, has vanished, and we have almost forgotten that 
 such a man ever lived. So it has been, is, and will 
 be to the end. Error and errorists will rise, flourish 
 and pass away. But "He that sitteth in the Heaven 
 shall laugh! The Lord shall hold them in deri- 
 sion!" For deeper than the foundations of the 
 earth, and loftier than the dome of the midnight 
 sky, and broader than the horizon of the ocean is 
 that Divine Truth of which the Bible is only one of 
 its many voices. 
 
 '*The grass ipiihereth, the flower fadeth; but the 
 Word of our Cod shall Stand forever " 
 
Benedict Arnold 
 
 N the town of Norwich, Connecticut, on 
 every Thanksgiving night, large bonfires are 
 kindled on every hilltop as a means of cele- 
 brating the day. This peculiar custom is 
 more than a hundred years old. Tradition says that 
 it can be traced back to the middle of the eighteenth 
 century, when it had its beginning in the adventurous 
 spirit of a boy who was then the ring-leader of his 
 class in the village. 
 
 His name was Benedict Arnold, — a son of an 
 honored family in the colony. He was born in 
 1741, his father being a prominent merchant and 
 public man, and his mother a woman distinguished 
 for her good sense and strong religious character. 
 This boy grew up in the quiet provincial town, and 
 soon became known for peculiar qualities. Strong 
 in person, athletic and daring, he was a leader in 
 all sports and adventures. Afraid of nothing, brave 
 to rashness, the excitement of danger had for him 
 an irresistible charm. He was foremost in every 
 exploit, especially in such as were lawless and for- 
 bidden. The strict Puritanic morality of those days 
 
104 STUDIES IN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 had for him no sanctity. He deHghted in startling 
 the good people with irreverent pranks; and it was 
 for this purpose that he devised a plan of signalizing 
 Thanksgiving night with an illumination, a practice 
 which remains in Norwich to this day. 
 
 Young Arnold was thus renowned for a spirit 
 which early marked him out for some kind of a prom- 
 inent career. He could do nothing in a quiet or 
 commonplace way. A natural commander, active, 
 ambitious, of keen mind and resolute will, he was 
 sure to make his mark in public for good or for ill. 
 Everyone respected or feared him, but few loved 
 him ; for he was haughty and irascible in temper, gen- 
 erous to his friends, but implacable and revengeful 
 toward all who offended him. He was a champion 
 of the weak, always ready to defend those smaller 
 than himself, and capable of great self-sacrifice in his 
 devotion to a cause that he believed in; but he was 
 over sensitive to reproach and he never forgave an 
 injury. Such a spirit would as a matter of course 
 easily absorb the rising element of independence 
 which was then beginning to be felt in the colonies, 
 toward the claims of the British Crown. Arnold's 
 inflammable nature waited like tinder for a spark in 
 its readiness for the explosive moment. At the age 
 of twenty-one he removed to New Haven, where 
 
BENEDICT ARNOLD 105 
 
 he established himself in business as a druggist and 
 book-seller. This peaceful pursuit made him for 
 a time a citizen of quiet habits and well ordered 
 life. He was in good repute with his townsmen as 
 an intelligent and industrious man of affairs. He 
 married well and enjoyed a pleasant home and a 
 large social connection. 
 
 But the soldier was lurking beneath a civilian's 
 garb, and at the first sign of the revolutionary con- 
 flict he sprang to arms. On the very day that the 
 news of Lexington reached New Haven, April 
 twentieth, 1 775, Benedict Arnold summoned his 
 company of militia, hastily and forcibly secured arms 
 and equipment for them, and at once marched at 
 their head to Cambridge, Massachusetts, where he 
 offered his services to the Continental cause. 
 His company was the first well drilled and reg- 
 ular body of troops which appeared on the patriotic 
 side ; and their martial appearance was so impressive 
 that Arnold immediately became a man of note 
 among the American officers. Throwing himself 
 with characteristic energy into the new enterprise, 
 his bold and comprehensive mind took a military 
 view of the general situation. Looking over the 
 field at large, he saw the importance in a strategic 
 sense of Ticonderoga and Crown Point, positions 
 
106 STUDIES IN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 which the British held as means of communication 
 between Canada and New York. He urged an 
 expedition for their capture, and his proposition was 
 adopted by the authorities. 
 
 He was commissioned as Colonel, and provided 
 with a force for the reduction of the fortresses. He 
 started as soon as possible, but found on drawing 
 near the field of operation that Ethan Allen, of Ver- 
 mont, had organized an expedition for the same pur- 
 pose. Allen had therefore the precedence, (or he 
 assumed it) and Arnold was compelled to serve un- 
 der him. But their joint campaign was successful, 
 and lakes George and Champlain were freed from 
 the enemies of the patriot cause. 
 
 This was the beginning of Arnold's public ser- 
 vices. From this time on he was the most enter- 
 prising and bold of the American leaders. The 
 expedition to Canada for the capture of Quebec 
 was suggested and carried out by him. It was by 
 far the most daring and brilliant operation of the 
 Revolutionary War. Had it succeeded, the Brit- 
 ish arms would have been crippled at the beginning 
 of the contest, and the entire course of American 
 history would have been changed. As a military 
 campaign it has been ranked with such events as 
 Hannibal's crossing the Alps, and the invasion of 
 
BENEDICT ARNOLD 107 
 
 Mexico by Cortez, — a prodigy of war. Although 
 unsuccessful, the campaign was one of the most re- 
 markable for heroic endurance and achievement 
 which the annals of American warfare record. Ar- 
 nold was from first to last the foremost leader of the 
 gallant but ill-fated enterprise. We next see him 
 in a naval battle on Lake Champlain, where with a 
 small and poorly equipped fleet of vessels he with- 
 stood a large force of the enemy with desperate 
 courage for a long time. Again he was compelled 
 to retreat, but he did so with such glory as to merit 
 and receive the applause of the whole country. At 
 this time the name of General Arnold was probably 
 the brightest star in the public esteem after that of 
 General Washington. Everyone saw in him a de- 
 voted patriot, a brave soldier, and a skillful officer. 
 But at this point his troubles began. Certain ir- 
 regularities in the confused and difficult transactions 
 of his Canadian campaign had rendered him sub- 
 ject to a Court Martial (by which he was substan- 
 tially vindicated.) But this and other things brought 
 him into collision with certain officers, toward whom 
 his native infirmity of temper showed itself offensive- 
 ly. He was at all times irascible, impetuous and 
 implacable. With all his high-minded courage and 
 frank generosity, he could not forgive an injury 
 
108 STUDIES IN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 or conciliate a foe. Sensitive and vain, as brave 
 men often are, he felt and resented fiercely every 
 slight upon his reputation. Such a man was sure 
 to arouse enemies by the very successes that gave 
 him notoriety. And in the jealous and irritable 
 state of the colonies, then working together for the 
 first time, it was easy to develop hostility in Congress 
 against a new hero of the hour. So when the first 
 Major Generals were commissioned, in 1 777, the 
 name of Benedict Arnold was not on the list. Oth- 
 er and inferior men were promoted over him. This 
 was an unjust and cruel disregard of his great claims 
 to the honors of the Government. As such it was 
 bitterly denounced by his pround and vengeful 
 heart. Arnold never got over this triumph of his 
 enemies. It rankled in his mind, a festering cause 
 of hatred, until it became one of the elements of his 
 ruin in after days. 
 
 But he did not allow this indignity to arrest his 
 patriotism at the time. Although wounded and 
 weak from the Canadian campaign, he took the field 
 again when his state was invaded, and he showed 
 such conspicuous courage and skill in repelling the 
 invader that Congress was compelled to make repar- 
 ation for its neglect by promoting him to the rank of 
 Major General, with a formal vote of thanks. And 
 
BENEDICT ARNOLD 109 
 
 soon followed the crowning event of his patriotic 
 career. When the great invasion of Burgoyne was 
 threatening the heart of the country, Arnold was 
 without a command and was still exposed to the 
 machinations of his enemies, of whom there were 
 always some, thanks to his irascible temper. But 
 he would let nothing stand in the way of his patriot- 
 ism, and he showed his devotion by volunteering to 
 serve under those who were really his juniors in 
 rank. This is the greatest sacrifice which a military 
 man can make. For soldiers are always peculiarly 
 and justly sensitive with respect to the rights of their 
 official grade, as was often shown in the late war. 
 But Arnold rose above all personal interests. Un- 
 invited and uncommissioned he volunteered for any 
 service he could render at that critical time. As he 
 wrote : "No public or private injury shall prevail on 
 me to forsake the cause of my oppressed country 
 until I see peace and liberty restored to her, or die 
 in the attempt." 
 
 It was in this spirit and attitude that he took part 
 in the great campaign. After distinguishing him- 
 self by the relief of Fort Stanwix, he was prominent 
 in the decisive battle of Saratoga. That splendid 
 victory was won in the strangest manner. General 
 Schuyler, who had so ably commanded the army 
 
no STUDIES IN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 during its retreat before Burgoyne, and who was ful- 
 ly competent to lead it, was, through conspiracies in 
 Congress, displaced by General Gates, an inferior 
 and ill-deserving officer. In his feeble hands the 
 army would have been sacrificed and certain defeat 
 would have ensued, but for the energy and skill of 
 his subordinates. It was the fiery courage of Ar- 
 nold in particular that turned the tide at Saratoga. 
 While Gates was loitering in his tent at the rear, 
 this dashing soldier was at the front, where, con- 
 trary to orders, he won the day by his desperate 
 valor. The whole army looked to him and follow- 
 ed him as its inspiring head, and historians now unite 
 in ascribing to his splendid leadership the chief glory 
 of that decisive triumph. In the hour of carnage 
 Arnold fell, wounded again as at Quebec. As he 
 lay bleeding on the ground an American soldier 
 rushed forward and would have killed the Hessian 
 who fired the shot. But the General protested, 
 "Don't hurt him! he did but his duty; he is a fine 
 fellow." This was an act of knightly spirit. It 
 showed the true chivalry of the gallant warrior; 
 and as the conqueror won that moral victory he 
 reached the climax of his career. 
 
 It has been well said that this was the time for 
 Benedict Arnold to die. If he had perished then 
 
BENEDICT ARNOLD 1 1 1 
 
 and there, he would have left a name which his 
 country would have haloed with unfading praise. 
 But Death did not come to save his name and en- 
 shrine it with immortal honor. Life came instead, 
 to spare him for a future such as few mortals have 
 had cause to deplore. 
 
 For with the crowning service and glory of Ar- 
 nold's life came the hour of his deadly trial. He 
 received the well-deserved thanks of Congress and 
 the personal plaudits of Washington. In consid- 
 eration of his wounds and services he was given the 
 eminent honor of commanding at Philadelphia, then 
 the most important post of the colonies. Here, after 
 the death of his first wife, he married again in the 
 most select ranks of society, and became thus a dis- 
 tinguished member of the military and social life 
 of the place. There we see him in the pride of his 
 great success, the most famous soldier of his time, the 
 most popular man of his day. What more could 
 human ambition ask for? 
 
 But the shadows were already beginning to gather 
 on his horizon. The enemies, whom his brilliant 
 deeds had only offended the more, began to renew 
 their private attacks on his record in Congress, and 
 were successful in bringing upon him many indigni- 
 ties under the forms of law which exasperated his 
 
112 STUDIES IN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 proud and vengeful spirit. It is almost incredible, 
 but the fact remains that the Executive Council of 
 the state of Pennsylvania, preferred charges against 
 him for trivial technical irregularities of administra- 
 tion. A Court Martial was ordered by Congress, 
 by which he was acquitted on most of the charges, 
 but was sentenced to receive a reprimand by the 
 Commander-in-Chief for indiscretion of conduct. 
 This was done by Washington, as kindly as possi- 
 ble, but the public disgrace fell with crushing weight 
 upon the proud-spirited soldier. That he, the hero 
 of three campaigns, the most popular fighting man 
 of the army, should be thus humiliated, was an in- 
 dignity never to be forgotten or forgiven. He was 
 also ostentatious and extravagant in his style of liv- 
 ing, and soon became painfully involved in debt. 
 But worse still, his new social relations had placed 
 him in the midst of a disloyal element, which was 
 then very strong among the old and rich families 
 of the city. Arnold heard from them continual crit- 
 icism of the Colonial cause, and praise of the royal 
 government. He heard the mistakes and weakness 
 of Congress perpetually exposed and emphasized. 
 He heard his own wrongs pitied and his enemies 
 condemned. And thus his mind was subtly filled 
 with disparaging and darkening thoughts. Removed 
 
BENEDICT ARNOLD 1 1 3 
 
 from the healthful excitements of the battle-field 
 and the hardships of war, which had furnished a 
 safety-vent for his passionate nature, he found in 
 the luxurious habits of garrison life space for perilous 
 broodings and corrupt moral suggestions. Always 
 destitute of religious principles, and peculiarly liable 
 to the blandishments of pride and self-indulgence, 
 he became relaxed in his patriotism and, ere he knew 
 it, open to seductive influences. 
 
 Just at this time, moreover, the state of public 
 affairs was rapidly becoming desperate. Notwith- 
 standing the victory of Saratoga the Colonial cause 
 seemed to decline with fearful rapidity. The col- 
 onists had no coherence or harmony. The Conti- 
 nental Congress was filled with jealous and conflict- 
 ing factions. Even Washington was conspired 
 against. The paper currency had no value. The 
 army was ill-paid, poorly equipped, and at times on 
 the verge of mutiny. It is a fact not generally 
 known to American patriots at the present time that 
 of the three millions of people composing the col- 
 onists, during the Revolution, at least one million 
 were Tories (Loyalists) openly or at heart. This 
 negative element in the population always had a 
 very depressing effect on the public sentiment, and 
 especially in periods of disaster. There were at 
 
114 STUDIES IN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 one time fully as many Americans under arms in the 
 British service as were enlisted in the Continental 
 army. The Commander-in-Chief nearly lost his 
 confidence. "I have almost ceased to hope," he 
 said. All of the patriot leaders were depressed if 
 not discouraged. As Thomas Paine wrote in his 
 popular pamphlets, "These are the times that try 
 men's souls." 
 
 But the greater number of Americans survived 
 this trial of faith, because their circumstances com- 
 pelled them to adhere to their principles. With Ar- 
 nold it was different. His situation was unfavora- 
 ble to patriotic consistency. Insulted and outraged, 
 as he believed, by the government that he had suf- 
 fered so much to defend, in the midst of the ener- 
 vating influence of luxury, and surrounded by dis- 
 loyal people who filled his ears with British senti- 
 ments, he was far removed from a true American's 
 vantage ground. He was indeed within the enemy's 
 lines. But he was approached at first in no dis- 
 honorable manner. His nobler principles were 
 appealed to. It was argued by his Tory friends 
 that genuine patriotism now advised a change on 
 his part. He had done all that self-sacrifice could 
 demand of him for his country. His comrades had 
 suffered to extremity, and what was the result? 
 
BENEDICT ARNOLD 115 
 
 Nothing but unprofitable bloodshed, universal de- 
 struction, and a hopelessly ruined cause. Why not 
 then stop this mad and useless war? In the name 
 of ruined homes, and bleeding hearts, and prostrate 
 business, why not put an end to the hopeless con- 
 flict? "The Crown is now willing to grant all that 
 the colonies demanded. There shall be no taxation 
 without representation; every grievance shall be 
 redressed; the colonies shall be self-governing, in 
 deference to the Home Government, and all will be 
 peaceful and prosperous again." 
 
 Such was the alluring picture held before the eyes 
 of the sore-hearted soldier. And when his sense of 
 honor revolted, as it did, and he protested against 
 the shame of treason, he was reminded of great his- 
 toric precedents for the course in question. Did not 
 General Monk forsake the cause of the Common- 
 wealth and with his army restore England to the 
 Monarchy? Did not the Duke of Marlboro (Brit- 
 ain's most famous soldier) abandon King James and 
 help to establish the new dynasty of William? Yet 
 no one ever condemned them for their change of al- 
 legiance. They were praised and honored for the 
 blessed results of their defection. "And so will you 
 be. General Arnold. After the temporary pain of 
 the discomfiture has passed, and the benign effects 
 
116 STUDIES IN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 of restored peace and harmony are enjoyed, all true 
 patriots will applaud the man who could rise super- 
 ior to the clamor of partisanship and do what no one 
 else could do for the general good." Such were the 
 arguments of the tempter; and however false and 
 feeble they seem to us now, the impartial critic who 
 will go back and put himself in the place of Benedict 
 Arnold then and there, will be forced to admit that 
 they must have sounded plausible and powerful in 
 his ears. Recall his situation — his personal griev- 
 ances, his unfavorable associations, and the desperate 
 state of public affairs just then, and anyone can see 
 that a crisis had come when a wavering mind might 
 be easily turned by such considerations as were pre- 
 sented to him. 
 
 Such was the result. He yielded to the argu- 
 ments addressed to him and accepted the proposition 
 that he should make use of his official position to re- 
 store the colonies to the British Crown. What his 
 real motives were will always be a matter of conjec- 
 ture. Doubtless they were many and mixed. He 
 was not a sordid or a selfish man, and money and 
 fame could not have been his main object. But he 
 had an implacable, vengeful spirit, and this must 
 have helped him to decide against his country. Yet 
 it is equally probable that he really thought that rea- 
 
BENEDICT ARNOLD 1 1 7 
 
 son and right counseled his course, for the ultimate 
 good of the colonies. To the end of his life he af- 
 firmed, often emphatically, "I believed our cause 
 was hopeless. I thought we never could succeed 
 and I did it to save the shedding of blood." 
 
 So now we must turn the page of history to that 
 dark story, which seems all the blacker because of 
 the bright record which had gone before. Let the 
 tale be told as briefly as possible: — it is too well 
 known to all Americans. General Arnold, after 
 yielding to the persuasion of the Tories, opens a 
 clandestine correspondence with the British Author- 
 ities. He receives from them formal proffers of co- 
 operation and reward. In accordance with their 
 suggestions he asks for and obtains from Washington 
 (who was anxious to do anything that could soothe 
 the feelings of so highly prized an officer) the com- 
 mand of West Point, the most important military 
 post in the colonies. There he makes deliberate 
 preparations to hand over that fortress to the enemy. 
 To complete these arrangements he meets Major 
 Andre, an English officer, who comes up the river 
 in a sloop of war, and in the shadow of night confers 
 with Arnold on the shore. 
 
 If that conference had terminated before morning 
 Andre would have returned to the vessel, and by 
 
118 STUDIES IN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 it safely to New York, and the plot would have suc- 
 ceeded undoubtedly. But detained until daybreak, 
 he is forced to remain in concealment until the next 
 night, and then finds that the vessel has dropped 
 further down the stream. This renders it necessary 
 for him to go back by land. He starts, with the pass 
 of General Arnold to guarantee his safety, and this 
 conveys him through the American lines until he 
 regards himself secure. But at the last moment he 
 is stopped by strangers whom he does not recognize 
 as Continentals, and to whom he reveals his rank, 
 supposing them to be friends. Then follows his 
 arrest and search, and the discovery of the papers on 
 his person. Thus by a chain of unintended and 
 unexpected events, a carefully prepared conspiracy 
 is brought to light. Tidings of the arrest are at once 
 sent back to West Point. Arnold learns with hor- 
 ror of the sudden revelation, and without a moment's 
 delay flees to the British protection. Nor any too 
 soon ; a little delay and he would have been arrested. 
 Washington arrives from a tour of inspection just 
 in time to receive the astounding news, and to ex- 
 claim in wondering sorrow, "Whom can we trust 
 now? 
 
 The awful intelligence flies far and wide. It rolls 
 like a thunder storm through the land. Major Cen- 
 
BENEDICT ARNOLD 1 19 
 
 eral Arnold a traitor! The army stands aghast, 
 the people are confounded, his enemies exultant. 
 Then comes the explosion of popular wrath, and 
 from Massachusetts to South Carolina the colonies 
 ring and roar with execrations, frenzied and fierce, 
 on the name of him who was but yesterday the pride 
 of all. In the midst of this wild storm of indignation 
 poor Andre meets the just fate which military law 
 deals out to him as a party to the shameful transac- 
 tion, nor can the special pleading of English advo- 
 cates ever successfully impugn the justice of his pun- 
 ishment as a spy, however much all must deplore the 
 sad misfortune which involved him in the doom 
 which another deserved. For again. Death had 
 passed Arnold by. Better far for his self-conscious- 
 ness that he had perished then, even by a traitor's 
 execution, than that he should live, — live on and on, 
 for many years, under the unlifting shadow of re- 
 morse and black disgrace. For what a plight was 
 his! To reach the British lines not as he had ex- 
 pected, with the honor of great success, but a mere 
 fugitive, covered with the shame of failure and con- 
 scious of having left his fellow conspirator behind 
 him to die. It would help him in our sight if we 
 could see him cowering and sinking beneath this ter- 
 
120 STUDIES IN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 rible burden into well deserved obscurity and ob- 
 loquy. 
 
 But Benedict Arnold could not do that. His 
 was too strong and bold a spirit to acknowledge it- 
 self defeated, even in a bad cause. And it inten- 
 sified the popular hatred of him that he at once be- 
 gan to vindicate himself and his action by entering 
 vigorously into the King's service. Assuming a 
 command in the royal army he issued a proclamation 
 to his former countrymen full of arguments and 
 pleadings to return to their old allegiance. More 
 than this, he actually led the red-coated soldiers 
 against the Continental buff and blue in two inva- 
 sions, carrying destruction and death into the ranks 
 that he had once been so proud to lead. No won- 
 der that Americans came to think of him and speak 
 of him as a prodigy of evil, an infernal incarnation 
 of falseness and malignity. Washington could not 
 hear his name mentioned without a shudder. Even 
 his poor wife and child were not allowed to remain 
 in Philadelphia, but were sent away to the British 
 lines. The story is told that Congress ordered that 
 any soldier in the army bearing the name of 
 Arnold should exchange it for some other, 
 and this was done by a private from Con- 
 necticut, who took the name of Steuben. All the 
 
BENEDICT ARNOLD 121 
 
 former services of Arnold were forgotten. His pa- 
 triotism, his courage and skill, his wounds, were 
 hidden behind the black shame of his treason, and 
 to this day the popular idea of him remains that of a 
 monumental renegade, for whom no curse is too 
 bitter, no doom too bad. 
 
 Exiled to England with the defeated army of the 
 Crown, he was received with open arms by the King 
 and the Court, who honored and rewarded him for 
 his so-called fidelity to the true cause. He was 
 praised and petted by the aristocracy as a loyalist 
 who had suffered for his patriotism. But nothing 
 could lift the shadow from Benedict Arnold's brow, 
 or the burden from his heart. Never could he for- 
 get the glory of that good and gallant past which 
 had been his in the days of his integrity. No Eng- 
 lish honors could satisfy his sore American heart. 
 Nor could any foreign praise atone for the scorn 
 and hatred of his own countrymen. Nemesis fol- 
 lowed him even across the sea. There was a large 
 liberal element in England which refused to recog- 
 nize him. He tried to obtain service in the British 
 army, but for this reason he was refused. No gov- 
 ernment would allow him to draw his sword in its 
 behalf. Retiring to private life, he engaged in mer- 
 cantile pursuits, but with poor success. His heart 
 
122 STUDIES IN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 could not stoop to such things. He was a soldier 
 and nothing else. And as a soldier he suffered 
 more than tongue can tell. 
 
 He always insisted, however, that his motives had 
 been just at the time of his treason. He lived and 
 died trying to make himself and others believe that 
 he had been playing the part of a patriot. But no 
 such pleading could quench the fire that dieth not in 
 his lonely heart. An outlaw from his native land, 
 exiled and hated by all he had loved, it was his 
 melancholy part to confess to a Frechman who ap- 
 plied to him for letters of introduction, "I am the 
 only American living who can say, 'I have not one 
 friend in America.' No, not one! I am Benedict 
 Arnold!" And so the shadow grew darker to the 
 end. We know of no more pathetic scene than the 
 death of this man, who had fallen from so high a 
 position to so low a plight. He had always preserv- 
 ed, with military pride, the regimentals which he 
 wore as an American General. When he felt the 
 last hour approaching, "Bring me," said he, "the 
 epaulettes and sword knots which Washington gave 
 me. Let me die in my old American uniform, in 
 which I fought my battles. God forgive me" he 
 sighed, "for ever putting on any other." 
 
BENEDICT ARNOLD 123 
 
 The lessons taught by this mournful story are 
 many and evident. Of them we select a few: 
 
 1. Evil is never wholly unmitigated. There is 
 always in human experience something to relieve or 
 lighten the darkness of sin. Benedict Arnold was 
 not an utterly bad man. Americans should remem- 
 ber the first half of his career — his patriotism, his 
 self-sacrifice, his heroism, and the splendor of his 
 military service. Let not our detestation of his crime 
 prevent us from honoring that portion of his life 
 which was so precious to his country. It is also 
 worthy of note that the family who survived him, 
 seven sons and one daughter, always cherished his 
 memory with respect and affection. The sons ser- 
 ved in the British army with distinction, and some of 
 their descendants yet live, all of them persons of 
 moral worth and social eminence. It is with them 
 a family tradition that their ancestor fell a victim to 
 a sense of duty, which, however capable of mis- 
 representation and unfortunate in its results, was 
 still sincere on his part and was worthy of a better 
 fate. 
 
 2. We see that Evil is never a matter of sudden 
 and unprepared development. The roots of Ar- 
 nold's great error can be traced back through all his 
 previous career. His irascible and implacable dis- 
 
124 STUDIES IN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 position, unchecked in youth, the self-conceit which 
 could brook no slight and forgive no injury, the 
 vanity and extravagance w^hich led into false posi- 
 tions, — all these long nurtured qualities were slowly 
 wrecking his moral character and unfitting him for 
 the hour of trial, long before the temptation came. 
 And they teach with painful emphasis the lesson that 
 the successes and the failures of life are always the 
 natural fruit of its previous growth. We are strong 
 or weak in the sudden crisis according to what we 
 have been or done before it came. 
 
 3. We cannot help remarking the Plausibility 
 of Evil. How many arguments can be adduced in 
 favor of its propositions! When we go back and 
 put ourselves in the place of Benedict Arnold, we 
 are surprised to find how differently his contemplated 
 deed appeared before its execution. Then, pure 
 patriotism seemed to advise it as an act of mercy to 
 a suffering country. The terrible exegencies of a 
 failing cause recommended it, and historic precedents 
 of the highest character could be cited to justify it. 
 That was what Arnold saw. He never dreamed of 
 the tremendous consequences of failure, and of the 
 after results to himself and his name. In after years 
 he always maintained that he had tried to serve his 
 country in the way that seemed best to him at the 
 
BENEDICT ARNOLD 125 
 
 time. But no sinner was ever permitted to see the 
 results of sinning. Sin shows its brightest aspects 
 first, and these may be of an attractive character. 
 There is never lack of arguments in favor of a wrong 
 course. Satan is an excellent pleader. He can 
 reason well. What promises, what prospects of 
 benefit has he opened to human souls, ever since the 
 first victims were beguiled in the Garden! Even 
 Judas has found his apologists. It is a theory of cer- 
 tain critics that his real motive was a mistaken notion 
 that he could, or ought to, thus compel his Mas- 
 ter to assert his divinity by saving himself from the 
 foes whom his disciples brought upon him. Such 
 are the "depths of Satan," the wiles of the adver- 
 sary, by which he is even now luring men into in- 
 temperance, extravagance, dishonesty. He is a liar 
 and the father of it, as all his victims discover at 
 length. 
 
 4. The cruelt}^ of Evil. It betrays and aban- 
 dons all who yield to its advances. Poor Arnold, 
 stripped in a day of his honors, hurled down from 
 the height of a noble reputation into the abyss of 
 shame, condemned to drag through life the ball and 
 chain of a felon's doom, — what a picture this of the 
 foul treachery of Sin to its victims! Judas, when 
 his eyes were opened to the enormity of his crime. 
 
126 STUDIES IN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 hurried back to his employers with the plea, "I have 
 sinned, in that I have betrayed innocent blood." 
 But they will have nothing to do with him now: 
 "What is that to us! See thou to that!" Thus the 
 cruelty of Sin, its base and cowardly desertion of 
 those whom it has ruined, always crowns its con- 
 quests with peculiar infamy. Ought it not, then, to 
 be shunned and resisted by us at the start? When 
 we see the terrible destructions it has wrought al- 
 ready, have we not reason to repel its approach? 
 Will you believe this traitor when it tries to draw 
 you from duty and disarm you for the right? What 
 folly, what suicidal madness, to listen to and accept 
 its false proposals! 
 
 5. There is no excuse for treason. The betray- 
 al of a trust is an unpardonable crime. After all 
 is urged that can be said in extenuation of Benedict 
 Arnold's act, it remains a black brand upon the page 
 of history which can never be effaced. Had he 
 wrongs to be redressed? So had other patriots, 
 such as Schuyler, who yet never thought of sacrific- 
 ing their country to gratify their own resentment. 
 Was the cause of the colonies desperate in his opin- 
 ion? But no more than it was to such a man as 
 Washington, who in all his forebodings never dream- 
 ed of seeking for help through dishonor. Arnold 
 
BENEDICT ARNOLD 127 
 
 was not the only Continental officer who was ap- 
 proached with British gold, and arguments, and 
 promises. Why, then, could he not treat the tempt- 
 er as others treated him, with brave and persevering 
 hopefulness, determined to do and die before they 
 yielded? Valley Forge was a trial which showed 
 how strong and triumphant a thing American pa- 
 triotism could be; and Yorktown at last demon- 
 strated that such fidelity was reasonable and right. 
 What apology then remains for a traitor whose heart 
 failed him at the crisis, whose selfish spite blinded 
 him to the truth that others saw, and who thus failed 
 when they succeeded in winning the laurels of Time? 
 Let everyone remember this in his hour of trial. 
 For to each responsible soul it is given to be true or 
 false to a trust. There are many kinds of treason. 
 One may be a traitor to the Truth which he has 
 promised to uphold. One may be a traitor to 
 Duty — to the convictions which it urges, or 
 the positions which it assigns to him, or the 
 professions which it involves. One may be a trait- 
 or to Christ and his cause, to God and his word. 
 One may be a traitor to himself, to the ideals of his 
 better nature, or the resolutions of his purest mo- 
 ments. And sooner or later the test will surely be 
 applied by the Tempter, who seeks the ruin of us 
 
128 STUDIES IN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 all. Nor can it be denied that honor is often at a 
 disadvantage, in the dark days of adversity when 
 virtue is a costly thing, and all the apparent bene- 
 fits of life are on the opposite side. Not seldom are 
 the trials of Arnold repeated among the soldiers of 
 Truth. 
 
 Oh, in that hour of keen emergency, v^hen we 
 must choose between the severities of Right and the 
 blandishments of Wrong, let this tragedy from our 
 country's past sound its warning in our ears! Let 
 the mournful fate of one of the most distinguished 
 American soldiers prevent us from repeating his mis- 
 takes and incurring his doom. Ours be the stead- 
 fast faith of Washington, the heroic constancy of 
 the ragged Continentals, the stern fidelity of patriots 
 who could live or die for their country, but never 
 forsake it. So may we serve the Master, whose 
 emblem is the Cross on earth, and the Crown in 
 heaven ! 
 
AARON BURR 
 
Aaron Burr and Alexander 
 Hamilton 
 
 WHEN the American Revolution opened a 
 ^^^„^ new chapter in the history of this nation and 
 B^i^ this continent, two young men were ready 
 to find in it the opportunity of their hves. 
 With the hour always comes the man who is ap- 
 pointed to use it and be used by it, and 
 sometimes there is more than one man. It 
 was the age of young men. Both Europe 
 and America were beginning to ferment with 
 the agitation of new ideas and new forces. Such 
 periods of abnormal productivity find in youthful 
 spirits their best expression, and they always develop 
 precocity of mind and heart. Danton and Robes- 
 pierre reached their baleful eminence in France be- 
 fore they had passed the meridian of life. Napoleon 
 was twenty-seven when he took command of the 
 army of Italy, and his future marshals were all young 
 men at that time. Charles Fox entered the House 
 of Commons at nineteen, and was a member of the 
 Ministry at twenty-one. William Pitt was Prime 
 
130 STUDIES IN BIOGRAPHY , 
 
 Minister of England at twenty-five. George Wash- 
 ington was twenty-three when he first entered the 
 military service of the colonies. Aaron Burr and 
 Alexander Hamilton were respectively twenty-one 
 and twenty years of age when the memorable year 
 1 776 aroused the colonies to action. And of all 
 the many great and brilliant characters which that 
 immortal epoch gave to history, these two men 
 were not the least prominent. Their part in the 
 Revolutionary era of our history well deserves to be 
 studied and remembered. 
 
 Aaron Burr was one of the most highly gifted 
 natures this country ever produced, and he came 
 near being one of its most eminent and successful 
 leaders. Nothing could have been more select and 
 fortunate than his derivation and his family position. 
 To say that he was the grandson of Jonathan 
 Edwards is to locate him in the line of a great and 
 good genealogy; for that eminent Christian min- 
 ister gave to New England, and through it to this 
 nation, the most powerful intellectual and spiritual 
 impulse of the colonial period. His daughter was 
 the mother of Aaron Burr. She was a woman dis- 
 tinguished for rare gifts of person and of mind, an 
 ornament of society and the home. Her husband, 
 Aaron Burr, was a New England clergyman, of a 
 
BURR AND HAMILTON 131 
 
 family which had been for three generations cele- 
 brated in Church and state for character and useful- 
 ness. Not only as a preacher but as a teacher and an 
 author he was well known and honored. To him 
 the College of New Jersey, afterwards known as 
 Princeton, owed the best of its early training. Of 
 such an ancestry and in such a home was produced 
 the youth whose life we are about to follow. 
 
 Aaron Burr was in many respects worthy of his 
 lineage. There are few instances of a nature so 
 well endowed with all the graces and powers of 
 mental excellence. Left an orphan at an early age 
 and reared in the family of his uncle, one of the 
 strictest of the Puritans, he early developed a keen 
 intellectualism and a remarkable aptitude for learn- 
 ing. He was in fact precocious in everything — in 
 wit, courage, self-possession, and audacity. Ready 
 for college at the age of eleven, but not allowed 
 to enter until his thirteenth year, (as sophomore,) 
 he was graduated at sixteen, with the reputation of a 
 brilliant writer and speaker. But he had already 
 shown those traits of intense self-will and pride of 
 mind which were destined in after years to lead him 
 astray. 
 
 It was at this time that he met the moral crisis of 
 his life. A revival of religion took place in the Col- 
 
132 STUDIES IN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 lege of New Jersey during his Senior year, and 
 many of the students were deeply impressed by its 
 spiritual power. But Aaron Burr could not yield 
 his assent to the doctrines then in vogue. It is claim- 
 ed by some of his apologists that the acute analyti- 
 cal temper which he had inherited from his grand- 
 father disposed him to criticise his grandfather's 
 theology. 
 
 It has been said that if the Gospel had been pre- 
 sented to him in the simplicity and sweetness of its 
 original character, it might have found and moved 
 his heart. But identified as it then was with meta- 
 physical abstractions and polemics, it aroused his 
 combativeness. Probably because he was Jonathan 
 Edward's descendant he was provoked by his philo- 
 sophy, according to the well known principle in 
 nature that one extreme is followed by its opposite. 
 Consulting President Witherspoon, he was advis- 
 ed by him not to yield to the religious interest of 
 the hour, which was described as a mere temporary 
 and superficial excitement ; and so the great occasion 
 passed by, leaving Aaron Burr a confirmed unbe- 
 liever. What a critical moment! Such as has often 
 come to awakened souls ! For whatever may be 
 said in exception to the prevailing theology of the 
 lime, there can be no doubt that the Spirit of God 
 
BURR AND HAMILTON 133 
 
 was then moving on the face of the deep. Those 
 revivals of religion were genuine opportunities of 
 grace; and if Aaron Burr had yielded to the Holy 
 Spirit's urgency, he would have lived a very different 
 and far more happy and useful life. 
 
 But it was an age of infidelity when opposition 
 to christian truth was fashionable in learned circles. 
 In Europe, Voltaire and Rousseau had made skep- 
 ticism popular; and Gibbon, Hobbs, and Boling- 
 broke had leavened English thought with doubt and 
 self-will. Lord Chesterfield was one of the most 
 influential writers of this school. He advocated 
 a religion of good manners, fine culture, and moral 
 indifferentism. According to his theory, refined self- 
 indulgence was the only true aim, and a due regard 
 for appearances the one rule of life. This became 
 the gospel of Aaron Burr. It was well fitted to 
 his character, in which self-reliance was always the 
 leading element. Graceful in person, of a pecu- 
 liarly winning and powerful address, witty, accom- 
 plished and urbane, he was always a favorite in 
 society. He could adapt himself to any circum- 
 stances, and was a natural leader of men. Generous 
 to a fault, sympathetic and helpful, he was a good 
 husband, a loving father and a devoted friend. At 
 the same time, he was notoriously lax in morals. 
 
134 STUDIES IN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 and unscrupulous in his pursuit of personal ends. 
 Indeed, taking his career as a whole, it seems to be 
 an extraordinary illustration of what intellect, will, 
 and affection can do, without an active conscience. 
 Despite the advantages of a godly parentage and 
 the most careful religious training, Aaron Burr 
 never showed the slightest regard for the law of 
 God or the work of Christ. He was, practically, 
 as much an atheist as though born and bred in Paris, 
 although he professed a reverence for some parts of 
 the Bible, and was always respectful toward the 
 religious beliefs of others. But he was not at all 
 the selfish voluptuary or the reckless debauchee 
 which popular indignation afterwards held him to be. 
 On the contrary, he was an earnest, painstaking man 
 of affairs, whose life was filled with intelligent indus- 
 try. As a patriot, he made a brilliant record in the 
 Revolutionary War. Serving under Arnold in his des- 
 perate Canada campaign, this short, slim youth 
 achieved a noble reputation for courage, endurance 
 and skill; and afterwards in the Continental Army 
 he was distinguished for military efficiency and de- 
 votion. Washington recognized and honored his 
 ability while, with his infallible judgment of char- 
 acter, he distrusted him personally. Aaron Burr 
 reciprocated by always undervaluing the great 
 
BURR AND HAMILTON 135 
 
 leader. He thought Washington a dull, slow man, 
 with an accidental eminence of position. But it is 
 certain that if Burr, Benedict Arnold and Thomas 
 Paine had perished in the midst of the seven years' 
 war they would have been renowned to this day 
 as gallant and useful patriots. 
 
 Returning to civil life, Aaron Burr devoted him- 
 self to the legal profession, and with his usual suc- 
 cess. He rapidly rose to the front rank in the New 
 York Bar and became celebrated for his forensic 
 knowledge and ability. He was just the man to 
 succeed as a lawyer. Keen, bold and versatile, tire- 
 less in his study of cases, adroit in his management 
 of them, and of a commanding influence with men, 
 it is said that he never lost a case that he had de- 
 voted himself to. The same good fortune followed 
 him in the field of politics. Such was his genius 
 for organization and intrigue, his grasping ambi- 
 tion, and indomitable force of character, that every- 
 thing gave way before him. In four years after 
 entering the political arena he had become a mem- 
 ber of the State Legislature, next of the National 
 Senate, then Vice-President, and finally had en- 
 tered into competition with Washington, Jefferson, 
 Adams and Clinton for the Presidency itself. He 
 came within one electoral vote of reaching the high- 
 
136 STUDIES IN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 est position in the land. All this before the age of 
 thirty-six. 
 
 Such a career is without a parallel in our history. 
 It is safe to say that about the year 1 800 there was 
 no man in the United States whose position was more 
 eminent in the popular esteem, or whose prospects 
 were more brilliant, than those of Aaron Burr. 
 The most finished gentleman, accomplished politi- 
 cian, and able lawyer in New York — rich, hand- 
 some, popular and powerful — he seemed to be a 
 favorite of fortune, on his way to a splendid destiny. 
 And yet even then he was standing on the edge of 
 the long slope of decline which was to lead him at 
 last into an abyss of infamy. 
 
 The turning-point of the history of Aaron Burr 
 is found in his relations to Alexander Hamilton. 
 These two men are inseparably connected in Amer- 
 ican history as the actors in one of its most romantic 
 and tragic dramas. There was a remarkable par- 
 allelism and contrast between them. Both were 
 among the young men whom the Revolutionary 
 period developed so quickly. Only one year of 
 age separated them. They were alike in person — 
 slight, active and graceful — and were equally suc- 
 cessful in society and at the bar. Both rose quickly 
 to office and celebrity, and were at one time re- 
 
BURR AND HAMILTON 137 
 
 spectively the leaders of great factions in the state. 
 But there was a wide remove between them which 
 deepened at length into a mortal antagonism. 
 
 Alexander Hamilton was one of the mysteries 
 of the Revolutionary period. His life remains to 
 this day an enigma which defies complete interpreta- 
 tion. So far from possessing the ancestral and cir- 
 cumstantial advantages which his great rival pos- 
 sessed, Hamilton sprang from an obscure and for- 
 eign parentage. Even the date of his birth and 
 the names of his parents are matters of some uncer- 
 tainty; but it is probable that he was born in the 
 West Indies, on the island of Nevis, about January 
 11, 1 757, of a Scotch father and a French mother. 
 Little is known of his early years or his intellectual 
 and moral environment, until the age of fifteen, 
 when he appeared in Boston alone and with ap- 
 parently small help from friends or fortune. But 
 he soon showed himself to be an ardent, ambitious 
 youth, bent on making his way through the world. 
 He went to New York, then to a school in New 
 Jersey, and finally to King's College, in New York 
 City, where he began to attract attention for his 
 mental precocity and mature character. Like Burr, 
 Hamilton was short and slim, but agile, graceful, 
 and of a restless, indomitable spirit. The hot blood 
 
138 STUDIES IN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 of the tropics was in his veins, while the cool tem- 
 per of Scotland gave him firmness and poise. 
 Throughout his life he was noted for this rare com- 
 position of excitable passion with keen and strong 
 mentality. 
 
 What the little West Indian — he was in no 
 sense of American production or character — 
 would have been in ordinary times, we have no 
 means of determining; but the Revolution awoke 
 and developed him on its own lines, as it did so 
 many others. On the occasion of a public meeting 
 in the fields of New York, when popular orators 
 were haranguing the multitude about the new 
 crisis and its claims, everyone was surprised to see 
 this boy of seventeen emerge from the crowd and 
 address the multitude from the platform with all 
 the ease and effect of an experienced speaker. He 
 was a born orator, always noted for brilliancy of 
 thought, fluency of speech, and sympathetic power 
 over men. 
 
 From that moment he began to be known as a 
 rising figure in the popular esteem. He wrote 
 pamphlets in the defense of the cause of the Colo- 
 nies against the attacks of the Tories, which were 
 widely read and proved to be very useful. At the 
 outbreak of hostilities he entered the army, and 
 
BURR AND HAMILTON 139 
 
 served with such distinction as to attract the atten- 
 tion of General Washington, who appointed him 
 to a position on his staff. In that capacity he sus- 
 tained the most confidential relations to the Com- 
 mander-in-Chief during four years. Washington 
 was never deceived in his estimates of character; 
 and for the same reason that he distrusted the 
 brave and skillful Burr on moral grounds, he gave 
 his unreserved confidence to the equally bold but 
 more stable and well-balanced Hamilton. But it 
 was after the war that this young foreigner showed 
 his greatest ability and rendered the highest service 
 to his adopted country. Adopting the law as his 
 profession, he rose rapidly to eminence and became 
 noted for his power as a pleader at the bar. Po- 
 litical life soon drew him into its arena, and there 
 he achieved his greatest success. He was more 
 than a politician, serving a party; he became a 
 statesman, devoted to the interests of the nation. 
 
 Our country had need of such services at that 
 time. Independence brought to the colonies free- 
 dom from a foreign yoke, but it found them all 
 unprepared for their new position and its possibili- 
 ties. They were a group of different and discord- 
 ant provinces, between whom there was little in 
 common but much to promote friction and discon- 
 
140 STUDIES IN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 tent. Massachusetts feared the dominance of New 
 York, which in turn was jealous of Pennsylvania; 
 and this, again, resented the leadership of Virginia. 
 There was no unity of spirit anywhere. Each of 
 the colonies asserted its particular rights and would 
 yield little to the other. Not one of them was 
 imbued with the idea or impulse of union, now so 
 familiar and dear to us; and the prospect was that 
 an era of dissension and confusion was about to open 
 which might result in anarchy or a reaction toward 
 despotism, as so many other revolutions had termi- 
 nated. 
 
 At that critical moment — one of the most im- 
 portant this country ever saw — Alexander Hamil- 
 ton was the only man equal to the occasion. With 
 the intuition of genius he saw that the one way out 
 of the difficulty was the road which led to Federal 
 union — a closely-compact organization of the 
 states in an organized nationality. He devoted 
 himself to the advocacy of that doctrine and by a 
 series of papers known as The Federalist he filled 
 the public mind with the idea of Governmental 
 Unity. No greater service was ever rendered to 
 this country than that which was given by these 
 publications. As a discussion of the philosophy 
 and practice of government, and as a means to the 
 
BURR AND HAMILTON 141 
 
 end of the construction of the Federal System, 
 which has made this nation what it is, the Feder- 
 alist remains a monumental work, which the best 
 historians and statesmen have praised ever since. 
 That the variant and conflicting group of colonies 
 became the United States of America — a unified, 
 compact and enduring nation — is largely due to the 
 foresight and philosophical comprehensiveness of 
 this Scotch-French lawyer, only thirty years of age. 
 Nor was this his only contribution to our history. 
 When Washington was inaugurated in 1 789, and 
 the Treasury Department was created, Alexander 
 Hamilton was made Secretary of the Treasury — 
 a surprising elevation for so young a person and one 
 so inexperienced in finance. But like all of Wash- 
 ington's appointments it was fully justified by re- 
 sults. All unprejudiced critics agree that his man- 
 agement of the Treasury Department was one of 
 the creative triumphs of American history. What 
 he did seems almost incredible. He found the 
 financial condition of the new-born nation in the 
 worst possible situation. An empty treasury, a de- 
 preciated currency, no banking system, and an utter 
 absence of confidence in the Government and its 
 credit — such was the terrible chaos of the time. 
 But as by a magical spell or a divine fiat the mind 
 
142 STUDIES IN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 of Hamilton brought order out of the wreck and 
 opened a new era of scientific adjustment and pro- 
 gressive prosperity. 
 
 He inaugurated a poHcy which soon gave to the 
 Government revenue and credit. He estabhshed a 
 competent banking system. By the assumption of 
 the state debts, he bound the states to the general 
 government. In his report on the national bank 
 he called into life the implied powers of the Con- 
 stitution and founded a theory of construction 
 which has partly guided our history ever since. In 
 his report on manufactures he set forth principles 
 which are operative still, and his ideas concerning 
 the coinage have not yet been laid aside. In fact, 
 that young naturalized foreigner at the age of 
 thirty-two, had done more to shape the political 
 and economic character of this nation than any 
 statesman then living. This was, in a degree, rec- 
 ognized at the time, and Hamilton became the 
 idolized leader of the largest and most influential 
 party in the nation. But he had his enemies. 
 They claimed that Hamilton was extreme in his 
 centralizing system, inclining toward aristocratic 
 and monarchical ideals. And it is true that he had 
 little faith in the common people. He desired that 
 government should be in the hands only of the 
 
BURR AND HAMILTON 143 
 
 wise, good and strong. Therefore he was opposed 
 by Thomas Jefferson, who was extreme in his in- 
 sistence on popular and state rights. The two men 
 offset each other, as in an astronomic balance, each 
 needful to perfect harmony. It may be granted 
 that Hamilton's theory would have been incomplete 
 without Jefferson's principle, and conversely. 
 There were many who could not accept his theory 
 of centralization, and did not believe in the su- 
 premacy of a strong national government. The 
 lovers of State Rights clung to the old dominance 
 of provincial autonomy, and would grant as little 
 as possible to the Federal authority. They were 
 the Anti-Federalists, who believed that the nation 
 was made for the states, not the states for the 
 nation. In all things the state authority must be 
 paramount, and the Federal Compact must be 
 made as light and loose as the Constitution would 
 permit. 
 
 Aaron Burr, for personal and partisan reasons, 
 adopted these principles and became the opponent 
 of Hamilton ; and thus the battle was joined between 
 the two. While the latter represented the centri- 
 petal force of a sovereign nationality, the former 
 advocated the centrifugal tendency of State Rights. 
 Hamilton believed in a strong central government; 
 
144 STUDIES IN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 Burr stood for the opposite. These conflicting ideas 
 divided society between them. Each of them had 
 its following, the former principally among the 
 higher classes and the conservative minds, the latter 
 with the young, ambitious and radical. So intense 
 were the political dissensions and party strifes thus 
 engendered that the whole country was at times 
 convulsed. Personal animosities were kindled and 
 every election endangered the public peace as ser- 
 iously as the slavery contests in after years. 
 
 This state of things brought Burr and Hamilton 
 into frequent collision. Each antagonized the oth- 
 er at every point; but Hamilton had great advan- 
 tages. He was the counselor and favorite of the 
 administration then in power. Washington con- 
 fided in him and let him use the patronage of the 
 government in political operations. He employed 
 this influence freely, perhaps unscrupulously. Ham- 
 ilton was a man of excitable temper and ardent 
 passions. His morality was of a low grade, and his 
 religious scruples very weak. He could resort to 
 any means of partisan warfare and undoubtedly 
 inflicted on Burr many and grievous wrongs. His 
 rival retaliated with fierce and fearless effect. The 
 two men became personal and professional enemies, 
 between whom no peace was possible. Burr, know- 
 
BURR AND HAMILTON 145 
 
 ing that Hamilton could not be dislodged from his 
 political eminence, determined to destroy him in 
 person. 
 
 This he accomplished by means which were at 
 that time the recognized resort of men of the world. 
 Challenging his opponent to mortal conflict on the 
 ground of injuries received from him, he gave him 
 no rest until in spite of Hamilton's repeated efforts 
 to explain and assuage, he finally forced him to the 
 alternative of a duel or dishonor. Hamilton felt 
 committed to the false standard of gentlemanly 
 duty then prevalent in society, or he did not 
 possess the moral courage to disregard it. And 
 thus came to pass that memorable tragedy of July 
 1 1 th, 1 804, when in a lonely hollow, amid the 
 hills of Weehawken, as the sun was rising over the 
 ocean, and the shores of New York, these two 
 splendid men, who had been so useful and promi- 
 nent, met in fatal enmity, and Alexander Hamilton 
 fell, to rise no more. 
 
 It was the triumph of Aaron Burr ; but it was also 
 his final and utter defeat. Better for him and his 
 fame that he had died then and there at the hand of 
 Hamilton! For from that hour he was a doomed 
 man. The effect of his rival's death was to shock 
 and exasperate the Northern States. Not since 
 
146 STUDIES IN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 the discovery of Benedict Arnold's treason had the 
 pubHc mind been so startled and driven to despera- 
 tion. Burr was denounced as a murderer. War- 
 rants for his arrest and imprisonment were issued. 
 He fled for his life. Very few of his former 
 friends dared to acknowledge him. His name be- 
 came a by-word and a hissing. All the avenues 
 of political advancement were closed to him. After 
 a time, when the storm had partly subsided, he re- 
 turned to his former place, but all was changed. 
 
 He became a restless adventurer, trying to or- 
 ganize a filibustering enterprise against Mexico. 
 But he failed miserably. He was arrested and 
 tried on the charge of treason against the Govern- 
 ment for his ambitious schemes in the West, but 
 was acquitted on legal technicalities. Yet public 
 opinion denounced him as an enemy of the Re- 
 public. He went abroad, and his evil fate follow- 
 ed him everywhere. He returned to New York 
 and lived and worked there as a lawyer for thirty 
 years, but always under a cloud. The mark of 
 Cain was on him to the last, when he died in pov- 
 erty and obscurity, attended and helped only by 
 one faithful friend, who clung to him to the end. 
 
 In the lapse of time, and with the calmness that 
 comes from candid consideration of causes and ef- 
 
BURR AND HAMILTON 147 
 
 fects, we are able to judge those terrible events more 
 leniently and wisely than was possible then. We 
 now see that the tremendous outburst of popular 
 indignation which followed the death of Hamilton 
 was not entirely due to a reprobation of the means 
 by which it was brought about. Duelling was then 
 recognized as one of the duties of so-called honor, 
 the last resort of a gentleman in self-defense. As 
 such, it was sanctioned by usage and social judg- 
 ment. A long list of eminent names could be 
 quoted in favor of it. Gates, Clinton, Randolph, 
 Clay, Jackson, Decatur, Arnold, Pitt, Wellington, 
 Canning, Fox, and Sheridan were famous men who 
 had met their antagonists on the field of honor so- 
 called. 
 
 It was not, therefore, a crime, at least in the esti- 
 mation of the majority of the society of the day, 
 that Burr had challenged Hamilton or had killed 
 him. Indeed, it is certain that if Hamilton had re- 
 fused the challenge, he would have been condemn- 
 ed by the social code of the time, as he knew full 
 well. The main reason for the general outcry 
 against Burr was the fact that the leader of the 
 Republicans had destroyed the great champion of 
 the Federalists. It was as a political triumph and 
 catastrophe that the event assumed such tragic as- 
 
148 STUDIES IN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 pect. This is plain from the fact that Burr was 
 never condemned for his deed in the South, where 
 his sympathizers were in the majority, and that even 
 as Vice-President, he presided over the United 
 States Senate with unimpaired influence afterward. 
 PubHc opinion must, therefore, be held largely re- 
 sponsible for that fatal duel, and partisan excitement 
 for the obloquy which it brought upon the victor. 
 If Hamilton had slain Burr, it is not probable that 
 similar consequences would have ensued. To the 
 end of his life Burr never showed the slightest regret 
 for his deed, or treated it in any other way than as 
 a painful but necessary duty. The only compensa- 
 tion to be found in that lamentable affair appears in 
 the fact that it put an end to duelling as an honor- 
 able resort, at least in the Northern States. It 
 awoke the conscience of the people to the moral 
 character of such a practice, and so effectually ex- 
 posed its evil that never again did public opinion 
 sanction it in the North, as it had done previously. 
 
 Aaron Burr and Alexander Hamilton stand as 
 witnesses of the solemn truth that the absence of 
 sound moral principles is a fatal defect in any char- 
 acter. Nothing can take the place of that strong 
 foundation which true religion lays at the basis of 
 life. Without it, the noblest superstructure must 
 
BURR AND HAMILTON 149 
 
 be insecure. If a pure inheritance, a godly example, 
 and a fine endowment, could secure to anyone a 
 good start in life, Burr had such an advantage in 
 an extraordinary degree. All that Christian influ- 
 ence and opportunity could bestow was placed in 
 his hands. He had culture, position, success, as few 
 young men of his time enjoyed; and yet he lived the 
 life of a resolute unbeliever, a refined sensualist, a 
 hardened advocate of some of the worst principles 
 of worldliness. Few Americans have known so 
 bright and auspicious an opening of career as he. 
 At one time he was within reach of the successorshij 
 of Washington, but the fatal law of selfishness im- 
 pelled him to a course that negatived all his advan- 
 tages and brought him to untimely failure and irre- 
 mediable disgrace. 
 
 We might say as much, though in lesser degree, 
 of Hamilton. He, too, possessed exceptional qual- 
 ities of mind and heart. He developed ability and 
 performed a work so great as to provoke the aston- 
 ishment and admiration of the nation to this day. 
 But he was radically defective in moral principle. 
 He knew nothmg and cared nothing for the Chris- 
 tian religion, having had none of Burr's early ad- 
 vantages. This left him exposed and weak on the 
 side where the peculiar trials of his time beset him. 
 
150 STUDIES IN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 He could not rise above the prejudices of the hour. 
 He never distinguished between true and false ideas 
 of honor. He had not the courage to assert, or per- 
 haps the vv^isdom to perceive, that higher law of 
 righteousness which the government of God lays 
 upon man. And so he fell, in the bright morning 
 of his life, when yet the future was opening before 
 him possibilities of success such as few of his day 
 could command. He perished, a sacrifice to his 
 own incomplete and faulty equipment. No more 
 sad or more useless, needless waste of greatness was 
 ever made. 
 
 And yet these are but specimens of the fell work 
 of Sin, with which every age and land in history 
 abounds. From the beginning Moral Evil has been 
 inflicting just this kind of mortal injury upon our 
 race. How many a rare and radiant beginning has 
 it overcast and darkened with untimely failure! 
 How often has the child of many prayers been lured 
 to ruin, and the man of gallant renown been dragged 
 down to death, by this foul fiend! It would seem 
 that by this time the sad history of mankind would 
 have warned everyone away from the fatal enchant- 
 ments of selfishness and taught them that the only 
 safety of the soul lies in the service of God and his 
 truth. 
 
BURR AND HAMILTON 151 
 
 But no! Aaron Burr is being repeated over and 
 over again, in the pride of mind and self-w^ill which 
 is even now^ constraining so many to a rehgion of 
 culture and indulgence as the whole duty of man. 
 And Alexander Hamilton's rise and fall may be wit- 
 nessed all the time in those great intellectual suc- 
 cesses which end only in moral failure because of 
 their essential deficiencies. When will this world 
 learn the lesson, taught it so often and in vain, that 
 all is vanity and vexation of spirit except that fear of 
 the Lord which is the beginning of wisdom! This 
 nation has great reason to be thankful for the ability 
 of the political and military leaders who have guided 
 the course and shaped the fortunes of its history. 
 But we have also sometimes had reason to deplore 
 the low standard of righteousness with which our 
 public affairs have been conducted. When we ob- 
 serve the trials which are engendered by partisan 
 conflict, and the self-assertions of the political field, 
 we cannot wonder that so many have yielded to the 
 temptation to pride and the unscrupulous sacrifice 
 of means to ends. But it is equally plain that the 
 people as a whole are involved in all such demorali- 
 zations, for with the leaders their followers stand 
 or fall. 
 
152 
 
 STUDIES IN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 Let it be the prayer and faith of every patriot 
 that Divine Providence will preserve us from the 
 hero-worship which regards success as the only test 
 of merit, and make us more careful in our bestowals 
 of honor and authority. 
 
 God send us men Tvhom to serve and follow Tvill 
 be to secure the great ends of truth and righteous- 
 ness! 
 
Ulysses S. Grant 
 
 THE record of the men whom this nation has 
 honored and by whom it has been enriched, 
 is full of illustrations of the law of vicissi- 
 tudes. Just as Nature abounds in surprises, 
 continually interrupting its routine with variations, so 
 History seems to be capricious and unaccountable 
 in its favoritisms. The high-born and well-circum- 
 stanced children of fortune are not always the win- 
 ners in the race of fame. Where kings and nobles 
 fail, there a plebeian Luther, an unknown Napo- 
 leon, an unexpected Bismarck, comes to the front 
 and prevails. 
 
 Our own national past furnishes so many instances 
 of this principle of variation that the wonder is that 
 political managers and party leaders do not more 
 frequently take it into account in their calculations. 
 Certainly it has been more often true than the re- 
 verse that the more eminent and popular and prom- 
 ising a man, the less are his chances of reaching the 
 great goal of political success. Such prime favor- 
 ites as Clay, Scott, Seward, Conkling and Blaine 
 were defeated by comparatively obscure or inex- 
 
154 STUDIES IN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 perienced men. But this is no more mysterious than 
 the well-known fact that family life often develops 
 the most extreme departures — an Aaron Burr spring- 
 ing from the ancestral stock of Jonathan Edwards, 
 a Dwight Moody from unreligious conditions, a 
 Robert Ingersoll the son of a Christian minister. 
 Even so the Bible says that the first shall be last and 
 the last first. David and not Jonathan ascends the 
 throne. Saul, the persecutor, and not Peter, James 
 or John becomes the great champion of the cross. 
 
 When the veteran William H. Seward, to whom 
 seemed to belong of right the chief honors of the 
 Republican party in the crisis of the great anti-sla- 
 very contest, was displaced for the Presidency by 
 the comparatively little-known Abraham Lincoln, 
 most people in the East were astonished and disap- 
 pointed. But they lived to see the wisdom of that 
 selection made manifest. It was the rigorous disci- 
 pline and hard apprenticeship to trial which Lincoln 
 had gone through that gave him the humble, teach- 
 able, progressive spirit needed in the Moses of the 
 new dispensation. We tremble to think of the result 
 if such ambitious and dogmatic characters as Phil- 
 lips, Wade or Sumner had been at the helm of the 
 Ship of State through the terrible voyage of the 
 Civil War. 
 
ULYSSES S. GRANT 155 
 
 Our military history is even more instructive on 
 these Hnes. When the war opened, all eyes and 
 hearts were turned toward General Scott, a vener- 
 able hero who had been for so long the military pride 
 of the nation. But it soon appeared that he was 
 disabled by age for the chief command. His chosen 
 successor was Robert E. Lee, one of the most ac- 
 complished officers of the regular army; but this 
 hope was frustrated by Lee himself. Next appeared 
 McClellan, rising suddenly into view with an acci- 
 dental notoriety, and at once elevated by popular 
 clamor in the most unreasonable manner to a prom- 
 inence which he was not able to maintain. Then 
 appeared and disappeared in swift succession Hal- 
 leck, Rosecrans, Pope, Burnside, Hooker; and of 
 them each men thought "This is the coming man", 
 only to find themselves disappointed by the issue 
 of events. But as Samuel the prophet, after seeing 
 the seven sons of Jesse pass before him in vain, found 
 at last the chosen of the Lord in the unthought-of 
 youngest son, so the American people were led to 
 a discovery which no one had anticipated, in their 
 search for a Leader. 
 
 In the West a quiet, plain man was among the 
 first volunteers to respond to the nation's call. He had 
 received a military education, and had served some 
 
156 STUDIES IN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 years in the army, faithfully and well, but without 
 acquiring special distinction. In fact, he had lost 
 confidence in a military career and had retired to 
 civil life, where he soon sank out of sight in the 
 crowd of bread-winners. Plain in appearance, 
 modest in manner, with little apparent business abil- 
 ity, and somewhat disadvantaged by his reputed 
 habits, he was about the last person in the state of 
 Illinois who would have been thought of as having 
 a great career before him. Indeed, when he applied 
 to the authorities at the outbreak of hostilities for a 
 position as an officer, he found great difficulty in 
 getting anything to do. No one wanted him or 
 seemed to believe in him. 
 
 It is hard for us now to imagine the pathetic pic- 
 ture of U. S. Grant waiting humbly in the ante- 
 room of the State Capitol for a reply to his applica- 
 tion for employment; and at last sitting down to fill 
 out blanks, as the only work that could be assigned 
 to him. After he had received a commission as 
 Colonel, through the efforts of friends, he was unable 
 for some time to take his position, owing to inability 
 to buy a uniform. And even then, he was only one 
 of a great crowd of new-fledged officers, among 
 whom there were hundreds, thousands, whose pros- 
 pects of fame were brighter than his. 
 
ULYSSES S. GRANT 157 
 
 The battle of Belmont gave to his name its first 
 general publicity. This was soon followed by the 
 great victories of Ft. Henry and Ft. Donelson, when 
 the American people, with their well-known inflam- 
 mability, began to take fire at the sound of this new 
 name, helped by the happy omen of "Unconditional 
 Surrender" Grant. And yet no one ventured to 
 associate him with McClellan or Halleck, until after 
 the bloody battle of Shiloh ; and then the hero-hunt- 
 ers began to think of him seriously. But for a long 
 time the East could not accept the rising celebrity 
 with enthusiasm. Stories about his rude manners 
 and plain dress and intemperance were rife. We 
 clung to our brilliant cavaliers and would not give 
 up our cherished ideal. But when the tremendous 
 campaign of Vicksburg sent its thunders over the 
 land, we began to waver, and when the brilliant bat- 
 tle of Chattanooga crowned the list of conquests, we 
 gave way entirely. 
 
 Yes, there tvas the man : chosen not by us, nor by 
 anyone; helped upward by no political wire-pulling, 
 recommended by no newspaper clique, but lifted and 
 established by his own essential character, — thus 
 came the chieftain to his host. In spite of obscure 
 antecedents, against the current of counter influences 
 for others, in the face of the opposition of many in 
 
158 STUDIES IN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 high places, General Grant made his way by sheer 
 force of ability and achievement. On March 4th, 
 1 864, he received the command of all the armies of 
 the United States. Taking the supreme position un- 
 der the Secretary of War, he became the dictator 
 of all the campaigns of the North. And from that 
 moment the national cause went on, conquering and 
 to conquer. The calm, comprehensive glance of 
 that one mind took in all the fields of contest. The 
 firm, unwavering grasp of that one hand held stead- 
 ily all the lines of operation, and that one will and in- 
 telligence gave such unity and vigor to the national 
 armies that their ultimate success was only a question 
 of time. 
 
 It has been urged that much of General Grant's 
 success was accidental. He came to the headship 
 of the armies at a fortunate time. He received a 
 support from the Government which other generals 
 did not receive. He was a favorite of fortune. But 
 people forget that he did not begin with these ad- 
 vantages. He earned them by a long course of 
 faithful devotion to duty. There was no accident 
 in Fort Donelson, Vicksburg or Chattanooga. And 
 when we say that he was the selection of Provi- 
 dence, we mean that God chooses those who are 
 worthy of His choice. Whatever the^ historian or 
 
ULYSSES S. GRANT 159 
 
 the critic may say about this wonderful career which 
 began so humbly and eventuated so grandly, the 
 believer in Divine Providence recognizes it as a fair 
 specimen of the ways of God with men. The se 
 lections by which the world has been supplied with 
 its true heroes are almost always a matter of surprise 
 to the world. It is the babe in the basket by the 
 Nile, it is the shepherd boy with his sling, it is the 
 fisherman on the lake, who is summoned to the high 
 place of destiny by that mysterious Will whose ways 
 are not our ways, neither are its thoughts our 
 thoughts. How often has all human probability 
 been confounded by the decrees of Fate or For- 
 tune, as men say! But as christians believe, God 
 chooseth the weak things of the world to confound 
 the mighty, and finds His favorites where no one 
 else would have looked for them. But He makes 
 no mistakes. And we should learn from our his- 
 tory to put more confidence in the Divine Will and 
 ask for its appointments in the affairs of the nation 
 as well as of the church. 
 
 Another lesson may be learned from the military 
 career now before us. It is this: the true condi- 
 tions of success are to be found in devotion to duty. 
 
 This was the ruling principle of General Grant's 
 life, — absolute absorption in the duty of the hour. 
 
160 STUDIES IN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 When he began his professional career he had no 
 more idea than others had of what awaited him, nor 
 did he ever pay any attention to the future and its 
 rewards. He never made of Destiny his star, as 
 Napoleon did. His invariable habit was to address 
 himself unreservedly to the work given him to do, 
 however small or unremunerative, and perform it to 
 the best of his ability. As he says in his autobi- 
 ography : 
 
 "Every one has his superstitions. One of mine 
 is that in positions of great responsibility everyone 
 should do his duty to the best of his ability, when 
 assigned by competent authority, without apprehen- 
 sion or the use of influence to change his position." 
 
 This was his only ambition. While other gen- 
 erals might keep their eyes fixed on public opinion, 
 jealous of the awards of fame and willing to do any- 
 thing to help forward their own interests. Grant 
 seemed utterly careless about his reputation. He 
 never sought or prized promotion. It was the work 
 given him to do, wherever and whatever, that filled 
 his thoughts. So he became known as a patient, 
 plodding, tireless soldier, who could be depended on 
 for thorough fidelity. 
 
 This unselfish devotion to duty was shown in 
 many ways. When displaced by Halleck after 
 
ULYSSES S. GRANT 161 
 
 Shiloh and treated with great coldness by the gov- 
 ernment, he stepped down as quietly as he had step- 
 ped up and took a subordinate position without a 
 murmur. Very different this from General Buell, 
 an eminent soldier of whom much was expected, 
 but who, on being assigned to a command under one 
 of inferior rank, resigned his post and refused to 
 serve. Grant had no such professional pride. He 
 was ready for a high or a low place as his superiors 
 might decide. When at last he was appointed to 
 the headship of all the armies, he seemed to be more 
 surprised than anyone else; nor did he ever betray 
 any elation or egotistic self-confidence because of 
 that honor. For glory he cared nothing apparently, 
 for duty everything. And that was the secret of his 
 success. For in the long run, it is fidelity that pre- 
 vails. Men soon detect the hollowness of selfish- 
 ness and tire of it. Even when it is sustained by 
 pre-eminent ability, as in a Caesar or a Frederick, 
 it wearies the world that is compelled to admire it. 
 But steadfast devotion to principle, honest, earnest 
 work, is sure to impress men favorably, even though 
 it may fail of the highest results. This was rec- 
 ognized by Grant himself in describing his career 
 to a friend: 
 
162 STUDIES IN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 "Perhaps one reason why I received rapid promo- 
 tion was that I never allowed myself to deviate from 
 the path of duty, from doing the work that was 
 assigned to me. My sole desire was to end the 
 war. At its close I never aspired to any political 
 office." 
 
 Wellington's despatches never mention the word 
 "Glory" but often the name "Duty" ; and that spirit 
 at last rose above the star of Napoleon, who thought 
 only of Power and Fame. Whoever would win a 
 crown at the end of the race, let him begin with no 
 thought about it, but rather with the idea of doiiig 
 today's work well. Many a youth may be reading 
 now the stories of Lincoln and Grant with envious 
 desire for such celebrity as they achieved, but per- 
 haps with little thought for the long, slow and costly 
 process by which they attained to that end. No 
 harvest ripens, however, for those who will not 
 sow the seed. What is this but the comment 
 of human experience on our Lord's assurance: 
 "He that seeketh his life shall lose it, but he that 
 loseth his life for My sake, the same shall keep it 
 unto life eternal." 
 
 Another lesson from this history recommends to 
 us the simplicity of strength. Everyone associates 
 with the name of General Grant the idea of strength. 
 
ULYSSES S. GRANT 163 
 
 a vigorous intellect, dauntless courage and indomita- 
 ble will. He was emphatically a strong man. A"? 
 such the world regards him, and history will record 
 him. No one could look upon that face with its 
 square and rock-like firmness, so expressive of Pa- 
 tience and Power, without receiving the impression 
 of a leonine character. But the crowning feature 
 of that massive mightiness was its Simplicity, the 
 absence of all pretence and parade. And this was 
 the more significant because military life almost al- 
 ways develops a love of display. The martial ele- 
 ment is naturally and rightfully a proud one. It 
 requires the accessories of music and uniform and 
 banners and formalities. The arbitrary authority 
 of the commander is properly embellished with a 
 pomp and circumstance which would be out of place 
 in civil life. For this reason, military men make 
 much of rank, and style and dignity, as is meet and 
 fit. But there is a well-known liability to extremes 
 in this, and too often the tendency to "fuss and feath- 
 ers" detracted from the reputation of our generals 
 during the War. We remember the pompous airs 
 of Fremont in Missouri, the arrogant self-assertion 
 of McClellan on the Peninsula, the vain-glorious 
 pronunciamentos of Pope and Hooker. Good 
 
164 STUDIES IN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 soldiers they, brave and able, but we all felt that 
 pride had gone too far with them. 
 
 With Grant it was different. No one even thought 
 of accusing him of top-heaviness. In dress and de- 
 portment he was almost too careless of appearances. 
 Such a noble dignity in regard to military style as 
 that of General Hancock and C. F. Smith was in 
 keeping with high rank; but of this the Silent Gen- 
 eral never thought. One might meet him on the 
 road and but for his escort mistake him for a trooper. 
 His headquarters were of the simplest description. 
 He discouraged all tinsel and show in his staff, and 
 in his personal relations was as unconventional and 
 commonplace as any subaltern, much more so than 
 some. His one test of character was ever ability 
 to work. He judged himself and everyone else by 
 the business standard. What can he do? What 
 has he done? His orders were plainly written and 
 his reports, even of great victories, simply stated. 
 To his inferiors and superiors alike, he meant busi- 
 ness, — only that, but that at any cost. 
 
 At first this bare, prosaic habit disappointed ob- 
 servers who had been accustomed to the loud and 
 dashing style of martial heroes; but after a time 
 everyone came to distinguish between show and sub- 
 stance, and to appreciate the value of the latter. 
 
ULYSSES S. GRANT 165 
 
 When we saw him conduct that marvelous cam- 
 paign around Vicksburg, with no personal baggage, 
 and only a shelter tent for cover, ordering the storm- 
 ing of Missionary Ridge and accepting it as a matter 
 of course, holding the Army of the Wilderness to 
 its bloody work, with the quiet remark that he would 
 fight it out on that line if it took all summer, and so 
 on through the dreary siege of Petersburg, always 
 the sam.e firm, unpretentious but indomitable worker, 
 we came to realize as never before that Simplicity 
 is the highest phase of Force. 
 
 The grandest energies of Nature are the quietest 
 — light, heat, gravity. TTie sunbeam makes less 
 stir than the lightning, but it does more and better 
 work. So with Life. The ripest scholars are the 
 least dogmatic, the richest artists those whose art 
 conceals itself, and the best Christians invariably the 
 humblest and most self-denying. This virtue of 
 simplicity found its brightest expression in the human- 
 ity and gentleness of the great conqueror. Unspar- 
 ing and stern in battle, he was alwys clement and 
 modest in victory. He recoiled from the list of 
 killed and wounded, but was especially interested 
 in the number of prisoners taken. The terms granted 
 by him to Pemberton at Vicksburg and Lee at Ap- 
 pomattox were so generous as to awaken objections 
 
166 STUDIES IN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 in the minds of many who were more severe than 
 himself: — as was shown by the way that he pre- 
 vented President Johnson from wreaking fell ven- 
 geance on the South at the close of the War. 
 
 The tremendous losses of the Wilderness Cam- 
 paign and its unsatisfactory result are ofter cited 
 against the humanity and military genius of General 
 Grant. He has been called by some "the butcher" 
 of the War; but impartial history has already vin- 
 dicated his policy of perpetual conflict at any cost 
 as the best, the only course he could have pursued. 
 It was the only way to meet and conquer the re- 
 doubtable enemy who had defeated every other 
 force brought against him. Grant knew that Lee 
 could not be out-generaled or out-fought. He must 
 be conquered, if at all, by sacrifice. That awful 
 campaign of ceaseless attack wore out the Confeder- 
 ate endurance and so brought an end to the war. It 
 was, in the long run, a merciful as well as a severe 
 treatment. 
 
 In his personal relations he was genial and com- 
 panionable. Taciturn in public, he was a cordial 
 conversationalist in private, as frank as Lincoln and 
 as approachable. His greatness stood that most 
 searching of all tests, the test of familiarity. In all 
 this, he was a type of what the war developed in 
 
ULYSSES S. GRANT 167 
 
 our national character, the lasting superiority) of the 
 moral qualities. Not show, but substance, not pa- 
 rade but performance, not selfishness but magnanim- 
 ity, not pride and arrogance but devotion to truth 
 and the common good, — these are the characteristics 
 of all genuine greatness. Our age and land are 
 liable to disregard these prime attributes and sub- 
 stitute for them the showier traits of dress, deport- 
 ment, flourish and noise. For this reason, we know 
 so much more than we ought to know about shams 
 and deceits, inflation and collapse. Well for us to 
 remember what Lincoln said of the buried soldiers 
 at Gettysburg : 
 
 "The world will little heed or long remember 
 what we say here; but it will never forget what they 
 did here." 
 
 The young German Emperor made himself 
 offensive to many by the egotism of his pub- 
 lic utterances, while the great Von Moltke, 
 in the published records of his campaigns, 
 hardly once uses the personal pronoun. At 
 the famous surrender scene of Appomattox 
 General Lee appeared in his most splendid style 
 of elaborate uniform and dignified behavior. Gen- 
 eral Grant was in his ordinary dress, plain and worn 
 as that of a common soldier. 
 
168 STUDIES IN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 It cannot be said with truth that he was in all 
 respects an ideal soldier. He had not the magnetic 
 power of enthusiasm, with which Sheridan and Han- 
 cock inspired their men, nor did he possess the 
 grand symmetry of character which was the charm 
 of G. B. Thomas, the only general we had who 
 never made a mistake nor suffered a defeat. Grant's 
 personality was of the calm, and catholic order 
 which has much of the negative as well as the posi- 
 tive elements of greatness. His military operations 
 were not in all cases faultless. Impartial history 
 holds him, with Sherman, responsible for the sur- 
 prise and disaster of the first day at Shiloh, and for 
 the needless, terrible defeat of Cold Harbor. The 
 exposure of Washington to the raids of Early, the 
 retention of Benjamin F. Butler in command of the 
 Army of the James, and his unjust treatment of Lew 
 Wallace, are also set against him on the books of 
 fame. Indeed, it is well known to those who have 
 studied his life that no small part of his success was 
 due to a man whom the public never recognized, 
 John Rawlins, his Chief of Staff. This was one of 
 the most remarkable characters that the war pro- 
 duced; a young lawyer of no military experience, 
 but who entered the volunteer service and developed 
 a genius of practical administration which was of the 
 
ULYSSES S. GRANT 169 
 
 utmost value to the General, whose chief adviser 
 and agent he became. It has been said by compe- 
 tent critics that but for him there would have been no 
 General Grant at the head of the armies. But, all 
 these abatements allowed for, there remains a great 
 military life which, if it does not rank with the su- 
 preme masters, Caesar, Frederick and Napoleon, 
 takes its place with such men as Washington, Well- 
 ington and Oyama, of the secondary if not inferior 
 grade. 
 
 The severest trial of his character took place 
 when he exchanged the military for the political life. 
 The Presidency of the nation, during two terms of 
 office, was indeed a crowning honor, but it was also 
 the sternest test of his career. No battle or cam- 
 paign, nor all of his martial labors together, ever 
 searched and sifted his nature as did those eight 
 years at Washington. For then the very qualities 
 that had strengthened him for war were liable to 
 weaken him for peace. The habits of absolute au- 
 thority and of implicit confidence in subordinates 
 which are essential to military success, are not so 
 compatible with the proper exercise of civil func- 
 tions. Instead, then, of holding him responsible for 
 all the blame deserved by his counselors and by the 
 various forms of corruption which were so rife amid 
 
170 STUDIES IN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 the confusion that followed the war, it should be a 
 cause of gratitude that the President made so few 
 mistakes, and conducted the nation so well through 
 one of the most troublous periods it has ever known. 
 The headship of the nation was not sought or de- 
 sired by him, and was accepted only as a great bur- 
 den which patriotism commanded him to bear. Let 
 those who are disposed to criticize him as President, 
 consider what Lincoln would have done as a Gen- 
 eral. The Duke of Wellington won little fame as 
 Prime Minister of England. Rare indeed are the 
 Cromwells and Washingtons who are as eminent in 
 the Cabinet as in the field. 
 
 But we are not yet done with the lessons of this 
 illustrious life. Perhaps its most impressive features 
 were reserved for its close. Certainly not until after 
 he had retired from the Chief Magistracy did U. S. 
 Grant reach the apex of his fame. Then he receiv- 
 ed the honors of the World. That trip around the 
 globe was a fit culmination of his career. It was 
 without a parallel in human history. No king or 
 queen ever made a journey of equal length with sim- 
 ilar incidents. An American citizen, without office 
 or attending officials, wearing no badge of merit 
 and displaying no sign of authority, traveling with 
 his family and a few friends at their own expense. 
 
ULYSSES S. GRANT 171 
 
 was received by the dignitaries of the world with 
 more than royal honors. From the Occident to the 
 Orient and from the gates of the morning to the set- 
 ting sun, every land and clime seemed to do him rev- 
 erence; and when he retired to his native land, the 
 collection of souvenirs and presents of all kinds 
 which he brought with him formed a museum of 
 wonders which is still unequalled elsewhere. 
 
 How proud we all were of him, of the simplicity 
 with which he bore the weight of the world's ap- 
 plause, the manly modesty of his triumphs! And 
 what credit did we feel reflected upon ourselves 
 from him as a representative character who had made 
 cur national name so illustrious in the eyes of all 
 men ! And if the hero had then chosen to sit down 
 quietly in the shadow of his fame content with the 
 ample harvests already secure, his career might have 
 shown an ideal completeness. But a malign fate 
 interfered to mar it with those impulses of ambition, 
 or those influences of association, or whatever the 
 forces were which combined to draw him again into 
 the vexed turmoil of political contention, and then 
 to darken with defeat a name which had become the 
 synonym of success. 
 
 But even this was not the worst. What evil 
 spirit tempted him to the fatal embroilment of finan- 
 
172 STUDIES IN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 cial complications and involved him in the dark and 
 devious ways of speculation? If it is said that here 
 again he suffered from the faults of his qualities, and 
 became the victim of that confidence in others which 
 was the product of his own self-conscious integrity, 
 the reply must be that Nature makes no allowance 
 for ignorance when its laws are violated. Whether 
 one's implication in wrong-doing is direct or indirect, 
 punishment is sure to follow, and often to be most 
 severe where it seems to be least deserved. In the 
 sad and sudden ruin which fell like a thunderbolt 
 on the great man's prosperity, all should see that 
 Greatness is not above the authority of law. In- 
 deed, the loftier the eminence, the more extreme the 
 fall. It is one of the false and condemnable errors 
 of Old- World monarchism that "the King can do 
 no wrong." History has refuted that fallacy in the 
 most terrible manner again and again. "Nobility 
 confers obligation" is a much truer and nobler max- 
 im, for it involves the divine law that from him to 
 whom much is given, much will be required. 
 
 Perhaps the pathetic story of our great Captain's 
 fate, as the wonderful life that had known so many 
 golden and glorious honors drew to its close, amid 
 storms and darkness, was permitted in order to teach 
 our rash and selfish and grasping American disposi- 
 
ULYSSES S. GRANT 1 73 
 
 tion certain lessons which it needs to learn. Our 
 national liability is to extremes in everything. We 
 are never content with much, we must have more. 
 And it is this feverish straining after what we have 
 not, this discontent and rapacity of appetite, which 
 is the cause of many of the moral diseases and injur- 
 ious mistakes from which we suffer. If such a sim- 
 ple, strong and manly nature as that of General 
 Grant was unable to resist this fearful current, we 
 can understand why so many weaker lives are swept 
 away by it. And if he could not escape the retri- 
 butions of law, who else can hope to do so? 
 
 But perhaps the melancholy close of that adven- 
 turous career will have in the eyes of history a value 
 which an unclouded sunset could not have given. 
 The spectacle of the strong man, rising in his pain 
 to the level of his old heroism, and facing his disasters 
 with the same brave, firm front which he had shown 
 so often on the battle-field, his proud and honorable 
 acceptance of ruin with no complaint, his laborious 
 effort to write the record of his life with feeble hands, 
 and his patient endurance of hopeless anguish to the 
 end, — all this has added a picture to our national 
 gallery of which we may well be proud. For it also 
 shows to us the nation's heart melted and flowing out 
 to him as never before. His old soldiers showering 
 
174 STUDIES IN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 theii' condolences upon him, his former enemies vying 
 with friends to show their sympathy, the South la- 
 menting its conqueror as the North its champion, 
 and far and wide through the whole world the bells 
 of the nations tolling in honor of his memory, — yes, 
 the Hero's death was worthy of his life. 
 
 The story of this military life may well serve to 
 stimulate and direct the warlike spirit which is so 
 popular and powerful in our American life. We 
 cannot deny that our national history bears witness 
 to the value of this element in the hearts and lives of 
 men. How could this Republic have been establish- 
 ed originally, or rescued from ruin subsequently, 
 without the stern help of War? 
 
 At the same time, we must remember that our civi- 
 lization is rapidly outgrowing this ancient and dire- 
 ful recourse, and is learning the better wisdom of the 
 great system of Arbitration, which is the crowning 
 glory of our present progress. To this benignant 
 end the great General would, if living, be sure to 
 devote his utmost endeavor; for the last and best 
 word of his military career was the immortal sen- 
 tence "Let us have peace." 
 
 Let it serve to instruct the new generations of 
 citizens that the soldier is needed by his country. 
 Never, so long as human nature and society are what 
 
ULYSSES S. GRANT 175 
 
 they now are, will there cease to be the impending 
 danger of war, and the consequent need of prepar- 
 ing for it and guarding against it. The military 
 spirit and its appropriate culture should always re- 
 ceive the proper amount of regard at the hands of 
 American education. Reverence for the Flag and 
 a martial devotion to its interests should be a part 
 cf our religion. 
 
 But the career of U. S. Grant teaches most forci- 
 bly the lesson that the true soldier holds his profession 
 not as an end hut as a means. War, or the possi- 
 bility of it, is not to be lauded as the prime business 
 of life. They are but the painful incidentals of 
 progress and of pacification. The warrior is never 
 so noble as when he sheathes his sword and says, as 
 the great Captain said: "Le/ us have peace!" 
 
GIROLAMO SAVONAROLA 
 
)avonarola 
 
 T' HERE were reformers before the Reforma- 
 tion. That great reHgious movement which 
 opened the course of modern Christian pro- 
 gress was not in itself an absolute begin- 
 ning. It had been prepared for by many previous and 
 parallel incidents in the religious history of Europe. 
 Again and again had earnest protestants lifted up 
 their voices against error and in favor of truth. Some 
 of them were heeded by their time and became suc- 
 cessful apostles of Christ to their fellow men. Of such 
 were Arnold of Brescia, Peter Waldo, who origin- 
 ated the noble sect of the Waldenses, which remains 
 to this day, and John Wiclif, who gave to England 
 the Bible in the vernacular of the common people, 
 and opened the door of deliverance through which 
 his people passed in after time. 
 
 But all the reformers before the Reformation 
 were not so fortunate. Witness the martyrdom of 
 Huss in Bohemia and Jerome of Prague, the suffer- 
 ings of the Albigenses in Italy and the Lollards in 
 England. It was given to many in those times to 
 repeat the office of John Baptist and be as a voice 
 
178 STUDIES IN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 crying in the wilderness, and to perish as he did be- 
 fore his eyes had seen the Kingdom of God which 
 he announced. It is to the sad, yet glorious career 
 of one of these prophets whose words came to naught, 
 these pioneers who failed to introduce what they 
 intended, that our attention will now be devoted. 
 
 Girolamo Savonarola lived in Italy from 1452 to 
 1 498. His life was contemporary with the rise and 
 development of that great revival of the spirit of an- 
 cient art which brought to Europe, after the fall of 
 Constantinople, the treasures of Grecian literature, 
 and awoke the era of classic learning in which we 
 still live. It was called the Renaissance; and it 
 was truly a new birth of human thought and wisdom, 
 as it applied to modern time the grand impulses of 
 ancient culture. Who can compute what our civili- 
 zation owes to the services of Homer and Virgil, 
 the philosophy of Plato, the music of Sophocles and 
 Aeschylus, the wisdom of Socrates and Seneca? It 
 was like the rising of the sun on a darkened world; 
 and nowhere did the beauty of morning burn more 
 brightly than at Florence, where the wealth and 
 taste of the Medici had established a Court renown- 
 ed for its patronage of art, letters and pleasure. 
 Italy then abounded in cities which surpassed all the 
 rest of Christendom in their industrial, artistic and 
 
SAVONAROLA 1 79 
 
 financial prosperity. At a time when England, 
 France and Germany had but small and poor centers 
 Oi trade, where an ignorant people suffered under 
 rude and despotic rulers, the opulent and enlightened 
 states of Italy were rich in flourishing marts, active 
 ports, noble museums and libraries, with busy facto- 
 ries, well cultivated fields and a world-reaching com- 
 merce. 
 
 And Florence, the home of Lorenzo the Magni- 
 ficent, was pre-eminent for its splendor in welcoming 
 poets and philosophers, artists and artisans, scholars 
 and politicians to its halls of luxury and its feasts 
 of pleasure. It was there that Dante's sublime 
 poem had recalled the genius of Homer and antici- 
 pated that of Milton, while Petrarch had wedded 
 elegant scholarship to immortal verse. It was from 
 Venice that Marco Polo went forth to explore the 
 mysteries of Asia. It was at Genoa that Columbus 
 was born. And it was a Florentine astronomer, 
 Toscanelli, who gave to the great discoverer a scien- 
 tific idea of the Atlantic Ocean and the treasures 
 hidden in the West. Such was Italy four hundred 
 years ago, easily the Queen of European civilization. 
 But there was another side to this brilliant picture, — 
 a dark, forbidding side. 
 
180 STUDIES IN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 The Italy of the fifteenth century was in fact a 
 strange medley of extremes. While Art was 
 achieving its most brilliant triumphs, Religion had 
 fallen into decaying formalism. Where learning 
 was cultivated among the higher classes, it was un- 
 known to the lower. The most elegant courts and 
 thrones of Christendom were the seats of utterly un- 
 bridled despotism and profligacy. Alexander, 
 the Borgian Pope, was a murderer at Rome, 
 and Lorenzo the Magnificent was the cruel 
 and licentious ruler of Florence. Even 
 Venice, beautiful Queen of the Sea, was 
 held by the dark, mysterious power of a 
 tribunal secret and cruel as the grave. Everywhere 
 culture was wedded to corruption. The Decameron 
 remains to show how foul could be the fairness of 
 romance. While Titian was covering the canvas with 
 immortal hues, and Raphael was portraying the 
 Madonna, and Angelo was hanging his firmament 
 of marble in the air. Cardinals were buying and sell- 
 ing the offices of the church, bravos were killing at 
 the command of the court, and poisoning was a fine 
 art, studied by lords and ladies. The priesthood 
 was full of venality and licentiousness. The Bible 
 was an unknown book, buried in the cloister or read 
 in an unknown tongue. There was no care for Di- 
 
SAVONAROLA 181 
 
 vine truth among theologians, nothing but a study 
 of scholastic tomes and a vanity of metaphysical 
 polemics. It was an age of formality, ceremonial- 
 ism and worldliness, very similar to that which had 
 debased and polluted Jerusalem in the bloody days 
 of Herod and the Roman domination. But according 
 to the old Hebrew proverb, "When the tale of bricks 
 is doubled, then comes Moses;" and it often occurs 
 that the extremes of moral perversion awaken re- 
 actions which may bring about the correction of the 
 evil. 
 
 At Ferrara, then a large and noble city, was 
 born, on the twenty-first of September, 1452, one 
 who was commissioned to be the John Baptist of a 
 new era. Young Savonarola sprang from a family 
 of good reputation, his father being a learned phy- 
 sician connected with the court. The boy was 
 therefore from the first surrounded with great ad- 
 vantages in the church and in the State, and he 
 might have given himself to a life of ease and 
 luxury. But his was a nature too fine and pure to 
 be deceived by the false appearances of evil. He 
 early felt the true nature of the times, and shrank 
 from it. The splendor and the cruelty, the wealth 
 and the poverty, the costly pleasures and the sad suf- 
 ferings of society, pained him by their terrible con- 
 
182 STUDIES IN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 trasts, while the hollow pretenses of the Church, 
 the hypocrisy of its gilded forms, and the utter 
 worthlessness of its complex ritual, astonished and 
 disappointed him. Of his inner life we know but 
 little, except through such expressions as these found 
 in one of his youthful essays: "I see the whole world 
 in confusion. Every virtue and every noble habit 
 is gone. There is no shining light. None are 
 ashamed of their vices. That soul is deemed refined 
 and rare who gains the most by fraud and force, who 
 scorns heaven and Christ, and whose constant 
 thoughts are bent on others' destruction." Strange 
 words these to flow from the lips of a youth, but 
 they show that on him had fallen the dread mantle 
 of the olden prophets, Jeremiah, Jonah and Malachi, 
 whose fate it was to see and denounce the evils 
 which a blinded age could suffer from but not dis- 
 cern. 
 
 The result of this painful experience was that he 
 decided to devote himself to a religious life, and at 
 the age of twenty-three he entered a monastery and 
 became a member of the Dominican order. This 
 was at that time the only way of publicly professing 
 a Christian faith and devotion to the salvation of 
 souls. Whatever evils may have flourished in the 
 system and practice of Romanism at large, it is cer- 
 
SAVONAROLA 183 
 
 tain that in an age of universal corruption the clois- 
 ter was often the sole refuge that was open to spiritual 
 behevers. The monk and the nun were sometimes, 
 not always, genuine refugees from worldliness, who 
 sought by a life of professional self-denial to attain 
 to purity and peace. This was the sole ambition of 
 young Savonarola. Turning his back on all the 
 pleasure and pride of earth he devoted himself to a 
 life of prayer and study. For seven years he was 
 absorbed in the Sacred Scriptures, until, as the story 
 goes, he knew the Bible every word by heart. And 
 we can imagine how congenial to the fiery-hearted, 
 emotional Italian must have been the pages of the 
 Old Testament, all aglow with the wrath of the 
 prophets and their bold philippics. There he learn- 
 ed the courage of public denunciation, and the ideal 
 of a Kingdom of Righteousness on earth. The 
 Lamentations of Jeremiah, the warnings of Jonah, 
 the stern predictions of Malachi, seemed prophetic 
 of the situation and needs of Savonarola's own day. 
 For he found that the Church was as corrupt as the 
 State. TTie unworldly calm of the monastery hid 
 errors and evils as dangerous as any that flourished 
 in the court. Wherever he looked, the youthful 
 monk saw only a revival of the dark times which the 
 Hebrew prophets deplored. 
 
184 STUDIES IN BIOGFIAPHY 
 
 He was transferred in 1 482 to the convent of San 
 Marco, in Florence, and there he entered the arena 
 of his great life-work. But no sign of his future 
 greeted him, as he crossed the threshold of the most 
 splendid estabHshment of its kind in Italy. San 
 Marco was renowned for the wealth of its endow- 
 ment and the eminence of its patronage. Cosmo 
 and Lorenzo of the Medici had enriched it with 
 priceless treasures of literature and art, which made 
 it the shrine of scholars and painters as well as of 
 religious devotees. The pure and tender genius of 
 Fra Angelico had left its walls adorned with those 
 frescoes of Scripture subjects which are still the ad- 
 miration of artists. There in the cool and quiet 
 precincts of scholastic seclusion, amid the beauties 
 of gardens and galleries, adorned with all that lux- 
 urious culture could invent, — there might be found 
 the Paradise of a thoughtful, devout spirit. And 
 Savonarola could have dreamed away a long life 
 in that Arcadian retreat, caring only for his own 
 salvation, peace and joy. But not so. On him had 
 come the solemn inspiration of the open eye and the 
 awakened heart. He had received that burden of 
 the Lord, which of old made of Elijah an accuser 
 of royalty, and of John Baptist an arouser of the 
 nation. Such souls may never lie down on the pop- 
 
SAVONAROLA 185 
 
 pied ease of this world's soft seductions. They are 
 driven by the spirit into protest and denunciation 
 against the wrongs which they see ; they cannot help 
 becoming revolutionists and iconoclasts. So it was 
 with the young Dominican. He beheld around him 
 a great and rich city, filled with all that wealth, art, 
 learning and power could contribute to its enrich- 
 ment, and yet as foul and fatal as it was fair. Lo- 
 renzo the Magnificent was a murderer, a debauchee, 
 a tyrant. His court was the abode of profligacy 
 and crime. Society was corrupt in all its branches. 
 Public opinion was debased, morality was unknown. 
 And religion had no other effect than that of cloaking 
 and condoning the universal depravity. 
 
 This was what Savonarola saw from his pure and 
 peaceful retirement in the cloister, and the vision was 
 to him what that of the antediluvian world was to 
 Noah. He forgot his own ease and security. His 
 soul was overwhelmed with anguish for others' sake. 
 He could not sleep, for the fiery visions of impending 
 judgment. Yielding to the pressure of his convic- 
 tions, he went out into the world and began to pro- 
 claim the law of God. Through the city and through 
 the country he was heard, like Jonah, warning men 
 to flee from the wrath to come. His own brother 
 tried to dissuade him or to modify his all-denouncing 
 
186 STUDIES IN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 zeal, but he would not be suppressed; "Yet thirty 
 days, and Nineveh shall be destroyed," was the 
 burden of his appeal to Florence and to Italy. The 
 philosophers and literati of the time treated him as 
 the Egyptian wise men treated Moses. The priests 
 and cardinals regarded him as the Pharisees and 
 Scribes regarded John Baptist. But neither scorn 
 nor rebuke could silence the thunder of that new 
 voice from God. At last the royal court began to 
 hear it, and intimations came from Lorenzo, in his 
 palace, that the monk would do well to be more care- 
 ful of what he says. "Go, tell your master," was 
 the stern reply, "to prepare to repent of his sins, 
 for the Lord spares no one and has no fear of the 
 princes of the earth." 
 
 Thus the new Elijah. And soon responses began 
 to be heard. The slumbering conscience of the 
 people was awakened. Crowds attended the min- 
 istry of the fearless preacher who dared to utter 
 what all knew to be true. His popularity grew rap- 
 idly. He was elected Prior of San Marco, and thus 
 became an official of public rank. But he only 
 continued his humble, faithful service to the truth. 
 So great was his influence with the people that the 
 court tried by every means to win him to their side, 
 but in vain. He persisted in his bold and righteous 
 
SAVONAROLA 187 
 
 course, exposing all wrong and insisting on the 
 claims of God alone to the service of men. At last 
 the reign of Lorenzo the Magnificent drew to a 
 close. As the foul and cruel tyrant lay on his 
 death-bed, he was asked what confessor should be 
 sent for, that he might receive the final blessing of 
 Holy Church. "Send for the Prior of San Marco" 
 said he. "He is an honest man. No other ever 
 dared say No to me." But when the man of God 
 stood beside the dying sinner he demanded of him 
 as the condition of absolution three things: "First, 
 it is necessary that you should have a full and lively 
 faith in the mercy of God." "That I have, most 
 fully," replied the prince. "Second, you must re- 
 store that which you have unjustly taken, or enjoin 
 your sons to restore it for you." The tyrant hesi- 
 tated, but finally assented. "Third, you must re- 
 store liberty to the people of Florence." At this 
 Lorenzo turned his face to the wall, and remained 
 silent. Whereat the Dominican left him to die in 
 his sins and go to judgment without help or hope. 
 
 The death of the Medicean tyrant removed from 
 Savonarola the principal obstacles to the success of 
 his reformatory measures. There remained no one 
 able to compete with him for the popular favor. 
 He stood alone as the champion of righteousness, 
 
188 STUDIES IN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 and none of his enemies dared to oppose him pub- 
 Hcly. But he was also helped by the political ex- 
 igencies of the times. The Florentines were awak- 
 ening to the fact that their municipal privileges were 
 in danger. Under Lorenzo they had been nominal- 
 ly free, at least from external authority. But his 
 son Pietro, who inherited the father's vices without 
 his ability, became the weak tool of the plotting Bor- 
 gian Pope. This infamous Pontiff, Alexander the 
 Sixth, aimed at an absorption of all the Italian states 
 under the secular power of Rome, and Florence had 
 reason to dread such an extinction of its ancient 
 autonomy. 
 
 To add to their perplexity, Italy was suddenly 
 invaded by a French army under Charles the Eighth, 
 who was on his way to seize the vacant throne of 
 Naples. Florence was directly in the path of the 
 invaders, and its cowardly ruler thought to propi- 
 tiate them by opening the gates to the French hosts 
 and welcoming them to its walls. At this the peo- 
 ple rebelled. Their excitable Italian blood took 
 fire, and they furiously drove out the miserable ruler, 
 who had betrayed them, and took the reins of au- 
 thority into their own hands. But who could lead 
 and regulate the fierce populace in their sudden in- 
 dependence? In danger of utter anarchy and dis- 
 
SAVONAROLA 189 
 
 solution, they had but one recourse, and that was to 
 elevate the Prior of San Marco to the vacant head- 
 ship. He was the only man in whose courage, wis- 
 dom and rectitude they could confide, in their extrem- 
 ity, and he was accordingly vested with supreme 
 authority. In the name of the Lord whom he served, 
 Savonarola accepted the position, and by his fear- 
 less diplomacy soon freed the ancient city from its 
 enemies. 
 
 Then began one of the most remarkable episodes 
 of political history. This plain, untitled monk, with- 
 out army or aristocracy to support him, but depend- 
 ing solely on spiritual authority, attempted an entire 
 reconstruction of society. Using his pulpit as a 
 throne, and preaching to the people as a Christian 
 teacher, he advised and carried out the most search- 
 ing reforms. "Seek first the Kingdom of God," 
 said he. "Jesus Christ shall be the only King of 
 Florence." Such were the texts of his new political 
 economy. The fickle Italians, tired of the old regime, 
 and for a time deeply moved by the righteous appeals 
 of the new leader, were easily induced to accept his 
 propositions. A republic was decreed. It was es- 
 tablished that Church and State should henceforth 
 be free of any authority but that of God. Every 
 citizen should be equal to all others before the law. 
 
190 STUDIES IN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 and there should be no laws but those of the King- 
 dom of Heaven on earth. For himself, the great 
 preacher renounced power but only as the regent of 
 Christ. He had no personal supremacy, and would 
 accept no honors or emoluments. Thus was set up 
 in Florence a Theocracy of the purest kind, modeled 
 after the government given to the tribes of Israel in 
 the desert, a prophecy of the Millenium yet to dawn 
 over the whole world. And for three years the 
 results were of the most satisfactory kind. Flor- 
 ence became a new city. The old vices and crimes 
 disappeared, apparently. Temperance, chastity, truth 
 and honesty took their place. In public and in pri- 
 vate there was a peacefulness, a purity and right- 
 eousness which even the enemies of the new order 
 were compelled to recognize. It really seemed that 
 the New Jerusalem had been established on earth, 
 and the ideals of the New Testament were about to 
 be realized. 
 
 But with all his rectitude of principle and lofti- 
 ness of aim, the great Florentine reformer had failed 
 to provide for certain contingencies. He did not 
 take into the account the uncertainties of popular 
 feeling or the persistent power of foreign enemies. 
 And he soon discovered that the Kingdom of God 
 was not to come so quickly or securely as he hoped. 
 
SAVONAROLA 191 
 
 The cruel, crafty Pontiff saw in him a rival to his 
 own supremacy, and tried to seduce him. Flattery 
 and honors were offered the Dominican, but he refus- 
 ed to leave Florence for Rome. Then severity was 
 resorted to. He was forbidden to preach. He was 
 ordered to the Vatican. Discovering the snare, he 
 defied its author. Then excommunication was hurl- 
 ed against him, that unspeakably awful weapon, 
 which rarely failed to subdue anything in mediaeval 
 Europe. Yet even this must have failed of its effect 
 but for the enemies whom Savonarola began to find 
 at home. 
 
 The mercurial people were growing weary of their 
 new and higher life. Having no personal spiritual- 
 ity to sustain it, they found that righteousness had its 
 burdens and costs, which became onerous after the 
 charm of novelty had passed away. The exiled 
 Medici also had their emissaries at work, and thus 
 public opinion began to turn against the Prior of San 
 Marco. First whispers, then protests, at last organ- 
 ized resistance appeared. The religious orders, 
 apart from his own, had been jealous of his pre-em- 
 inence; and thus the papal interdict, co-operating 
 with popular discontent, became at last an over- 
 whelming power. The storm broke, and before it 
 the reformer was helpless. 
 
192 STUDIES IN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 He was arrested, with two of his monks, and im- 
 prisoned on the charge of heresy. From the heights 
 to the depths he passed with one step. But he met 
 adversity with the same high-hearted consecration 
 that had sustained him in prosperity. He remained 
 true to the truth that had been given him to advocate. 
 Neither argument nor torture could shake his con- 
 stancy. Like his Lord, he witnessed a good con- 
 fession, though all forsook him and fled. The great 
 city, which but yesterday rang with his praise, now 
 suffered him to sink in disgrace. Of all the crowds 
 who had welcomed him as God's Messiah, not one 
 individual protested in his behalf; but to its endless 
 shame Florence permitted its heroic champion to be 
 tortured by the emissaries of Rome and finally burn- 
 ed at the stake, as a common malefactor. 
 
 It ivas done: — a deed the blackest of all crimes 
 of which the Papacy of the Middle Ages was guilty. 
 It was done in the public square of the city which, 
 but a short time before, had almost worshipped 
 Savonarola as a Divine ambassador. And then 
 Florence sank once more under the foul tyranny of 
 the Medici, never again to hear the voice of truth 
 or see the beauties of righteousness, but to be aban- 
 doned to the fell consequences of its own selfish, 
 cowardly choice. Thus ended the Reformation in 
 
SAVONAROLA 193 
 
 Italy. Not to this day has the Gospel reappeared 
 with any saving power in that classic land. For the 
 great revival of truth in the next century, under Lu- 
 ther, made hardly any conquests south of the Alps. 
 Florence, like Jerusalem, knew not the time of its 
 visitation, and was therefore excluded from all share 
 in the glories of Christ's Kingdom when the day of 
 the Lord dawned upon the earth. 
 
 But the question well deserves to be asked and 
 answered, What were the causes of Savonarola's 
 failure? Why should he meet with such disaster 
 in the service of truth, when Luther and Calvin 
 achieved so great success in the same service after- 
 wards? No one can doubt the genuineness of the 
 Florentine Reformer's zeal, the purity of his mo- 
 tives, the loftiness of his aims. He was evidently in- 
 spired by the Holy Spirit in much that he said and 
 did. And he crowned a patriotic, philanthropic 
 christian life with a death as glorious as that of any 
 of the martyrs who had suffered for the name of 
 Christ. Why, then, did he and his cause come to 
 such a calamitous end? 
 
 The reasons were partly external and partly inter- 
 nal to himself. For one thing, his environment was 
 not so favorable as was Luther's. That logic of 
 events, which provides for all the successes of time, the 
 
194 STUDIES IN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 true occasion, did not accept Savonarola's experi- 
 ment. It was made too soon. The age was not 
 ready for him, as it was for Luther. The cup of 
 Rome's iniquity was not yet full in the fifteenth cen- 
 tury. Another cycle must roll around before Eu- 
 rope could be prepared to see the enormity of its 
 wrongs and be ready for their cure. Then, too, the 
 Florentine reformer had no such strong political 
 friends as the German found in the brave barons and 
 the Elector, who were willing to assist anyone who 
 should protest against the hated tyrant of the Vati- 
 can. The North of Europe has always been the 
 home of freedom, and its true-hearted people have 
 given to the truth a more congenial element than is 
 found in the excitable but fickle sons of the South. 
 These and other causes combined to render Savon- 
 arola's task a much more difficult one than Luther 
 found. 
 
 But the principal difference between them appear- 
 ed in the method which they pursued. The Italian 
 reformer was as truly devoted to the Gospel as the 
 German protestant, but he applied the truths of grace 
 to general rather than to particular ends. He 
 preached the claims of righteousness on the state, 
 and directed the Divine law to the reformation of 
 public morals and political abuses. TTiis was his 
 
SAVONAROLA 195 
 
 chief end, and therein lay his mistake. He found 
 his model in the prophets of the Old Dispensation 
 rather than the apostles of the New. Instead of 
 imitating Jesus, who began with the individual and 
 instructed his disciples first to apply the Gospel to 
 the personal soul, Savonarola began with the nation 
 and tried to save it in a mass. But this was a re- 
 versal of the Divine method, which Luther in the 
 next century avoided. The German reformer let 
 the state alone and addressed the individual sinner. 
 Although he did advocate afterward the union of 
 State and Church (and to that extent weakened the 
 cause of the Reformation in Germany) his personal 
 ministry was always bestowed on evangelistic ends. 
 His preaching was aimed at the conversion of souls. 
 This was the Gospel plan, and it succeeded, for it 
 laid the foundation of public morality in personal 
 regeneration. 
 
 Savonarola's idea of a Christian State, made so 
 by collective, general treatment, was a false one, 
 however well-intentioned by his glowing heart. He 
 found that his edifice, so fair to see, had no basis 
 in human life, but yielded to the first pressure of out- 
 side opposition. And therefore he failed. His no- 
 ble ideal could not be realized, for it belonged to 
 the Law rather than to the Gospel. But it was of 
 
196 STUDIES IN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 use in demonstrating the futility of the conception, 
 so dear to the reformers of every age, that the King- 
 dom of God can be estabhshed by force and favor. 
 This idea has always had its advocates, but they 
 have never succeeded, when they tried to materiahze 
 it. Calvin achieved a success, apparently, at Gen- 
 eva, when he made of that principality a religious 
 state renowned for its orthodoxy. But even then 
 his zeal for the truth led him into the fatal error of 
 persecuting heresy. The burning of Servetus for his 
 opinions darkened the name of Calvin forever; and 
 after his death Geneva did not long retain the purity 
 into which he forced it. It was so with the Pilgrim 
 Fathers, who tried to establish a Theocracy in New 
 England. Their grand ideal of a government and 
 a community which would exclude all unrighteous- 
 ness and honor God and His law alone, was found 
 to be impracticable. It not only failed, but it en- 
 gendered reactions of hard formalism and harsh se- 
 verity. 
 
 No, the Head of the church knew what was in 
 man when He said, "The Kingdom of God cometh 
 not with observation." His disciples and the people 
 at large urged him to ascend the throne of David 
 and wield a secular power, but he refused. "The 
 Kingdom of God is within you." He confined him- 
 
SAVONAROLA 197 
 
 self to the personal heart, insisting that men must be 
 born again. It was by calHng them to himself, one 
 by one, that he formed the nucleus of his church; 
 and he sent them out to reach the world by preaching 
 the Gospel to every creature. This and this alone 
 has ever been the method of Christian success. Not 
 by reaching the small through the large, but by begin- 
 ning with the part and thence proceeding to the 
 whole. The Kingdom of Heaven is the grain of 
 mustard seed; it is the leaven in the midst of the meal. 
 Savonarola forgot this. His hot Italian blood, fired 
 by the zeal of the ancient prophets, flowed furiously 
 forth to overturn the wrong and set up the right at 
 once and forever. He would begin at the roof and 
 build down to the foundation. He would purify 
 the stream first, the fountain afterward. But he 
 failed, as all will fail who try to go faster than God. 
 Truth has never prospered in this world but along 
 the lines of vital logical process. "First the blade, 
 then the ear; after that the full corn in the ear." 
 Such are the Divine footsteps, that lead from the 
 true beginnings to the true endings. 
 
 And this should be heeded by those who are even 
 now engaged in the old, old battle for the right, 
 which yet is ever new. The reformer of today, 
 whose heart is stirred within him by the evils of the 
 
198 STUDIES IN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 world and who feels the inspiration of the prophet 
 to denounce the wrong and proclaim the right, — let 
 him remember the "kingdom and patience of Jesus 
 Christ." Let him beware of the imperious zeal which 
 aims at general results to the neglect of particular 
 means. Let him always consider that the individual 
 is the Divine objective. The first condition of so- 
 cial reform, political improvement and religious pro- 
 gress, is the work of the Gospel in the personal heart 
 of man. 
 
 Savonarola failed, but after all his was a success- 
 ful failure. It cannot be classed with the ignomin- 
 ious defeats of time. His endeavor came to naught, 
 but not in the sense of a useless sacrifice or a blame- 
 worthy mistake. It was rather the noble error of a 
 soul too brave, too eager, too devoted to a great end. 
 He fell as a warrior falls who rushes ahead of the 
 battle and hurls himself alone upon the foe. Such 
 defeats are never entirely in vain. That life is not 
 utterly thrown away which is sacrificed for an ideal. 
 It serves at least the useful purpose of showing what 
 ought not to be done ; and that is sometimes necessary 
 to enable others to do what ought to be done. The 
 errors of one generation clear the way for the tri- 
 umphs of right in the next. Perhaps Luther's sue- 
 
SAVONAROLA 199 
 
 cess was partly due to the lessons taught by Savon- 
 arola's failure. 
 
 But more than this! Courage, self-sacrifice, high- 
 hearted consecration, are never wasted. Whatever 
 the immediate result of the martyr's heroism, in the 
 end his blood is the seed of the church. TTie charge 
 of the Light Brigade at Balaclava was a military 
 blunder, but it gave to British bravery a new impulse 
 worth all its cost. And so with every loss sustained 
 in the battle for the Right. What one age loses in 
 them, after ages are sure to gain in the inspiration of 
 their example and in the late results of their endeav- 
 or. Not one of the martyrs and confessors lived and 
 died in vain. 
 
 "Flung to the heedless wind. 
 Or on the waters cast. 
 Their ashes shall be watched 
 And gathered at the last. 
 
 "And from that glorious seed 
 Around us and abroad. 
 Shall spring a plenteous host 
 Of witnesses for God," 
 
 Wiclif's bones were disinterred and cast into the 
 sea, but the Bible which he gave to England could 
 
200 STUDIES IN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 not be taken away. Huss perished at the stake; 
 but at that fire was kindled a torch with which 
 Luther enlightened Europe. And Savonarola's 
 grand protest and sublime sacrifice gave to Chris- 
 tian history an inspiration which abides to this day. 
 Even so there is no such thing as total failure pos- 
 sible now among the faithful servants and the de- 
 voted soldiers of the Cross. They may not reach 
 the ends at which they aim, but they are contributing 
 to greater glories than they know. The cross of 
 one age becomes the crown of the next. Our moun- 
 tains and plains are often composed of the shells 
 of numberless creatures which perished that the 
 globe might have a higher and firmer floor for its 
 life. And thus through disappointment and defeat 
 and death is ever rising the new era of humanity, 
 the greater glory of God and the higher good of 
 man. Oh, for more and more of such successful 
 failures in this world! 
 
Joan of Arc 
 
 ^^^^ HE fifteenth century of the Christian era 
 1^^^ was filled with great and memorable events. 
 Ip^^B It saw the fall of the Eastern Roman Em- 
 pire at Constantinople, the revival of clas- 
 sical learning in Italy, the introduction of the print- 
 ing press, the invention of gun-powder and the dis- 
 covery of America by Europeans, In national affairs 
 that age witnessed an extreme crisis in the history of 
 France. The realm was distracted by intestine 
 feuds, and it was also at the mercy of English in- 
 vaders, who held the capital of the country and 
 some of its fairest portions. Henry the Sixth of 
 England had been proclaimed Monarch at Paris, 
 while Charles the Seventh of France held his court 
 in a small town of the interior. The national sky 
 was dark, the people were hopeless, the nobility 
 mutinous or despairing. Defeat after defeat had 
 been suffered by the armies, until the wretched king 
 was driven to consider flight to Spain or Scotland 
 as his only recourse. 
 
 But the darkest hour is just before the day; and 
 then to France came help, as to the Hebrews in 
 
202 STUDIES IN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 Egypt and the English under the Danes, — help 
 from an unexpected quarter and by the most im- 
 probable means. In a little village by the Meuse, 
 on the eastern border of the Kingdom, lived a plain 
 farmer who had a daughter sixteen years of age. 
 She was a simple country girl, of good life and 
 repute, industrious and useful, busy like other 
 maidens with sewing and spinning at home, or tend- 
 ing the flocks in the field. She was known to her 
 companions as Jeanne Dare, a name Anglicized into 
 Joan of Arc. Her father's name, Jacques Dare 
 (d'Arc), signified "James of the Bow." 
 
 She was a healthy, hearty person, sociable and 
 practical, yet also of an imaginative habit and an 
 intensely religious spirit. Nurtured from childhood 
 in loyal attachment to the throne, Joan had learned 
 to identify the cause of her sovereign with that of 
 heaven. France was to her the realm of Jesus; the 
 earthly monarch was the visible regent of the King 
 of Kings. Therefore her soul burned within her 
 on witnessing the degradation and misery of her 
 country under the English yoke, and its deliverance 
 became the hope, the day-dream of her life. For 
 this she prayed with all the fervor of an impas- 
 sioned soul. To it she consecrated all her fresh 
 and innocent powers, with an enthusiasm which only 
 
JOAN OF ARC 203 
 
 the age of Chivalry (thenalmostpast but still living in 
 some of the Knights of war) could produce. We 
 can understand how such a brooding idea and desire 
 would mold an opening life; and what effect must 
 be produced on it by current tradition, derived from 
 ancient prophecies of Merlin, that "France would 
 be saved by a virgin from the borders of Lorraine." 
 Still it is certain that up to the age of sixteen Joan 
 of Arc had made no plan and had entertained no 
 thought of attempting anything for her country ex- 
 cept what love and hope and prayer could accom- 
 plish. 
 
 In the year 1425 a change befell her. On one 
 summer's day at noon she was in a little garden 
 attached to her father's house. As she afterward 
 affirmed, a voice suddenly sounded in her ears and 
 a great brightness shone around her. At first 
 alarmed and disconcerted, she became accustomed 
 to the visitation, which was repeated and took the 
 form of angels, who exhorted her to "go to France 
 for to deliver the Kingdom." The effect of these 
 apparitions, which occurred frequently, was to in- 
 spire this simple country-girl with a conviction that 
 a great mission lay before her, nothing less than the 
 rescue of her native land from its enemies and the 
 restoration of its ancient dignity. Surely no more 
 
204 STUDIES IN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 difficult and momentous charge was ever laid upon 
 a young heart than this, whether by real or unreal 
 agencies. 
 
 No wonder that it at first overwhelmed Joan of 
 Arc with surprise and fear. Who was she, that 
 such a work should be performed by her? With- 
 out knowledge or wealth or influence, a girl young 
 in years, of the lower classes, and totally inexperi- 
 enced in politics or war, — how could such an one 
 succeed where the highest statesmen and soldiers of 
 the land had failed? She shrank in every nerve and 
 muscle from the awful summons. But it would not 
 leave her. Day and night the voices were soundmg 
 in her ears and she had no peace of mind until she 
 told the strange secret to her parents. They very 
 naturally treated it with incredulity, and severely 
 frowned upon her new excitement. Nor would 
 any one of her relatives or friends give her the least 
 encouragement. But she persisted in spite of her 
 own falterings and the opposition of others, for she 
 could not help herself. Necessity was upon her. 
 
 At last she was compelled to apply to the official 
 in charge of the district in behalf of her superna- 
 tural commission. The peasant girl stood before 
 the Sire de Beaudincourt and earnestly told him, 
 "I come on behalf of my Lord, to bid you send word 
 
JOAN OF ARC 205 
 
 to the Dauphin to keep himself well in hand and not 
 give battle to his foes, for my Lord will presently 
 give him succor." "Who is thy Lord?" asked the 
 wondering officer. "The King of Heaven," replied 
 the girl. Whereupon the magistrate set her down 
 as an insane person, and ordered her taken back 
 to her parents. This, however, was but a tempo- 
 rary rebuff. The voices and visions continued their 
 urgency in Joan's heart, and she repeated her appeals 
 to the governor, that he would send her to the king, 
 in order that she might offer herself as a champion 
 for France against the English. The Gallic nature, 
 always inclined to a romantic interest in woman, at 
 last caught the fire of her intense enthusiasm, and 
 Joan of Arc was consigned to the care of an armed 
 force, who conducted her more than three hundred 
 miles to the royal residence. 
 
 Arrived at the court, the crisis of her fate was 
 met by her with calm courage and enthusiastic zeal. 
 On the ninth of March, 1429, this village maiden 
 was introduced to the royal presence at Chinon. 
 The king stood in the midst of three hundred 
 knights of war, high officials and ecclesiastical dig- 
 nitaries. He purposely laid aside the insignia of 
 his rank and appeared as one of the assembly, not 
 differing from the others in office, in order to test 
 
206 STUDIES IN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 the discernment of his new visitor. But she recog- 
 nized him at once, although in the dusk of evening, 
 and kneehng before him, announced her high call- 
 ing. "Gentle Dauphin, my name is Joan the Maid. 
 The King of Heaven sendeth you word by me that 
 you shall be anointed and crowned in the city of 
 Rheims and shall be lieutenant of the King of 
 Heaven. It is God's pleasure that our enemies, the 
 English, should depart to their own country." 
 
 Like everyone else, the king was at first con- 
 founded at the novelty of her appeal, and knew 
 not what to make of her personally. But after, in 
 a private consultation, he had heard from her what 
 he had supposed was a secret known to no one but 
 himself and which had given him great anxiety, he 
 began to believe in her sincerity and authenticity. 
 Severe tests, however, were applied to her. A 
 council, composed of some of the most eminent pre- 
 lates and philosophers of the realm, was appointed 
 to examine her claims to supernatural inspiration. 
 For two weeks this inquisition was conducted with 
 rigorous care, and, as a result, a verdict was pro- 
 nounced in her favor. It was formally declared by 
 the bishops and statesmen that Joan of Arc was the 
 virgin foretold in the ancient prophecies, notably in 
 those of Merlin, as the savior of France in its ex- 
 
JOAN OF ARC 207 
 
 tremity; she had been sent by God to rescue the 
 kingdom, and, as such, she should be recognized 
 and obeyed. Nor was this all. A committee of 
 women was directed to investigate her personal 
 character and moral worth. Three of the greatest 
 ladies in France, the Queen of Sicily, the Countess 
 of Goncourt and the Baroness of Treves, subjected 
 Joan to an examination, which also resulted in her 
 favor. They declared that they found nothing in 
 her life but truth, virtue and modesty, and they 
 espoused her cause with feminine enthusiasm. 
 
 Then the King yielded, and with him everyone 
 else, to the Divine authority of this maiden's cause. 
 She was officially empowered to organize and con- 
 duct a campaign in the service of the nation. With 
 this came a universal outburst of popular applause. 
 The highest of the realm, priests, statesmen, soldiers, 
 bowed down before the maiden, and all the people 
 shouted her name as that of a new Messiah sent 
 from heaven. It was never hard to raise an excite- 
 ment among the French, especially by sentimental 
 appeals. And there was something so new and 
 wonderful and touching in the spectacle of a young, 
 innocent, untried female assuming such an elevated 
 position that the hearts of the most romantic people 
 in the world were easily moved toward her, espec- 
 
208 STUDIES IN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 ially at that particular moment, when all other hopes 
 had failed and nothing but darkness rested elsewhere 
 on the realm. The story and presence of Joan of 
 Arc were like a gleam of sunshine on a stormy day. 
 Yet through it all, this village maid retained the 
 modesty and gravity of a superior mind. Earnest, 
 devoted, absorbed in her high calling, she was as 
 unmoved by applause as she had been indifferent 
 to blame. And so she entered upon the great work 
 of war, to lead the armies of France against the 
 invaders. 
 
 We must condense the story of her military ex- 
 ploits into a brief compass. But it reads like a 
 page from the fairy tales of Chivalry. We see the 
 unschooled maiden of seventeen, who had but a 
 short time before been an obscure peasant, fare 
 forth as the champion of France. Clad in shining 
 white armor, her head bare with its flowing tresses, 
 wearing a cross-belted sword at her side, and the 
 gonfalon of the realm over her head, mounted on a 
 black war-horse, she heads the army, and veteran 
 soldiers are proud to follow her. Inexperienced in 
 war and a stranger to the sight of blood, she ex- 
 hibits all the courage, skill and firmness of a trained 
 soldier. Advancing rapidly to the relief of Orleans, 
 a city besieged by the enemy, she rallies its discour- 
 
JOAN OF ARC 209 
 
 aged defenders, leads them in the attack, and 
 although wounded in the fight, turns defeat into 
 victory and drives away the foe with great slaughter. 
 An offensive campaign is then entered upon, and 
 against the advice of experienced men of war, is 
 conducted with such energy that the English are 
 repeatedly vanquished and at length driven from 
 the region. Next came the coronation of the King 
 at Rheims, as a result of her great success, a result 
 deemed impossible, according to all the ordinary 
 probabilities of war. 
 
 Thus, within one year, the champion had ful- 
 filled her promises and prophecies. She had done 
 what all the statesmen and warriors had failed to 
 do. She had shown a wisdom, courage and power 
 that appeared superhuman. And indeed it was her 
 religious faith that inspired her from first to last. 
 The voices and the visions were her never-failing 
 counselors. She resorted to prayer at every crisis, 
 and said that Divine help came as an answer. What 
 wonder that soldiers, priests and people alike looked 
 up to the white-armored chieftainess as to a celestial 
 leader, and believed in her as commissioned from 
 heaven in their behalf! 
 
 If this story could pause here, it would remain 
 one of the glories of time. But it flows on beyond 
 
210 STUDIES IN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 this point, and soon into darker scenes. The Maid 
 of Orleans, as she was called, had accomplished her 
 mission in the coronation of the King, and the ex- 
 pulsion of his enemies from that part of the realm. 
 With that wonderful success she ought to have been 
 content, for beyond it her Divine commission did 
 not extend. But she was not content. Swept 
 along by the current of popular enthusiasm, and 
 perhaps her own zeal, she now entered on further 
 enterprises, in which she was not so successful. The 
 confidence and ability shown by her previously seem- 
 ed to leave her. She could not exercise the same 
 mysterious power over others. As a result, the 
 French arms met with many disasters, and at last, 
 in a rash venture of arms, the heroic maiden found 
 herself abandoned by her comrades and seized by 
 her enemies, the Burgundians. 
 
 Joan of Arc a prisoner! The terrible news flash- 
 ed far and wide, and at once the charm of her 
 ascendancy disappeared. All the latent jealousy 
 and discontent, with which her strange accession to 
 power had been regarded in the highest circles, burst 
 forth. The priests were especially active, and the 
 great warriors equally so in exclaiming against her 
 as a sorceress who owed her unnatural fortunes to 
 the force of witchcraft. The English, still in pos- 
 
JOAN OF ARC 211 
 
 session of many provinces, offered ten thousand 
 francs to her captors, who basely sold her to them, 
 the mortal foes of Joan and of France. Then the 
 Inquisition at Paris demanded that she be delivered 
 to the church, to be tried by its courts on the charge 
 of sorcery, heresy and other crimes. Worst of all, 
 the King and his court made no effort in her behalf. 
 Incredible as it is, the shameful truth remains that 
 the monarch who owed his crown to the peasant 
 girl who had rescued him in the name of God from 
 darkest humiliation abandoned her in the time of her 
 extremity. And so the hapless maid, after one short 
 year of conquest and glory, found herself a fettered 
 prisoner in the hands of her malignant foes. The 
 soldiers whom she had defeated in battle thirsting 
 for her blood and the ecclesiastics whose pride 
 she had offended by her independence, determined 
 on her destruction. 
 
 No need to describe the so-called trial with its 
 prejudged case. During three months an infamous 
 tribunal employed every artifice of legal and theo- 
 logical chicanery to embarrass and entrap the simple 
 girl of eighteen whom they all dreaded. But her 
 truthfulness, her virtue and courage defied them. 
 From the first, she had foreseen her fate, indeed had 
 predicted it before her capture. She was therefore 
 
212 STUDIES IN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 prepared for the worst; but nothing could induce 
 her to confess that she had not been divinely directed 
 to her mission. A form of abjuration was extorted 
 from her by guile, but this was afterwards shown 
 to have been a deceitful document. W^ith all her 
 heart she held fast to her simple creed of heavenly 
 inspiration. 
 
 For this she was formally condemned by the court, 
 consisting of one Bishop, nine Abbots, eight canons, 
 twenty-one priests and twenty-three Doctors of Div- 
 inity, as having been the agent not of God but of the 
 Evil One; and therefore guilty of blasphemy, 
 imposture, indecency and heretical opinions. The 
 miserable King and his malignant advisers did noth- 
 ing to save her, and so she was handed over to the 
 secular arm, after the poor fiction that the Church 
 could shed no blood. But the English had no such 
 scruples. Their vengeance was swift. On the 30th 
 of May, 1431, in the marketplace of Rouen, the 
 poor girl was burned at the stake for a witch and a 
 heretic, she clasping a cross in her hands and with 
 her last breath crying the name of Jesus. TTius 
 ended one of the brightest and most heroic episodes 
 of France's history, which was also the darkest and 
 most shameful page of its national dishonor. 
 
JO.-W OF .ARC 213 
 
 It is with a degree of satisfaction that we read 
 the sequel to this strange narrative, for it shows that 
 justice triumphs in the long run. The Elnglish, who 
 thou^t that the death of their great enemy would 
 free them from fear, found that the opposite result 
 was reached by her maltreatment. The resistance 
 to the invaders becaime more intense. The Ere kin- 
 dled b}- Joan of Arc spread rapidly, and in hventy- 
 t%so years from her death, the last ElngHsh soldier 
 wa5 dnven out of the realm and France was free, 
 according to her prophecy. The King whom she 
 had elevated to a national security-, after enjo^-ing 
 the fruits of labors which he had so basely requited, 
 perished at last by a most miserable death, tor- 
 mented with remorse for his cruel treatment of his 
 best friend. 
 
 But more than all was her o\^'n complete indi- 
 cation. The reaction of public opinion, after the 
 mart>'rdom of the maid, was so great that an inquir>' 
 was instituted by the Toyal authoritj-, the result of 
 which was an ex}x>sure of the injustice of the tried. 
 The sentence of the court was publicly reversed and 
 cancelled, and tsvo solemn processions m honor of 
 Josin of Arc were ordered to take place annually at 
 Rouen, the scene of her execution. 
 
214 STUDIES IN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 And ever since her fame has been growing in 
 the pride and honor of the people. The story of 
 the peasant girl and the white-armored champion 
 will never pass from the heart of France. After four 
 centuries of all kinds of vicissitudes, the nation still 
 turns to her as one of its great heroes. Her statues 
 can be found in many of the great cities of the king- 
 dom. Her picture is blazoned with the Saints on 
 castle-windows, and at regular intervals in the city 
 of Rouen the time-honored procession is performed 
 in her honor, and wreaths are laid at the feet of her 
 effigy. More than this, the highest personal honor 
 which the Church of Rome can bestow has at last 
 been conferred on her name. After a long and 
 elaborate investigation of her case, extending through 
 more than thirty years, the Papal Court decided 
 ihat she was well-deserving, and on April 30th, 
 1 909, the ceremony of beatification was completed, 
 so that the name of Ste. Jeanne of Orleans will 
 probably be added to the sacred calendar, which 
 all Catholics revere. Surely she did not live or die 
 in vain. 
 
 But the question remains with every student of 
 history. What is the true view of this wonderful 
 record? It is one of the problems of time which 
 has received many different solutions. Was Joan 
 
JOAN OF ARC 215 
 
 of Arc truly inspired of God, as she claimed to be? 
 No one has ever doubted the sincerity of her own 
 convictions, nor could anyone question the reality 
 and greatness of her achievements. But as to 
 whether the voices and visions which she believed 
 in are to be regarded as matters of fact or of illusion, 
 — on this point historians have never agreed. 
 
 The school of critical inquiry which now pre- 
 vails in the literary world has no faith in the super- 
 natural. It explains all effects by reference to 
 natural causes, and it reduces the story of Joan of 
 Arc to a narrative of enthusiasm, illusion and myth. 
 No need to suppose that she actually saw angels or 
 heard them speak. Her nature and circumstances 
 explain everything. A feminine soul, filled with 
 patriotic anxiety and fired with burning thoughts 
 of consecration, would easily apply to itself the 
 ancient prophecies of a virgin becoming the savior 
 of France. It was an age of romantic ideals and 
 sentimental extravagance, when the people still be- 
 lieved in enchanted castles and dragons and wizards 
 and all the wonders of necromancy. They were 
 ready to accept any novelty as something super- 
 natural. The Church of Rome always fostered 
 belief in miracles, and the maiden of Arc was pecu- 
 liarly adapted to such a superstition. Given such 
 
216 STUDIES IN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 a temperament on her part, and then surround her 
 with the darkness and distress of a land which was 
 waiting for some dehverance with a desperate readi- 
 ness, and you have all the conditions of a popular 
 success. Everyone in that age believed in super- 
 natural interferences, and the French especially 
 were an excitable, romantic race. Why then, should 
 they not make of this heroine their champion and fol- 
 low her with enthusiasm? Her sex, her youth, her 
 religious fervor, were all in favor of just such a 
 mysterious career as she enjoyed. This is the theory 
 of the rationalistic school. Joan of Arc is ranked 
 with such patriotic deliverers as Gustavus Vasa of 
 Sweden, Alfred of England, Bolivar of South 
 America, — men who, with humble origin and limited 
 means, achieved wonderful success in rescuing their 
 country from its oppressors. 
 
 But we must object to this theory on the ground 
 that it does not cover the facts in the case. So far 
 from the age and the land being predisposed to 
 favor the young adventurer, Joan of Arc found 
 everything opposed to her mission. General 
 incredulity and resistance had to be over- 
 come, at every step. It was only after the 
 most rigid tests had been satisfied that she 
 was accepted as a leader. More than this. 
 
JOAN OF ARC 217 
 
 we must account for the fact that she possessed and 
 used the gift of prophecy. Against all natural proba- 
 bility, this simple country girl foresaw and fore- 
 told the main features of her career. At a time 
 when no one else believed in her or her words, she 
 predicted her going to the King and her mission to 
 deHver France. Before a weapon had been lifted 
 in her behalf, she announced that she would raise 
 the siege of Orleans, and conduct the King toRheims 
 to be crowned. On the day previous to the battle, 
 she Said that she would be wounded, and described 
 the nature of the injury. Repeatedly during the 
 campaign she thus anticipated future events, as to 
 the results of battles and also of individual fortunes. 
 Indeed, her own fate was clearly foreshadowed 
 long before it came. Such are the undoubted facts 
 in the case. With a few exceptions, all her predic- 
 tions were fulfilled. Take it all together, then, her 
 obscure origin, her sudden rise against the opposi- 
 tion of everyone, her destitution of all natural advan- 
 tages, her unparalleled achievements, and her mys- 
 terious knowledge of the future, — and is there not 
 reasonable ground for accepting her own belief that 
 she was called and conducted by Divine power? 
 
 Now, it must be admitted that the Christian stu- 
 dent of history has no difficulty in recognizing the 
 
218 STUDIES IN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 supernatural element in human affairs. He is bound 
 to believe that God can inspire human 
 beings with special gifts, and has done so. 
 To him the past abounds in stories paral- 
 lel to that of the French heroine. Was 
 not Abram called from his humble home to become 
 the Father of the Faithful by visions from on high, 
 and Jacob, in his wondrous dream at Bethel, and 
 Joseph in the strange dreams of his boyhood? Did 
 not Moses hear the voice from the burning bush and 
 Gideon receive his great commission from the angel 
 by the threshing floor? Indeed, the Virgin of Beth- 
 lehem and her supernatural visitor, with his message 
 from Divinity, presents a picture which the reader 
 of the Bible can never forget. He knows that it 
 has been the favorite policy of the Holy Spirit to 
 choose the weak things of this world to confound 
 the mighty, and that the great eras and events of 
 spiritual progress have been opened by the humble 
 hands of those whom the world would never have 
 chosen for such a service. 
 
 Why then, should we hesitate to classify the 
 French heroine with the Hebrew heroes? It is cer- 
 tain that Joan of Arc was a Christian, according to 
 her light. Sharing as she did the Roman faith, 
 which was then universal (and apart from which 
 
JOAN OF ARC 219 
 
 she had no means of knowing any other rehgion) 
 she still believed in God with a pure heart. Her 
 trust and love were fully bestowed on spiritual truth, 
 as far as it was known to her. Not superior to the 
 superstitions of her kindred and her time, she had a 
 clear perception of and unreserved consecration to 
 the higher powers of heaven. There are few lives 
 in European history more free from selfishness and 
 worldliness that hers. Amid all the temptations 
 of triumph and success, she remained humble, spiri- 
 tually-minded, self-sacrificing. Faith and prayer 
 were her constant conditions. Her life was wholly 
 given to the glory of God and the good of others. 
 If her story were found written in the Old Testament, 
 it would hardly suffer by comparison with that of 
 Ruth or Esther. Why then, should she not be can- 
 onized in the list of Christian saints? 
 
 But there are several reasons why the Christian 
 historian still hesitates. He remembers that a be- 
 lief in supernatural visitations and direction has been 
 a feature of all kinds of religion and philosophy in 
 this world. Intelligent and conscientious persons 
 have associated this conviction with a most varied 
 theory and practice of duty. Socrates claimed 
 that a spirit not his own impelled him to 
 his philosophic views. Buddha and Mohammed 
 
220 STUDIES IN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 believed that they had received revelations 
 from the Deity. The Roman Catholic Church 
 has always held its saints to be under the 
 special control of angels. Ignatius Loyola, the 
 founder of the Jesuit order, declared that the Virgin 
 Mary had appeared to him in visible form, and 
 had commanded him to organize a body of men for 
 her particular service. Now, if it is admitted that 
 Joan of Arc is to be believed in her narrative of 
 visions and voices from the spirit world, why should 
 not the same credence be extended to these other 
 cases? They were each as sincere and positive in 
 their conviction and they showed as marked and 
 surprising results in their various ways. 
 
 Indeed, we know not where to pause in these 
 concessions, once begun. Claims to supernatural 
 inspiration have been made by so many and various 
 persons, not only by undoubted reformers such as 
 Martin Luther, who heard the voice "The just 
 shall live by faith" in the church at Rome, or George 
 Fox, founder of the Quakers, who was filled by the 
 light of the spirit, but by errorists such as Ann Lee, 
 mother of the Shakers, who claimed to have a new 
 revelation from God; Swedenborg, who declared 
 that the heavenly world had been opened to him; 
 Joseph Smith, the first Mormon, who received a 
 
JOAN OF ARC 221 
 
 Divine commission to organize the Church of Latter- 
 Day Saints. What shall we do with these intelli- 
 gent, devout and devoted souls, each of whom made 
 the same claim that Joan of Arc asserted, and some 
 of whom have been confirmed therein by the faith 
 of multitudes of believers? 
 
 Indeed, this matter of Visions and Voices is one 
 of the standing problems of history. Who can 
 solve it? How can we discriminate between the 
 reality of a supernatural visitation and the illusion 
 of self-gendered imagination? It is the difficulty of 
 determining what is true and what is false in such 
 things that has led the critical historian to discard 
 them all as unworthy of belief. But we cannot do 
 that. Bound as we are to the spiritualistic theory 
 of the Bible, we must hold that there is room for 
 the supernatural in human life anywhere and at any 
 time. 
 
 Have we, then, a criterion or test that we may 
 apply to distinguish the real from the unreal? I 
 know of no other than that recommended in the New 
 Testament, — "Beloved, believe not every spirit, but 
 prove the spirits whether they are of God; because 
 many false prophets are gone out into the world". 
 Then, as now and at all times, there were many pre- 
 tenders to a Divine calling. But how determine as 
 
222 STUDIES IN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 to their validity? "Hereby know ye the Spirit of 
 God; every spirit which confesseth that Jesus Christ 
 is come in the flesh is of God, and every spirit which 
 confesseth not — is not of God". The Gospel of 
 Grace is therefore our standard of judgment in 
 these matters. The revelation which God gave by 
 his Son is the supreme test of all supernatural claims 
 in this world. Whatever agrees with it, essentially 
 or formally, may be safely accepted, and nothing 
 else can be. 
 
 Applying this rule, we have no difficulty in accep- 
 ting the experience of Joan of Arc as genuine, and 
 rejecting that of Ignatius Loyola as spurious. For 
 the one showed in her religious life, its character 
 and results, the true spirit of Christ, however obscur- 
 ed by the errors of her day; while no such claim 
 could be made for the first Jesuit and his work. The 
 simplicity and spirituality of the French heroine, the 
 necessity for her patriotic enterprise and its evident 
 utility, her pious life and noble death, entitle her to 
 the rank of those whom the Holy Spirit has truly 
 moved and used. And a similar verdict may be 
 rendered in favor of Luther, Fox, and other great 
 reformers who believed that God called them and 
 endowed them for their work. They showed in the 
 
JOAN OF ARC 223 
 
 motives, methods and results of their mission that 
 they were in accord with the spirit of the Gospel. 
 
 But the Spiritualist of today who makes so much 
 of apparitions and supernal communication with the 
 unseen world is by this rule excluded from christian 
 confidence, for the whole drift and effect of that 
 system is to establish another Gospel. It supersedes 
 the Bible with the medium and his revelations. It 
 discards all faith in the cross of Christ, as necessary 
 to salvation. It never mentions the Holy Spirit as 
 the supreme enlightener of men, nor will it have 
 anything to do with the evangelization of the world. 
 "By their fruits ye shall know them". 
 
 Visions may be real and yet not good in their 
 origin or effect. They may come from celestial or 
 from infernal sources. Their real character can be 
 determined only by the one test which is of absolute 
 authority, — the Person and work of the Son of God. 
 He is the Truth incarnate, and all things must take 
 their moral value from their relation to Him. 
 
JOHN WICLIK 
 
John Wiclif 
 
 OHN Wiclif has been called "the Morn- 
 ing Star of the Reformation." Living 
 two hundred years before Luther, and in 
 another land, his work was a direct pro- 
 phecy and preparation for that spiritual sun- 
 rise which dawned over Germany in the sixteenth 
 century. His life extended from 1 324 to 1 384, 
 and was coincident with a very important part of 
 English history. That Fourteenth Century wit- 
 nessed the real beginning of the strange dualism 
 which the Norman conquest forced upon Britain. 
 The terrific inundation of William's invasions that 
 burst upon and submerged the old Saxon institu- 
 tions fertilized the island with the means of a new 
 life; and, after time had assuaged the rigors of the 
 subjugation, the conquered and the conquerors be- 
 gan to fuse into the form and power of a composite 
 nationality. The Norman imbued the sturdy Saxon 
 stock with a finer taste, a loftier ideal, a wider, 
 keener thought; and the result was already becoming 
 apparent in the fourteenth century, an age glorious 
 in British annals. It was the time of Crecy and 
 
226 STUDIES IN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 Poitiers, that gave to England for a while the mas- 
 tery of France. It produced the consummate flower 
 of Chivalry in the Black Prince. It gave birth 
 to the efflorescence of architecture in many of the 
 noblest cathedrals of the land, — Salisbury, West- 
 minster, Lincoln, Wells and Peterboro. It was then 
 that Chaucer sang the "Canterbury Pilgrimage"; 
 and the "Romaunt of the Rose." It was also an age 
 full of legal reforms, of educational progress and of 
 religious fermentation. 
 
 Such was the environment in which must be con- 
 sidered the figure of John Wiclif, a man worthy of 
 his race and of the time. Of his birth, parentage 
 and early habits we know hardly anything. He 
 comes first into clear view at the age of perhaps forty ; 
 when we find him at the University of Oxford, the 
 most distinguished scholar and writer in that great 
 emporium of learning. Oxford was then far more 
 eminent than now. Thirty thousand students from 
 all parts of Christendom crowded its halls, where 
 the Trivium, consisting of Grammar, Rhetoric and 
 Logic, and the Quadrivium, Arithmetic, Astro- 
 nomy, Geometry and Music, constituted a complete 
 course of education, accordmg to the Medieval stan- 
 dard. In this vast cosmopolitan society of thought 
 and culture Wiclif was confessedly "the foremost 
 
JOHN WICLIF 227 
 
 man," as one of his enemies admitted, "esteemed 
 little less than a god." Then and during his after 
 life he was a voluminous writer, sending out scores 
 of works upon a great variety of topics and ranking 
 thus among the first authors of the time. Adequate 
 and eminent distinctions were bestowed on him. He 
 was made Doctor in the Faculty of Theology, and 
 royal chaplain. 
 
 But this quiet, cloister-led student life, so dear to 
 the true scholar, was soon and sharply disturbed. The 
 pale thinker was summoned from his books to take 
 part in the political and religious strife of the day; 
 and he then showed himself to be (what the average 
 scholar by no means is) full of practical efficiency, 
 not only a zealous patriot and a true reformer, but 
 a wise, bold, capable leader. The occasion for this 
 entering into public life was furnished by the resis- 
 tance of the King to the demands of the Pope for 
 the payment of feudal tribute to him, which the 
 English government had neglected for many years. 
 This requisition was made in such a haughty and 
 threatening manner and was so essentially unwar- 
 ranted as to arouse the spirit of Edward the Second, 
 who with the hearty support of the Parliament 
 emphatically refused to submit to it. In 1374, a 
 commission was appointed by the crown to confer 
 
228 STUDIES IN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 with the representative of the Papacy at Bruges, 
 and of this commission Wiclif was a member. He 
 was appointed as the best embodiment of the religion 
 and learning of the realm, and he acquitted himself 
 so well as to become the accepted champion of Eng- 
 land against Rome. From this time on he was the 
 deteiTnined and redoubtable foe of the Papacy in 
 its claims to temporal power. For this difficult and 
 dangerous work he was well fitted by nature and 
 training, being a fine embodiment of that new, com- 
 posite life which was thenceforth to characterize the 
 British nation. The Saxon and the Norman, the 
 realist and the idealist, the practical and the specula- 
 tive, the strong and the graceful, were blended in this 
 scholarly statesman, this devout leader. For, once 
 begun, his work could not be dropped. He must 
 defend himself against the fulminations of the arous- 
 ed hierarchy. Cited for trial as a heretic, nothing 
 but the interposition of titled friends saved him from 
 the stake. But he feared no one and went on in 
 his public and unsparing hostility to Rome, until 
 Europe began to thrill with the effect of his words. 
 A century and a half before Luther burned the 
 Pope's Bull, this English Protestant had branded 
 the Pope as Anti-Christ. Indeed it was he who 
 kindled the spark of religious freedom which Huss 
 
JOHN WICLIF 229 
 
 afterwards blew into a flame that gave to Luther 
 the torch with which he fired Germany. 
 
 But more: In denouncing Papal abuses he was 
 constrained to oppose everything identified with 
 them; and his next step as a reformer was to con- 
 demn the system of "Mendicant Friars" that had 
 filled the land with itinerant priests. They had no 
 fixed charge, but moved about, subsisting on the 
 credulity of the people and confirming them in the 
 worst superstitions. They had become an intoler- 
 able evil, even to the extent of fostering immorality 
 and crime. But such was their audacity and nu- 
 merical strength that the church dignitaries dared not 
 suppress them. Wiclif, however, exposed and de- 
 nounced them unsparingly, caring nothing for the 
 storm of abuse which he thus aroused, but pursuing 
 his object with courage and skill to the end. As 
 one means of counteracting the evil referred to, he 
 organized and conducted a new order of travelmg 
 preachers, — honest, godly men, instructed in the 
 truth, who were sent throughout the land to live 
 among the people and anywhere, at any time, by 
 any means, to preach the Gospel. This revival of 
 our Savior's method of evangelism, which was also 
 adopted by Wesley long afterward, met with great 
 success. The common people heard the Word of 
 
230 STUDIES IN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 God most gladly and the whole land was thus sown 
 with seed that could not perish. 
 
 Such a crusade as this, however, could not have 
 been projected or carried on if Wiclif had not him- 
 self been endowed ^^•ith the light of Truth. But 
 he was so enlightened ; he was a spiritual believer, a 
 man filled with the Holy Spirit. His writings re- 
 main to show that he had a genuine christian ex- 
 perience. His prime act of faith was reverence for 
 the Word of God, in its original simplicity. Thence 
 he drew the saving doctrine of salvation by grace 
 through Jesus Christ, of dependence on the Holy 
 Spirit for sanctification, and of obedience to the 
 Scriptures as the rule and aim of life. His theology 
 was not as advanced or complete as that of the re- 
 formers of the Sixteenth Century, but he anticipated 
 them in his grasp of the fundamental truths, and in 
 his denunciation of Romish errors, such as the wor- 
 ship of the Virgin and the Saints, transubstantia- 
 tion, and the celibacy of the Clergy. Indeed, com- 
 pared with his antecedents and surroundings, Wiclif 
 showed a more vigorous and aggressive spirit of re- 
 ligious inquiry than any of the great leaders of the 
 church who followed him. It was the judgment of 
 Milton that if the impulse given by Wiclif to the 
 cause of Christianity had not been arrested by his 
 
JOHN WICLIF 231 
 
 enemies, the labors of Huss, Jerome, Luther and 
 Calvin would not have been required. So certainly 
 was he the Morning Star of the Reformation. 
 
 The crown of glory of Wiclif's life appeared in 
 his translation of the Bible into the English Ian- 
 gauge. He was himself a diligent student of the 
 Bible at all times, this being the source of his spiritual 
 strength and courage. It was the Word of God 
 that made him the protestant and reformer he was. 
 But the Latin version (the Vulgate) which the 
 scholar studied could not serve the common people; 
 and Wiclif saw that the only way to make perma- 
 nent the effects of his evangelistic work was to render 
 the Scriptures accessible to the masses in their own 
 tongue. This had never been the policy of the 
 Church of Rome. Indeed it could not be. Sheer 
 self-interest compelled the Papacy from the very 
 first to withhold the Bible from the masses. After 
 the monk Jerome, in the fourth century, had trans- 
 lated the originals of the Old and New Testaments 
 into the Latin, Rome ceased from its labors in that 
 direction, and indeed has never resumed them ex- 
 cept in the case of the Douay Version, 1 609. It is 
 true that Pope Leo XIII ordered that a new version 
 of the Vulgate be made by the scholars of Rome; 
 but it is also true that the Decrees of Councils and 
 
232 STUDIES IN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 the traditions of the Church must remain as the su- 
 preme authority for the CathoHc faith. It is only 
 as the Bible is interpreted by the Church that it will 
 be given to the people. 
 
 Wiclif was well aware of this policy and the rea- 
 son for it. He saw that the most effective weapon 
 against the Papacy would be found in that sword 
 of the Spirit which is the Word of God. He there- 
 fore projected and completed the stupendous work 
 of translating the Latin Bible into the English lan- 
 guage. How laborious a task this was, to write 
 with his own hand or to dictate the entire Scriptures, 
 can hardly be imagined. It was not of course so diffi- 
 cult as that of Judson in converting the English into 
 the Burmese Bible, or of Carey in a like task for the 
 Bengali; for they had a new language to master. 
 Nor was it so complex and exacting as the work of 
 the last revisers, who had multitudes of versions and 
 manuscripts to collate in order to reach a critical 
 text. Wiclif knew nothing of the Hebrew and 
 Greek originals; his version was merely an English 
 rendering of the Vulgate. Nevertheless, in the dar- 
 ing of the conception he was alone, and in the fidel- 
 ity of his work he has never been excelled. Of late 
 years the claim for Wiclif of this priority in the trans- 
 lation of the Latin Bible has been disputed at Ox- 
 
JOHN WICLIF 233 
 
 ford; but these objections do not seem to be well 
 sustained. It has not been clearly established that 
 his historic precedence can be justly given to anyone 
 else. 
 
 Certain portions of the Bible had been translated 
 into the vernacular in preceding centuries, but Wi- 
 clif's Bible w^as the first complete edition of the 
 Word of God that the English language received. 
 Copies of it were rapidly made by the hands of eager 
 scribes, and although its cost was great, owing to the 
 labor of production, it was speedily circulated far 
 and wide. More than a century must elapse before 
 the printing press could give wings to the Word that 
 would carry it cheaply into every land and home. 
 Wiclif's Bibles were all written out with pen and ink, 
 and must therefore have been bulky and expensive 
 books to use. But in this they were exactly like the 
 New Testament which the primitive Church pos- 
 sessed, and like it they so increased and multiplied 
 as to fill the land with the light and power of Divine 
 Revelation. 
 
 He lived but two years after his busy hand had 
 stopped its tireless tracing, but his life had rounded 
 its circle gloriously, and his death was full of tri- 
 umph. The England that received his bones to rest 
 was not the England that had borne his cradle. It 
 
234 STUDIES IN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 was a new land, thrilling with the advent of a sub- 
 lime, a heavenly power. Not Columbus, revealing 
 America to Europe, nor Copernicus, laying bare the 
 history of the heavens to the earth, accomplished so 
 useful, so benign an achievement as he who opened 
 the sphere of Divine Truth to the common people. 
 For there broke then upon the world the morning of 
 a day that has been brightening ever since with the 
 blessings of Christianity to men. 
 
 Wiclif's Bible was of course limited in its issue. 
 It could not be made cheaply and numerously enough 
 to satisfy the popular demand. The reaction which 
 followed his death enabled his enemies also to ar- 
 rest its circulation and destroy the greater number 
 of the copies in use. But the Word of God is not 
 bound, and no power could wholly check its career. 
 The violent abuse which Wiclif received from the 
 Romish clergy is the strongest tribute that could be 
 paid to the extent of his work. Said one of the 
 high dignitaries: "Christ entrusted his Gospel to the 
 clergy and doctors of the Church, to minister it to 
 the laity and weaker sort. But this Master Wiclif, 
 by translating it, has made it vulgar and laid it more 
 open to the laity and even women who can read 
 than it used to be to the most learned of the clergy, 
 and thus the Gospel jewel, the evangelistic pearl. 
 
JOHN WICLIF 23$ 
 
 is thrown out and trodden under foot of swine." 
 After the Council of Constance, by which his writ- 
 ings were formally condemned, his bones were ex- 
 humed and their ashes cast into the stream, to show, 
 as was supposed, the utter extinction of the heretic's 
 influence. But far otherwise was the actual result. 
 Rome in this, as in so many other instances, only 
 exposed its own malice and impotence; for, as 
 Wordsworth has well sung, 
 
 "As thou these ashes, little Brook ! wilt bear 
 Into the Avon, Avon to the tide 
 Of Severn, Severn to the narrow seas. 
 Into main Ocean they, this deed accursed 
 An emblem yields to friends and enemies 
 How the bold Teacher's doctrines, sanctified 
 By truth, shall spread, throughout the w^orld 
 dispersed." 
 
 It remains for us now to bestow a glance upon 
 the general aspect of this subject of Bible translation, 
 which Wiclif's work illustrates. Seven great epochs 
 may be noted in the history of the Bible : 
 
 1 The giving of the Law on Mount Sinai (B. 
 C. 1491), when its first Scriptural form was 
 assumed. 
 
236 STUDIES IN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 2 The compilation of the Hebrew Bible by 
 Ezra (B. C. 450), when the Old Testament 
 took its present form. 
 
 3 The Septuagint version (B. C, 287), when 
 the Hebrew Scriptures were introduced to 
 the world of letters by the Greek language. 
 
 4 The Vulgate version of Jerome ( A. D. 400) , 
 when our complete New Testament was add- 
 ed to the Old, and both, as one book, com- 
 mitted to the Latin. 
 
 5 Wiclif 's version into English (A. D. 1 380) . 
 
 6 King James' version (A. D. 1 61 1 ), by which 
 the Bible took the form familiar to us. 
 
 7 The last revision, in 1884, by a joint com- 
 mission from the English and American 
 churches. 
 
 This is a bare outline of the wonderful history of 
 this Book as it has come down to us. But it must 
 be borne in mind that this is only one of many par- 
 allel streams that have been flowing through the cen- 
 turies, independent of, or branches from, that which 
 has supplied us. In the early ages of Christianity 
 we know not how many versions of the original 
 tongue were made beside that of Jerome. There 
 
JOHN WICLIF 237 
 
 were the Syriac, the Thebaic, the Memphitic, the 
 Ethiopic, the Gothic, the Armenian, the Arabic, 
 Persian and Slavonic; and unknown other trans- 
 lations carried the Word of God into all portions 
 of the then civilized world. No one can estimate 
 the amount of enlightenment and spiritual vitalizing 
 thus imparted to the various branches of the human 
 family. And when we reflect on the enormous la- 
 bor and cost of transcribing these copies, all by hand, 
 we can imagine the devotion thus employed. An- 
 tiquarians are now employed in searching for these 
 ancient manuscripts in the libraries and churches of 
 the Orient, and they frequently make most valuable 
 discoveries in the copies thus brought to light. Wit- 
 ness the work of Tischendorf at the Mt. Sinai con- 
 vent. But, as was remarked before, the supremacy 
 of Rome arrested and suppressed this entire work 
 of publishing and propagating the Scriptures; and it 
 was not until the Holy Spirit used the genius of 
 Wiclif as an Angel of Revelation that the long- 
 dormant Word arose and resumed its mission of 
 enlightening the world. 
 
 Once started on this career of diffusion, the Scrip- 
 tures have known no rest. For the initial command 
 of the Church, its original commission, "Go disciple 
 all nations," involved unlimited publication of the 
 
238 STUDIES IN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 Truth as its first condition. With the Reformation, 
 the Bible was translated into the vernacular of every 
 European people who accepted the Gospel. But 
 it is noteworthy that the greatest progress of this 
 work was reserved for the present age. It is esti- 
 mated that in 1804 there were not more than five 
 million copies of the Bible in existence in the world. 
 Since then more than one hundred and sixty million 
 copies have been published and scattered through 
 the nations. This has been done by twelve great 
 societies, in different countries, who have translated 
 the Scriptures, wholly or in part, into more than 
 four hundred languages and dialects, thirty-nine of 
 which had no written form until Protestant mission- 
 aries created it. 
 
 Of the labor thus bestowed by Christian scholars 
 we may form some conception when we learn that 
 the Bengali version of Carey occupied fifteen years, 
 the Burmese of Judson nineteen years, the Tahiti- 
 an twenty years and the Dakota version of William- 
 son and Riggs nearly forty years. And this work 
 was not merely manual and intellectual, as in trans- 
 posing ideas from one idiom or word into others. 
 It often involved the creation of new terms in the 
 vernacular to express truths that the native mind 
 had never grasped. Think of finding the equiv- 
 
JOHN WICLIF 239 
 
 alents of love, grace, holiness, in languages possess- 
 ing perhaps a dozen different words for murder but 
 not one to express gratitude or forgiveness. This 
 labor has been performed by self-denying mission- 
 aries of the Cross, and the Gospel has through them 
 rendered a service to the cause of scholarship and 
 civilization w^hich the highest linguistic talent in the 
 world has recognized. Miiller and Whitney have 
 acknowledged that no greater help could possibly 
 have been rendered to the educational, literary and 
 intellectual interests of the barbarous nations coming 
 within the pale of civilization than by this gift of 
 the Christian Scriptures to their vernacular. It is 
 this work of Bible translation that has given to at 
 least fifty savage races the beginning of their litera- 
 ture, the first written speech, with its alphabet, spell- 
 ing-book, dictionary, etc. 
 
 And this wonderful process is going on with ever- 
 increasing rapidity. Every improvement of the 
 printing-press, every advance of comparative philol- 
 ogy, every new discovery of antiquarian research 
 and linguistic lore, gives new impulse and power to 
 the propagation of the Christian Scriptures. In Wi- 
 clif's day it required the labor of a scribe ten months 
 to produce a copy of the Scriptures, and it would 
 cost a laboring-man the fruits of twenty-five years 
 
240 STUDIES IN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 of toil to purchase it. Now they are pubHshed at 
 the rate of ten per minute through the year, and sold 
 as cheaply as twenty-five cents per copy, and this 
 among every nation and tribe yet reached by the Gos- 
 pel in the world. What, then, shall we say to these 
 things? 
 
 First, the Bible is the on/i; Book of its kind that 
 ever attempted such a work <3s this. None of the 
 Sacred Books that form the Oracles of other relig- 
 ions ever required or permitted a world-wide dis- 
 persion of their contents. The works of Confucius 
 and the Hindoo Vedas none of their votaries ever 
 dreamed of giving to nations beyond themselves. 
 Indeed the Koran is by express commandment rig- 
 orously confined to the Arabic. The Word of God 
 is the only book ever written that urges itself upon 
 all nations. 
 
 Second, the Bible is the only book of its kind that 
 can stand universal translation. Even when render- 
 ed into other languages, its rivals lose their virtue 
 and power. The Oriental Scriptures that Arabians 
 and Hindoos revere fall flat and vague upon the 
 Occidental ear. We may admire the poetic phrase, 
 the rich idea here and there, as we still read the 
 words of Pythagoras and Plato. But as for a law 
 of life, a manual of duty, what European or Amer- 
 
JOHN WICLIF 241 
 
 ican could possibly accept the Zend Avesta or the 
 Chinese classics? All of these authorities are local 
 and limited; like the palm-tree or the bamboo, they 
 do not bear transplanting, whereas the Bible flour- 
 ishes equally in every zone and climate of the earth. 
 It is a cosmopolitan book, as adjustable to the chilled 
 thought of the Esquimaux as to the glowing fancy 
 of the negro, as well suited to the refined culture of 
 England as to the low grade of Indian Hfe. Is 
 there in this no evidence of its origin? Could such 
 a work have been born of any human age or race or 
 was it begotten of the Omnipresent, Infinite Spirit of 
 Truth? 
 
 And as for its relation to the personal life and 
 character of its readers, no words could utter all the 
 testimony that has been rendered in its praise. From 
 Dante and Milton to Goethe and Franklin, from 
 Shakespeare to Wordsworth, from Handel and 
 Haydn to Mendelssohn and Mozart, from Raphael 
 and Da Vinci to West and Muncaczy, from New- 
 ton even to Huxley, and from Cromwell to Grant 
 and Lee, tributes of some kind have been rendered, 
 more or less frequently, to the peculiar, inalienable 
 primacy of this book. "There is but one book," 
 said Scott, "the Bible." It was a favorite compan- 
 ion of Abraham Lincoln. His biographer, Arnold, 
 
242 STUDIES IN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 says, "He knew the Bible by heart. There was 
 not a clergyman to be found so familiar with it as he. 
 From it he acquired that clear, concise, Anglo- 
 Saxon style that made him so effective in his ora- 
 tions and writings." Yes, and from it also, we may 
 say, he drew consciously or unconsciously that sub- 
 lime devotion to Truth and Righteousness which 
 qualified him to be the Moses of the new Exodus 
 of our nation. 
 
 The explorer, Stanley, says that when starting on 
 his great journey across the Dark Continent he took 
 with him quite a library of books; but during the 
 vicissitudes of travel they gradually disappeared un- 
 til there were left only Shakespeare, Carlyle, the 
 Nautical Almanac and the Bible. These also 
 wore away, one by one, until the only book that re- 
 mained when he reached the sea was the Bible. We 
 can hardly call this accidental. It was a clear case 
 of the survival of the fittest. It was a picture of the 
 way this wonderful book outlasts all others and alone 
 stays by the soul unto the end. 
 
 Yes, we may equip ourselves with all the libraries 
 of earth and richly furnish the caravan of life with 
 poetry, fiction, science, philosophy, history, but so 
 surely as the long labors of time wear us away will 
 these also fail us. Gradually we outgrow them and 
 
JOHN WICLIF 243 
 
 leave them behind. The toils and troubles of ex- 
 istence rob us of the delights of literature, and the 
 sins and sorrows of the soul weaken to us the powers 
 of culture ; and as our steps grow feebler toward the 
 West, our hands grow emptier of the words of men, 
 till at last we find ourselves forsaken of all their 
 power to cheer, as life itself fails us. But when 
 we near the final shore, where the dark ocean tells 
 us that our journey at last is done, we too shall find 
 that the Word of God abides, the one, the only book 
 that can go with us out into the mysteries of the 
 wide, wide sea that rolls around all the world. 
 
Luther and Erasmus 
 
 AT about the time that America was discov- 
 ^ ered the rehgious aspect of Europe pre- 
 I^K^. sented a very dreary scene. It was 
 what is now called "the Dark Ages," 
 so termed because of the almost universal 
 prevalence of moral and intellectual gloom. 
 For nearly seven hundred years the civilized 
 world had been without the Gospel. Divine Truth 
 had been buried, with the Book, in a language to 
 the people unknown, and even the Latin version was 
 rarely used by the learned. Christianity had been 
 displaced by the Church. The Pope stood in the 
 place of Jesus Christ, and Rome was what Jerusalem 
 had once been. 
 
 True, this usurpation had not been unchallenged. 
 A protest had already been made by John Wiclif, 
 who' in the fourteenth century, gave the Scriptures 
 to the common people. With him indeed the Re- 
 formation began, for he struck the spark that fired 
 Huss in Bohemia and Jerome of Prague. But Wi- 
 clif's great work was confined mainly to England. 
 On the continent Romanism had not suffered great- 
 
246 STUDIES IN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 ly from these attacks. Even in England the bones 
 of Wiclif had been burned and cast into the stream 
 in token of the land's repudiation of his teachings, 
 and in Germany Huss and Jerome had perished at 
 the stake. Then once more the night settled down, 
 as it seemed forever. 
 
 It is hardly possible for us now to realize the state 
 of things then existing. To do so we must picture 
 to ourselves Romanism in its most flagrant 
 features omnipotent, not as now with us, 
 soft-spoken, slow-stepping, apologetic; but Ro- 
 manism enthroned and supreme, all-daring and 
 intolerant. The Church was an ecclesiastical 
 government, supreme over all secular powers. An 
 Emperor had held the stirrup of a Pope, in sign of 
 vassalage. Bishops outranked the nobles of any 
 realm. More than one-half of the soil of Europe 
 was owned by the religious orders. The clergy 
 were an omnipresent army which obeyed no master 
 but the Pontiff. They were amenable to no law 
 but his, and they defied all other courts. Rome was 
 supreme over all governments and climes. It was 
 perfectly consistent with his other prerogatives that 
 the Pope, on the discovery of America, claimed the 
 entire undiscovered world as his own and dividing 
 it gave the eastern half to Portugal and the western 
 
LUTHER AND ERASMUS 247 
 
 to Spain. Also a great part of the administration 
 of civil government was in the hands of the Church. 
 No King could be crowned lawfully but by the 
 Pope's representatives. No private will could be 
 proven except before a Bishop or his officer. All 
 such crimes as profligacy, drunkenness, cruelty, dis- 
 honesty, must be tried at the bar of the Church. If 
 the laws ordained by the Church ever conflicted with 
 those of the State, the latter must give way, as Arch- 
 bishop Warham plainly told the House of Commons 
 in the fifteenth century. 
 
 Now try to imagine such a state as this in every 
 country of the so-called Christian world. Every- 
 where the priest, at the birth and at the death, in 
 the household and by the throne, on the battle-field 
 and in the Court of Justice, — everywhere that sable 
 presence and that ghostly power. Nothing blessed, 
 nothing legal, nothing sure or safe without the mark 
 of the Church. And all this in the service of Sin. 
 Rome had undoubtedly rendered a great service to 
 Europe during the convulsions following the dismem- 
 berment of the ancient world, by establishing a neu- 
 tral authority, a refuge, a court of appeal, where 
 discord might be harmonized, learning sheltered and 
 religion of some kind kept alive. lis record was 
 bright with saintly names which still deserve the 
 
248 STUDIES IN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 world's honor, and great good of certain kinds had 
 been done by its many Orders ; but the day for such 
 functions had long since passed, and in the fifteenth 
 century Romanism was mainly ancient paganism 
 revived, under christian forms, and intensified with 
 new life. 
 
 The Church contradicted itself. It forbade the 
 eating of meat on fast-days, but for a certain sum 
 would sell permission to do so. It consigned to 
 perdition the unrepentant sinner, but agreed for a 
 price to annul the sentence. Its courts, before 
 which every layman might be summoned on any 
 charge, became instruments of extortion, as the rec- 
 ords remain to show. And what could be done 
 against a power that wielded excommunication? No 
 judge or king dared to interfere. Nothing but mon- 
 ey might save the hapless victim. On the other hand, 
 any criminal was safe from justice if once within a 
 church door; and if a murderer could show an abil- 
 ity to read, he was at once covered by the immunity 
 belonging to the clergy. He was a "clerk" and 
 must not die. Such was the Church of Rome; and 
 yet we have not spoken of its worst features, — the 
 shameless profligacy which at times prevailed among 
 the religious orders, from a Pope who was a mur- 
 derer down to Bishops and monks whose luxury and 
 
LUTHER AND ERASMUS 249 
 
 licentiousness were a by-word among the people. 
 Try to imagine such a mephitic moral atmosphere 
 spread over Europe as the conditions of its religious 
 life. 
 
 Listen! You hear the ringing of a bell in Ger- 
 man villages. It is followed by a loud voice pro- 
 claiming a new Gospel — "Now is the accepted time! 
 Now is the day of salvation!" As we draw near 
 we see a red cross uplifted, and beside it a person in 
 priestly garb offering for sale pardons and permis- 
 sions for any kind of sin. Hearken to the very words 
 of Tetzel, "This cross" (pointing to his red stan- 
 dard) "has as much efficacy as the cross of Jesus 
 Christ. I would not exchange my privileges for 
 those of St. Peter in heaven, for I have saved more 
 souls with my indulgences than he with his sermons." 
 All this in the name of Holy Church and the Son 
 of God! And so common, popular and successful 
 was this traffic in indulgences in the year 1510 that 
 the great Basilica of St. Peter's at Rome was com- 
 pleted by the help of funds thus raised. 
 
 If it be asked how the spiritual life of Medieval 
 Christendom could have fallen so low as to permit 
 or encourage so shameful a vice as this, it should be 
 remembered what was the cost and fate of opposition 
 to Rome in those times. Many voices had been 
 
250 STUDIES IN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 raised in protest, many lives had been devoted to the 
 truth, but alas for the results ! The snows of Alpine 
 gorges reddened with the blood of Albigenses, fire- 
 scorched spots on many a German meadow and 
 Spanish square ; deep, dark crypts of Inquisition tor- 
 ture, could testify on that point. It was a desperate 
 task to resist or resent Rome in the fifteenth cen- 
 tury. And so it would have been to this day. We 
 should now be helplessly enslaved in the bonds of 
 superstition, this land of light and liberty what Italy 
 is in respect to a knowledge of saving truth, but for 
 the fact that the errors of Romanism were detected 
 and denounced by many Protestants, pioneers of 
 a better day. It is to the variant characters and 
 methods of two of these reformers that I would now 
 invite attention. 
 
 Desiderius Erasmus became known to the world 
 at about the time that Columbus discovered America. 
 He was then a young man of great learning, wit and 
 varied accomplishments. Born of lowly Dutch 
 parents at Rotterdam, he had been early placed at 
 school in a monastery, where he took orders after- 
 ward as a monk. This was at that time often the 
 only possible course for those who desired a thorough 
 education. Thus situated he rapidly acquired a 
 profound acquaintance with all the learning of his 
 
LUTHER AND ERASMUS 251 
 
 day. Soon after leaving the retirement of the clois- 
 ter, he appeared in public life as the companion and 
 adviser of princes. His brilliant talents and vast 
 erudition recommended him both to political and 
 scholastic circles everywhere. In England he be- 
 came a favorite at the court of Henry the Eighth, 
 and was the chosen companion of Cardinal Wolsey 
 and Sir Thomas More. He had wealth at com- 
 mand, and the highest patronage in letters and art. 
 Yet he was not spoiled by prosperity, but passed 
 through the dissipations of the time a calm, studious, 
 upright man. Such a keen, true mind as this must 
 have seen right through the shams of the prevalent 
 religion. And so it did. All of the pretended mi- 
 racles performed by the clergy, cures effected by 
 bits of the true cross, or bones of the saints, blessings 
 bestowed by images, magic virtues of holy wells and 
 the like, were smiled at by Erasmus as ridiculous; 
 while the open profligacy of monks and nuns, the 
 corruptions of ecclesiastical courts, the abuse of pen- 
 ances and the sale of indulgences, were detested and 
 denounced by him. Nor was he open to the seduc- 
 tions of power. The court of Rome did its utmost 
 to enslave him, but failed. While he was in great 
 favor with the ecclestiastical authorities, he was in 
 nothing their tool. He saw clearly the fatal abuses 
 
252 STUDIES IN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 of the Church and he had a judgment strong enough 
 and a conscience pure enough to show him his duty 
 in the case. 
 
 Now let us see just what this wise, witty, sincere 
 lover of good did toward the great end of reforming 
 religion. He saw the evil: how would he rectify 
 it? In a characteristic and notable manner. His 
 main reliance was on human agencies. He assumed 
 the work of correcting customs and institutions. He 
 appealed to the intellect and his method was chiefly 
 negative. He believed that if priests and laymen 
 would give up certain abuses and set about certain 
 reforms all would go well. But there must be no 
 violence or excitement. Extremes were perilous and 
 all appeals to popular feeling must be avoided. Thus 
 Erasmus, the scholar, the man of the world. Such 
 was his prescription for the mortal plague of the 
 times. Yet he was sincere and in earnest. He 
 meant well, and in some respects he rendered good 
 service to the Truth. We owe to him the Greek 
 New Testament which he rescued from its tomb in 
 the cloisters, an inestimable gift, fully as valuable 
 as the translations by Wiclif and Luther of the Bible 
 into the vernacular. For it is as important for us 
 to know the Scriptures in their original form as to 
 possess them in our own tongue. Erasmus was there- 
 
LUTHER AND ERASMUS 253 
 
 fore the first of that long hne of scholars who have 
 expounded and developed divine truth by the help 
 of classic learning. 
 
 He was also very active in his appeals to the 
 Church authorities for reform. No one can read 
 his letters to the clergy without admiring his courage 
 and purity. He wrote to the Pope, "Let each man 
 amend first his own wicked life. When he has done 
 that and will amend his neighbor, let him put on 
 Christian charity, which is severe enough where se- 
 verity is needed." This was new and bold lan- 
 guage in a persecuting age. Again, to an Arch- 
 bishop, "Unless I have a pure heart I shall not see 
 God. But a man is not condemned because he can- 
 not tell whether the Spirit has one principle or two. 
 Has he the fruits of the Spirit? This is the ques- 
 tion." This too was an unusual position to take in 
 an age of dogmatism. As also when he urged an- 
 other, "Leave everyone free to believe what he 
 pleases. When you have done this, you can correct 
 the abuses of which the world with good reason com- 
 plains. Do not shut your eyes to the cries of those 
 for whom Christ died. He died not for the great 
 only but for the poor and the lowly." 
 
 Thus spoke the open-minded thinker in a lan- 
 guage far ahead of his day. His advice was sound. 
 
254 STUDIES IN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 well-conceived and expressed, true and timely; but 
 was it adequate to the needs of the case? Would 
 such words alone have brought on the Reformation? 
 Did they really touch the actual sore or present a 
 proper remedy? No. Erasmus had no conception 
 of the actual nature and needs of the situation that 
 he deplored. His diagnosis of the case was but 
 superficial and his prescription correspondingly in- 
 adequate. The same may be said of the Old Cath- 
 olic movement, which has risen and declined in our 
 own day. With all of the wisdom and pure intent 
 of Dollinger and Hyacinthe, it has already appeared 
 that by simply aiming at the correction of abuses on 
 the part of Rome and a restoration of the primitive 
 order, their enterprise is quite unequal to its purpose. 
 No mere rectification can ever suffice to purge the 
 nature of Anti-Christ. 
 
 But the trouble with Erasmus was that he did not 
 find in his own experience and disposition the start- 
 ing-point of true reform. He had no personal ac- 
 quaintance with saving truth. He found in his own 
 soul no inspiration of the Holy Spirit. His plan of 
 reform was that of outer correction, not of inner 
 renewal. Hence he could not detect or displace 
 the moral malady that was ravaging the world. He 
 had a treatment for the sinner but none for sin. And 
 
LUTHER AND ERASMUS 255 
 
 for the same reason, he lacked the spirit and force of 
 a genuine reformer. Having no deep resources of 
 spirituaHty within him, he could not furnish the cour- 
 age, persistency, self-sacrifice, which the true soldier 
 must exert in the battle against wrong. According- 
 ly, as soon as his just and severe criticisms began to 
 arouse anger and provoke resentment, he began to 
 hesitate. For he knew and feared, while he de- 
 nounced the power of the priests. "Beware how 
 you offend the monks. You have to do with an 
 enemy that never dies." And when it came to fa- 
 cing Tetzel, and substantiating his charges against 
 the purple Cardinal, Erasmus had no mind for the 
 task. 
 
 This he confessed. When the storm that had 
 been gathering its electric wrath for ages broke over 
 Europe he shrank and fled before it. So he wrote 
 to Archbishop Warham : "As for me, I have no in- 
 clination to risk my life for the truth. We have not 
 all the strength for martyrdom, and if trouble comes 
 I shall imitate Saint Peter." Such was his last re- 
 sort; casting behind him his scholarly protests and 
 wise prescriptions, he sought shelter within the very 
 institutions he denounced. In spite of conscience 
 and reason, he chose the side of wrong ; for he loved 
 the praise of men more than the praise of God. Said 
 
256 STUDIES IN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 he : "Popes and Emperors must decide matters. I ac- 
 cept what is good and do what I can with the rest. 
 Peace on any terms is better than the justest war." 
 Thus came to an end the reformation which Erasmus 
 proposed. 
 
 When the storm of religious convulsion, of which 
 we have spoken, broke over Europe, there was one 
 man exposed to it who did not cringe or flee before 
 it. Let us look now at the contrast between Eras- 
 mus and Martin Luther. He was born sixteen years 
 later than his distinguished contemporary, but like 
 him, was of lowly parentage, was educated in a 
 monastery, and received by a religious order as a 
 monk at an early age. To this, his chosen career, 
 he gave himself with complete consecration. He 
 became distinguished in the cloister for his religious 
 zeal. And while he never acquired the extensive 
 and polished learning of Erasmus, he had what the 
 other had not, an intense moral earnestness and a 
 heroic self-forgetfulness. To him principle was ev- 
 erything, policy nothing. He was, therefore, as a 
 Romanist, an absorbed devotee. As he afterward 
 wrote, "If any poor monk could have entered Heav- 
 en by his own exertions, surely I would have done 
 so." His fidelity to the Church was absolute and 
 extreme. "So great was the Pope in my esteem that 
 
LUTHER AND ERASMUS 257 
 
 I accounted the least deviation from him a sin; and 
 to defend his authority I would have kindled the 
 flames to burn the heretics and should have believed 
 that I was thereby showing the truest obedience to 
 God." Do you not hear in all this an echo from the 
 life of Saul of Tarsus? The two men were cast in 
 the same mold. 
 
 But through all this troublous experience Father 
 Martin was being led by the Spirit in a way that he 
 knew not. The moral corruptions which Erasmus 
 detected in society at large Luther first recognized in 
 his own heart. And here is the radical difference 
 between those two characters, a variation which ex- 
 plains every other divergence. The one began at 
 the branch, the other at the root. Luther attempted 
 nothing for others until his own soul was at peace 
 with God. Erasmus was from first to last a critic 
 and an adviser of other men. Hence the former's 
 appeal to the world was from heart to heart, and had 
 all the tremendous force of personal experience; 
 while the latter's approach was from the outside to 
 the outside, a superficial treatment which could not 
 reach the depths. The one was God's way, and He 
 honored it. The other was man's, and it came to 
 naught. 
 
258 STUDIES IN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 Every one knows the thrilling story of Luther's 
 final emergence into the light. It is one of the most 
 romantic episodes in religious history. The enthu- 
 siast goes to Rome as to the gate of heaven. And 
 there in his passionate zeal he will perform every act 
 of abasement and devotion for the glory of God; 
 when, lo, as he is painfully making his way on his 
 knees up Pilate's staircase in one of the churches, 
 the voice of God proclaims to his soul the Gospel 
 **The just shall live b^ faith." He hears and yields. 
 In one flash of light he sees the Truth, and the 
 Truth makes him free. Then, instantly arising, he 
 turns away forever from the superstitions of the 
 Church, and goes forth to tell the world of the Sal- 
 vation he has found. 
 
 Was it not a case of poetic justice that the grand 
 crusade against Anti-Christ should thus be inaugu- 
 rated at the heart of Rome, finding occasion for its 
 birth in the very rites and ceremonies on which the 
 Church relied for its support > How similar this to 
 the sudden arrest and transformation of Saul, whose 
 persecuting career was chosen by Providence as the 
 means by which he should be converted to the Cross 
 he had opposed. When Luther, thus delivered 
 from bondage and made free in Christ, retired to his 
 home in Germany, he met the same abuses that Eras- 
 
LUTHER AND ERASMUS 259 
 
 mus had already begun to condemn. But mark the 
 difference between the methods of the two men. 
 Luther did not resort to writing caustic letters to the 
 dignitaries of the Church and arousing public opin- 
 ion to the false and ludicrous aspects of the case. 
 No. As soon as Tetzel's red cross was lifted in his 
 neighborhood and the sale of indulgences began, he 
 spoke right out. "That is wrong! The Pope has 
 no power to remit penalties inflicted by God. To 
 hope to be saved by indulgences is to hope in lies and 
 vanities/' Those words expanded at length he pub- 
 lished in the shape of ninety-five Theses, which he 
 posted on the door of the church at Wittenberg, Oc- 
 tober 31, 1 5 1 7, an act equivalent to printing them in 
 a popular newspaper at the present time. 
 
 And at once an explosion followed. For here 
 was a sharp attack on the very heart of the Church, 
 its greed for money; and it soon appeared that to 
 expostulate with learned doctors was one thing but 
 to interfere with the income of the Holy Father was 
 quite another. Rome could tolerate the former with 
 patience, but not for one moment should the latter 
 be allowed. This explains the difference between 
 the manner in which the protests of Erasmus were 
 treated and the way in which Luther's opposition 
 was regarded. Tetzel gave the alarm, and it ran 
 
260 STUDIES IN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 like wildfire along the priestly lines. Replies, re- 
 bukes, warnings, threats, were hurled against the 
 profane innovator from every side. Luther himself 
 was astonished at the tumult, but his courage rose 
 with the occasion, and he returned blow for blow. 
 One step led to another until he found himself in- 
 volved in opposition to most of the doctrines of the 
 Church and at hot war with its ablest defenders, 
 something he had never dreamed of when he uttered 
 his first protest. But he had only one weapon and 
 one plan. He judged all things in the light of a 
 spiritually-renewed heart and by the standard of the 
 Word of God. His position was therefore at once 
 defensive and aggressive, and equally strong in either 
 case. To arguments, blandishments, denunciations, 
 he returned one answer: "Show me from the Scrip- 
 tures that I am wrong, and I will retract ; otherwise. 
 never." 
 
 Divine Providence soon raised up for him influen- 
 tial friends among the German rulers, and Rome was 
 therefore compelled to treat him without violence. 
 In Italy, France or Spain, he would have been sent 
 to the stake in short order. But nothing that could 
 be done to intimidate him was neglected. Said a 
 purple Cardinal to him: "What do you think the 
 Pope cares for the opinion of a German boor? His 
 
LUTHER AND ERASMUS 261 
 
 little finger is stronger than all Germany. Do you 
 expect princes to take up arms and defend you? I 
 tell you No! And where will you be then?" Said 
 the hero simply, "Then as now, in the hands of Al- 
 mighty God." Yes, there he was, and there he re- 
 mained. The Pope excommunicated him, and he 
 burned the Bull in the great square at Wittenberg. 
 He was summoned to appear before the Emperor at 
 Worms, and although warned of the fate of Huss, 
 he walked resolutely into the lion's mouth. ''Go to 
 Worms? I Tvill go if there are as man]; devils in 
 Worms as tiles on the roofs of the houses." And 
 into the midst of the stately Council he walked, a 
 brown-frocked monk, all alone, amid armored 
 knights and crimson prelates, and the gorgeous re- 
 tinue of the court, — one man against the world. It 
 was demanded that he should retract his heretical 
 words and disavow all enmity toward the Pope. 
 But, looking Charles the Fifth, lord of half the earth, 
 full in the face, he replied: "Since your Imperial 
 Highness desires a direct answer, I will give one, and 
 it is this. Unless I shall be convinced by the testi- 
 mony of Scripture or by clear and plain argument, I 
 cannot retract. Here I stand, I can do no otherwise. 
 God help me. Amen ! " 
 
262 STUDIES IN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 These words fire our cheeks as we hear them — a 
 blast of defiance, a clarion note from the very trump 
 of God ! But as to how they sounded in that grand 
 conclave, we can hardly imagine. Then and there, 
 it was the extreme audacity of one lone man whose 
 very weakness was his glory. Yes, even so. In 
 just that way did the Son of God appear, in his lorn 
 case before Pilate. Thus did Peter and John look, 
 as they were arraigned before the High Priests, and 
 Paul as he confronted Agrippa. At the time, it is 
 always so with God's champions. Not until after- 
 ward does the grandeur of their position dawn upon 
 the world. All the more credit to them, therefore, 
 as their trial of faith is the greater. 
 
 Such was the way in which Luther met the awful 
 crisis that he had aroused. He threw his own life 
 into the chasm that he had opened, to bridge the 
 abyss. Never did soldier on battle-field stand at 
 the front with more absolute self-exposure. And 
 yet he did not court the danger or glory in it. There 
 was no bravado or recklessness about him. Indeed, 
 his private records show that he was at first appalled 
 by the storm which he had aroused, and was contin- 
 ually distressed by the difficulties before him. His 
 nature was naturally sensitive, and his disposition 
 modest. He was very diffident as to his own merits, 
 
LUTHER AND ERASMUS 263 
 
 so much so that his friends had to force him into the 
 pulpit. He shrank with pain from the role of the 
 reformer. "God does not conduct, but drives me 
 and carries me forward. I am not master of my 
 own actions. I would gladly live in peace, but I 
 am cast into the midst of tumult and change." At 
 times he fainted under his burdens, was once on the 
 eve of fleeing to France, at another time offered to 
 come to terms with the Pope on certain conditions: 
 so human was he, so weak the flesh. But none of 
 this inward depression ever appeared, or for any 
 length of time, on the surface. With every new 
 occasion he showed himself a strong, stern warrior, 
 who feared nothing and spared nothing, — his very 
 words half-battles, and every act a stroke of the 
 sword. He would spend the night in groans and 
 tears, lying prone on the floor in utter prostration; 
 but with the morning he came forth, pale and feeble, 
 yet calm and terrible with the very strength of God. 
 And that very weakness was his power. As Jesus 
 had his Gethsemane, and Paul his thorn in the 
 flesh, so Luther must suffer in order to prevail. Eras- 
 mus knew nothing of that inner anguish, and there- 
 fore he never won the heights of triumph. It is only 
 to those who die with Christ that His life of glory 
 is given. That Luther had grasped this secret of 
 
264 STUDIES IN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 the Lord appears from his own words, "I have 
 known all along that I should present an offense to 
 the Jew and a folly to the Greek, but I hope that I 
 am a debtor to Jesus Christ, who saith to me also 
 'I will show him how great things he must suffer for 
 My name's sake!' I know that the Word of Christ 
 from the beginning of the world hath been of such 
 a sort that he who would maintain it must with the 
 Apostles forsake and renounce all things and stand 
 waiting for death every hour. If it were not so, it 
 would not be the Word of Christ. It was preached 
 with death, it was promulgated with death, it hath 
 been maintained with death, and must be so here- 
 after." 
 
 Our Savior said: "Whosoever will save his life 
 shall lose it ; but whosoever shall lose his life for mv 
 sake and the Gospel's, the same shall save it." Let 
 us see how these words were fulfilled in the fortunes 
 of the two men we have been observing. Erasmus 
 could not bear to lose his life. His supreme end 
 was self-preservation. While he earnestly desired 
 the purification of the Church and the correction of 
 the abuses of his time, he was not willing to sacrifice 
 himself, in order to secure these objects. But it 
 came to pass that in endeavoring to abolish evil and 
 at the same time to secure his own safety, he failed 
 
LUTHER AND ERASMUS 265 
 
 in both. His prescription of outward change for 
 the radical wrongs of the Church only aggravated 
 the disease. By mending an old garment with un- 
 fulled cloth, he made the rent worse. And not only 
 so, but his course re-acted upon himself. By trying 
 to be impartial between the conservatives and the 
 radicals of his day, he offended both sides. "I am 
 a poor actor," he cried. "I prefer to be a spectator 
 at the play." But the first scholar of the age could 
 not do this, especially after he had helped to kindle 
 the fire. The battle was joined and neutrality was 
 impossible. In vain did the well-meaning but timid 
 soul stand between the two armies, crying "Peace." 
 The Romanists blamed him for not denouncing the 
 heretics, and the Protestants distrusted him for not 
 condemning the Pope. He kept on writing letters 
 full of good advice, but his words were wasted on 
 the whirlwind. His influence steadily declined, un- 
 til old age found him with no friends on either side. 
 "Every goose now hisses at Erasmus," said he. And 
 so he died, disappointed and ashamed, a man who 
 might have been to the Reformation its peerless ex- 
 positor as Luther was its redoubtable champion ; but 
 who, through fear of endangering himself, grieved 
 the Spirit, lost his opportunity, and defeated his own 
 
266 STUDIES IN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 projects. As it is written, "He that seeketh his Hfe 
 shall lose it." 
 
 On the other hand, the simple monk who lost 
 himself in the cause of God and would abate nothing 
 of his self-sacrifice, who gave up all for the Truth, 
 and shrank not irom the uttermost outlay, — that man 
 in losing his life, verily found it. Martin Luther 
 was not an ideal reformer. He made many mis- 
 takes, and his work needed correction by other 
 hands. He was choleric and extreme at times, in- 
 tolerant toward those who differed from him, and he 
 never outgrew certain old errors, such as the union 
 of Church and State, and the real presence of Christ 
 in the Sacraments. But as a pioneer, a soldier lead- 
 ing a forlorn hope, he fulfilled his mission. Before 
 his death, Luther saw himself the recognized and 
 triumphant champion of the Gospel, to awaken Eu- 
 rope. He saw the Truth which he had nailed like 
 a challenge to the church door spreading thence over 
 the whole of Christendom. He lived to witness his 
 own loved German land freed from ecclesiastical 
 tyranny and hailing him its deliverer. He won for 
 himself the fear of his foes, the love of his friends, 
 the respect of all. And from glory he has since 
 beheld his cause broaden out into the whole world 
 and his name ranking next to those of the Apostles 
 
LUTHER AND ERASMUS 
 
 267 
 
 on the roll of Christian honor: according as it is 
 written, ''Whoso shall lose his life for mp saf^e and 
 the CospeUs, the same shall save it." 
 
JOHN KNOX 
 
John Knox and Mary Queen 
 of Scots 
 
 GOOD and Evil are never so distinct and im- 
 pressive as when incarnate in human char- 
 acter and hfe. The great antagonism by 
 which they fill the moral world with con- 
 fusion is most emphatically expressed in the contrasts 
 which history presents through its great tableaux of 
 human collision. Moses confronting Pharaoh, David 
 and Goliath, Daniel and Nebuchadnezzar, John 
 Baptist accusing Herod, Jesus arraigned before 
 Pilate, Paul at the tribunal of Nero — these are the 
 most dramatic presentations of the immortal contest 
 between Truth and Error. 
 
 It is to one of these historic battles that attention 
 is now invited, — the romantic, the tragic, story of the 
 contrast presented by John Knox and Mary Queen 
 of Scots. 
 
 That man and that woman stand forever opposed 
 to each other in the most picturesque scene which 
 Scotland, the most romantic country in Europe, has 
 presented. They met and defied each other at one 
 of the great crises of modern history. It was when 
 
270 STUDIES IN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 the wonderful change known as the Reformation, in 
 the Sixteenth Century, was rolling like an earthquake 
 through the nations of Christendom and altering the 
 moral configuration of the face of the earth. Ger- 
 many, France, the Netherlands, and England had 
 experienced the strange upheaval and depression 
 which the Gospel wrought in society, elevating new 
 elements and overturning long established institutions, 
 casting down the mighty and exalting them of low 
 degree, according to its immemorial method. 
 
 This religious revolution reached Scotland last 
 of all. There it found a people as peculiar as the 
 climate and the scenery of that gray and gallant 
 country of the North. For the highlands and the 
 lowlands, the misty mountains and the flowery dells, 
 the crag and the gorge, the burn and the brae, which 
 fill the land with picturesque variety, are emblematic 
 of the Scottish character and history. Scotland has 
 ever been the home of Romance. Poets and sages 
 have vied with warriors and kings to give that north- 
 ern realm a dramatic celebrity. There the gloom 
 of Ossian's heroes rests darkly on the hills, while the 
 genius of Scott and the melody of Burns have robed 
 the land with the ideality of fiction and poesy. To 
 this day there is no historic spirit so intense and pecu- 
 liar as that of Scotia's children. 
 
JOHN KNOX 271 
 
 In the middle ages nowhere else did feudalism 
 flourish so bravely and endure so long as in ancient 
 Caledonia. There chieftain and clan maintained 
 their devoted relation, and the castle and the cabin 
 kept up their interdependence as in no other land. 
 Long after the romance of Chivalry had died out 
 among other peoples, the sword and spear, the tourn- 
 ament and foray, were common and popular with 
 the Scotch. Their history was therefore perpetually 
 embroiled with wars and confusion: personal feuds 
 and party conflicts raged unchecked. The Kings 
 of Scotland were but the nominal heads of a realm 
 in which the nobility were perpetually at war with 
 each other, and political debates were always settled 
 by the sword. A poor and barren soil, a harsh cli- 
 mate, and unsettled industrial conditions, developed 
 in the people a brave, hardy and belligerent spirit 
 which has given to their descendants to this day the 
 forceful and prevailing temper that always character- 
 izes them. They were hardly a nation in the six- 
 teenth century; rather a collection of conflicting ele- 
 ments not yet fused together by any unifying princi- 
 ple. Nor had religion exercised an ameliorating 
 power. Romanism, omnipotent in Europe during 
 the Middle Ages, had been supreme in Scotland, but 
 with even worse results than elsewhere. Nowhere, 
 
272 STUDIES IN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 except in Italy was the established church so corrupt 
 and so shameless. It held in its grasp the larger 
 share of the wealth of the kingdom; and the lives 
 of its prelates and priests were notorious for their 
 proud and rapacious character. To crown and con- 
 firm all these distressing conditions, there was the per- 
 petual rivalry with England, which kept the border 
 of the two kingdoms in a chronic state of antagon- 
 ism, while a close alliance and sympathy with France 
 rendered the Scotch people infused with foreign 
 ideas and elements which were a source of endless 
 political and moral confusion. 
 
 But at last the time came for a change. The new 
 era of religious liberty and reform which had dawned 
 upon the world, and was making all things new, 
 began to cast its beams through the Northern dark- 
 ness and waken the germs of greatness which were 
 slumbering in Scotia's heart. Wiclif and his follow- 
 ers, the Lollards, had scattered the seeds of Bible 
 truth across the border; Luther and Calvin had kin- 
 dled fires and set in motion forces on the Continent 
 whose influence was felt by the Tweed and the Tay. 
 These new principles found congenial conditions 
 awaiting them, and soon the times were ripe for 
 Protestantism in Scotland. The Hierarchy was 
 alarmed at the sudden imperilment of its time-honor- 
 
JOHN KNOX 273 
 
 ed strength, and the rack, the dungeon and the stake 
 began to do their dreadful work of repression. But 
 Scotchmen have never yielded to violence. The 
 defense of their rights is with them a traditional pride 
 and Rome soon found that the old spirit of bag-pipe 
 and claymore could be as active and fierce in the 
 religious as in the political arena. 
 
 All of these antecedents and environments must 
 be taken into account by those who would read 
 aright the story of the Reformation in Scotland. It 
 necessarily partook of the stormy character of all 
 Scottish history. Its course was marked by the na- 
 tional qualities of stern self-assertion, extreme rigor 
 and unsparing thoroughness. On the one hand was 
 the Established Church, landed and lordly with the 
 privileges of ages, deep rooted in the soil and accus- 
 tomed to absolute supremacy; on the other was the 
 fierce spirit of individualism, the irascible, pugnacious 
 propensity of a race which made of the true faith a 
 crusade as determined as that which had led their 
 ancestors to the Holy Sepulchre. These two oppos- 
 ing forces found their respective champions in the 
 persons of those representative characters whom some 
 have called the Elijah and the Jezebel of modern 
 time. 
 
274 STUDIES IN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 John Knox was a child of the common people, 
 born of the sturdy yeoman class, like Luther; but 
 like him devoted early to the cause of culture, from 
 which he received a liberal education. As the 
 church in that age was the main refuge of all schol- 
 ars, he became a priest, and until his fortieth year 
 served the church faithfully, although rather as a 
 man of letters than as an ecclesiastic. But by this 
 time the fires of persecution which had consumed 
 such a martyr as Patrick Hamilton, a young noble 
 who had brought from Germany the reformer's faith, 
 and George Wishart, another Scottish youth who 
 had been converted in England through the heroic 
 testimony of Latimer, — these terrible revelations of 
 the real animus of Romanism, startled John Knox 
 and compelled him to face the problem of his per- 
 sonal duty. 
 
 He did so, and therein received the commission of 
 the Holy Spirit to become an apostle of the Truth, 
 the champion of the Right for Scotland. The same 
 voice which summoned the Tishbite from his home 
 in the wilderness and commissioned him to proclaim 
 t^e Word of the Lord to Ahab, made of Knox the 
 Eliiah of Scotland. Like all of the Divine selec- 
 tions, this choice was well made. If ever a hero's 
 soul was lodged in a man's body, the fire of heroism 
 
JOHN KNOX 275 
 
 was kindled in this Scotchman's life. In him the 
 stern quahties of a warHke race were consecrated 
 to the christian service. The age demanded a mil- 
 itary religion. Nothing but a bold and brave faith 
 could hold its own against the cruel might of domi- 
 nant Romanism. A crusade must be preached. Be- 
 lievers must take to themselves the whole armor of 
 God and endure hardship as good soldiers of Jesus 
 Christ, for the battle was the Lord's, The critics 
 of our milder age who find fault with the stern rigors 
 of Puritan, Huguenot, or Covenanter, do not make 
 allowance for the difference of environment. If the 
 reformers of the sixteenth century had not been war- 
 riors, willing to do and dare for God, there would 
 not now be the age of sweetness and light that we 
 enjoy. 
 
 John Knox therefore must be estimated by the 
 standard of his time. It was his to play the part of 
 Elijah. He must organize the discouraged friends 
 of God, inspire them with courage, lead them against 
 the fortified strength of a great enemy and make of 
 his own person their champion. This he did. His 
 pulpit at St. Giles became the very oracle of the 
 Gospel to men. His thundering eloquence reverber- 
 ated through Edinboro. Again and again he thrill- 
 ed all Scotland with his passionate appeals. For 
 
276 STUDIES IN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 he knew what Romanism was. After his first ap- 
 pearance as a preacher, forced against his will into 
 publicity by his friends, as Calvin was urged into 
 prominence at Geneva, he had been seized by the 
 French allies of the priesthood, and taken with oth- 
 ers as a prisoner to France. There he had been 
 condemned to the dreadful fate of the galleys, where 
 he had been chained to the oar and lashed as a slave 
 during three years of suffering and toil. If he had 
 been willing to kiss an image of the Virgin Mary, he 
 might have been released; but he spurned the temp- 
 tation away with all a Scotchman's defiant courage. 
 He escaped at last, but he never lost sight of that 
 terrible experience. The iron sank into his soul, and 
 doubtless helped to make him the fierce, almost fa- 
 natical foe to the Papacy which he afterwards be- 
 came. And when it is remembered that the Mas- 
 sacre of St. Bartholomew occurred during the course 
 of his ministry, shaking all Protestant Europe with 
 a horror of fear and wrath, we can understand why 
 the reformers of Scotland were so much more ex- 
 treme than those of England and Germany. Knox 
 and his followers were inspired with a personal and 
 embittered hatred of Romanism, for which they had 
 good reason ; and it was this exasperated spirit which 
 led to the total demolition of Romish structures in 
 
JOHN KNOX 277 
 
 the land. The splendid churches, noble monasteries 
 sculptured shrines and all the architectural wealth 
 of ages were swept away with a fury which seems 
 ruthless and needless to those who do not see what 
 provocation had been given by the church to its ene- 
 mies in that age. Knox felt this. He looked back 
 to Elijah and found in him precedent and authority 
 for his own iconoclastic zeal. The Old Testament 
 prophets were the christian model of that time and 
 Joshua exterminating the Canaanites, Samuel hewing 
 Agag in pieces, Elijah putting the four hundred 
 priests of Baal to death, were the divine ideals of 
 the Scotch reformers. 
 
 Let them be judged in the light of the obstacles 
 they encountered and the results which they reached. 
 If since that day Scotland has never been encumber- 
 ed with elaborate ritualism in the shape of an estab- 
 lished Episcopacy, which has been such a burden 
 to the true faith in England; if it has not been op- 
 pressed by the lifeless scholasticism which has been 
 the bane of Lutheranism in Germany ; if the churches 
 north of the Tweed have been characterized by 
 sound orthodoxy, a firm simplicity and an ardent 
 spiritual power, it is because John Knox made such 
 clean work of it in the great revolution he effected. 
 Sparing nothing in his fiery expulsion of false religion 
 
278 STUDIES IN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 and pitiless in his treatment of all who differed from 
 him, he made many mistakes. He gave occasion 
 to his enemies then and to his critics ever since to 
 show how faulty he was in temper and method. He 
 cannot be defended for much that he did nor admired 
 for all that he said. But he had Ahab and the 
 priests of Baal against him then, and his country has 
 never had to fight them since his day. 
 
 Now let us confine our attention to one of the 
 many battles that this Elijah fought. There was 
 one particular encounter which he himself feared (if 
 he ever did fear anything) more than any other, and 
 the fame of which has thrown a glamour of romance 
 about his stern history, such as seems as strange to 
 it as a wreath of fragrant flowers around a keen and 
 massive battle-axe. When John Knox met Mary 
 Queen of Scots, he reached the climax of his career 
 as a reformer. For that woman represented, she 
 embodied, the spirit of Romanism as no one else in 
 Scotland could have done at that time. She has 
 been called the Jezebel of Scotland, but with a li- 
 cense which must be explained. The haughty, 
 fierce and bloodthirsty temper of Ahab's wife cannot 
 be said to have reappeared in Mary Stuart. That 
 animus might be found in Mary of England, the 
 Tudor Queen whose reign was black with the smoke 
 
JOHN KNOX 279 
 
 of the martyr fires of Smithfield. The Scottish 
 queen was of another spirit in her advocacy of Ro- 
 manism. Hers was the power of beauty, grace and 
 skill devoted to the false faith: all the more to be 
 feared and resisted for that reason. She might be 
 called Jezebel with this understanding, that she was 
 the most formidable foe that Scotland's Elijah met, 
 her weapons more subtle and her warfare more in- 
 tense than any other of Rome's champions had 
 brought against him. And in saying this we know 
 that we are opening again one of the ever to be dis- 
 puted questions and never to be solved problems of 
 modern history. What was the truth about Mar^ 
 Queen of Scots? 
 
 For the most opposite and opposing replies are at 
 once made to this immemorial query. The moral 
 character, personal worth and official place of that 
 royal lady have been the theme of interminable dis- 
 cussion since her day. She has been attacked more 
 violently and defended more vigorously than any 
 other name in her country's annals. Historians, 
 novelists and poets have taken sides for or against 
 her memory with such effect that the world's verdict 
 is still in abeyance. Let us hear an outline of her 
 case as it has been argued in the court of historic 
 criticism. 
 
280 STUDIES IN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 First, the advocates of Mary Stuart make this plea 
 in her favor. She was the most amiable, accom- 
 plished and unfortunate woman of her time. The 
 daughter of James the Fifth, one of that long line of 
 Stuart kings who were from first to last attended by 
 the most perverse fate that ever haunted a dynasty, 
 she fully shared the ill-fortune of her race. Her 
 father dying during her childhood, she was sent to 
 her mother's kindred in France, where at the royal 
 court she inhaled the atmosphere of intrigue and 
 moral corruption for which it was famous. This 
 was her initial misfortune, for which she was in no 
 wise blamable. Her French training unfitted her 
 for a life in the colder clime of Scotland, where re- 
 ligion, politics and society were formed on a harder 
 model and were inspired with very different ideals. 
 It was not her fault that she could not perfectly adapt 
 herself to the rigorous habits of a people who for the 
 same reason were unable to make allowance for her 
 foreign ways. They condemned many things in 
 Mary Stuart which were due purely to the Romish 
 and French spirit of her age. She was beautiful in 
 person, vivacious in temper, gifted with rare powers 
 of thought and conversation. Her education had 
 been so carefully conducted that she was at an early 
 age surprisingly forward in classic culture. Grace- 
 
JOHN KNOX 281 
 
 ful alike in physique and intellect, she combined the 
 most delicate feminine accomplishments with a vigor, 
 courage and tenacity which were masculine and roy- 
 al. This is admitted by friend and foe alike. It 
 must be remembered also that the realm to whose 
 throne she was called at the age of nineteen was one 
 of the most turbulent in Christendom. It had always 
 been hard to govern, with its intestine strife of war- 
 ring nobles and hostile factions. But at the time of 
 her accession, the new element of religious strife had 
 embittered all of the old discord. The reformers 
 were rapidly driving the Romish element to despera- 
 tion. It would have required the wisdom of an 
 Elizabeth and the power of a Henry the Eighth to 
 preside in peace over such a chaotic nation. What 
 wonder then that the young, inexperienced, ardent 
 woman failed at such a crisis, made mistakes because 
 of the false counsel of designing friends, and fell at 
 last a victim to wrongs and catastrophes which she 
 could not have prevented? Thus Mary Stuart has 
 been defended by apologists who insist upon her rare 
 good qualities as showing what she might have been 
 if the malign fate of her position had not doomed her 
 to destruction. 
 
 But now let the other side of the case be heard. 
 Stated in briefest terms the indictment is terrible for 
 
282 STUDIES IN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 its plain facts and logical inferences. A young wo- 
 man comes to the throne of her fathers, bringing with 
 her a religion which she knows to be alien to the state 
 she is to rule. She at once makes of herself an ad- 
 vocate of Rome, and defiantly sets up its worship in 
 her own palace, notwithstanding the protests of all 
 her leading subjects. More than this, she admits to 
 a very questionable intimacy a foreigner who is a 
 bigoted Romanist, in the pay of a foreign court ; and 
 this in spite of the objections of her own husband, 
 Darnly, a Scottish noble. So extreme is this favorit- 
 ism that it results in the murder of Rizzio in her very 
 presence ; whereupon she threatens her husband with 
 vengeance for the deed, in which he had taken part. 
 After an apparent reconciliation to Darnly, she is 
 the means of drawing him in his illness to a place 
 where he meets with a violent death from unknown 
 hands. She makes no attempt to find and punish 
 the author of the deed, but actually marries the one 
 who is most suspected as the perpetrator of the crime, 
 within a short time after its occurrence. All this is 
 a record of facts which are undeniable. And when 
 the historian adds that so universal and bitter was the 
 resentment of the Scotch people at this mjsuse of 
 their royalty that a revolution soon drove the Queen 
 from her throne and forced her to exile in England, 
 
JOHN KNOX 283 
 
 where after years of captivity she perished on the 
 scaffold, meeting a cruel fate which only political 
 complications could have inflicted, it is contended 
 that no more need be said. If ever a ruler failed 
 criminally, and brought upon the throne a righteous 
 retribution, this was the case with Mary Queen of 
 Scots. 
 
 We are not called on to decide between these con- 
 flicting pleas. Perhaps it would be impossible to 
 render a just verdict in a case which has been de- 
 bated so often, and with such opposite results, for the 
 past three hundred years. The fact is that in this as 
 in other similar instances the opinions of men are 
 largely determined by their point of view and med- 
 ium of observation. Those who favor the cause of 
 royalty and religious conservativism will continue to 
 find in it reason for regarding Mary Stuart as more 
 sinned against than sinning; while the friends of re- 
 formation in church and state will never cease to dis- 
 trust, if not condemn, the beautiful enchantress whom 
 they call Jezebel. 
 
 We may be permitted, however, to advance a 
 theory which seems to reconcile the conflicting con- 
 ditions of this perplexing subject. Let it be granted 
 that Queen Mary could not have been either an 
 angel or a monster. It is impossible that so gifted 
 
284 STUDIES IN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 and gracious a character could have been guilty of 
 all the crimes charged against her, or that such crim- 
 inality, if actual, could have emanated from the 
 sweet and tender woman that Mary Stuart undoubt- 
 edly was. But suppose that she was a person easily 
 influenced by good or evil; that with brilliant and 
 beautiful qualities she had a conscience perverted 
 by Romish teaching, and a love of intrigue developed 
 at the gay and corrupt court of France; that with 
 good intentions and a lofty ideal of duty, she was 
 more readily moved by the subtle, seductive policy 
 of her foreign advisers than toward the stern and 
 warlike programme of the Scotch reformers. Now 
 let such a pleasure loving and mercurial character be 
 placed in the midst of the confusion and conflicts of 
 a stormy time, and we can see how it could become 
 a victim of the most diverse influences. Mary Stu- 
 art owed her greatest mistakes to her fatal weakness 
 of moral resolution. She was led into complicity 
 with crime because of her wrongful dependence on 
 evil counsel. This does not acquit her of all crim- 
 inality, but it helps to explain the otherwise hopeless 
 paradox of her character. She was neither as fair 
 as her friends, nor as foul as her foes, have portrayed 
 her. Midway between extremes, trying perhaps to 
 satisfy the claims of both truth and error, she made 
 
JOHN KNOX 285 
 
 the mistake and suffered the punishment of all who 
 forget that in this world of moral antagonism no one 
 can serve two masters. A choice must be made and 
 the battle fought on one side or the other. Ye can- 
 not serve God and mammon. Choose ye whom ye 
 will serve. 
 
 But what a contrast do we see when John Knox 
 and Mary Queen of Scots met, as they often did. 
 On arriving from the continent to take possession of 
 her throne, the young and charming widow (whose 
 French husband had recently died) came with smil- 
 ing complacency to the crown which was to prove 
 such an awful burden for her beautiful brow. But 
 of the future she knew nothing. Attended by a 
 retinue of gallant men and graceful women, such as 
 only the splendid court of France could then furnish, 
 with all the bravery of shining costumes and military 
 display, — silks, satins, armor, banners and trumpets, 
 the gay Queen thought that she was bringing sun- 
 shine into the cold gloom of that northern land. She 
 sincerely desired the good of Scotland, and naturally 
 supposed that with processions and pomp, tourna- 
 ment and luxury and the ceremonial glories of the 
 ancient church of Rome, she could counteract the 
 rigors of the Reformation, and lead the people into 
 a better, brighter way. But she little knew the tem- 
 
286 STUDIES IN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 per of the times, or the real character of her native 
 land. 
 
 Hardly had she been established with her glitter- 
 ing court in the ancient home of her fathers, that 
 picturesque castle which frowns over Edinboro the 
 romantic town, when she was confronted with the 
 Genius of Scotland in the person of its champion. 
 And all history may be searched in vain to rival the 
 picture of that meeting, when the elegant, affable, 
 royal lady saw standing before her the thin, spare 
 figure of the Protestant preacher. Clad in the grave 
 severity of the Genevan cleric, with thin, set face 
 and fiery eyes, and sharp, quick voice, firm and fear- 
 less before the throne as he had been in the midst 
 of armies and mobs, thus the modern Elijah stands. 
 
 Queen Mary thinks that she can soften him as she 
 has melted every other man whom she has ever met, 
 but she soon discovers her mistake. All the shining 
 splendors of the court, her own charm of face and 
 manner, the music of her voice and the winsome wit 
 of her address, are wasted on the shrewd and steady 
 mind, the divinely inspired heart, and the firmly fixed 
 will of John Knox. 
 
 She pleads for more lenient treatment of the op- 
 pressed Romanists. She suggests compromise. She 
 advises a new policy. She even resorts to warnings 
 
JOHN KNOX 287 
 
 and threats. Knox feels her power. As he said 
 afterwards, it cost him more to resist the plaintive 
 appeal of a beautiful woman than to brave the 
 wrath of warriors and mobs. But he was equal to 
 the emergency; and the Queen might as 
 well have plead her cause with the North 
 wind sweeping down from the Grampian 
 Hills. The stern soldier of the Gospel 
 has his arguments and objections and resolutions 
 that will brook no opposition. He represents the 
 power of Truth that has been set in motion by God 
 himself and is on its way to the conquest of the 
 world. What to him are the smiles of a graceful 
 lady or the frown of an enthroned Queen? Even 
 the tears which Mary Stuart knew so well how to 
 shed and which, with the lace kerchief in her 
 smooth white hand, had never yet failed of dramatic 
 effect, (for who could withstand the plaintive grief 
 of a broken-hearted woman?) — even all this is noth- 
 \ng to the firm, inflexible spirit of the great Reformer. 
 It is not a question of gallantry or of conventional 
 usage with him, else he would have treated the lady 
 with the deference due always from a gentleman. It 
 is a matter of principle that he stands for, a great 
 national issue of moral right and wrong. The beau- 
 tiful Queen is in his eyes the representative and cham- 
 
288 STUDIES IN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 pion of the false religion that has been the curse of 
 Scotland for ages; and therefore she must be with- 
 stood and opposed as Romanism must be extirpated, 
 at least to the extent that she represents that cause. 
 Thus the two great characters stood opposed to 
 each other then, and thus they are standing still in 
 history to this day. Time enough has elapsed for 
 the fierce factional strife that raged around them 
 then to subside; and now the world gazes on that 
 strange contrast with calm and candid eyes. We 
 can do justice to both of those antagonists. We see 
 that John Knox was not altogether the sublime hero 
 and that Mary was not wholly the false enchantress 
 that so many have held them to be. He had his 
 faults and she had her virtues. We can deplore and 
 condemn the narrowness and hardness and fierceness 
 of the Reformer's polemic spirit, while we honor the 
 valor and wisdom of his great crusade. So we may 
 admit and admire the many graceful qualities of 
 that hapless lady whose fate it was to embody a lost 
 cause and fall a victim to evil influences which she 
 was blameworthy for yielding to. Yet it is not as Per- 
 sons, but as Principles, that the two characters will 
 abide in history. They represent that immemorial 
 antagonism which has always divided the world 
 between good and evil, light and darkness; and they 
 
JOHN KNOX 289 
 
 show that in the large reach of time it is EH] ah that 
 triumphs over all that Beauty, Art and Power can 
 do in opposition. Religious error never found a 
 finer and more attractive embodiment than in the per- 
 son of Mary Stuart; and if she, with all the power of 
 royalty at command, could not by her beauty, cul- 
 ture and courage secure a final victory for Evil, who 
 can? 
 
 Romanism still lives and flourishes in the world, 
 but not in Scotland, where the hard, grim protestant 
 defeated it, nor anywhere else is it today the imperial 
 dominance which once defied the heavens and the 
 earth. For that false religion is only one of the 
 many forms which Error has taken and is still wear- 
 ing in the world. And is it not startling to observe 
 how the ancient attraction still persists in throwing 
 its charms over Sin! How often in this world of 
 moral confusion do we see error in the guise of the 
 Beautiful, the Graceful, the Fascinating, while Truth 
 takes a form which is hard, stern, even repellent! 
 It is the strange testimony of history that in the long 
 embattled campaign by which the Reformation res- 
 cued religion from the bondage of Mediaevalism, the 
 Fine Arts were almost uniformly on the side of Ro- 
 mish Error. Wiclif and Huss, Luther and Calvin, 
 received no aid from the poetry and painting, the 
 
290 STUDIES IN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 sculpture, architecture and music of their times. 
 Those great forces were always on the side of the 
 Established Church. This accounts for the other- 
 wise mysterious fact that the Huguenots, Covenanters 
 and Puritans were so determined in their opposition 
 to all artistic embellishment of religion, and that they 
 bequeathed to their descendants a prejudice against 
 aesthetic Christianity which has continued almost to 
 the present time. 
 
 I need not show that we have largely outgrown 
 this prejudice and that now the ministry of Art is 
 found to be not incompatible with genuine spiritu- 
 ality. Nevertheless, it seems as true in the present 
 as in the past that error is more fond of sensuous at- 
 tractions than is the Gospel of Christ. And we must 
 be on our guard against those seductive influences 
 which the god of this world is always able to use. 
 The example of Christ and his apostles is on the side 
 of self-denial and rigorous devotion to the right at 
 any cost. It is as true now as then that moral duty 
 requires difficult devotion and even strenuous con- 
 flict. It is not, and never will be, in this world, an 
 easy or pleasant thing to serve the Cross of Sacrifice. 
 And especially in such an age of material prosperity 
 as this, when luxury and indulgence are reveling in 
 their wanton license everywhere, we need to culti- 
 
JOHN KNOX 291 
 
 vale the hard virtues of John Knox rather than the 
 soft charms of Queen Mary. The ancient warning 
 should sound in our ears, "Love not the world, neith- 
 er the things that are in the world. If any man love 
 the world, the love of the Father is not in him." 
 
 For while true beauty is of God, and the graces 
 of artistic refinement may have a place in His ser- 
 vice, still these elements are to be very cautiously 
 favored, so perilous may they be. When the great 
 battle is joined, which never ceases on earth, between 
 titled Wrong and struggling Righteousness, between 
 the sheen of glittering Error and the firm, frowning 
 front of endangered Truth, then let us be found 
 where brave soldiers should be. For all that is of 
 the world, the lust of the flesh, the lust of the eyes, 
 and the pride of life, is not of the Father. The 
 world passeth away, and the lust thereof; but he 
 that doeth the will of God abideth forever. 
 
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