TO THE HOMES OF EMINENT ORATORS PERICLES Vol. XII. JANUARY, 1903. No. t By Elbert Hubbard Single Copies, 25 cents By the Year, $3.00 LITTLE JOURNEYS By E L B E R t' H U B B a R 0 f o r 1903 WILL BE TQ: THE HOMES OF EMINENT ORATORS SUBJECTS as' FOLLOWS 1 Pericles 7 Mirabeau 2 Mark Antony 8 Robert Ingersoll 3 Savonarola 9 John RahdolfSi * 4 Martin Luther 10 Thomas Starr King 5 Edmufid Burke 11 Henry Ward Beech'er 6 Wrlliam Pitt ,^ 12 Wendell Phillips One booklet a month will be issued as usuali'begmning on January 1st. The Little Journeys for 1903 will be strictly de luxe in form and workmanship. Theiype will be a new font of antique blackface; the initials designed especially for this work; a frontispiece portrait from the original drawing made at our Shop in each on Japan Vellum. The booklets will be stitched by hand with silk. The price — 25 cents each, or $3.00 for the year. Address THE ROYCROFtERS at their Shop, which is at East Aurora, New York Entered at the postoffice at East Aurora, New York, for transnlission as second-class mai! matter. Copyright, 19.02, by Elbert Hiibbak). The Stove W^ith the absent ash pan — the fa mous Round Oak — did not come on earth with out an ash pan in the bottom by accident — Mr. Beckwith gave that part of its anatomy right hard study. He discovered that an Oak stove and an ash pan were never intended to go to gether, — principle wrong — bottom too large — grate too high — could not heat the floor. Door too large — could not be made tight, to stay tight. He wanted a construction that he could make tight — that would hold fire — not for one winter, but for all its life. How well he suc ceeded is evidenced by its constant increase in sales every year up to this one, the thirty-sec ond — which shows the greatest gain of all. Thus it has come about that this stove of right principle, thorough, hon est workmanship, best material and sold at a reasonable price to all alike — is the most popular and has the greatest sale of any stove known. C If you are ever in need of a. heating stove and want to experience the comfort and satisfaction of owning a perfect stove, buy the genu ine Round Oak. We sell only one merchant in a town. We have agencies everywhere except down south. There are about 400 imita tions — better ask for the stove with the absent ash pan — and look for the name on the foot. "Striking it Rich," a booklet, will be sent on request. ESTATE OF P. D. BECKWITH DO^A^AGIAC, MICHIGAN. MAKERS OF GOOD GOODS ONLY MUSIC CABINET Made of Solid Oak. The price is Twenty-five Dollars. The Roygrofters, East Aurora, N. Y. LITTLE JOURNEYS Published Monthly. Written by Elbert Hubbard. CIRCULATION PER MONTH IS 60,000. FULL PACE ADVERTISEMENT COSTS $100.00. One-half or one-quarter page at the same rate. THE LrrTLE Journeys circulate as text books in thousands of schools, colleges and clubs, and are now more than ever recog nized as most readable and instructive essays. Nine-tenths of them are bound (covers, advertisements and all) and remain per manently in the libraries of the owners. People who desire to read and know of the world's famous people, and to have their lives pictured in such a manner as to give them such an acquaintance as they can remember are quick to discard the numerous bulky and uninteresting histories and biographies and read Little JOUKNETS.They are keyed a bit different from The Philistine, but are none the less enjoyable to the hosts of Philistia and their friends. Little or no advertising has heretofore been accepted for Little Jour neys and but little is wanted, and that only of the highest and best class. The circulation at present is 60,000 copies monthly, and contracts can be made now at the rate of $100 per page — which is at the rate of one dollar and sixty-six cents per page per thousand — about one-sixth of the cost of printing and addressing ordinary postal cards. If you have anything to sell to readisg, thinking people, a better or more permanent method of placing yourself before them than an adver tisement in Little Journeys cannot be found. Think it over, and let us have your contract before the rates are ad vanced or the doors permanently closed. Frederic W. Gardner Sole owner of all advertising space in Hubbard's " Roycroft " Publications, 809 Fine Arts Building, Chicago, Illiinois A SOLDIER'S FOE Knocked Down by Unsuspected Enemy. Coffee SO affects the brain and nerves that proper nutrition is interfered with and the final ending is frequently nervous prostration. "During the Spanish-American war, I went with my troop to Chickamauga," says Lieutenant J. F.'Talbott of Springfield, Ills. "If there is any one place on earth where one drinks more cof fee than another it is in the army. It is a sol dier's 'back bone,' and I can assure you that I drank my share. After several months of hard drilling my health gave out, the chief cause be ing coffee, bad food, over-exertion and heat. On the advice of the surgeon, I tendered my resignation and with my heart full of regret] and my nervous system shattered I returned home. Almost the first thing the doctor whom I consulted advised me, was to quit coffee. That was the first intimation I had that coffee had any- 1 thing to do with my condition. The next thing was 'what shall I drink?' My wife's mother used your Postum Food Cof fee and knew how to make it right, so I tried it and grew very fond of it. My nervous trouble soon left; my old time health came back, and that Fall I gained so in flesh that the boys on returning after 'muster out,' hardly knew me. Quitting coffee and using Postum did wonders for me." Little m\ pouttneys To tbe Homes of I EMINENT ORATORSUlPitten by Elbeitt Hubbaitd 6 done into a Book by tbe I Roycnof tens at tbe j $bop, tobicb is in I East /lupoita, lleio Yoitk, /I. 0.19031 Perioles ¦When we agreed, O Aspasia ! in the beginning of our loves, to com municate our thoughts by writing, even while we were both in Athens, and when we had many reasons for it, we little foresaw the more powerful one that has rendered it necessary of late. We never can meet again : the laws forbid it, and love itself enforces them. Let wis dom be heard by you as imperturbably, and affection as authoritative ly, as ever; and remember that the sorrow of Pericles can rise but from the bosom of Aspasia. There is only one word of tenderness we could say, which we have not said oftentimes before ; and there is no consolation in it. The happy never say, and never hear said, farewell. C Reviewing the course of my life, it appears to me at one moment as if we met but yesterday; at another as if centuries had passed within it; for within it have existed the greater part of those who, since the origin of the world, have been the luminaries of the human race. Damon called me from my music to look at Aristides on his way to exile ; and my father pressed the wrist by which he was lead ing me along, and whispered in my ear : " Walk quickly by ; glance cautiously ; it is there Miltiades is in prison." C In my boyhood Pindar took me up in his arms, when he brought to our house the dirge he bad composed for the funeral of my grand father; in my adolescence I offered the rites of hospitality to Empe- docles : not long afterward I embraced the neck of ^schylus, about to abandon his country. With Sophocles I have argued on eloquence ; with Euripides on policy and ethics, I have discoursed, as became an inquirer, with Protagoras and Democritus, with Anaxagoras and Meton. From Herodotus I have listened to the most instructive his tory, conveyed in a language the most copious and the most harmon ious ; a man worthy to carry away the collected suffrages of universal Greece ; a man worthy to throw open the temples of Egypt, and to celebrate the exploits of Cyrus. And from Thucydides, who alone can succeed to him, how recently did my Aspasia hear with me the ener getic praises of his just supremacy. As if the festival of life were incomplete, and wanted one great orna ment to crown it, Phidias placed before us, in ivory and gold, the tutelary deity of his land, the Zeus of Homer and Olympus. i To have lived with such men, to have enjoyed their familiarity and esteem, overpays all labors and anxieties. I were unworthy of the. friendships I have commemorated, were I forgetful of the latest, Sacred it ought to be, formed as it were under the Portico of Death. my friendship with the most sagacious, the most scientific, the most beneficent of Philosophers, Acron and Hippocrates. If mortal could war against Pestilence and Destiny, they had been victorious. I leave them in the field : unfortunate he who finds them among the fallen. C And now at the close of my day, when every light is dim and every guest departed, let me own that these wane before me, remembering, as I do in the pride and fullness of my heart, that Athens confided her glory and Aspasia her happiness, to me. Have I been a faithful guardian ? Do I resign them to the custody of the gods undiminished and unimpaired? Welcome then, welcome,' my last hour ! After enjoying for so great a number' of years, in my public and private life, what I believe has never been the lot of any other, I now extend my hand to the urn, and take without reluctanc^J or hesitation that which is the lot of all. PERICLES TO ASPASIA, (WALTER SAVAGE LANDOR. PERICLES |NC£ upon a day there \vas a grocer who lived in Indianapolis, Indiana. The gro cer's name being Heinrich Schliemann, his nationality can be inferred; and as for pedigree, it is enough to state that I his ancestors did not land either at Plymouth or Jamestown. However, he was an American citizen. Now this grocer made much monies, for he sold groceries as were, and had a feed barn, a hay scales, a somer garten and a lunch counter. In fact, his place of business was just the kind you would expect a strenuous man by the name of Schliemann to keep. Soon Schliemann had men on the road, and they sold groceries as far west as Peoria and east as far as Xenia. Schliemann grew rich, and the opening up of Schliemann's Division, where town lots were sold at auction, and An heuser-Busch played an important part, helped his bank balance not a little. Schliemann grew rich: and the gentle reader being clairvoyant, now sees Schliemann weighed on his own hay scales — and wanting everything in sight — tipping the beam at part of a ton. The expectation is, that Schliemann will PERICLES evolve into a large oval satrap, grow beautifully boast ful and sublimely reminiscent, representing his 'Ward in the Common Council until pudge plus prunes him off in his prime. But this time the reader is wrong: Schliemann was tall, slender and reserved, also taciturn. Groceries were not the goal. In fact, he had interests outside of Indianapolis, that few knew anything about. When Schliemann was thirty-eight years old he was worth half a million dollars; and instead of making his big business still bigger, he vs^as studying Greek. It was a woman and Eros taught Schliemann Greek, and this was so letters could be written — dictated by Eros, who they do say is an awful dictator — that would not be easily construed by Hoosier hoi poUoi. Together the woman and Schliemann studied the history of Hellas. CAbout the year 1868 Schliemann turned all of his Indiana property into cash; and in April, 1870, he was digging in the hill of Hissarlik, Troad. The same facr ulty of thoroughness, and the ability to captain a large business — managing men to his own advantage, and theirs — made his work in Greece a success. Schlie mann's discoveries at Mt. Athos, Mycenae, Ithaca and Tiryns turned a search-light upon prehistoric Hellas and revolutionized prevailing ideas concerning the rise and development of Greek Art. His Trojan treasures were presented to the city of Berlin. Had Schliemann given his priceless findings to Indianapolis, it would have made that city a Sacred PERICLES Mecca for all the wrestern world — set it apart, and caused James Whitcomb Riley to be a mere side-show, inept, inconsequent, immaterial and insignificant. But alas! Indianapolis never knew Schliemann when he lived there — they thought he was a Dutch Grocer! And all the honors went to Benjamin Harrison, Gov ernor Morton and Thomas A. Hendricks. If the Indiana Novelists would cease their dalliance with Dame Fiction and turn to Truth, writing a sim ple record of the life of Schliemann, it w^ould eclipse in strangeness all the Knighthoods that ever v^ere in flower, and Ben Hur would get the flag in his Craw- fordsville chariot race for fame. Berlin gave the freedom of the city to Schliemann; the Emperor of Germany bestowed on him a Knight hood; the University voted him a Ph. D.; Heidelberg made him a D.C.L.; and St. Petersburg followed with an L..L..D. The value of the treasure, now in the Berlin Museum, found by Schliemann, exceeds by far the value of the Elgin Marbles in the British Museum. 'We know, and have always known, who built the Parthenon and crowned the Acropolis; but not until Schliemann had by faith and good works removed the mountain of Hissarlik, did we know that the Troy, of which blind Homer sang, was not a figment of the poet's brain. C Schliemann showed us that a thousand years before the age of Pericles there was a civilization almost as great. Aye! more than this — he showed us that the PERICLES ancient city of Troy was built upon the ruins of a city that throve and pulsed with life and pride, a thousand years or more before Thetis, the mother of Achilles, held her baby by the heel and dipped him in the River Styx. C Schliemann passed to the realm of Shade in i8go, and is buried at Athens, in the Ceramicus, in a grave excavated by his own hands in a search for the grave of Pericles. PERICLES ERICL.ES lived nearly twenty- five centuries ago. The years of his life were sixty-six — during the last thirty-one of which, by popu lar acclaim, he was the "First Citizen of Athens." The age in which he lived is called the Age of Pericles. Shakespeare died less than three hundred years ago, and although he lived in a writing age and every decade since has seen a plethora of writing men, yet ¦writing men are now bandying words as to whether he lived at all. Between us and Pericles lie a thousand years of night, when styli were stilled, pens forgotten, chisels thrown aside, brushes were useless, and oratory was silent, dumb. Yet we know the man Pericles quite as well as the popular mind knows George Washington who lived but yesterday, and with whom myth and fable have already played their part. Thucydides, a contemporary of Pericles, who outlived him nearly half a century, wrote his life. Fortunately Thucydides was big enough himself to take the meas ure of a great man. At least seven other contempora ries, whose works we have in part, wrote also of the First Citizen. To Plutarch are we indebted for much of our knowl edge of Pericles, and fortunately we are in position to verify most of Plutarch's gossipy chronicles. CThe 6 PERICLES vanishing point of time is seen in that Plutarch refers to Pericles as an "ancient"; and through the mist of years it hardly seems possible that between Plutarch and Pericles is a period of five hundred years. Plutarch resided in Greece when Paul was at Athens, Corinth and other Grecian cities. Later Plutarch was at Miletus, about the time St. Paul stopped there on his way to Rome to be tried for blasphemy — the same offense committed by Socrates, and a sin charged, too, against Pericles. Nature punishes for most sins, but sacrilege, heresy and blasphemy are not in her calen dar, so man has to look after them. Plutarch visited Patmos where St. John was exiled and where he wrote the Book of Revelation. Plutarch was also at "Malta by the Sea" where St. Paul was shipvrrecked, but so far as we know, he never heard of Paul nor of Him of whom, upon Mars Hill, Paul preached. C.Paul bears testimony that at Athens the people spent their time in nothing else but either to tell or to hear some new thing. They were curious as children, and had to be diverted and amused. They were the same people that Pericles had diverted, amused and used — used without their knowing it, five hundred years before. PERICLES HE gentle and dignified Anaxago ras, who abandoned all his prop erty to the state that he might be free to devote himself to thought, was the first and best teacher of Pericles. Under his tutorship — better, the companionship of this noble man — Pericles acquired that sublime self-restraint, that intel lectual breadth, that freedom from superstition which marked his character. Superstitions are ossified metaphors and back of every religious fallacy lies a truth. The gods of Greece w^ere once men v^ho fought their valiant fight and lived their day; the supernatural is the natural not yet understood — it is the natural seen through the mist of one, twro, three, ten or twenty-five hundred years ¦when things loom large and out of proportion — and all these things w^ere plain to Pericles. Yet he kept his inmost belief to himself, and let the mob believe what e'er it list. Morley's book on "Compromise" would not have appealed much to Pericles — his an swer w^ould have been, "A man must do what he can, ^ and not what he would." Yet he was no vulgar dem agogue truckling to the caprices of mankind, nor was he a tyrant who pitted his will against the many and subdued by a show of arms. For thirty years he kept peace at home, and if this peace was once or twice cemented by an insignificant foreign war, he proved 8 PERICLES thereby that he was abreast of Napoleon who said, "The cure for civil dissension is ^var abroad." Peri cles stands alone in his success as a statesman. It v^as Thomas Brackett Reed, I believe, who said, "A states man is a politician vrho is dead." And this is a sober truth, for, to reveal the statesman, perspective is required. Pericles built and maintained a State, and he did it as every statesman must, by recognizing and binding to him ability. It is a fine thing to have ability, but the ability to discover ability in others is the true test. 'While Pericles lived there also lived ^schylus, Soph ocles, Euripides, Zeno, Pythagoras, Socrates, Hero dotus, Hippocrates, Pindar, Empedocles and Demo critus. Such a galaxy of stars has never been seen before nor since — unless we have it now — and Peri cles vi^as their one central sun. Pericles was great in many ways — great as an orator, musician, philosopher, politician, financier, and great and wise as a practical leader. Lovers of beauty are apt to be dreamers, but this man had the ability to plan, devise, lay out work and carry it through to a successful conclusion. He infused others with his own animation, and managed to set a whole city full of lazy people building a temple grander far in its rich simplicity than the world had ever seen. By his masterly eloquence and the magic of his presence, Pericles infused the Greeks with a passion for beauty and a desire to create. And no man can inspire others PERICLES with the desire to create \vho has not taken sacred fire from the altar of the gods. The creative genius is the highest gift vouchsafed to man, and wherein man is likest God. The desire to create does not burn the heart of the serf and only free people can respond to the greatest power ever given to any First Citizen. CIn beautifying the city there ivas a necessity for vrorkers in stone, brass, iron, ivory, gold, silver and v^ood. Six thousand of the citizens vtrere under daily pay as jurors, to be called upon if their services were needed; most of the other male adults were soldiers. Through the genius of Pericles and his generals these men ¦were set to work as masons, carpenters, braziers, goldsmiths, painters and sculptors. Talent was dis covered where before it was supposed there was none; music found a voice; play-writers discovered actors ; actors found an audience ; and philosophy had a hearing. A theatre was built, carved almost out of solid stone, that seated ten thousand people, and on the stage there was often heard a chorus of a thousand voices. Physical culture developed the perfect body so that the Greek forms of that time are today the de spair of the human race. The recognition of the sacred- nessof the temple of the soul was taught as a duty; and to make the body beautiful by right exercise and by right life became a science. The sculptor must have had mod els approaching perfection, and the exhibition of the sculptor's work, together with occasional public relig ious processions of naked youths kept before the peo- lo PERICLES pie ideals superb and splendid. ^For several years everybody worked, carrying stone, hewing, tugging, lifting, carving. Up the steep road that led to the Acropolis ¦was a constant procession carrying mate rials. So infused was everybody and everything with the work that a story is told of a certain mule that had hauled a cart in the endless procession. This v^rorthy worker "who was sustained by neither pride of an cestry nor hope of posterity," finally became galled and lame and was turned out to die. But the mule did not die — nothing dies until hope dies. That mule pushed his w^ay back into the throng and up and dow^n he went, filled and comforted with the thought that he was doing his work — and all respected him and made way. If this story was invented by a comic poet of the time, devised by an enemy of Pericles, we see its moral, and think no less of Pericles. To inspire a mule with a passion for work and loyalty in a great cause is no mean thing. CSo richly endowed was the character of Pericles that he was able to appreciate the best not only in men, but in literature, painting, sculpture, music, architecture and life. In him there was as near a perfect harmony as we have ever seen — in him all the various lines of Greek culture united, and we get the perfect man. Under the right condi tions there might be produced a race of such men— but such a race never lived in Greece and never could. Greece was a splendid experiment. Greece was God's finest plaything— devised to show what He could do. PERICLES II HAVE sometimes thought that comeliness of feature and fine physical proportions were a hand icap to an orator. If a man is hand some, it is quite enough — let him act as chairman and limit his words to stating the pleasure he has in introducing the speaker. No man in a full dress suit can sway a thousand people to mingle mirth and tears, play upon their emotions and make them remember the things they have forgotten, drive conviction home, and change the ideals of a lifetime in an hour. The man in spotless attire, with necktie mathematically adjusted is an usher. If too much attention to dress is in evidence, we at once conclude that the attire is first in importance and the message secondary. The orator is a man we hate, fear, or love, and are curious to see. His raiment is incidental; the usher's clothes are vital. The attire of the usher may reveal the man — but not so the speaker. If our first impres sions are disappointing, so much the better, provided the man is a man. The best thing in 'Winston Churchill's book, "The Crisis," is his description of Lincoln's speech at Free- port. Churchill got that description from a man who was there. Where the issue was great, Lincoln was always at first a disappointment. His unkempt ap pearance, his awkwardness, his shrill voice — these 12 PERICLES things made people laugh, then they ^vere ashamed because they laughed, then they pitied, next follov-y of Greece could not last; its limi': was thirty years — one gen- erati,3n. The splendor of Athens was built on tribute and conquest, and the lesson of it all lies in this : For thirty years Pericles turned the revenues of war into art, beauty and usefulness. England spent more in her vain efforts to subjugate two little South African republics than Pericles spent in making Athens the 'Wonder of the W^orld. If Cham berlain and Salisbury had been the avatars of Pericles and Phidias, they would have used the nine hundred millions of dollars vtrasted in South Africa, and the ser vices of those three hundred thousand men, and done in England, aye ! or done in South Africa, a work of harmony and undying beauty such as this tired earth had not seen since Phidias wrought and Pindar sang, CAnd another thing, the thirty thousand Englishmen sacrificed to the God of 'War, and the ten thousand Boers, dead in a struggle for what they thought was right, would now nearly all be alive and well, rejoic ing in the contemplation of a harmony unparalleled and unsurpassed. During the last year the United States has appropri ated four hundred million dollars for war and war 26 PERICLES apparatus. Since 1897 we have expended about three times the sum named for war a nd waste. If there had been among us a Pericles whr could have used this vast treasure in irrigating the' lands of the V^est and building Manual Training Schools where boys and girls would be taught to do/ useful work and make beautiful things, we could h:ive made ancient Greece pale into forgetfulness beside the beauty we would manifest. W^hen Pericles came into power there was a union of the Greek states, formed with intent to stand against Persia, the common foe. A treasure had been accum ulated at Delos by Themistocles, the predecessor of Pericles, to use in case of emergency. The ambition of Themistocles was to make Greece commercially supreme. She must be the one maritime power of the world. All the outlying islands of the JEgean Sea were pouring their tithes into Athens and Delos that they might have protection from the threat ening hordes of Persia. Pericles saw that war was not imminent, and under the excuse of increased safety he got the accumulated treasure moved from Delos to Athens. The amount of this emergency fund, to us, would be insignificant — a mere matter of say two million dollars. Pericles used this money, or a portion of it at least, for beautifying Athens, and he did his wondrous work by maintain ing a moderate war tax in a time of peace, using the revenue for something better than destruction and PERICLES 27 vaunting pride. C^ut Pericles could not forever hold out against the mob at Athens, and the hordes abroad. He might have held the hordes at bay, but disloyalty struck at him at home — his best helpers were sacri ficed to superstition — his beloved helper Phidias was dead. \Var came — the population from the country flocked within the walls of Athens for protection. The pent up people grew restless, sick — pestilence fol lowed and in ministering to their needs, trying to in fuse courage into his whimpering countrymen, bearing up under the disloyalty of his own sons, planning to meet the lesser foe without, Pericles grewr a-weary, nature flagged, and he was dead. From his death dates the decline of Greece — she has been twenty-five centuries dying and is not dead even yet. To Greece v/e go for consolation, and in her arm less and headless marbles we see the perfect type of what men and women yet may be. Copies of her Winged Victory are upon ten thousand pedestals pointing us the way. England has her Chamberlain, Salisbury, Lord Bobs, BuUer and Kitchener; America has her rough riders who bav^l and boast, her financiers, and her promo ters. In every city of America there is a Themistocles who can organize a Trust of Delos and make the out lying islands pay tithes and tribute through an indirect tax on this and that. In times of alleged danger all Kansas flock to arms and offer their lives in the inter est of outraged humanity. 28 PERICLES These things are well, but where is the Pericles who can inspire men to give in times of peace what all are -willing to give in the delirium of war — that is to say, themselves ? W^e can funstonize men into fighting machines ; we can set half a nation licking stamps for strife; but where is the Pericles who can infuse the populace into paving streets, building good roads, planting trees, constructing waterways across desert sands, and crowning each rock-ribbed hill with a temple consecrated to Love and Beauty ! 'We take our mules from their free prairies, huddle them in foul transports and send them across wide oceans to bleach their bones upon the burning veldt; but where is the man who can inspire our mules with a passion to do their work, add their mite to building a temple and follow the procession unled, undriven — with neither curb nor lash — happy in the fond idea that they are a part of all the seething life that throbs, pulses and works for a Universal Good I England is today a country tied with crepe. On the lintels of her door-posts there linger yet the marks of sprinkled blood; the guttural hurrahs of her corona tion are mostly evoked by beer; behind it all are fears and tears and a sorrow that will not be comforted. C"I never caused a single Athenian to wear mourn ing," truthfully said Pericles with his dying breath. Can the present prime ministers of earth say as much? That is the kind of leader America most needs today PERICLES 29 — a man who can do his work and make no man, woman or child wear crepe. The time is ripe for him — we a^wait his coming. We are sick of plutocrats who struggle and scheme but for themselves: we turn with loathing from the concrete selfishness of Newport and Saratoga; the clatter of arms and the blare of battle trumpets in time of peace is hideous to our ears — we want no wealth gained from conquest and strife. Ours is the richest country the world has ever known — Greece was beggar compared with Iowa and Illi nois, where nothing but honest effort is making small cities great. But we need a Pericles who shall inspire us to work for truth, harmony and beauty, a beauty ¦wrought for ourselves and a love that shall perform such miracles that they will minister to the millions yet unborn. W^e need a Pericles ! 'We need a Pericles ! so HERE ENDETH THE LITTLE JOURNEY TO THE HOME OF PERICLES, AS WRITTEN BY ELBERT HUBBARD: THE TITLE PAGE AND INITIALS BEING DESIGNED BY SAMUEL WARNER & THE WHOLE DONE INTO A PRINTED BOOK BY THE ROYCROFTERS AT THEIR SHOP, WHICH IS IN EAST AURORA, ERIE COUNTY, NEW YORK, IN JANUARY, OF THE YEAR MCMIII 4^ 4i ^ * * * R. RICHARD LE GALLIENNE proposes to issue early in 1903, a rendering in verse of Odes fpom Che Divan of Hafiz, which, as in the case of his paraphrase of Omar Kha'yyam, he has made from literal prose ver sions of the poet, supplemented by his own fancy. While he has kept as closely as he deems necessary to his orig inal, his aim, as before, has been to make English poetry — rather than a joyless shadow of a great classic. He oflEers this rendering, in the first place as poetry, in the second as translation; but, at the same time, his aim has been, as faithfully as in him lies, truly to interpret the great Persian poet to English readers, so that the total result of his endeavours is really — if not literally — Hafiz. CThe book, which will be finely produced, will be pri vately issued in a very limited edition, namely : Three hundred copies on small paper, in octavo size, at fifteen dollars net each, and thirty-five copies on large paper, in small folio size, at twenty-five dollars net each. C Orders should be sent direct to fTiv. Richard Le Qal- lienne at Tbe Sebuvlcf, 59 Ulest 45tb St., new "Vork Citv; and a full prospectus, containing A specimen ode, will be sent on application. THAT PORTRAIT Of STEVENSON by our Mr. Samuel Warner has received high praise from several Gentle Folk who knew Master Robert Louis in life, and also from vari ous of the Discerning who love the man because he voiced so many beautiful things that we might have voiced for ourselves had we the mind. We have a few Artist Proofs of this pic ture, size 10x14, framed Roycroftie in Antique Oak, forming a takement that is a Discreet and Delectable ornament for any library. We will disconnect ourselves from these portraits, while they last, for five dollars each — sent to the Faithful on suspicion. A postal card will fetch it. THE ROYCROFTERS EAST AURORA, NEW YORK The New York Special IS THE FINE NBW TRAIN OF THE MiCHiGAjy Central "The Niagara Falls Route." between Chicago and Detroit and Bnflfalo, New York and Boston. It leaves Chicago 5.20 p. m. daily and arrives Buffalo 7.50 A. M., New York State points during the day. Grand Central Station, New York, at 6.S0 P. 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Price of volumes is Three Dollars each. A few specially bound in boards, leather back and corners, at Five Dollars each. Tbe Roycttofteits, East Jlunona, fJ. Y. A LIFE MEMBERSHIP IN THE Qlmerimn Qlcatiem|>| of ImmortaljS if CO0t0 %tn laiDOUar^ — ^No further dues or assessments, and no liabilities. Your duties consist in living up to your Ideal (as nearly as possible) and attending the Annual Dinner (if convenient). ( I ) The membership entitles you to one copy of the Philistine maga zine for ninety-nine years, but no longer. ( 2 ) All the back bound volumes of " The-Philistine " we have on hand. (3) "Little Journeys," beginning with current numbers, and all that shall be issued in future. {4) Such other books, pamphlets, addresses and documents as the Roycrofters may elect to send you Every Little While. (5) Success, Health and Love Vibrations, sent daily by the Pastor or Ali Baba. ADDRESS THE BURSAR, EAST AURORA, NEW YORK s TO THE HOMES OF EMINENT ORATORS MARK ANTONY Vol. XII. FEBRUARY, 1903. No. * By Elbert Hubbard •— « . \7 p Single Copies, 25 cents By the Year, $3.00 LITTLE JOURNEYS By ELBERT HUBBARD for 1903 WILL BE TO THE HOMES OF EMINENT ORATORS SUBJECTS AS FOLLOWS: 1 Pericles 7 Mirabeau 2 Mark Antony 8 Robert Ingersoll 3 Savonarola 9 John Randolph 4 Martin Luther 10 Thomas Starr King 5 Edmund Burke ^ 11 Henry Ward Beecher 6, William Pitt 12 Wendell Phillips One booklet a month will be issued, as usual, beginning on January 1st. The Little Journeys for 1903 will be strictly de luxe in form and workmanship. The type will be a new font of antique blackface; the initiials designed especially for this work; a frontispiece portrait from the original drawing made at our Shop in each on Japan Vellum. The booklets will be stitched by hand with silk. The price — 25 cents each, or $3.00 for the year. 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Alas ! they were then free, but thy Cleopatra is now a prisoner, attended by guard, lest, in the trans ports of her grief, she should disfigure this captive body, which is reserved to adorn the triumph over thee. These are the last offerings, the last honors she can pay thee ; for she is now to be conveyed to a distant country. Nothing could part us while we lived, but in death we are to be divided. Thou, though a Roman, liest buried in Egypt; and I, an Eg^yptian, must be interred in Italy, the only favor I shall receive from thy country. Yet, if the Gods of Rome have power or mercy left, (for surely those of Egypt have forsaken us) let them not suffer me to be led in living triumph to thy dis grace! No! hide me, hide me with thee in the grave; for life, since thou hast left it, has been misery to me. PLUTARCH. Mark antony 31 HE sole surviving daughter of the great King Ptolemy of Egypt, Cleopatra, was seventeen years old when her father died )«r jT By his will the King made her joint heir to the throne with her brother Ptolemy, several years her junior. And according to the custom, not unusual among royalty at that time, it was pro vided that Ptolemy should become the husband of Cleopatra. She was a woman — her brother a child. Q She had intellecJl, ambition, talent. She knew the history of her own coun try, and that of Assyria, Greece and Rome ; and all the written languages of the \world were to her familiar. She had been educated by the philosophers, who had brought from Greece the science of Pythagoras and Plato. Her companions had been men — not women, or nurses, or pious, pedantic priests. Through the veins of her young body pulsed and leaped life plus. She abhorred the thought of an alliance with her weak-chinned brother; and the ministers of state who suggested another husband, as a compromise, were dismissed with a look. They said 32 MARK ANTONY she vtras intra(5lable, contemptuous, unreasonable^ and was scheming for the sole possession of the throne. She was not to be diverted even by ardent courtiers who were sent to her, and who lay in wrait ready with amorous sighs — she scorned them all. Yet she was a woman still, and in her dreams she saw the coming prince. She vtras banished from Alexandria. A few friends followed her, and an army Avas formed to force from the enemy her rights. But other things were happening — a Roman army came leisurely drifting in w^ith the tide and disem barked at Alexandria. The Great Caesar himself was in command — a mere holiday, he said. He had in tended to join the land forces of Mark Antony and help crush the rebellious Pompey, but Antony had done the trick alone, and only a iew days before word had come that Pompey was dead. Caesar knew that civil war was on in Alexandria, and being near he sailed slow^ly in, sending messengers ahead warning both sides to lay down their arms. Q 'With him was the far-famed invincible Tenth Legion that had ravished Gaul. Csesar wanted to rest his men and, incidentally, to reward them. They took possession of the city without a blow. Cleopatra's troops laid down their arms, but Ptolemy's refused. They were simply chased beyond the walls, and their punishment for a time deferred. Caesar took possession of the palace of the King, and 33 MARK ANTONY his soldiers accommodated themselves in the houses public buildings and temples as best they could. Cleopatra asked for a personal interview so to present her cause. Caesar declined to meet her — he understood the trouble — many such cases he had seen. Claimants for thrones v^ere not ne\v to him. Where t-wo parties quarrelled both are right — or wrong — it really mat tered little. It is absurd to quarrel — still more foolish to fight. Csesar was a man of peace, and to keep the peace he would appoint one of his generals governor, and make Egypt a Roman colony. In the meantime he would rest a week or two, with the kind permis sion of the Alexandrians, and write upon his << Com mentaries " — no, he would not see either Cleopatra or Ptolemy — any information desired he would get through his trusted emissaries. In the service of Cleopatra ^vas a Sicilian slave 'who had been her personal servant since she was a little girl. This man's name was Appolidorus — a man of giant stature and imposing mien. Ten years before his tongue had been torn out as a token that as he Tvas to attend a queen he should tell no secrets. Appolidorus had but one thought in life, and that was to defend his gracious queen. He slept at the door of Cleopatra's tent, a naked sword at his side, held in his clenched and brawny hand. And now behold at dusk of day the grim and silent Appolidorus, carrying upon his giant shoulders a large and curious rug, rolled up and tied 'round at either 34 MARK ANTON i end with ropes. He approaches the palace of the King, and at the guarded gate hands a note to the officer in charge. This note gives information to the efTedl that a certain patrician citizen of Alexandria, being glad that the gracious Csesar had deigned to visit Egypt, sends him the richest rug that can be woven, done, in fadl, by his wife and daughters and held against this day, awaiting Rome's greatest son. C( The officer reads the note, and orders a soldier to accept the gift and carry it within — presents were constantly arriving. A sign from the dumb giant makes the soldier stand back — the present is for Csesar and can be delivered only in person. "Lead and I ¦will fol io v^," were the words done in stern pantomime. The officer laughs, sends the note inside, and the messenger soon returning, signifies that the present is acceptable and the slave bearing it shall be shown in. Appolidorus shifts his burden to the other shoulder, and follows the soldier through the gate, up the mar ble steps along the splendid hallway lighted by fiaring torches and lined with reclining Roman soldiers. At a door they pause an instant, there is a whispered word — they enter. The room is furnished as becomes the room that is the private library of the King of Egypt. In one corner, seated at the table, pen in hand, sits a man of middle age, pale, clean shaven, with hair close- cropped. His dress is not that of a soldier — it is the flowing white robe of a Roman Priest. Only one ser- MARK ANTONY 35 vant attends this man, a secretary, seated near, who rises and explains that the present is acceptable and shall be deposited on the floor. The pale man at the table looks up, smiles a tired smile and murmurs in a perfundtory way his thanks. <5 Appolidorus having laid his burden on the floor, kneels to untie the ropes. The secretary explains that he need not trouble, pray bear thanks and again thanks to his master — he need not tarry ! The dumb man on his knees neither hears nor heeds. The rug is unrolled. From out the roll a woman leaps lightly to her feet — a beautiful young v7oman of twenty. She stands there, poised, defiant, gazing at the pale- faced man seated at the table. He is not surprised — he never was. One might have supposed he received all his visitors in this manner. <5 "\A^ell?" he says in a quiet way, a half smile part ing his thin lips. The woman's breast heaves with tumultuous emotion — just an instant. She speaks, and there is no tremor in her tones. Her voice is low, smooth, and scarcely audible: "I am Cleopatra." The man at the desk lays down his pen, leans back and gently nods his head, as much as to say, indul gently, "Yes, my child, I hear — go on!" " I am Cleopatra, Queen of Egypt, and I would speak with thee alone." fl[ She paused; then raising one 36 MARK ANTONY jeweled arm motions to Appolidorus that he shall withdraw. \A^ith a similar motion, the man at the desk signifies the same to his astonished secretary. Appolidorus went dow^n the long hallway, down the stone steps and v^aited at the outer gate amid the throng of soldiers. They questioned him, gibed him, railed at him, but they got no word in reply. He waited — he waited an hour, two — and then came a messenger with a note written on a slip of parch ment. The words ran thus: "^A^ell beloved 'Dorus: Veni, vidi, vici! Go fetch my maids, also all of our personal belongings." MARK ANTONY 37 TANDING alone by the slashed and stiffened corpse of Julius Csesar, Mark Antony says : Thou art the ruins of the noblest man That ever lived in the tide of times. Csesar had two qualities that mark the man of supreme power: he was gentle and he was firm. To be gentle, generous, lenient, forgiving, and yet never relinquish the vital thing — this is to be great. To know when to be generous, and when firm — this is wisdom. The first requisite in ruling others is to rule one's own spirit. The suavity, moderation, dignity and wise diplomacy of Csesar led him by sure and safe steps from a lowly clerkship to positions of gradually increasing respon sibility. At thirty-seven he was eledted Pontifex Max- imus — the head of the State Religion. Between Pagan Rome and Christian Paganism there is small choice — all State religions are very much alike. Caesar v^as Pope: and no State religion since his time has been an improvement on that of Csesar. Q In his habits Csesar was ascetic — a scholar by nature. He was tall, slender, and in countenance sad. For the intelle(5t nature had given him, she had taken toll by cheating him in form and feature. He was deliberate, and of few words— he listened in a way that always first 38 MARK ANTONY complimented the speaker and then disconcerted him. C( By birth he was a noble, and by adoption one of the people. He was both plebeian and patrician. His military experience had been but slight, though creditable, and his public addresses ^vere so few that no one claimed he was an orator. He had done noth ing of special importance and yet the feeling was everywhere that he was the greatest man in Rome. The nobles feared him, trembling at thought of his displeasure. The people loved him — he called them, "My children." Caesar was head of the Church, but politically there were two other strong leaders in Rome, Pompey and Crassus. These two men were rich, and each was the head of a large number of followers whom he had armed as militia "for the defense of State." Csesar was poor in purse and could not meet them in their own way even if so inclined. He saw the danger of these rival facftions — strife between them was immi nent — street fights were common, and it would only require a spark to ignite the tinder. Csesar the Pontiff — the man of peace — saw a way to secure safety for the State from these two men who had armed their rival legions to protedl it. To secure this end he would crush them both. The natural way to do this would have been to join forces with the party he deemed the stronger, and down the opposition. But this done the leader with whom he had joined forces would still have to be MARK ANTONY 39 dealt with. Q Csesar made peace between Pompey and Crassus by joining \vith them, forming a Triumvirate. Q This w^as one of the greatest strokes of statecraft ever devised. It made peace at home — averted civil war — cemented rival fadtions. When three men join forces, make no mistake, power is never equally divided. Before the piping times of peace could pall, a foreign war diverted attention from approaching difficulties at home. The Gauls were threatening — they v^ere always threatening — war could be had with them any time by just pushing out upon them. To the south, Sicily, Greece, Persia and Egypt had been exploited — fame and empire lay in the dim and unknown North. Only a Csesar could have known this. He had his col leagues make him governor of Gaul. Gaul v^as a troublesome place to be, and they were quite willing he should go there. For a priest to go among the fighting Gauls — they smiled and stroked their chins! Gaul had definite boundaries on the South — the Rubi con marked the line — but on the North it was without limit. Real estate owners own as high in the air and as deep in the earth as they wish to go. Csesar alone guessed the greatness of Gaul. Under pretense of protecting Rome from a threatened invasion he secured the strongest legions of Pompey and Crassus. Combining them into one army he led them northward to such conquest and vidtory as 40 MARK ANTONY the world had never seen before. Q, It is not for me to tell the history of Csesar's Gallic wars. Suffice it to say that in eight years he had penetrated what is now Switzerland, France, Germany and England. Every where he left monuments of his greatness in the way of splendid highways, baths, aquedudts and temples. Colonies of settlers from the packed population of Rome followed the vidtors. An army left to itself after conquest will settle down to riot and mad surfeit, but this man kept his forces strong by keeping them at work — discipline was never relaxed, yet there was such kindness and care for his men that no mutiny ever made head. Csesar became immensely rich — his debts were now all paid — the treasure returned to Rome did the gen eral coffers fill, his name and fame were blazoned on the Roman streets. ^Vhen he returned he knew, and had always known, it would be as a conquering hero. Pompey and Cras sus did not wish Caesar to return. He was still gov ernor of Gaul and should stay there. They made him governor — he must do as they required — they sent him his orders. "The die is cast," said Csesar on reading the message. Immediately he crossed the Rubicon. An army fights for a leader, not a cause. The leader's cause is theirs. Caesar had led his men to vidtory, and he had done it with a comparatively small degree of danger. He never made an attack until every expedient MARK ANTONY 41 for peace v^as exhausted. He sent word to each bar baric tribe to come in and be lovingly annexed, or else be annexed willy nilly. He won, but through diplomacy where it \vas possible. W^hen he did strike, it was quickly, unexpedledly and hard. The priest was as great a strategist as a diplomat. He pardoned his opposers when they v^ould lay down their arms — he wanted success not vengeance. But always he gave his soldiers the credit. They were loyal to him. Pompey and Crassus could not oppose a man like this — they fled. Csesar's most faithful and trusted colleague was Mark Antony, seventeen years his junior — a slashing, dash ing, audacious, exuberant fellow. Caesar became didlator, really king or emperor. He ruled \vith moderation, wisely and well. He wore the purple robe of authority, but refused the crown. He was honored, revered, beloved. The habit of the Pon tiff still clung to him — he called the people, "My children." The imperturbable calm of the man of God was upon him — his courage was unimpeachable, but caution preserved him from personal strife. That he could ever be approached by one and all was his pride. But clouds were beginning to gather. He had pardoned his enemies, but they had not for given him. There were whisperings that he was getting ready to 42 MARK ANTONY assume the office of emperor. At a certain parade when Csesar sat upon the raised seat, reviewing the passing procession, Mark Antony, the exuberant, left his place in the ranks, and climbing to the platform had tried to crown his beloved leader w^ith laurel. Csesar had smilingly declined the honor, amid the plaudits of the crowd. Some said this whole episode was planned to test the temper of the populace. Another cause of offense w^as that some time before, Csesar had spent several months at Alexandria at the court of Cleopatra. And now the young and beautiful queen had arrived in Rome, and Csesar had appeared with her at public gatherings. She had with her a boy, two years old, by name Caesario. This Egyptian child, said the conspirators, w^as to be the future Emperor of Rome. To meet this accusation Csesar made his will and provided that his grand- nephew, Odtavius Csesar, should be his adopted son and heir. But this was declared a ruse. The murmurings grew louder. Sixty senators combined to assassinate Caesar — the high position of these men made them safe — by standing together they would be secure. Caesar was warned, but declined to take the matter seriously. He neither would arm himself nor allow guards to attend him. On the 15th of March, 44 B. C, as Caesar entered the Senate the rebels crowded upon him under the pre- MARK ANTONY 43 tense of handing him a petition, and at a sign fell upon him. Twenty-three of the conspirators got close enough to send their envious daggers home. Brutus dipped his svrord in the fioAving blood, and waving the v^eapon aloft cried, "Liberty is restored!," C( Tvro days later, Mark Antony standing by the dead body of his beloved chief, sadly mused: Thou art the ruins of the noblest man That ever lived in the tide of times. 44 MARK ANTONY iESAR died aged fifty-six. Mark Antony, his executor, occupying the office next in importance, was thirty-nine. In point of physique Antony far surpassed Caesar: they were the same height, but Antony \vas he roic in stature and carriage, mus cular and athletic. His face was comely — his nose large and straight, his eyes set wide apart; his manner martial. If he lacked in intel lect, in appearance he held averages good. Antony had occupied the high offices of questor and tribune, the first calling for literary ability, the second for that of an orator. Csesar, the wise and diplomatic, had chosen Mark Antony as his Secretary of State on account of his peculiar fitness, especially in repre senting the Government at public fundtions. Antony had a handsome presence, a gracious tongue, and was a skilled and ready writer. Caesar himself was too great a man to be much in evidence. In passing it is well to note that all the tales as to the dissipation and profligacy of Mark Antony in his early days come from the "Philippics" of Cicero, who made the mistake of executing Lentulus, the step father of Mark Antony, and then felt called upon for ever after to condemn the entire family. "Philippics' are always a form of self-vindication. However it need not be put forward that Mark Antony MARK ANTONY 4S was a paragon of virtue — a man -who has been suc cessively and successfully soldier, politician, lawyer, judge, rhetorician, and diplomat is \vhat he is. Rome was the ruler of the world: Csesar was the un disputed greatest man of Rome: and Mark Antony was the right hand of Csesar. At the decisive battle of Pharsalia, Csesar had chosen Mark Antony to lead the left wing while he himself led the right. More than once Mark Antony had stopped the Roman army in its flight and had turned defeat into vidlory. In the battle with Aristobulus he was the first to scale the Avail. His personal valor \was beyond cavil — he had distin guished himself in every battle in which he had taken part. It was the first intent of the conspirators that Csesar and Antony should die together, but the fear was that the envious hate of the people toward Caesar would be neutralized by the love the soldiers bore both Csesar and Antony. So they counted on the cupidity and am bition of Antony to keep the soldiers in subjedtion. Q Antony was kept out of the plot, and when the blow was struck he was detained at his office by pre tended visitors who wanted a hearing. When news came to him that Csesar was dead, he fled, thinking that massacre would follow. But the next day he returned and held audience with the rebels. Q Antony was too close a follower of Caesar to depart from his methods. Naturally he was hasty and impul- 46 MARK ANTONY sive, but now, everything he did was in imitation of the great man he had loved. Caesar always pardoned. Antony listened to the argu ment of Brutus that Caesar had been removed for the good of Rome. Brutus proposed that Antony should fill Csesar's place as Consul or nominal didtator; and in return Brutus and Cassius ^vere to be nnade gover nors of certain provinces — amnesty viras to be given to all who were in the plot. Antony agreed, and at once the Assembly was called and a law passed tendering pardon to all concerned — thus was civil war averted. Csesar was dead, but Rome viras safe. The funeral of Csesar was to occur the next day. It was to be the funeral of a private citizen — the honor of a public funeral pyre was not to be his. Brutus would say a few Tvords, and Antony, as the closest friend of the dead, would also speak — the body would be buried and all Avould go on in peace. Antony had done what he had because it was the only thing he could do. To be successor of Caesar filled his ambition to the brim — but to win the purple by a com promise with the murderers ! It turned his soul to gall. Q At the funeral of Caesar the Forum was crowded to every corner with a subdued, dejedted, breathless throng. People spoke in ^vhispers — no one felt safe — the air was stifled and poisoned with fear and fever. Q, Brutus spoke first: we do not know his exadt words, but we know the temper of the man, and his mental MARK ANTONY 47 attitude. O, Mark Antony had kept the peace, but if he could only feel that the people v^ere with him he ¦would drive the sixty plotting conspirators before him like chaff before the whirlwind. He Avould then be Caesar's successor because he had avenged his death. The orator must sho\v no passion until he has aroused passion in the hearer — oratory is a collaboration. The orator is the adtive principle — the audience the passive . G, Mark Antony, the pradticed orator, begins with simple propositions to vrhich all agree. Gradually he sends out quivering feelers — the response returns — he continues, the audience answers back, he plays upon their emotion, and soon only one mind is supreme, and that is his own. W^e know what he did and how he did it, but his words are lost. Shakespeare, the man of imagination, supplies them. The plotters have made their defense — it is accepted. Q Antony, too, defends them — he repeats that they are honorable men, and to reiterate that a man is honorable is to admit that possibly he is not. The adt of defense implies guilt — and to turn defense into accusation through pity and love for the one wronged is the supreme task of oratory. From love of Caesar to hate for Brutus and Cassius is but a step — panic takes the place of confidence among the conspirators — they slink away. The spirit of the mob is uppermost — the only honor left to Caesar is 48 MARK ANTONY the funeral pyre. Benches are torn up, Tvindows pulled from their fastenings, every available combustible is added to the pile, and the body of Csesar — he alone calm and untroubled amid all this mad mob — is placed upon this improvised throne of death. Torches flare and the pile is soon in flames. Night comes on, and the same torches that touched to red the funeral couch of Csesar, hunt out the houses of the conspirators who killed him. But the conspirators have fled. One man is supreme, and that man is Mark Antony. MARK ANTONY 49 O maintain a high position requires the skill of a harlequin. It is an abnormality that any man should long tower above his fellows. For a few short Aveeks Mark An tony was the pride and pet of Rome. He gave fetes, contests, processions and entertainments of lavish kind. "These things are pleasant, but they have to be paid for," said Cicero. Q, Then came from lUyria, Odtavius Csesar, aged nine teen, the adopted son of Csesar the Great, and claimed his patrimony. Antony laughed at the stripling, and thought to bribe him with a fete in his honor and a promise, and in the meantime a clerkship where there was no work to speak of and pay in inverse ratio. The boy was weak in body and commonplace in mind — in way of culture he had been overtrained — but he was stubborn. Mark Antony lived so much on the surface of things, that he never imagined there was a strong party push ing the "Young Augustus" forward. Finally Antony became impatient with the importun ing young man, and threatened to send him on his way with a guard at his heels to see that he did not return ^ ^ At once a storm broke over the head of Antony— it came from a seemingly clear sky— Antony had to flee. 50 MARK ANTONY not Odtavius. Q The soldiers of the Great Csesar had been remembered in his will Avith seventy-five drach mas to every man, and the Tvill must stand or fall as an entirety. Caesar had provided that Odtavius should be his successor — this ¦will must be respedted. Cicero was the man who made the argument. The army was with the will of the dead man, rather than the ambi tion of the living. Antony fled, but gathered a goodly army as he went, intending to return. After some months of hard times passion cooled, and Antony, Odtavius and Lepidus, the chief general of Odtavius, met in the field for consultation. S^vayed by the eloquence of Antony w^ho w^as still full of the precedents of the Great Caesar, a Triumvirate was formed, and Antony, Odtavius and Lepidus coolly sat down to divide the world between them. One strong argument that Antony used for the neces sity of this partnership was, that Brutus and Cassius were just across in Macedonia, waiting and watching for the time w^hen civil war would so weaken Rome that they could step in and claim their own. Brutus and his fellow conspirators must be punished. G, In two years from that time, they had performed their murderous deed; Cassius was killed at his own request by his servant, and Brutus had fallen on his sword to escape the sword of Mark Antony. In the stress of defeat and impending calamity, Mark Antony was a great man : he could endure anything MARK ANTONY 51 but success. Q, But now there were no more enemies to conquer: unlike Csesar the Great he was no scholar, so books Avere not a solace: to build up and beautify a great state did not occur to him. His camp was turned into a place of mad riot and disorder. Harpers, dan cers, buffoons and all the sodden splendor of the East made the nights echo with "shouts, sacrifices, songs and groans." When Antony entered Ephesus the women went out to meet him in the undress of bacchanals, troops of naked boys representing cupids, and men clothed like satyrs danced before. Everywhere ¦were ivy crowns, spears vsrreathed ¦with green, and harps, flutes, pipes, and human voices sang songs of praise to the great god Bacchus — for such Antony liked to be called. Cf Antony knew that between Cleopatra and Csesar there had been a tender love. All the world that Caesar ruled, Antony now ruled — or thought he did. In the intoxication of success he would, too, rule the heart that the great Caesar had ruled. He would rule this proud heart or he would crush it beneath his heel. Q, He despatched Dellius, his trusted secretary to Alexandria summoning the Queen to meet him at Cilicia, and give answer as to why she had given suc cor to the army of Cassius. The charge was preposterous, and if sincere, shows the drunken condition of Antony's mind. Cleopatra loved Caesar — he was to her the King of Kings, the one supreme and god-like man of earth. Her studious 52 MARK ANTONY and splendid mind had matched his own — this cold, scholarly man of fifty-two had been her mate — the lover of her soul. Scarcely five short years before, she had attended him on his journey as he went away, and there on the banks of the Nile as they parted, her unborn babe responded to the stress of parting, no less than she. Afterward she had followed him to Rome that he might see his son, Caesario. She was in Rome when Brutus and Cassius struck their fatal blows, and had fled, disguised, her baby in her arms — refusing to trust the precious life in the hands of hirelings. And now that she should be accused of giving help to the murderer of her joy! She had execrated and de spised Cassius, and now she hated, no less, the man who had wrongfully accused her. But he was didtator — his summons must be obeyed. She would obey it, but she would humiliate him. Antony waited at Cilicia on the day appointed, but Cleopatra did not appear. He waited two days — three — and very leisurely, up the river, the galleys of Cleo patra came. But she did not come as suppliant. The curiously carved galley, studded with nails of gold ; the oars were all tipped with silver, the sails of purple silk. The rowers kept time to the music of flutes. The Queen in the gauzy dress of Venus re clined under a canopy, fanned by Cupids. Her maids MARK ANTONY 53 were dressed like the Graces, and fragrance of burn ing incense diffused the shores. The whole city went do\vn the river to meet this most gorgeous pageant, and Antony the proud was left at the tribunal alone. On her arrival Cleopatra sent official word of her presence. Antony sent back word that she should come to him. She responded that if he wished to see her he should call and pay his respedts. He went do^vn to the riverside and was astonished at the dazzling, twinkling lights and all the magnificence that his eyes beheld. Very soon he was convinced that in elegance and magnificence he could not cope with this Egyptian queen. The personal beauty of Cleopatra was not great. Many of her maids outshone her. Her power lay in her wit and wondrous mind. She adapted herself to condi tions ; and on every theme and topic that the conver sation might take, she was at home. Her voice was marvelously musical, and was so modulated that it seemed like an instrument of many strings. She spoke all languages, and therefore, had no use for interpreters. When she met Antony she quickly took the measure of the man. She fell at once into his coarse soldier ways, and answered him jest for jest. Antony was at first astonished, then subdued, next entranced — a woman who could be the comrade of a 54 MARK ANTONY man she had never seen before ! She had the intelledt of a man and all the luscious weaknesses of a woman. Q Cleopatra had come hating this man Antony, and to her surprise she found him endurable — and more. Besides that, she had cause to be grateful to him — he had destroyed the conspirators who had killed her Caesar — her King of Kings. She ordered her retinue to make ready to return. The prows were turned to^vard Alexandria; and aboard the galley of the Queen, beneath the silken canopy, at the feet of Cleopatra, reclined the great Mark Antony. MARK ANTONY 55 YRON sums the subjedt up in his masterly phrase, "man's love is of his life a thing apart; 'tis wom an's whole existence," Still, I sup pose it \(rill not be disputed that much depends upon the man and -the woman. In this instance we have a strong, Avillful, ambitious and masculine man; up to the time he met Cleopatra, love was of his life a part; after this, it was his v^hole existence. "When they first met there at Cilicia, Antony was past forty, she was twenty-five. Plutarch tells us that Fulvia, the wife of Antony, an earnest and excellent woman, had tried to discipline him. The result was that instead of bringing him over to her way of thinking she had separated him from her. Q, Cleopatra ruled the man by entwining her spirit with his — mixing the very fibers of their being — fastening her soul to his with hoops of steel. She became a necessity to him — a part and parcel of the fabric of his life. Together they attended to all the affairs of state. They were one in all the games and sports. The exuberant animal spirits of Antony occasionally found vent in roaming the streets of Alexandria at dead of night, rushing into houses and pulling people out of bed, and then absconding before they were well awake. In these nodturnal pranks, Cleopatra often attended him, dressed like a boy. Once they both got well 56 MARK ANTONY pummeled, and deservedly, but they stood the drub bing rather than reveal their identity. The story of their fishing together, and Antony mak ing all the catch has been often told. He had a skillful diver go down every now and then and place a fish on his hook. Finally when he grew beautifully boastful, as successful fishermen are apt to do, Cleopatra had her diver go down and attach a large Newfoundland salt cod-fish to his hook, which vvhen pulled up before the company turned the laugh, and in the guise of jest taught the man a useful lesson. Antony should have known better than to try and deceive a woman like that — other men have tried it before and since. 0^ But all this horse-play Tvas not to the higher taste of Cleopatra — Awith Caesar, she ^vould never have done it. C( It is the man who gives the key to condudt in mar riage, not the woman; the partnership is successful only as a woman conforms her life to his. If she can joyfully mingle her life Avith his, destiny smiles in benedidtion and they become necessary to each other. If she grudgingly gives, conforming outwardly, with mental reservations, she droops, and spirit flagellates the body until it sickens, dies. If she holds out firmly upon principle, intent on preserving her individuality, the man, if small, sickens and dies; if great he finds companionship elsewhere, and leaves her to develop her individuality alone — Avhich she never does. One of three things happens to her: she dies, lapses into nul lity, or finds a mate whose nature is sufficiently like MARK ANTONY 57 her own that they can blend. C( Cleopatra was a greater woman, far, than Antony was a man. But she con formed her life to his and counted it joy. She was capable of better things, but she waived them all, as strong v^omen do and have done since the world be gan. Love is woman's whole existence — sometimes. But love Avas not Cleopatra's whole existence, any more than it is the sole existence of the silken Sara, her prototype. Cleopatra loved power first, afterward she loved love. By attaching to herself a man of power both ambitions ¦were realized. Two years had gone by, and Antony still remained at Alexandria. Importunities, requests and orders had all failed to move him to return. The days passed in the routine affairs of state, hunting, fishing, excur sions, fetes, and games. Antony and Cleopatra were not separated night or day. Suddenly news of serious import came — Fulvia, and Lucius, the brother of Antony, had rebelled against Caesar and had gathered an army to fight him. Antony was sore distressed, and started at once to the scene of the difficulty. Fulvia' s side of the story was never told, for before Antony arrived in Italy she was dead. Odtavius Csesar came out to meet Antony and they met as friends. According to Caesar the whole thing had been planned by Fulvia as a scheme to lure her lord from the arms of Cleopatra. And anyway the plan had worked. The Triumvirate still existed— although 58 MARK ANTONY Lepidus had pradtically been reduced to the rank of a private citizen. Antony and Caesar ¦would now rule the world as one, and to cement the bond Antony should take the sister of Odtavius to wife. Knowing full ¦well the relation ship of Antony and Cleopatra, she consented to the arrangement, and the marriage ceremony was duly performed. Antony was the head of the Roman army and to a great degree the adtual ruler. Powder vras too equally divided between him and Caesar for either to be happy — they quarrelled like boys at play. Antony was restless, uneasy, impatient — Odtavia tried to keep the peace, but her kindly offices only made matters worse. W^ar broke out between Rome and certain tribes in the East, and Antony took the field. Odtavia impor tuned her liege that she might attend him, and he finally consented. She went as far as Athens, then across to Macedonia and here Antony sent her home to her brother that she might escape the dangers of the desert jy ^ Antony followed the enemy down into Syria; and there sent for Cleopatra that he might consult with her about joining the forces of Egypt with those of Rome to crush the barbarians. Cleopatra came on, the consultation followed, and it was decided that when Csesar the Great — the god like man whose memory they mutually revered — MARK ANTONY 59 said, "^Var is a foolish business," he was right. They would let the barbarians slide — if they deserved pun ishment, the gods ¦would look after the case. If the barbarians did not need punishment, then they should go free -ff 4f Tents were struck, pack camels were loaded, horses were saddled, and the caravan started for Alexandria. By the side of the camel that carried the queen, quiet ly stepped the proud barb that bore Mark Antony. 6o MARK ANTONY OR fourteen years Cleopatra and Antony ruled Egypt together. The country had prospered, even in spite of the extravagance of its governors, and the Egyptians had shovtrn a pride in their Roman ruler, as if he had done them great honor to remain and be one with them . The Starr Piano Company Indianapolis, Ind. Toledo, Ohio. Dayton, Ohio 138 & 150 N. Penn. St. Starr Hall, 329 Superior. 131 S. Main Executive Office and Factory, Richmond, Indiana L Of STEVENSON by our Mr. Samuel Warner has received 'high praise from several Gentle Folk who knew Master Robert Louis in life, and also from vari ous of the Discerning who love the man because he , voiced so many beautiful things that we might have voiced for ourselves had we the mind. We have a few Artist Proofs of this pic ture, size 10x14, framed Roycroftie in Antique Oak, forming a takement that'is a Discreet and Delectable ornament for any library. We will disconnect ourselves from t^iese portraits, while they last, for \ five dollars each — sent to the Faithful on suspicion. A postal card will fetch it. THE ROYCROFTERS EAST AURORA, NEW YORK I The New York Special IS THE F^INE NEW TRAIN OF THE MiCfflOAN Central "The Niagara Falls Route." between Chicago and Detroit and Biiffalo, New York and Boston. It leaves Chicago 5:20 p. m. daily and arrives Buffalo 7:50 a. m.. 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Samuel Johnson Addison GREAT MUSICIANS Disraeli Wagner Mozart Liszt, Verdi Paganini Bach ¦ ^ BeethoVen Schumanii; Chopin Mendelssohn Handel EMINENT ARTISTS Brahms Raphael Thorwaldsen Corot Cellini Leonardo Gainsborough Correggio Abbey Botticelli Velasquez Gian Bellini WhisUei Just One Dollar each — there is no profit in thes^ books for us, but they keep our boys and girls busy, and show th^ world xyhat we can do. The Roycrofters, East Aurora A UFE MEMBERSHIP IN THE Qlmettmn ^tatiem^ of Immortaljs i ^ COflftflf %tn SDOllar^— No further dues or assessments, and no liabilities. Your duties consist in living up to your Ideal (as nearly as possible) and attending the Annual Dinner (if convenient). ( I ) The membership entitles you to one copy of the Philistine maga zine for ninety-nine years, but no longer. ( a ) All the back bound volumes of " The Philistine " we have on hand. (a) "Little Journeys," beginning with current numbers, and all that shall be issued in future. (4) Such other books, pamphlets, addresses and documents as the Roycrofters may elect to send you Every Little While. (5) Success, Health and Love Vibrations, sent daily by the Pastor or Ali Baba. ADDRESS THE BURSAR, EAST AURORA, NEW YORK TO THE HOMES OF EMINENT ORATORS SAVONAROLA Vol. XII. MARCH, 1903. No. 3 By ELBERT HUBBARD _ /- S (sJ Single Copies, 25 cents By the Year, $3.00 LITTLER jOURNiYS My E Lji E R t l| U B S^ R D 4 6 r I 9 b Jc W i L L B E T O T H E So M E S OF EMmENT ORATO RS SOTidMAS J^OIXpWS: itei-jctei TMirabcatL 2 Mark Antony 8 Robert Ingersoll 3 Savonarola ; 9 JVhen he looked up the girl was gone — they were never to meet again. The grief of the boy pierced the heart of the old man and he murmured, "Joy liveth yet for a day, but the sorrow of man abideth forever." Doubt and fear assailed the lad. The efforts of his grandfather to interest him in the study of his own profession of medicine, failed. Re ligious brooding filled his days, and he became pale and weak from fasting. He had grown in stature, but the gauntness of his face made his coarse features stand out, that he was almost repulsive. But this homeliness was relieved by the big, lustrous, brown eyes — eyes that challenged and beseeched in turn. The youth was now a young man — eighteen summers lay behind, when he disappeared from home. Soon came a letter from Bologna in which Girolamo explained at length to his mother that the world's wickedness was to him intolerable, its ambition ashes, and its hopes not worth striving for. He had entered the monastery of St. Dominico, and to save his family the pain of parting he had stolen quietly away. "I have hearkened to the Voice," he said. SAVONAROLA 71 AVONAROLA remained in the monastery at Bologna for six years, scarcely passing beyond its Avails. These v^ere years of cease less study, writing, meditation — Avork. He sought the most menial occupations — doing tasks that others cautiously evaded. His simplicity, earnestness and aus terity won the love and admiration of the monks, and they sought to make life more congenial to him, by ad vancing him to the office of teacher to the novitiates. QHe declared his unfitness to teach, and it was an imperative order, and not a suggestion, that forced him to forsake the business of scrubbing corridors on hands and knees, and array himself in the white robe of a teacher and reader. The office of teacher and that of an orator are not far apart — it is all a matter of expression. The first requi site in expression is animation — you must feel in order to impart feeling. No drowsy, lazy, disinterested, half hearted, selfish, pre-occupied, trifling person can teach — to teach you must have life, and life in abundance. You must have abandon — you must projedl yourself, and inundate the room with your presence. To infuse life, and a desire to remember, to know, to become, into a class of a dozen pupils is to reveal the power of an orator. If you can fire the minds of a few with your own spirit, you can, probably, also fuse and weld 72 SAVONAROLA a thousand in the same way. Q Savonarola taught his little class of novitiates, and soon the older monks dropped in to hear the discourse. A larger room was necessary, and in a short time the semi-weekly infor mal talk resolved itself into a ledture, and every seat was occupied when it Avas known that Brother Girol amo would speak. This success suggested to the Prior that Savonarola be sent out to preach in the churches round about, and it was so done. But outside the monastery Savonarola \vas not a suc cess — he was precise, exadt, and labored to make him self understood — freedom had not yet come to him. QBut let us wait! QOne of America's greatest preach ers was well past forty before he evolved abandon, SAVung himself out clear, and put for open sea. Uncer tainty and anxiety are death to oratory. In every monastery there are two classes of men — the religious, the sincere, the earnest, the austere; and the fat, lazy, profligate and licentious. And the proportion of the first class to the second changes just in proportion as the monastery is suc cessful — to succeed in nature is to die. The fruit much loved by the sun rots first. The early monas teries were mendicant institutions, and for mendi cancy to grow rich is an anomaly that carries a penalty. A successful beggar is apt to be haughty, arrogant, didtatorial — from an humble request for alms to a demand for your purse, is but a step. In SAVONAROLA 73 either case the man wants something that is not his — there are three ways to get it : earn it, beg it, seize it. The first method is absurd — to dig I am ashamed — the second, easy, the last is best of all, provided objedtion is not too strenuous. Beggars a-horseback are knights of the road. That which comes easy, goes easy, and so it is the most natural thing in the world for a monk to become a connoisseur of Avines, an expert gourmet, a sensual ist who plays the limit. The monastic impulse begins in the beautiful desire for solitude — to be alone with God — and ere it runs its gamut, dips deep into license and wallows in folly. The austere monk leaves vroman out, the other kind enslaves her: both are Avrong, for man can never advance and leave woman behind. God never intended that man, made in his image, should be either a beast or a fool. And here we are w^iser than Savonarola — noble, hon est and splendid man that he was. He saw the wick edness of the world and sought to shun it by fleeing to a monastery. There he sa^v the wickedness of the monastery and there being no place to flee, he sought to purify it. And at the same time he sought to purify and better the world by standing outside of the world. QThe history of the Church is a history of endeavor to keep it from drifting into the thing it professes not to be — concrete selfishness. The Church began in humil ity and simplicity, and when it became successful 74 SAVONAROLA behold it became a thing of pomp, pride, processional, crow^ns, jewels, rich robes and a po^ver that used itself to subjugate and subdue, instead of the pity that w^ould uplift and lead by love. Oh, the shame of it! And Savonarola saw^ these things — saw them to the exclusion of everything else — and his cry continually was for a return to the religion of Jesus the Carpenter, the Man who gave his life that others might live. The Christ spirit filled the heart of Savonarola. His soul was v^rung with pity for the poor, the unfortu nate, the oppressed: and he had insight sufficient into economics to knov^ that where greed, gluttony and idleness abound, there too stalks oppression, suffer ing and death. The palaces of the rich are built on the bones of the poor. Others, high in Church authority, saw these things, too, and knew no less than Savonarola the need of reform — they gloried in his ringing -words of warning, and they admired no less his example of austerity. QThey could not do the needed work, perhaps he could do a little, at least. And so he was transferred to St. Mark's Monastery at Florence — the place that needed him most. Florence was the acknowledged seat of art and polite learning of all Italy, and St. Mark's was the chief glory of the Church in Florence. Florence was prosperous and so was St. Mark's, and have we not said that there is something in pure SAVONAROLA 75 prosperity that taints the soul? Q Savonarola was sent to St. Mark's merely as a teacher andledturer. Bologna was full of gloom and grime — the bestiality there was untamed. Here everything was gilded, gracious and good to look upon. The cloister walks were embov^- ered in climbing roses, the walls decorated fresh from the brush of Fra Angelico, and the fountains in the gardens, adorned by naked cupids, sent their sparkling heads aloft to greet the sunlight. Brother Girolamo had never seen such beauty before — its gracious essence enfolded him 'round, and for a few short hours lifted that dead Aveight of abiding melancholy from his soul. "When he ledtured he was surprised to find many fashionable ladies in his audience — learning was evi dently a fad. He saw that it was expedted that he should be amusing, diverting, and incidentally, in- strudtive. He had only one mode of preaching — this was earnest exhortation to a higher life, the life of austerity, simplicity and nearness to God, by labor ing to benefit His children. QHe mumbled through his ledlure and retired, abashed and humiliated. 76 SAVONAROLA T was the year 1482, and the whole world was a-thrill with thought and feeling. Lorenzo the Magnifi cent was at the height of his power and popularity; printing presses gave letters an impetus; art flourished; the people were dazzled by display and were dip ping deep into the love of pleas ure. The austerity of Christian religion had glided off by imperceptible degrees into pagan pageantry, and the song of bacchanals filled the streets at midnight. QLorenzo did for the world a great and splendid work — for one thing, he discovered Michael Angelo — and the encouragement he gave to the arts made Florence the beautiful dream in stone that she is even to this day. QThe world needs the Lorenzos and the world needs the Savonarolas — they form an Opposition of Forces that holds the balance true. Po\ver left to itself attains a terrific impetus — a governor is needed — and it was Savonarola Awho tempered and tamed the excesses of the Medici. In 1483 Savonarola was appointed Lenten preacher at the Church of St. Lorenzo in Florence. His exhorta tions were plain, homely, blunt — his voice uncertain, and his ugly features at times inclined his fashionable auditors to unseemly smiles. ^Vhen ugliness forgets itself and gives off the flash of the spirit it becomes magnificent — takes upon itself a halo — but this was SAVONAROLA 77 not yet to be. QThe orator must subdue his audience or it Tvill subdue him. Savonarola retired to his cloister cell, v^hipped and discouraged. He took no part in the festivals and fetes : the Gardens of Lorenzo Avere not for him; the society of the smooth and cultured lovers of art and literature was beyond his pale. Being incapable by tempera ment of mixing in the \vhirl of pleasure, he found a satisfadtion in keeping out of it, thus proving his hu manity. Not being able to have a thing, we scorn it. Men who cannot dance are apt to regard dancing as sinful 4f jf Savonarola saw things as a countryman sees them Avhen he goes to a great city for the first time. There is much that is wrong — very much that is wasteful, extravagant, absurd and pernicious, but it is not all base, and the visitor is apt to err in his conclusions, especially if he be of an intense and ascetic type. Savonarola was sick at heart, sick in body — fasts and vigils had done their sure and certain work for nerves and digestion. He saw visions and heard voices, and in the Book of Revelation he discovered the symbols of prophesy that foretold the doom of Florence. He felt that he was divinely inspired. In the outside world he saw only the worst — and this was well. He believed that he was one sent from God to cleanse the Church of its iniquities — and he was right. These mad men are needed — Nature demands them. 78 SAVONAROLA and so God makes them to order. They are ignorant of what the many know, and this is their advantage; they are blind to all but a few things, and therein lies their power. The belief in his mission filled the heart of Savonarola. Gradually he gained ground, made head, and the Prior of St. Mark's did what the Prior of St. Dominico's had done at Bologna — he sent the man out on preaching tours among the churches and monasteries. The aus terity and purity of his charadter, the sublimity of his faith, and his relentless war upon the extravagance of the times, made his presence valuable to the Church. Then in all personal relationships the man was most lovable — gentle, sympathetic, kind. ^Vher- ever he went his influence was for the best. Power plus came to him for the first time at Brescia in i486. The sermon he gave Avas one he had given many times, in fadt, he never had but one theme — flee from the wrath to come, and accept the pardon of the gentle Christ ere it is too late — ere it is too late. QMuch of what passes for oratory is merely talk, lec ture, harangue and argument. These things may all be very useful, and surely they have their place in the world of work and business, but oratory is another thing. Oratory is the impassioned outpouring of a heart — a heart full to bursting: it is the absolute giv ing of soul to soul. Every great speech is an evolution — it must be given many times before it becomes a part of the man him- SAVONAROLA 79 ¦ self. Oratory is the ability to weld a mass of people into absolutely one mood. To do this the orator must lose himself in his subjedt — he must cast expediency to the winds. And more than this, his theme must always be an appeal for humanity. Invedtive, threat, challenge, all play their parts, but love is the great recurring theme that Awinds in and out through every great sermon or oration. Pathos is only possible where there is great love, and pathos is alv^ays present in the oration that subdues, that convinces, that wins, and sends men to their knees in abandonment of their own wills. The audience is the female element — the orator the male, and love is the theme. The orator comes in the name of God to give protedtion — freedom. Q Usually the great orator is on the losing side. And this excites on the part of the audience the feminine attribute of pity, and pity fused with admiration gives us love — thus does love adt and readt on love. Oratory supplies the most sublime gratification which the gods have to give. To subdue the audience and blend mind with mind affords an intoxication be yond the ambrosia of Elysium. 'When Sophocles pidtured the god Mercury seizing upon the fairest daughter of Earth and carrying her away through the realms of space, he had in mind the power of the ora tor, which through love lifts up humanity and sways men by a burst of feeling that brooks no resistance. Q Oratory is the child of democracy — it pleads for the weak, for the many against the few, and no great So SAVONAROLA speech was ever yet made save in behalf of mankind. The orator feels their joys, their sorrows, their hopes, their desires, their aspirations, their sufferings and pains. They may have wandered far, but his arms are open wide for their return. Here alone does soul re spond to soul. And it is love, alone, that fuses feeling so that all are of one mind and mood. Oratory is an exercise of power. But oratory, like all sublime pleasures, pays its pen alty — this way madness lies. The great orator has ever been a man of sorrows, acquainted with grief. Oratory points the martyr's path; it leads by the thorn road; and those who have trod the Mvay, have carried the cross with bleeding feet, and deep into their side has been thrust the spear. SAVONAROLA 8i T was not until his fortieth year that Savonarola attained that self-sufficiency and complete self- reliance that marks a man who is fit for martyrdom. Courage comes only to those who have done the thing before . By this time Savonarola had achieved enemies, and several dignitaries had done him the honor of publicly an swering him. His invedtive was against the sins of Church and Society, but his enemies instead of de fending their cause did the very natural thing of inveighing against Savonarola. Thus did they divert attention from the question at issue. Personal abuse is often more effedtive than argument, and certainly much more easy to wield. Q Savonarola was getting himself beautifully misun derstood. Such words as fanatic, pretender, agita tor, heretic, renegade and "dangerous," were freely hurled at him. They said he was pulling down the pillars of society. He seriously considered retiring en tirely from the pulpit; and as a personal vindication and that his thoughts might live, he wrote a book, "The Triumph of the Cross." This volume contains all his philosophy and depidts truth as he saw it. QLet a reader, ignorant of the author, peruse this book today, and he will find in it only the oft-repeated appeal of a believer in "Primitive Christianity." Purity 82 SAVONAROLA of life, sincerity, simplicity, earnestness, loyalty to God and love to man — these are very old themes, yet they can never die. Zeal can always fan them into flame. Q Savonarola vtras an unconscious part of the great "humanist" movement. Savonarola, John Knox, the W^esleys, Calvin, Luther, the Puritans, Huguenots, Quakers, Shakers, Mennon- ites and Dunkards — all are one. The scientist sees species under all the manifold manifestations of cli mate, environment and local condition. Florence was a republic, but it is only eternal vigi lance that can keep a republic a republic. The strong man ^vho assumes the reins is continually coming to the fore, and the people diplomatically handled are quite willing to make him king, provided he contin ues to call himself "Citizen." Lorenzo de Medici ruled Florence, yet occupied no office, and assumed no title. He didtated the policy of the government, filled all the offices, and ministered the finances. Incidentally he was a pundtilious Church man — obeying the formula — and the Church at Flor ence was within his grasp no less than the police. The secret of this power lay in the fadt that he han dled the "sinews of war" — no man ever yet succeeded largely in a public way who was not a financier, or else one who owned a man who was. Public power is a matter of money, wisely used. To divert, amuse and please the people is a necessity to the ruler, for power at the last is derived from the SAVONAROLA 83 people, and no government endures that is not found ed on the consent of the governed. If you would rule either a woman or a nation, you would better gain consent. To secure this consent you must say "please." QThe gladiatorial shows of Greece, the games, con tests, displays, all the barbaric splendor of proces sions, music, fetes, festivals, chants, robes and fan tastic fol de roi of Rome — ancient and modern — the boom of guns in sham battles, coronations, thrones and crowns are all manifestations of this great game of power. The people are children, and must be pleased. But eventually the people reach adolescence — knowl edge comes to them — to a few at least — and they perceive that they themselves foot all bills, and pay in sweat and tears and blood for all this pomp of power. QThey rise in their might, like a giant aroused from sleep, and the threads that bound them are burst asunder. They themselves assume the reins of gov ernment, and we have a republic. And this republic endures until some republican, com ing in the name of the people, waxes powerful and evolves into a plutocrat who assumes the reins, and the cycle goes its round and \vinds itself up on the reel of time. Savonarola thundered against the extravagance, moral ^riot and pomp of the rich — and this meant the Medici, and all those who fed at the public trough, and prided themselves on their patriotism. 84 SAVONAROLA Lorenzo grevtr uneasy, and sent requests that the preacher moderate his tone in the interests of public weal. Savonarola sent back words that were unbe coming in one addressing a ruler. Then it was that Lorenzo the Magnificent, also the wise and wily, resolved on a great diplomatic move. QHe had the fanatical and troublesome monk, Fra Girolamo Savonarola, made Prior of the Monastery of St. Mark's — success was the weapon that would undo him. Of course, Lorenzo did not adt diredtly in the matter — personally he did not appear at all. Now the Prior of St. Mark's had the handling of large sums of money, the place could really be the home of a prince if the Prior wished to be one; and all he had to do was to follow the wishes of the Magnificent Lorenzo."Promote him," said Lorenzo, "and his zeal will dilute itself, and culture will come to take the place of frenzy. Art is better than austerity, and silken robes and 'broidered chasubles are preferable to horse-hair and rope. A crown looks better than a tonsure." And Savonarola became Prior of St. Mark's. Now the first duty, according to established custom, of a newly appointed Prior was to call, in official robes, and pay his respedts to Lorenzo, the nominal govern or of Florence. It was just a mere form, you know — simply showing the people that St. Mark's was still loyal to the State. SAVONAROLA 85 Lorenzo appointed a day and sent word that at a cer tain hour he would be pleased to welcome the Prior, and congratulate him upon his elevation. At the same time the Prior was expedted to say mass in the private chapel of the governor, and besto^v his blessing upon the House of the Medici. But Savonarola treated the invitation to call with dis dain, and turned the messengers of Lorenzo a^vay with scant courtesy. Instead of joining hands with Lorenzo he preached a sermon at the Cathedral, bit terly arraigning the aristocracy, prophesying their speedy downfall, and beseeching all men who wished to be saved to turn, repent, make restitution and secure the pardon of God ere it was too late. The ser mon shook the city, and other addresses of the same tenor followed daily. It Tvas a "revival," of the good old Methodist kind — and religious emotion drifting^ into frenzy is older far than history. The name of Lorenzo was not mentioned personally, but all saw it was a duel to death between the plain people and the silken and perfumed rulers. It was the same old fight — personified by Savonarola on one side and Lorenzo on the other. Lorenzo sunk his pride and w^ent to St. Mark's for an interview with the Prior. He found a man of adamant and iron, one blind and deaf to political logic, one who scorned all persuasion and in whose lexicon there was no such \word as expediency. Lorenzo turned away whipped and disappointed — the 86 SAVONAROLA prophecies of impending doom had even touched his own stout heart. He was stricken with fever, and the extent of his fear is shown, that in his extremity he sent for the Prior of St. Mark's to come to his bedside. QEven there, Savonarola was not softened. Before granting absolution to the sick man, he demanded three things. "First, you must repent and feel a true faith in God, who in his mercy alone can pardon." QLorenzo assented. " Second, you must give up your ill-gotten w^ealth to the people." Lorenzo groaned, and finally reludtantly agreed. "Third, you must restore to Florence her liberty." QLorenzo groaned and moaned, and turned his face to the wall. Savonarola grimly waited half an hour, but no sign coming from the stricken man, he silently went his way. Q The next day Lorenzo the Magnificent, aged forty-two, died — died unabsolved. SAVONAROLA 87 ORENZO left three sons. The eldest was Pietro, just approach ing his majority, who was the recognized successor of his father. The second son was Giuliano who had already been made a cardinal at thirteen years of age, and who was destined to be the powerful Pope, Leo X. The death of Lorenzo had been indirectly foretold by Savonarola, and now some of his disciples were not slow in shoAving an ill-becoming exultation. They said, "I told you so!" The intensity of the revival increased, and there v^as danger of its taking on the form of revolution. Savonarola saw this mobJ7spirit at work, and for a time moderated his tone. But there were now occa sional outbreaks between his followers and those of the Medici. A guard v^as necessary to protedt Savonarola as he passed from St. Mark's to the different churches where he preached. The police and soldiers were on the side of the aristocracy who supported them. The Pope had been importuned to use his influence to avert the threatened harm to "true religion." Sav onarola should be silenced, said the aristocrats, and that speedily. A letter came from Pope Alexander, couched in most gentle and gracious words, requesting Savonarola to come to Rome, and there give exhibition of his Avon- 88 SAVONAROLA drous gifts. Q Savonarola knevr that he was dealing with a Borgia — a man who cajoled, bought and bribed, and Avhen these failed there were noose, knife and poison close at hand. The Prior of St. Mark's could deal with Lorenzo in Florence, but with Alex ander at Rome he would be undone. The iniquities of the Borgia family far exceeded the sins of the Medici, and in his impassioned moments Savonarola had said as much. At Rome he Avould have to explain these things — and to explain them, would be to repeat them. Alexander stood for nepotism, which is the sugared essence of that time-honored maxim, "To the vidtor belong the spoils." The world has never seen so little religion and so much pretence as during the reign of the Borgias. QAt this time when offenders were called to Rome, it sometimes happened that they Avere never again heard from. Beneath the Castle St. Angelo were dun geons — no records were kept — and the stories told of human bones found in wralled-up cells are no idle tales. An iron collar circling the neck of a skeleton that was once a man is a sight these eyes have seen. Q Prison records open to the public, are a compara tively new thing, and the practice of "dodtoring" a record has, until recently, been quite in vogue. Savonarola acknowledged the receipt of the Pope's request, but made excuses, and asked for time. Alexander certainly did all he could to avoid an open rupture with the Prior of St. Mark's. He was in- SAVONAROLA 89 wardly pleased when Savonarola affronted the Medici — it vras a thing he dared not do^and if the religious revival could be localized and kept Avithin bounds, all would have been well. It had now gone far enough; if continued, and Rome should behold such scenes as Florence had witnessed, the Holy See itself would not be safe. Alexander accepted the excuses of Savonarola with much courtesy. Soon word came that the Prior of St. Mark's was to be made a cardinal, but the gentle hint went with the message, that the red hat was to be in the nature of a reward for bringing about peace at Florence. Peace ! Peace ! how could there be peace unless Sav onarola bowed his head to the rule of the aristocrats ? QHis sermons were often interrupted — stones were thrown through the vrindoAvs when he preached. The pulpit where he was to speak had been filled with filth, and the skin of an ass tacked over the sacred desk. Must he go back? To the offer of the cardinal's hat he sent this message : "No hat will I have but that of a martyr reddened with my own blood." The tadtics of the Pope now changed, he sent an im perative order that Savonarola should present himself at Rome, and give answer to the charges there made against him. Savonarola silently scorned the message. The Pope was still patient. He would waive the insult go SAVONAROLA to himself, if Florence would only manage to take care of her own troubles. But importunities kept coming that Savonarola should be silenced — the power of the man had grown until Florence Avas absolutely under his subjedtion. Bonfires of pidtures, books and statu ary condemned by him, had been burned in the streets; and the idea Avas carried to Rome that there was dan ger of the palaces being pillaged. Florence could deal with the man, but would not so long as he was legally a part of the Church, Then it was that the Pope issued his Bull of excom munication, and the order removing Savonarola from his office as Prior of St. Mark's. The answer of Savonarola was a sermon in the form - of a defiance. He claimed, and rightly, that he was no heretic — no obligations that the Church asked had he ever disregarded, and therefore the Pope had no right to silence him. He made his appeal to the rulers of the world, and declared that Alexander was no Pope, because he had deliberately bought his way to the Vatican. There was now a brief struggle between the authori ties of the Pope and those of Florence as to who should have the man. The Pope wanted him to be secretly captured and taken to Rome for trial. Alex ander feared the publicity that Florence would give to the matter — he knew a shorter way. But Florence stood firm. Savonarola had now retired to St. Mark's and his followers barricaded the posi- SAVONAROLA 91 tion. The man might have escaped, and the authori ties hoped he would, but there he remained, holding the place, and daily preaching to the faithful few who stood by him. Finally the walls were stormed, and police, soldiers and populace overran the monastery. Savonarola re mained passive, and he even reproved several of the monks Tvho, armed Avith clubs, made stout resistance. QThe warrants for arrest called only for Fra Girol amo, Fra Domenico and Fra Silvestro — these last being his most faithful disciples, preaching often in his pulpit and echoing his words. The prisoners Avere bound and hurried through the streets tOAvard the Piazzo Signoria. The soldiers made a guard of spears and shields around them, but this did not prevent their being pelted with mud and stones. QThey were lodged in separate cells, in the prison portion of the Palazzo Vecchio, and each was impor tuned to recant the charges made against the Pope and the Medici. All refused, Avhen even told that the others had recanted. Savonarola's judges were chosen from among his most bitter foes. He was brought before them, and ordered to take back his accusations. He remained silent. Threatened, he answered in parable. He was then taken to the torture cell, stripped of all clothing, and a thin, strong rope passed under his arms. He was suddenly drawn up, and dropped. 92 SAVONAROLA This was repeated until the cord around the man's body cut the skin and his form Avas covered with blood. QThe physically sensitive nature of the man gave way and he recanted. Being taken to his cell he repeated all he had said against the Pope, and called aloud, "Lord Jesus, par don me that I forsook thy truth — it was the torture — I now repeat all I ever said from thy pulpit — Lord Jesus, pardon!" Again he was taken to the torture chamber and all Avas gone over as before. He and his two companions Avere now formally con demned to death and their day of execution set. To know the worst is peace — it is uncertainty that kills. QA great calm came over Savonarola — he saw the gates of Heaven opening for him. He \vas able now to sleep and eat. The great brown eyes beamed with love and benediction, and his hands were raised only in blessing to friend and foe alike. The day of execution came, and the Piazza Signoria was filled with a vast concourse of people. Every spare foot of space was taken. Platforms had been erected and seats sold for fabulous prices. Every win dow was filled with faces. An elevated walk had been built out from the second story of the prison to the executioner's platform. From this high scaffold rose a great cross with ropes and chains dangling from the arms. Below were piled high heaps of fagots, saturated with oil. SAVONAROLA 93 There Tvas a Avild exultant yell from the enemies of the men on their appearance, but others of the ad versary appeared dazed at their success, and it seemed for a few moments as if pity would take the place of hate, and the mob would demand the re lease of the men. The prisoners w^alked firmly and conversed in under tone, encouraging each other to stand firm. Each held a crucifix and pressed it to his lips, repeating the creed. Half way across to the gibbet, they were stopped, the crucifixes torn from their hands, and their priestly robes stripped from them. There they stood, clad only in scant underclothes, in sight of the mob that seethed and mocked. Sharp sticks were thrust up between the crevices of the board walk, so blood streamed from their bare feet. Having advanced so that they stood beneath the gib bet, their priestly robes were again thrown over them, and once more torn off by a bishop who repeated the words, " Thus do I sever you from the Church Mili tant and the Church Triumphant! " " Not the Church Triumphant ! " answered Savonar ola in a loud voice, " You cannot do that." In order to prolong the torture of Savonarola his companions were hanged first, before his eyes. When his turn came he stepped lightly to his place between the dead and swinging bodies of his breth ren. As the executioner was adjusting the cord about his neck, his great tender eyes were raised to heaven 94 SAVONAROLA and his lips moved in prayer as the noose tightened. Q The chains Avere quickly fastened about the bodies to hold them in place, and scarcely had the execu tioner upon the platform slid down the ladders, than the Avaiting torches beloAv fired the pile and the flames shot heavenAvard and licked the great cross Avhere the three bodies SAvayed. The smoke soon covered them from view. Then suddenly there came a gust of \vind that parted the smoke and flames, and the staring mob, now si lent, saw that the fire had burned the thongs that bound the arms of Savonarola. One hand was uplift ed in blessing and benediction. So died Savonarola. so HERE ENDETH THE LITTLE JOURNEY TO THE HOME OF SAVONAROLA, AS WRITTEN BY ELBERT HUBBARD, THE TITLE PAGE, INITIALS & ORNAMENTS BEING DE SIGNED BY SAMUEL WARNER, AND THE WHOLE DONE INTO A BOOK BY THE ROYCROFTERS AT THEIR SHOP, WHICH IS IN EAST AURORA, IN THE MONTH OF MARCH, IN THE YEAR MCMIII wirwwirirwifir^Mrir UI NO AGENCY or Lecture Bureau Jl has authority to book engagements for Mr. Elbert Hubbard the coming season. Hereafter the Pastor will largely eliminate the eloquence, and work his logic up into literature. Possibly, however, he may give a few addresses on occa sional trips he may make for the rejuvenation of his cosmos; so if you are desirous of Oratorical Vibrations, write the Cublet & he may arrange it. Address ELBERT HUBBARD II. East Aurora, N. Y. WE HAVE A FEW SETS OF SPECIALLY ILLUMINED AND MOUNTED ON OAK PANELS, MAKING THEM VERY BEAUTIFUL AND ATTRACTIVE. C Refer to the regular list of mottoes and let us know which you want, PRICE FOR THE SET OF EIGHTEEN, $15.00 SINGLY, SAY, 1.00 Tbe Roycitoftetts, East Jlunopa, D. Y. AN OPEN LETTER East Aurora, February 5, 1903. THE STARR Piano Co., Richmond, Indiana. In the Roycroft Shop we have nine pianos, representing five different man ufacturers. These instruments cost us, each, from three hundred to eight hun dred dollars. Three of our pianos are ^tWCXi and these we have used long enough and hard enough to thoroughly test their worth and quality. One of my employees came in yesterday and asked for advice about buying a piano. I said, "My suggestion is that you hitch your ambitions to a ^tatrl" So that is what I think of your pianos and I do not care who knows it. Fraternally yours, ELBERT HUBBARD. .t/NJAHAWAJ^v/AJ^ '~r^HE curfew tolls the knell -'¦ of parting day; The lowing herd winds slowly o'er the lea; The plowman homeward plods his weary way. And leaves the world to darkness and to me. Now fades the glimmering landscape on the sight, And all the air a solemn stillness holds, Save where the beetle wheels his droning flight. And drowsy tinklings lull the distant folds: GRAY'S ELEGY I lEopcroft Cthition I i Q Opposite this is a page from the Eoyoroft Edition of "Gray's Elegy." There may have been better, more unique, and more artistic books than this printed in America, but we do not just remember what they are. The sample page shown does not reveal the beauty of the book, for of course it is not hand-illumined, and the paper is not equal to that used in the book. It just kind of gives you a chance to let yonr inward eye behold the wondrous beauty of a book, which might have been made in heaven, to use the language of Charles Lamb. The volume contains twelve different special border designs, aU hand-illumined. Bound in limp chamois, silk lined. Very suitable for an Easter gift, wedding or anniversary present, Q, Price of the book is Three DoUars, sent to the Eaithful on suspicion. The Roycrofters East Aueoea, N^bw Yobk. KKSKKS3KKSKS3KKK K5S5S5K5S5S5S5S5K5KK5 S! at the entrance to a house built over 2,000 years ago, you will find a sign set in mosaic made from tiny pieces of Glass and Tile, reading " Beware of the Dog." The man who owned the house Tvas said to be a joker, but there is the sign, fresh and distinct as when it was placed there be fore the birth of Christ. Glass and Tile are proof against the tooth of time — they do not corrode, do not absorb moisture, are absolutely antiseptic and are non-conductors of heat and electricity. If you want things that keep, or if you want to keep things, you must use Glass or Tile. QThe ^Vilke Refrigerator is made to keep things sweet, \vholesome and sanitary. It is constructed largely from Glass and Tile. Do not trifle with health — you do not buy un wholesome food ! See that your food is kept wholesome. Would you know the secret of keeping things — the health and happiness of your family included — send for catalog to THE WILKE MANUFACTURING CO. ANDERSON, INDIANA 1 A LIFE MEMBERSHIP ^ IN THE IQlmeritan ^caliem|> I of Immortal? "^ CO0tfl? %tn SDoUar^ — No further dues or assessments, and no liabilities. Your duties consist in living up to your Ideal (as nearly as possible) and attending the Annual Dinner (if convenient). (i) The membership entitles you to one copy of the Philistine maga zine for ninety- nine years, but no longer. ( 1 ) All the back bound volumes of " The Philistine " we have on hand. (3) "Little Journeys," beginning with current numbers, and all that shall be issued in future. (4) Such other books, pamphlets, addresses and documents as the Roycrofters may elect to send you Every Little While. (5) Success, Health and Love Vibrations, sent daily by the Pastor or ^1 Ali Baba ^ ADDRESS THE BURSAR, EAST AURORA, NEW YORK || TO THE HOMES OF EMINENT ORATORS MARTIN LUTHER Vol. XII. APRIL, 1903. No. 4 By Elbert Hubbard Single Copies, 25 cents By the Year, $3.00 LITTLE JOURNEYS By ELBERT HUBBARD for 1903 WILL BE TO THE HOKJES OF EMINENT ORATORS SUBJECTS AS FOLLOWS: 1 Pericles 7 Marat 2 Mark Antony 8 Robert Ingersoll 3 Savonarola 9 John Randolph 4 Martin Luther 10 Thomas Starr King 5 Edmund Burke 11 Henry Ward Beecher 6 WiUiam Pitt 12 WendeU Phillips One booklet a month will be issued as usual, beginning on January 1st. The Little Journeys for 1903 will be strictly dc luxe in form and workmanship. The type will be a new font of antique blackface; the initials designed especially for this Work; a frontispiece portrait from the original drawing made at our Shop. The booklets will be stitched by hand with silk. The price — 25 cents each, or $3.00 for the year. Address THE ROYCROFTERS at their Shop, which is at East Aurora, ^ New York Entered at the postoffice at East Aurora, New York, for transmission as second-ciass mail matter. Copyright, 190a, by Elbert Hubbard. The Magazine PEDESTAL shown herewith has been about the best selling piece of fuirniture we have made. It is artistic, serviceable, and withal very beautiful. The pedestal is of oak, hand-made and is 5 feet 3 inches in height. The price is $20,00. The old carpenter has just finished half a dozen, three being in light brown and three in weathered oak. If these are all sold when your order comes, we can make you one in about ten days. ADDRESS THE ROYCROFTERS EAST AURORA New York The Ne^w York Special IS THE FINE NEW TRAIN OF THE MlCHIOAiy Tentral "The Niagara Falls Route," between Chicago and Detroit and Buffalo, NeAV York and Boston. It leaves Chicago 5:20 p. m. daily and arrives Buffalo 7:50 a. m., New York State points during the day. Grand Central Station, New York, at 6:30 p. m., daily, and Boston 11:30 p. m,, except Sunday, with Dining, Pullman Sleeping and Buffet^ Library Cars. CAll Michigan Central trains arrive at and depart from the Grand Central Station, New York, and the New South Station, Boston. O. W. RUGGLES, General Passenger & Ticket Agent, Chicago. PHALANSTERY The word was first used by Fourier, and means literally "the home of friends." The ROYCROFT PHALANSTERY, with its new addition, just completed, consists of a kitchen, scientific and modern in all of its appointments; a dining-room that seats a hundred people; thirty-eight sleeping rooms; reception rooms, etc., etc. That is to say it is an INN, managed somewhat like a Swiss Monastery, simple, yet ipomplete in all of its appointments — where the traveler is made welcome. There are always a few visitors with us. Some remain simply for a meal, others stay a day, or a week, or a month. A few avail themselves of the services of our Musical Director, the Physical Instructor, or take lessons in drawing and painting. C. The prices: Meals, such as they are, say twenty- five cents; lodging, fifty cents. If parties of a dozen or more want accommodations, it is well to telegraph ahead to THE BURSAR of THE ROYCROFTERS EAST AURORA, N :E W YORK FAT BABIES Are Famous Sleepers The saying: "Sleepy as a fat baby" expresses a g^ood deal, for fat babies are famous little fellows to sleep. What a contrast is their refreshing rest to the pit'ch-r ing and tossing of a sleepless coffee drinker. A good elder of Springfield, 111., found a way to bring refresh ing sleep in place of insomnia. " Until three years ago," he says, "for fifteen years I was troubled with a throbbing in my stomach, w^as very nervous, kid neys out of order, troubled with severe headaches and dreadful insomnia. " After trying all sorts of remedies, I came to the conclusion that my troubles were the result of drink ing coffee, and seeing an article in the paper about Postum I determined to try it. So I quit coffee and took on Postum. It agreed with me from the first cup. At first I drank it diluted, then pure. I relished it, too, and to my great joy I was soon free from stomach trouble, nervousness all gone and head clear, and in stead of being \vakeful for half the night I sleep like a fat baby and get up in the morning refreshed. This I owe to having quit coffee and taken to drinking Pos tum," Name furnished by Postum Company, Battle Creek, Mich. Nothing marvelous about it, but there is a reason. It healthy sound sleep is worth anything to you, drop coffee and give Postum a short trial — say ten days. That will tell the tale. \i(i^^mm^m3s^ 2i^(^^\ ^^^Kw^|^^^M''^sWlr*^^I^P Little t^ SounneysTo tbe Homes of EMINENT ORATORSUlnitten by Elbent Hubband 6 done into a Book by tbe Roycnof tens at tbe $bop, lobicb is in East JIunona, Deio Vonk, Jl. D. 1903 1 ^^^|to4^^^^^V^^tf ^U^ NLY slaves die of overwork. Work a weariness, a danger, forsooth ! Those who say so can know very little about it. Labor is neither cruel nor ungrateful; it restores the strength we give it a hundred-fold and, unlike your finan cial operations, the revenue is what brings in the capital. Put soul into your work and joy and health will be yours ! LUTHER. Martin Lutlier MARTIN LUTHER 95 |HE idea of the monastery is as old as man, and its rise is as natural as the birth and death of the seasons. We need society, and we need solitude. But it happens again and again that man gets a surfeit of society — ^he is thrown with those who misunderstand him, who thwart him, who contradict his nature, v^ho bring out the worst in his disposi tion : he is sapped of his strength, and then he longs for solitude. He would go alone up into the mountain. What is called the "monastic impulse" comes over him — he longs to be alone — alone with God. The monastic inipulse can be traced back a thousand years before Christ: the idea is neither Christian, Jewish, Philistine, nor Buddhist. Every people of v^hich v^e know have had their her mits and recluses. The communal thought is a form of monasticism — it is a-getting away from the world. Monasticism does not neces sarily imply celibacy, but as unrequited or misplaced love is usually the pre cursor of the monastic impulse, celibacy or some strange idea on the sex problem usually is in evidence. 96 MARTIN LUTHER Monasticism has many forms : College Settlements, Zionism, Deaconess Homes, Faith Cottages, Shaker- ism, Mormonism are all manifestations of the impulse to get away from the world, and still benefit the world by standing outside of it. This desire to get away from the world and still mix in it, shows that monasticism is not quite sincere — w^e want society no less than we want solitude. Very seldom, indeed, has a monk ever gone away and remained : he comes back to the world, occasionally, to beg, or sell things, and to "do good." iff ff The rise of the Christian monastery begins with Paul the Hermit, who in the year 250 withdrew to an oasis in the desert, and lived in a cave before which was a single palm-tree, and a spring. Other men worn with strife, tired of stupid misunder standing, persecution and unkind fate, came to him. And there they lived in common. The necessity of discipline and order naturally suggested themselves, so they made rules that governed conduct. The day was divided up into periods when the inmates of this first monastery prayed, communed with the silence, worked and studied. Within a hundred years there were similar religious communities at fifty or more places in Upper Egypt. QW^omen have always imitated men, and soon nun neries sprang up here and there. In fact, the nunnery has a little more excuse for being than the monastery. In a barbaric society an unattached woman needs MARTIN LUTHER 97 protection, and this she got in the nunnery. Even so radical a thinker as Max Muller regarded the nunnery as a valuable agent in giving dignity to woman's es tate. If she was mistreated and desired protection, she could find refuge in this sanctuary. She became the Bride of Christ, and through the protection of the con vent, man was forced to be civil and chivalry came to take the place of force. Most monasteries have been mendicant institutions. As early as the year 500 we read of the monks going abroad a-questing, a bag on their backs. They begged as a business, and some became very expert at it, just as we have expert evangelists and expert debt-raisers. They took anything that anybody had to give. They begged in the name of the poor; and as they traveled they undertook to serve those who were poorer than themselves. They were distributing agents. They ceased to do manual labor and scorned those who did. They traversed the towns and highways by trios and asked alms at houses or of travelers. Occa sionally they carried cudgels, and if such a pair asked for alms it was usually equal to a demand. These monks made acquaintances, they had their friends among men and women, and often being far from home they were lodged and fed by the householders. In some instances the alms given took the form of a tax which the sturdy monks collected with startling reg ularity. We hear of their dividing the country up into districts, and each man having a route that he jeal- 98 MARTIN LUTHER ously guarded. Q They came in the name of the Lord — they were supposed to have authority. They said, "He who giveth to the poor lendeth to the Lord." They blessed those who gave ; and cursed those who refused. Some of them presumed to forgive the sins of those who paid. And soon the idea suggested itself of forgiving in advance, or granting an indulgence. They made promises of mansions in the skies to those Tvho conformed, and threatened w^ith the pains of hell those who declined their requests. So the monks occa sionally became rich. And when they grew rich they often became arrogant, dictatorial, selfish, gluttonous and licentious. They undertook to manage the government which they had before in their poverty renounced. They hired serv ants to wait upon them. The lust of po\ver and the lust of the flesh, and the pride of the heart all became manifest.However, there were always a fev^ men, pure of heart and earnest in purpose, who sought to stem the evil tendencies. And so the history of monasticism and the history of the Church is the record of a struggle against idleness and corruption. To shave a man's head, give him a new name, and clothe him in strange garments, does not change his nature. Monks grown rich and powerful will become idle, and the vows of poverty, chastity and obedience are then mere jokes and jests. QNo man knew this better than Benedict who lived in the Sixth Century. The profligacy, ignorance and MARTIN LUTHER 99 selfishness of the fat and idle monks appalled him. With the aid of Cassiodorus he set to work to reform the monasteries by interesting the inmates in beauti ful work. Cassiodorus taught men to write, illumine and bind books. Through Italy, France and Germany he traveled and preached the necessity of manual la bor, and the excellence of working for beauty. The art impulse in the nunneries and monasteries began with Benedict and Cassiodorus, v^ho worked hand in hand for beauty, purity and truth. Benedict had the greater executive ability, but Cassiodorus had the more far- reaching and subtle intellect. He anticipated all that we have to say to-day on the Hew Education — the necessity of playing off one faculty of the mind against another through manual labor, play and art creation. He even anticipated the primal idea of the Kinder garten, for he said, "The pleasurable emotion that follows the making of beautiful forms with one's hands is not a sin, like unto the pleasure that is gained for the sake of pleasure — rather to do good and beautiful work is incense to the nostrils of God." In all Benedictine monasteries flagellations ceased, discipline was relaxed, and the inmates were eiijoined to use their energies in their work, and find peace by imitating God, and like Him, creating beautiful things. Q Beautiful book-making traces its genesis directly to Benedict and Cassiodorus. But a hundred years after the death of these great men, the necessity of reform was as great as ever, loo MARTIN LUTHER and other men took up the herculean task. QAnd so it has happened that every century men have arisen who protested against the abuses inside the Church. The Church has tried to keep religion pure, but when she has failed and scandalized society at large, gov ernments have taken the matter up, and the monas teries were wiped out of existence and their property confiscated. Since the Fifteenth Century, regularly once every hundred years, France has driven the monks from her borders, and in this year of our Lord 1903 she is doing what Napoleon did a hundred years ago ; v^hat Cromwell did in England in 1645 ; Tvhat has been done time and again in every corner of Chris tendom. Martin Luther's quarrel with the Church began sim ply as a protest against certain practices of the monks, and that his protests should develop into a something called "Protestantism" v^ras a thing he never for a moment anticipated, or desired. He had no thought of building an institution on negation ; and that he should be driven from the Church because he loved the Church and was trying to purify and benefit it, was a source to him of deepest grief. MARTIN LUTHER lOI R1^^9WW^% ARTIN LUTHER was thirty-five J^ThS^^^^^m years old. He was short in stat ure, inclining to be stout, strenu ous and bold. His faults and his virtues were all on the surface. He neither deceived nor desired to deceive — the distinguishing fea ture of his character was frank ness. He was an Augustinian monk, serving as a teacher in the University of Wit tenberg. Up to this time his life had been uneventful. His par ents had been very poor people — his father a day la borer, working in the copper mines. In his boyhood Martin was " stubborn and intractable," which means that he had life plus. His teachers had tried to repress him by flogging him "fifteen times in a forenoon," as he himself has told us. In childhood he used to beg upon the streets, and so he could the better beg he was taught to sing. This rough early experience wore off all timidity and put "stage-fright" forever behind. He could not remem ber a time vrhen he could not sing a song or make a speech iff ff That he developed all the alertness and readiness of tongue and fist of the street urchin there is no doubt. QWhen he was taken into a monastery at eighteen years of age, the fact that he was a good singer and a most successful beggar, were points of excellence that 102 MARTIN LUTHER were not overlooked. Q That the young man was stub bornly honest in his religious faith, there is not a par ticle of doubt. The strength of his nature and the ex tent of his passion made his life in the monastery most miserable. He had not yet reached the point that many of the older monks had, and learned how to overcome temptation by succumbing to it, so he fasted for days until he became too weak to walk, watched the night away in vigils, and whipped his poor body with straps until the blood flowed. We now think it is man's duty to eat proper food, to sleep at night, and to care for his body, so as to bring it to the most perfect condition possible — all this that he may use his life to its highest and best. Life is a privilege and not a crime. But Martin Luther never knew of these things and there were none to teach him, and probably he would have rejected them stoutly if they had been presented — arguing the question six nights and days together. QThe result of all that absurd flying in the face of Nature was indigestion and its concomitant, nervous irritability. These demons fastened upon him for life ; and we have his vrord for it in a thousand places that he regarded them as veritable devils — thus does man create his devil in his o^vn image. Luther had visions — he "saw things," and devils, witches and spirits were common callers to the day of his death. In those early monastery days he used to have fits of depression when he was sure that he had committed MARTIN LUTHER 103 the " unpardonable sin," and over and over in his mind he vtrould recount his short- comings. He v^ent to con fession so often that he v^ore out the patience of at least one confessor, who once said to him, "Brother Martin, you are not so much a sinner as a fool." Still another gave him this good advice, " God is not angry with you, but He vvrill be if you keep on, for you are surely angry with Him — you better think less about yourself and more of others : go to work ! ' ' This excellent counsel was followed. Luther began to study the scriptures, and the writings of the saints. He took part in the disputes which were one of the princi pal diversions of all monasteries. Now a monk had the privilege of remaining densely ignorant, or he could become learned. Life in a mon astery was not so very different from what it was out side — a monk gravitated to where he belonged. The young man showed such skill as a debater, and such commendable industry at all of his tasks, from scrub bing the floor to expounding scripture, that he was sent to the neighboring University of Erfurt. From there he was transferred to the University of W^itten-, berg. In the classes at these universities the plan ob tained, which is still continued in all theological schools, of requiring a student to defend his position on his feet. Knotty propositions are put forth, and logical complications fired at the youth as a necessary part of his mental drill. Beside this there were socie ties where all sorts of abstrusities and absurdities I04 MARTIN LUTHER were argued to a stand-still. QAt this wordy ^varfare none proved more adept than Martin Luther. He be came Senior ^Vrangler ; secured his degree ; remained at the college as a post-graduate and sub-lecturer; finally v^as appointed a teacher, then a professor, and when twenty-nine years old became a Doctor of The ology ff ff He took his turn as preacher in the Schlosskirche, which was the School Chapel, and when he preached the place was crowded. He was something more than a monotonous mumbler of words, he made his ad dresses personal, direct, critical. His allusions were local, and contained a deal of ^vholesome criticism put with pith and point, well seasoned with a goodly dash of rough and surprising v^it. Soon he was made District Vicar — a sort of Presiding Elder — and preached in a dozen to^vns over a circuit of a hundred miles. On these tours he usually walked, bareheaded, wearing the monk's robe. Often he was attended by younger monks and students who con sidered it a great privilege to accompany him. His courage, his blunt wit, his active ways all appealed to the youth, and often delegations would go out to meet him. Every college has his kind, whom the bantlings fall down and worship — fisticuffs and books are both represented and a touch of irreverence for those in authority is no disadvantage. Luther's lack of reverence for his superiors held him back from promotion -and another thing was his im- MARTIN LUTHER 105 perious temper. He could not bear contradiction. The orator's habit of exaggeration was upon him, and oc casionally he would affront his best friends in a way that tested their patience to the breaking point. " You might become an Abbot, and even a Bishop, were it not for your lack of courtesy," wrote his Superior to him on one occasion. But this very lack of diplomacy, this indifference to the opinions of others, this boldness of speech made him the pride and pet of the students. W^henever he entered the lecture room they cheered him, and often they applauded him even in church. Luther was a "sensational preacher," and he was an honest preacher. No doubt but that the applause of his auditors urged him on to occasional unseemliness. He acted upon his audiences, and the audience reacted upon him. He thundered against the profligacy of the rich, the selfishness of society, the iniquities of the government, the excesses of the monks, the laxity of discipline in the schools, and the growing tendency in the church to virorship the Golden Calf. In some in stances priests and monks had married, and he thun dered against these. All of the topics he touched had been treated by Sav onarola in Italy, W^yclif in England, Brenz at Heidel berg, Huss in Bohemia, Erasmus in Holland and But- zer in Switzerland — and they had all paid the penalty of death or exile. It is well to be bold but not too bold. Up to a certain 106 MARTIN LUTHER point the church and society will stand criticism — first it is diverting, next amusing, then tiresome, finally heretical — that is to say, criminal. There had been a good deal of heresy — it was in the air — men were thinking for themselves — the printing presses were at work, and the Spirit of the Renais sance was abroad. Martin Luther was not an innovator — he simply ex pressed what the many wished to hear — he was caught in the current of the time : he was part and parcel of the Renaissance. And he was a loyal Churchman. None of his diatribes were against the Church itself — he wished to benefit the Church by freeing it from the faults that he feared would disintegrate it. And so it happened that on the 31st day of October, 1517, Martin Luther tacked on the church door at Wit tenberg his Ninety-five Theses. The church door was the bulletin board for the Uni versity. The University consisted of about five hun dred students. Wittenberg was a village of three or four thousand people, all told. The Theses were simply questions for discussion, and the proposition was that Martin Luther and his pupils would defend these questions against all comers in public debate. Q Challenges of this sort were very common, public debates were of weekly occurrence; and little did Martin Luther realize that this paltry half sheet of paper was to shake the world. MARTIN LUTHER 107 HE immediate cause of Luther's challenge vtras the presence of a Dominican monk by the name of John Tetzel. This man was raising money to complete St. Peter's _ Church at Rome, and he was i^2^2Smj| armed vrith a commission direct ye^f^it!^^ from Pope Leo X. That Brother John was an expert in his line, no one has ever denied. He had been in this business of raising money for about ten years, and had built monasteries, asylums, churches and convents. Beginning as a plain, sturdy beggar, this enterprising monk had developed a System — not en tirely new, but he had added valuable improvements. Q There is a whole literature on the subject of the "indulgence," and I surely have no thought of adding to the mighty tomes on this theme. But just let me briefly explain how John worked: W^hen he approached a town, he sent his agents ahead and secured the co operation of some certain priest, under the auspices of whose church the place was to be worked. This priest would gather a big delegation of men, women and children, and they would go out in a body to meet the representative of God's Vicegerent on earth. The Pope could n't come himself, and so he sent John Tetzel ff ff Tetzel was carried on a throne borne on the shoulders of twenty-five men. His dress outshone any robe ever io8 MARTIN LUTHER worn by mortal Pope. Upon his head was a crown, and in his hand a hollow golden sceptre that enclosed his commission from the Pope. In advance of this throne was carried an immense cross, painted red. As the procession entered a village, people would kneel or uncover as the Agent of the Pope passed by; all traffic would cease — stores and places of business v^ould be closed. In the public square or market place a stage would be erected, and from this pulpit Tetzel would preach. The man had a commanding presence, and a certain rough and telling eloquence. He was the foremost Evangelist of his day. He had a chorus of chanters who wore bright robes and sang and played harps. It will thus be seen that Moody and Sankey methods are no new thing. Crowds flocked to hear him, and people came for many miles. Tetzel reasoned of righteousness and judgment to come ; he told of the horrors of sin, its awful penal ties ; he pictured purgatory, hell and damnation. Men cried aloud for mercy, women screamed and the flaming cross was held aloft. Men must repent — and they must pay. If God had blessed you, you should show your gratitude. The Sacrament of Penance consists of three parts : Re pentance, Confession, Satisfaction. The intent of Pen ance is educational, disciplinary and medicinal. If you have done wrong, you can make restitution to God, whom you have angered, by paying a certain sum to MARTIN LUTHER 109 his Agent, for a good purpose. QThe Church has never given men the privilege of wronging other men by making a payment. That is one of the calumnies set afloat by infidels who pretend that Catholics worship images. You can, however, show penitence, sincerity and gratitude by giving. Any one can see that this is quite a different thing from buying an indulgence. This gift you made was similar to the " Wehrgeld," or money compensation made to the injured or kins men of those who had been slain. By giving you wiped out the offense, and better still you became participant in all the prayers of those to whom you gave. If you helped rebuild St. Peter's, you participated in all the masses said there for the repose of the dead. This would apply to all your kins men now in purgatory. If you gave, you could get them out, and also insure yourself against the danger of getting in. Repent and show your gratitude. Tetzel had half a dozen Secretaries in purple robes, who made out receipts. These receipts were printed in red and gold and had a big seal and ribbon attached. The size of the receipt and seal was proportioned ac cording to the amount paid — if you had a son or daugh ter in purgatory, it vsras wise to pay a large amount. The certificates were in Latin and certified in diffuse and mystical language many things, and they gave great joy to the owners. The money flowed in on the Secretaries in heaps. Women often took their jew^elry and turned it over iio MARTIN LUTHER vrith their purses to Tetzel ; & the Secretaries worked far into the night issuing receipts — or what some called Letters of Indulgence. That many who secured these receipts regarded them as a license to do wrong and still escape punishment, there is no doubt. Before Tetzel left a town his Sec retaries issued for a sum equal to twenty-five cents, a little certificate called a " Butterbriefe," that allowed the owner to eat butter on his bread on fast days. Then in the night Tetzel and his cavalcade would silently steal away, to continue their good work in the next town. This program was gone through in hun dreds of places, and the amount of money gathered no one knew, and what became of it all, no one could guess. Pope, Electors, Bishops, Priests and Tetzel all shared in the benefits. QTo a great degree the same plans are still carried on. In Protestant churches we have the professional Debt Raiser, and the Evangelist who recruits by hypnotic Tetzel methods. In the Catholic Church receipts are still given for money paid, vouching that the holder shall participate in masses and prayers, his name put in a window, or engrossed on a parchment to be placed beneath a corner-stone. Trinkets are sold to be worn upon the person as a protection against this and that. The Church does not teach that the Pope can forgive sin, or that by mere giving you can escape punishment for sin. Christ alone forgives. However, the Pope does decide on what constitutes MARTIN LUTHER iii sin and what not; and this being true, for myself, I do not see why he cannot decide that under certain conditions and with certain men an act is not a sin, which with other men is. And surely if he decides it is not a sin, the act thereby carries no penalty. Thus does the Pope have the power to remit punishment. Either the Pope is supreme, or he is not. Luther thought he was. The most that Luther ob jected to was Tetzel' s extreme w^ay of putting the thing. Tetzel was a Dominican ; Luther was an Au gustinian: and between these two orders was con tinual friction. Tetzel was vrorking Luther's territory, and Luther told Avhat he thought of him, and issued a challenge to debate him on Ninety-five propositions. That priests in their zeal should overstep their au thority, and that people should read into the preach ing much more than the preacher intended, is not to the discredit of the Church. The Church cannot be blamed for either the mistakes of Moses, or for the mistakes of her members. W^e have recently had the spectacle of a noted Evan gelist, in Vermont, preaching prohibition, indulging in strong drink, and making a bet with a Jebusite that he would turn all of his clothing wrong side out — socks, drawers, trousers, undershirt, shirt, vest and coat — and preach with his eyes shut. The feat was carried out, and the preacher won the bet; but it would hardly be fair to charge this action up against either the Prohibition Party or the Protestant Religion. 112 MARTIN LUTHER EVOLUTION never depended on any one man. A strong man is act- 'g^i _.J^^ ^^ upon by the thought of others — xvirXK'f^^ ^^ ^® ^ sensitive plate upon which } /j JCjfc/jl impressions are made — and his vivid personality gathers up these many convictions, concentrates them into one focus, and then ex presses them. The great man is the one who first expresses what the many believe. He is a voice for the voiceless, and gives in trumpet tones what others would if they could. Throughout Germany there was a strong liberal move ment. To blindly obey was not sufficient. To go to church, perform certain set acts at certain times and pay were not enough — these things were all second ary — repentance must come first. And along comes John Tetzel with his pagan proces sions, supplying salvation for silver! Martin Luther the strenuous, the impulsive, the bold, quickly writes a challenge in wrath to public disputation. "If God wills," said Martin to a friend, " I '11 surely kick a hole in his drum." Within two w^eeks after the Ninety-five Theses were nailed to the church door, copies had been carried all over Germany, and in a month the Theses had gone to every corner of Christendom. The local printing press at W^ittenberg had made copies for the students, and some of these prints were carried the next day to MARTIN LUTHER 113 Leipsic and Mainz, and at once recognized by pub lishers as good copy. Luther had said the things that thousands had vranted to say. Tame enough are the propositions to us now. Let us give a few of them : Q The Tvhole life of the faithful disciple should be an act of repentance. Punishment remains as long as the sinner hates him self.The Pope neither can nor Twill remit punishment for sin. God must forgive first, and the Pope through his priests can then corroborate the remission. No one is sure of his own forgiveness. Every sinner who truly repents has a plenary remis sion of punishment due him without payment of money to any one. Every Christian, living or dead, has a full share in all the wealth of the Church, without letters of pardon, or receipts for money paid. Christians should be taught that the buying of pardons is in no wise to be compared to works of mercy. To give to a poor man is better than to pay money to a rich priest. Because of charity and the works of charity, man be comes better, whether he pays money to build a church or not. Pardon for sin is from Christ, and is free. The Pope needs prayers for himself more than ready money. Christians should be taught that the Pope does not know of the exactions of his agents who rob the poor by threat, otherwise he would prefer that St. Peter's should lie in ashes than be built up on the skin, bones and flesh of his sheep. 114 MARTIN LUTHER If the Pope can release souls from purgatory, why does he not empty the place for love and charity ? The Pope being the richest man in Christendom, why does he not build St. Peter's out of his own pocket? Q Such are the propositions that leaped hot from Luther's heart; but they are not all of one spirit, for as he wrote he bethought himself that Tetzel was a Dominican, and the Dominicans held the key to the Inquisition. Luther remembered the fate of Huss, and his inward eye caught the glare of fagots a-fire. So he changes his tone, and to show that he is still a Catholic he says, " God forgives no man his sin until the man first presents himself to His priestly Vicar." Q 'Were it not for such expressions as this last, one might assume that man had no need of the assistance of priests or sacraments, but might go to God direct and secure pardon. But this would do away with even Martin Luther's business, so Brother Martin affirms, " The Church is necessary to man's salvation, and the Church must have a Pope in whom is vested Supreme Authority. " The Church is not to blame for the acts of its selfish, ignorant and sinful professors." One immediate effect of the Theses was that they put a quietus on the work of Brother John Tetzel. Instead of the people all falling prostrate on his approach, many greeted him with jeers and mud-balls. He was only a few miles away from Wittenberg, but news reached him of what the students had in store, and MARTIN LUTHER 115 immediately he quit business and went South, ff ff But although he did not appear in person, Tetzel pre pared a counter set of Theses, to the appalling number of one hundred and thirteen, and had them printed and widely distributed. His agent came to ^Vittenberg and peddled the documents on the streets. The students got word of what was going on and in a body captured the luckless Tetzelite, led him to the public square and burned his documents \with much pomp and circum stance. They then cut off the man's coat-tails, con ducted him to the outskirts of the town, turned him loose and cheered him lustily as he ran. It will thus be seen that the human heart is ever the same, and among college students there is small choice ff ff The foUovring Sunday Luther devoted his whole ser mon to a vigorous condemnation of the act of his stu dents, admonishing them in stern rebuke. The sermon •was considered the biggest joke of the season. Tetzel seemed to sink out of sight. Those whom he had sought to serve repudiated him, and Bishops, Electors and Pope declined to defend his cause. As for Luther, certain Bishops made formal charges against him, sending a copy of his Theses to Pope Leo X. The Holy Father refused to interfere in what he considered a mere quarrel between Dominicans and Augustinians, and so the matter rested. But it did not rest long. 1x6 MARTIN LUTHER HE general policy of the Church in Luther's time vras not unlike what it is now. Had he gone to Rome, he would not have been humiliated — the intent would have been to pacify him. He might have been transferred to a new terri tory, vsrith promise of a prefer ment, even to a Bishopric, if he did well. QTo silence men, excommunicate them, de grade them, has never been done excepting when it was deemed that the safety of the Church demanded it. QThe Church, like governments — all governments — is founded upon the consent of the governed. So every religion, and every government, changes with the people — rulers study closely the vsrill of the people and endeavor to conform to their desire. Priests and preachers give people the religion they wish for — it is a question of supply and demand. The Church has constantly changed as the intelligence of the people has changed. And this change is alw^ays easy and natural. Dogmas and creeds may remain the same, but progress consists in giving a spiritual or poetic interpretation to that which once was taken literally. The scheme of the Esoteric and the Exoteric is a sliding, self-lubricating, self-adjusting, non-copy righted invention — perfect in its workings — that all wise theologians fall back upon in time of stress. QHad Luther obeyed the mandate and gone to Rome, MARTIN LUTHER 117 that would have been the last of Luther. Q Private interpretation is all right, of course: the Church has always taught it — the mistake is to teach it to every body. Those who should know do know. Spiritual adolescence comes in due time, and then all things are made plain — be wise ! But Luther was not to be bought off. His followers were growing in number, the howls of his enemies increased. Strong men grow through opposition — the plummet of feeling goes deeper, thought soars higher — vivid and stern personalities make enemies because they need them, othervrise they drowse. Then they need friends, too, to encourage — opposition and encourage ment — ^thus do we get the alternating current. That Luther had not been publicly answered except ing by Tetzel's \veak rejoinders, was a constant boast in the liberal camp ; and that Tetzel was only fit to address an audience of ignorant peasantry was very sure : some one else must be put forward worthy of Martin Luther's steel. Then comes John Eck, a priest and lawyer, a man in intimate touch with Rome, and the foremost public disputant and orator of his time. He proposed to meet Luther in public debate. In social station Eck stood much higher than Luther. Luther was a poor college professor in a poor little University — a mere pedagog, a nobody. That Eck should meet him was a conde scension on the part of Eck — as Eck explained. ii8 MARTIN LUTHER They met at the University of Leipsic — an aristo cratic and orthodox institution, Eck having refused to meet Luther either at Erfurt or Wittenberg — wherein Eck was wise. The Bishop at Leipsic posted notices forbidding the dispute — this, it is believed, on orders from Rome, as the Church did not want to be. known as having mixed in the matter. The Bishop's notices v^ere promptly torn down, and Duke George decided that as the dis pute was not under the auspices of the Church the Bishop had no business to interfere. The audience came for many miles. A gallery was set apart for the nobility. Thousands who could not gain admittance remained outside and had to be con tent with a rehearsal of the proceedings from those who were fortunate enough to have seats. The debate began June 27th, 1519, and continued daily for thirteen days. Eck was commanding in person, deep of voice, suave and terrible in turn. He had all the graces and the power of a great trial lawyer. Luther's small figure and plain clothes were at a disadvantage in this bril liant throng, yet we are told that his high and piercing voice was heard much farther than Eck's. Duke George of Saxony sat on a throne in state, and acted as Master of Ceremonies. ^Vittenberg was in the minority, and the hundred students who had ac companied Luther were mostly relegated to places outside, under the windows — their ardor to cut off MARTIN LUTHER 119 coat-tails had quite abated. QThe proceedings were orderly and dignified, save for the marked prejudice against Luther displayed by Duke George and the no bility ff ff Luther held his own: his manner was self-reliant, with a touch of pride that perhaps did not help his cause ff ff Eck led the debate along by easy stages and en deavored to force Luther into anger and unseemliness. Q Luther's friends were pleased with their champion — Luther stated his case with precision and Eck was seemingly vanquished. But Eck knew what he was doing — he was leading Luther into a defense of the doctrines set forth by Huss. And when the time was ripe, Eck, in assumed astonishment, cried out, " W^hy this is exactly that for which Huss the heretic was tried and rightly con demned ! " He very skilfully and slyly gave Luther permission to withdraw certain statements, to which Luther replied with spirit that he took back nothing, "and if this is what Huss taught, why God be praised for Huss." ff ff Eck had gotten what he wanted — a defense of Huss who had been burned at the stake for heresy. Eck put his reports in shape and took them to Rome in person, and a demand was made for a formal Bull of Excommunication against Martin Luther. ^A^ord came from Rome that if Luther would amend his ways and publicly disavow his defense of Huss, I20 MARTIN LUTHER further proceedings would cease. The result was a volley of V^ittenberg pamphlets re-stating, in still bolder language, what had already been put forth. Q Luther was still a good Catholic, and his quarrel was with the abuses in the Church, not with the Church itself. Had the Pope and his advisors been wise enough they would have paid no attention to Luther, and thus allowed opinion inside the Church to change, as it has changed in our day. Priests and preachers everywhere now preach exactly the things for which Huss, W^yclif, Ridley, Latimer and Tyndale forfeited their lives. But the Pope did not correctly gauge the people — he did not know that Luther was speaking for fifty-one per cent of all Germany. Orders were given out in Leipsic from pulpits, that on a certain day all good Catholics should bring such copies of Martin Luther's books as they had in their possession to the public square, and the books would there be burned. On October 9th, the Bull of Excommunication men tioning Luther and six of his chief sympathizers, reached W^ittenberg, cutting them off from the Church forever *y ff Luther still continued to preach daily, and declared that he was still a Catholic and that as popes had made mistakes before, so had Pope Leo erred this time. With the Bull came a notice that if Luther would re cant, the Bull would be withdrawn and Luther would MARTIN LUTHER 121 be reinstated in the Church. QTo which Luther re plied, " If the Bull is withdrawn I will still be in the Church." ff ff Bonfires of Luther's books now burned bright in every town and city of Christendom — even in London. QThen it was that 'Wittenberg decided to have a bonfire of its own. A printed bill was issued calling upon all students and other devout Christians to as semble at nine o'clock on the morning of December loth, 1520, outside the Elster gate, and witness a pious and religious spectacle. A large concourse gathered, a pyre of fagots was piled high, the Pope's Bull of Excommunication was solemnly placed on top, and the fire -was lighted by the hand of Martin Luther.. 122 MARTIN LUTHER HE Theses prepared by Tetzel had small sale. People had heard all these arguments before, but Lu ther's propositions were new. Everything that Luther said in public now was taken down, print ed and passed along; his books were sold in the market places and at the fairs throughout the Empire. Luther glorified Germany, and referred often to the "Deutsche Theologie," and this pleased the people. The jealousy that existed between Italians and Germans vsras fanned. He occasionally preached in neighboring cities, and always was attended by an escort of several hundred students. Once he spoke at Nuremburg and was en tertained by that great man and artist, Albert Durer. Everywhere crowds hung upon his words and often he Viras cheered and applauded, even in churches. He denounced the extravagance and folly of ecclesiasti cal display, the wrong of robbing the poor in order to add to the splendor of Rome, he plead for the right of private interpretation of the Scriptures and argued the need of repentance and a deep personal righteous ness ff ff Not only was Luther the most popular preacher of that day, but his books outsold all other authors. He gave his writings to whoever would print them, and asked for no copyright nor royalties. MARTIN LUTHER 123 A request came from the Pope that he should appear at Rome ff ff Such a summons is considered mandatory, and usu ally this letter, although expressed in the gentlest and most complimentary way, strikes terror to the heart of the receiver. It means that he has offended or grieved the Head of the Church — God's Vicegerent on earth ff ff In my own experience I have known several offend ing priests to receive this summons ; I never knew of one vrho dare disregard the summons ; I never knev^ of one who received it who was not filled with dire foreboding; and I never knew an instance where the man was humiliated or really punished. A few years ago the American newspapers echoed with the name of a priest who had been particularly bold in certain innovations. He was summoned to Rome and this -was the -way he vras treated as told me with his ovrn lips ; and he further informed me that he ascertained it was the usual procedure. The offender arrives in Rome full of the feeling that his enemies have w^rongfuUy accused him, he knows charges have been filed against him, but what these charges are he is not aware. He is very much dis turbed and very much in a fog. His reputation and character, aye ! his future is at stake. Before the dust of travel is off his clothes, before he shaves, washes his face or eats, he appears at the Vatican and asks for a copy of the charges that have 124 MARTIN LUTHER "been brought against him. QOne of the Pope's nu merous secretaries, a Cardinal possibly, receives him graciously, almost affectionately, and welcomes him to Rome in the name of the Pope. As for any matter of business, why it can vrait, the man who has it in charge is out of the city for a day or so — rest and enjoy the splendor of the Eternal City. "'Where is the traveler's lodging?" "W^hat? not that — here! " — a bell is rung, a messen ger is called, the pilgrim's luggage is sent for, and he is given a room in the Vatican itself, or in one of the nearby "Colleges." A Brother is called in, introduced and duly instructed to attend personally on His Grace the Pilgrim. Show him the wonders of Rome — the churches, art galleries, the Pantheon, the Appian W^ay, the Capitol, the Castle — he is one of the Church's most valued servants, he has come from afar — see that he has the attention accorded him that is his due. QThe Pilgrim is surprised, a trifle relieved, but not happy. He remembers that those condemned to die are given the best of food ; but he tries to be patient, and so he accepts the brother's guidance to see Rome — and then die, if he must. QThe days are crowded full — visitors come and go. He attends this congrega tion and that — fetes, receptions, pilgrimages follow fast. QThe cloud is still upon him — he may forget it for an hour, but each day begins in gloom — uncertainty is the only hell. At last he boldly importunes and asks that a day shall MARTIN LUTHER 125 be set to try his case. Q Nobody knows anything about his case — charges — what charges ! However, a Com mittee of Cardinals wish to see him, why, yes, Thurs day at ten o'clock! He passes a sleepless night, and appears at the time appointed, haggard, yet firm, armed with documents. QHe is ushered into the presence of the Cardinals. They receive him as an equal. A little speech is made, complimenting him on his good work, upon his up rightness, and ends by a gentle caution concerning the wisdom of making haste slowly. Charges ? There are no charges against the Pilgrim — why should there be! And moreover, what if there are? Good men are always maligned. He has been sum moned to Rome that the Cardinals might have his advice. QThe Pope Tvill meet him to-morrow in order to bestow his personal blessing. Qlt is all over — the burden falls from his back. He gasps in relief and sinks into a chair. The greatness of Rome and the kindness and courtesy he has received have subdued him. Possibly there is a temporary, slight reduction of po sition — he is given another diocese or territory, but there is a promise of speedy promotion — ^there is no humiliation. The man goes home subdued, conquered by kindness, happy in the determination to work for the Church as never before. Q Rome binds great men to her — she does not drive them away — her policy is wise, superbly, splendidly wise. 126 MARTIN LUTHER UTHER was now beyond the pale — the Church had no further power to punish him, but agents of the Church, being a part of the Government, might proceed against him as an enemy of the State. QWord came that if Luther would cease v/riting and preach ing, and quietly go about his teaching in the University, he would not be troubled in any way. This only fired him to stronger expression. He issued a proclamation to the German Nation, appealing from the sentence of the Pope, stating he was an Augus tinian monk, a Doctor of Theology, a preacher of truth, with no stain upon his character. He declared that no man in Italy or elsewhere had a right to order him to be silent, and no man or set of men could de prive him of a share in God's Kingdom. He called upon all lovers of liberty who hoped for heaven to repudiate the "Babylonish Captivity," — only by so doing could the smile of God be secured. Thus did Martin Luther excommunicate the Pope. Q Frederick the Elector of Saxony preserved a strictly neutral attitude. Martin Luther was his subject, and he might have proceeded against him on a criminal charge, and was hotly urged to do so, but his reply was, "Hands Off." The city of W^orms was at this time the political MARTIN LUTHER 127 capital of Germany. A yearly congress, or Diet, was held by the Emperor and his Electors, to consider matters of special import to the state. As Frederick refused to proceed against Luther, an appeal was made to the Emperor Charles V., asking that Luther be compelled to appear before the Diet of 'Worms and make answer to the charges that would there be brought against him. It was urged that Luther should be arrested and car ried to ^Vorms and there be confined in the castle until the Diet should meet ; but Charles had too much respect for Frederick to attempt any such high-handed procedure — it might mean civil ^war. Gladly vrould he have ignored the whole matter, but a Cardinal from Rome was at his elbow, sent purposely to see that Luther should be silenced — silenced as Huss was, if necessary. Charles vras a good Catholic — and so was the Elector Frederick for that matter. Frederick was consulted and agreed that if the Emperor would issue a letter of "safe conduct" and send a herald to per sonally accompany Rev. Dr. Luther to \A^orms, the Elector would consent to the proceedings. The letter sent summoning Luther to 'Worms was an exceedingly guarded document. It addressed the ex communicated heretic as "honorable, beloved and pious," and begged him to accept the company and safe conduct of the bearer to 'Worms and there kindly explain to the Emperor the import of his books and doctrines ff ff 128 MARTIN LUTHER This letter might have been an invitation to a banquet, but Luther said it vras an invitation to a holocaust, and many of his friends so looked upon it. He was urged to disregard it, but his reply was, "Though the road to Worms were lined with devils I'd go just the same." jT jT No more vivid description of Luther's trial at Worms has been given than that supplied by Dr. Charles Beard. This man was neither Catholic nor Protestant, so we cannot accuse him of hand-illumining the facts to suit his fancy. Says Dr. Beard : Towards noon on the i6th of April, 1521, the watchers on the tower gate of W^orms gave notice by sound of trumpet that Luther's cavalcade was drawing near. First rode Deutschland the Herald; next came the covered carriage with Luther and three friends ; last of all Justus Jonas on horseback, with an escort of knights who had ridden out from W^orms to meet them. The news quickly spread, and though it was dinner time, the streets were thronged, and two thou sand men and women accompanied the heretic to his lodging in the house of the Knights of St. John. Here he was close to the Elector, while his companions in his lodging were two Saxon councillors. Aleandro the Papal Nuncio sent out one of his servants to bring him news; he returned with the report that as Luther alighted from his carriage a man had taken him into his arms, and having touched his coat three times, had gone away glorying as if he had touched a relic of the greatest saint in the world. On the other hand, Luther looked 'round about him, with his demoniac eyes, and said, " God will be with me." MARTIN LUTHER 129 QThe audience to which Luther was summoned was fixed for 4 p. m., and the fact was announced to him by Ulrich von Pappenheim, the hereditary marshal of the Empire. W^hen the time came there was a great crowd assembled to see the heretic, and his conduct ors Pappenheim and Deutschland were obliged to take him to the hall of audience in the Bishop's Palace through gardens and by back ways. There he was in troduced into the presence of the Estates. He was a peasant and a peasant's son, who, though he had written bold letters to Pope and Prelate, had never spoken face to face with the great ones of the land, not even with his own Elector, of whose good will he was assured. Now he w^as bidden to answer, less for himself than for what he believed to be the truth of God, before the representatives of the double author ity by which the world is swayed. The young Emperor looked at him with impassive eyes, speaking no word either of encouragement or rebuke. Aleandro repre sented the still greater, the intrinsically superior power of the successor of Peter, the Vicar of Christ. At the Emperor's side stood his brother Ferdinand, the nevr founder of the House of Austria, while 'round them were grouped six out of the seven Electors, and a crowd of princes, prelates, nobles, delegates of free cities, \vho represented every phase of German and ecclesiastical feeling. It was a turning point of modern European history, at which the great issues which presented themselves to men's consciences were greater still than they knew. Q The proceedings began with an injunction given by Pappenheim to Luther that he was not to speak unless spoken to. Then John von Eck, Official General of the Archbishop of Trier, champion of the Leipsic deputa tion, first in Latin, then in German, put, by Imperial 130 MARTIN LUTHER command, two questions to Luther. First, did he acknowledge these books here present — showing a bundle of books which were circulated under his name — to be his own? and, secondly, was he willing to withdraw and recall them and their contents, or did he rather adhere to and persist in them ? At this point, Schurf, who acted as Luther's counsel, inter posed with the demand, "Let the titles be read." The Official, in reply, recited, one by one, the titles of the books comprised in the collected edition of Luther's works published at Basel, among .which were the Commentaries on the Psalms, the Sermon of Good W^orks, the Commentary on the Lord's Prayer, and besides these, other Christian books, not of a con tentious kind. Upon this, Luther made answer, first in German, then in Latin, that the books vsrere his. The form of procedure had been committed by the Emperor to Eck, Glapion, and Aleandro, and it may have been by their deliberate intention that Luther was now asked, whether he wished to defend all the books which he had acknow^ledged as his own, or to retract any part of them? He began his answer in Latin, by an apology for any mistakes that he might make in addressing personages so great, as a man versed, not in courts, but in monk cells ; then, repeat ing his acknowledgment of the books, proceeded to divide them into three classes. There were some in which he had treated the piety of faith and morals so simply and evangelically that his very adversaries had been compelled to confess them useful, harmless, and worthy of Christian reading. How could he con demn these ? There were others in which he attacked the Papacy and the doctrine of the Papists, who both by their teachings and their wretched examples have MARTIN LUTHER 131 wasted Christendom with both spiritual and corporal evil. Nor could any one deny or dissimulate this, since the universal experience and complaint bear witness, that, by the laws of the Pope and the doc trines of men, consciences are miserably ensnared and vexed, especially in this illustrious German na tion. If he should revoke these books, what would it be but to add force to tyranny, and to open, not merely the windows, but the doors to so great im piety? In that case, good God, what a cover of wick edness and tyranny would he not become! A third class of his books had been written against private persons, those, namely, who had labored to protect the Roman tyranny and to undermine the piety which he had taught. In these he confessed that he had been more bitter than became his religion and profession. Even these, however, he could not recall, because to do so would be to throw his shield over tyranny and impiety, and to augment their violence against the people of God. From this he proceeded to ask for evi dence against himself and a fair trial, adducing the words of Christ before Annas: " If I have spoken evil, bear witness of the evil." Then, with a touch of his native boldness, he told his audience that it needed to beware lest the reign of this most excellent youth, Prince Charles, should become unhappy and of evil omen. "I might," he continued, "illustrate the matter more copiously by Scriptural examples — as Pharaoh, the King of Babylon, the Kings of Israel — who most completely ruined themselves at the moment when by wisest counsels they were zealous to strengthen and pacify their kingdoms. For it is He who taketh the w^ise in their o-wn craftiness, and overturns the mountains before they know it. "Therefore it is need ful to fear God. I do not say these things because my 132 MARTIN LUTHER teaching or admonition is necessary to persons of such eminence, but because I ought not to ^vithhold from Germany my due obedience. And ^vith these things I commend myself to your most serene Maj esty, and to your Lordships, humbly asking that you vrill not suffer me to be brought into ill repute by the efforts of my adversaries. I have spoken." This speech, spoken as it vras vrith steady composure and a voice that could be clearly heard by the whole assembly, did not satisfy the official. His first demand vras that, like the question to vrhich it vras in answer, it should be repeated in German. Next, Eck proceeded to point out that Luther's errors, vrhich vrere the errors of former heretics, Wyclif, Huss, and the like, had been sufficiently condemned by the Church, and particularly by the Council of Constanz. If Luther were willing to recant them, the Emperor vrould en gage that his other works, in which they were not contained, should be tenderly handled: if not, let him recollect the fate of other books condemned by the Church. Then, with the customary exhortation to all theological innovators, not to set their own opinions against those of apostles, saints, and martyrs, the official said that what he vranted vras a simple and straightforward answer; was Luther willing to recant or not? To which Luther replied: "Since your most serene Majesty and your Lordships ask for a simple answer, I will give it, after this fashion: Unless I am convinced by witness of Scripture or plain reason (for I do not believe in the Pope or in Councils alone, since it is agreed that they have often erred and con tradicted themselves), I am overcome by the Scrip tures which I have adduced, and my conscience is caught in the word of God. I neither can nor will re cant anything, for it is neither safe nor right to act MARTIN LUTHER 133 against one's conscience." Then having given this answer in both languages, he added in German, "God help me. Amen." The semblance of trial, which alone was allowed to Luther, was novr over; it only remained to pass sen tence. Early on the morning of the 19th of April the Emperor summoned the Diet once more to take counsel upon the matter. The Estates asked for time to deliberate ; on vrhich the Emperor, replying that he vrould first give them his own opinion, produced a document written in his own hand. Beginning with the statement of his descent from Emperors, Kings of Spain, Archdukes of Austria, and Dukes of Bur gundy, all of whom had lived and died faithful sons of the Church and defenders of the Catholic faith, it an nounced the identity of his policy vrith theirs. W^hat- ever his predecessors had decreed in matters ecclesi astical, whatever had been decided by the Council of Constanz and other Councils, he vrould uphold. Luther had set himself against the vrhole of Christen dom, alleging it to be, both now and for a thousand years past, in error and only himself in possession of the truth. "The Estates had heard the obstinate answer which he had made the day before ; let him be no fur ther heard, and let him be taken back whence he came, the terms of his safe conduct being carefully observed; but let him be forbidden to preach, nor suffer to corrupt the people with his vile doctrine. "And as we have before said, it is our will that he should be proceeded against as a true and evident heretic." ff ff 134 MARTIN LUTHER HE difference between heresy and treason, at one time, was very slight. One was disloyalty to the Church, the other disloyalty to the State. Q Luther's peril was very great. The coils had been f^SX£^ deliberately laid for him, and he ^af^$^i^ had as deliberately placed his neck ^^*^*^^^^ in the noose. Surely his accusers had been very patient — every opportunity had been given him to recant. Aleandro, the Papal Nuncio, argued that in the face of such stubborn contumacy and insult to both Pope and Emperor, the Emperor would be justified in cancelling his safe conduct and arresting Luther then and there. His offense in refusing to retract was committed at W^orms and his trial should be there — and there he should be executed. The Elector Frederick vras a stronger man far in per sonality than was the Emperor Charles. " The promise of safe conduct must be kept," said Frederick, and there he rested, refusing to argue the merits of the case by a word, one way or the other. Frederick held the life of Luther in his hand — a waver, a tremor and the fagots would soon crackle : for the man who pleads guilty and refuses pardon there is short shrift ff ff Luther started back for Saxony. All went well until he reached the Black Forest within the bounds of the MARTIN LUTHER 135 domain of Frederick ; when behold the carriages and little group of horsemen were surrounded by an armed force of silent and determined men. Luther made a stout defense and vras handled not over gently. He vras taken from his closed carriage and placed upon a horse — his friends and guard were ordered to be gone. Q The darkness of the forest swallowed Luther and his captors. Nevrs soon reached ^Vittenberg and the students mourned him as dead. His enemies gloried in his disappearance, and every where told that he had been struck by the vengeance of God ff ff Luther was lodged in the Castle of 'Wartburg and all communication vrith the outside vrorld cut off. The vrhole scheme vras a diplomatic move on the part of the Elector. He expected a demand would be made for the arrest of the heretic. To anticipate this demand he arrested the man himself; and thus placed the matter in position to legally resist should the prisoner be demanded. The Elector vras the Governor, and the Estate was what would be to us a State — the term "state" and "estate" being practically the same word. It vras the old question of State Rights, the same question that Hayne and 'Webster debated in 1830, and Grover Cleve land and John P. Altgeld fought over in 1894. The Elector Frederick prepared for a legal battle, and would defy the "Federal Arm' ' by force if worst came to worst. 136 MARTIN LUTHER Q Luther remained a prisoner for seven months, and so closely guarded was he that he only knevr by in ference that his keepers vrere his friends. The Elec tor was discreet : he held no personal communication with Luther. In December, 1521, the prisoner vras allovred to go to Wittenberg on a three days' parole. 'When he appeared at the University he came as one from the dead. The event was too serious for student jollification, many were struck dumb with astonishment and glad tears of joy were upon every cheek — and by common con sent all classes were abandoned, and a solemn service of thanksgiving held in the Church, upon the door of which, four years before, this little college professor had tacked his Theses. All understood now that Luther was a prisoner — he must go back to his prison. He admonished his hearers to be patient but to be firm ; cleave to what they be lieved to be right, even though it led to the scaffold. He administered the sacrament, and through that congregation, and throughout Saxony, and throughout all Germany ran the vow, silent, solemn, serious that Martin Luther's defiance of Papal authority was right. The Church was made for man and not man for the Church — and come what may this man Luther must be protected even though the gutters ran with blood ff ff When would his trial occur? Nobody knew — but there would be no haste. MARTIN LUTHER 137 Luther went back to prison, but not to remain there. His little lease of liberty had been given just to see which vray the wind lay. He was a prisoner still — a prisoner on parole — and if he was taken out of Saxony it could only be by illegal means. The action of the Elector was as wise and as success ful a bit of legal procedure as ever mortal lawyer worked, that it vras all done without the advice, con sent or connivance of the prisoner, makes it doubly admirable.Luther set himself to vrork as never before, vrriting and preaching. He kept close to ^A^ittenberg and from there sent forth his thunders of revolt. Outside of Saxony, at regular intervals, edicts were read from pulpits ordering any and all copies of Luther's writ ings to be brought forward that they might be burned. This advertised the work, and made it prized — it was read throughout all Christendom. That gentle and ascetic Henry VIII. of England, issued a book denouncing Luther and telling what he would do vrith him if he came to England. Luther re plied, a trifle too much in kind. Henry put in a pious rejoinder to the effect that the devil would not have Luther in hell. In their opinion of Luther the Pope and King Henry vrere of one mind. So lived Martin Luther, execrated and beloved. At first he sought to serve the Church, and later he worked to destroy it. After three hundred years, the Catholic Church still lives, with more communicants 138 MARTIN LUTHER than it had in the days of Luther. The fact that it still exists proves its usefulness. It vrill still live, and it will change as men change. The Church and the Pope are not the detestable things that Martin Luther pic tured them ; and Protestantism is not the sweet and lovely object that he would have us believe. All formal and organized religions vrill be what they are, as long as man is what he is — labels count for little. In 1525 Martin Luther married " Catharine the Nun," a most excellent woman, and one vrhom rumor says had long encouraged and upheld him in his vrorks. Children came to bless them, and the picture of the great heretic sitting at his wooden table with little Johnny Luther on his knee, his loving wife by his side, and kind neighbors entering for a friendly chat, show the great reformer at his best. He was the son of a peasant, all his ancestors were peasants, as he so often told, and he lived like a peasant to the last. For himself he wanted little. He sided with the people, the toilers, with those who struggled in the bonds of slavery and fear — for them he was an Eye, an Ear, a trumpet Voice. There never lived a braver man — ^there never lived one more earnest and sincere. He fought freedom's fight with all the weapons God had given him; and for the Liberty we now enjoy, in great degree, we are debtors to Martin Luther. so HERE ENDETH THE LITTLE JOURNEY TO THE HOME OF MARTIN LUTHER: WRITTEN BY ELBERT HUBBARD. THE TITLE PAGE, INITIALS & ORNAMENTS BEING DE SIGNED BY SAMUEL WARNER, AND THE WHOLE DONE INTO A BOOK BY THE ROYCROFTERS AT THEIR SHOP, WHICH IS IN EAST AURORA, IN THE MONTH OF APRIL, IN THE YEAR MCMIII wtrwitwwwwtrirwir Che Quintessence 6f Quinn One would hardly think it, but the one man in America wJio is musically keyed in A sharp lives in Chicago. His name is Marcus Quinn, Mus. Doc, and his degree, Bert Letson Tay lor says, is from the Auditorium Annex. This man traces a di rect pedigree to the Roman Emperor, Marcus Aurelius, and a daughter of King Kwinn, who ruled Ireland in the Second Century.The Quintessence Of Quinn lies in his ability to teach music by corresponflence, and so explain the matter that girls of ten, in Texas, who are pupils of his, have proven themselves able to compose and play Hungarian Rhapsodies and also rfead and play at sight any Ancient Thing. Quinn has analyzed music, taken it all apart and gives you the mathematical formula. He has ako analyzed pianos. He says the Irish are the only people who ever used a musical instrument as a national symbol, and the harp is an undeveloped piano. The Roman's had stars on their banners, and since the morning stars sing together, it is meet that the best Piano should be a & t Q 1 1 . Quinn says the construction of the & t Q 1 1 is simpler, stronger, finer, and the tone is that of an Irish harp played in the Long Ago when the daughter of King Kwinn ran away to Rome and was beloved by the man who wrote the "Meditations." The &tatr? Yes — made at RICHMOND, INDIANA Thoreau's Friendship Opposite this will be seen a sample page of the Roycroft edition of Thoreau's Essay on Friendship. The volume is printed from new type, hand-illumined, on Boxmoor paper, bound in limp leather, silken lined, forming a fairly pleasing en semble — at least we think so. The price is, say, Two Dollars and no more. Sent to the Faithful on sus picion — a postal card will fetch it. The Roycrofters, ^^l^'^ZT' HILE we float here, far from that tributary stream on whose banks^'our friends and kindred dwell, our thoughts, like the stars, come out of their horizon still; for there circulates a finer blood than Lavoisier has discovered the laws of, — the blood, not of kindred merely, but of kindness, whose pulse still beats at any distance and forever. After years of vain familiarity, some distant gesture or unconscious behavior, which we remember, speaks to us with more em-^ phasis than the wisest or kindest words. We are sometimes made aware of a kindness long passed, and realize that there have been times when our friends' thoughts of us were of so pure and" lofty a character that they p^issed over us like the winds of heaven unnoticed; when they treated us not as what we were, but as what we aspired to be. There has just [ 1 ] lUe Postpone Funerals indefinitely You better not bother about preparing for death; prepare for -life! We are apt to get what we prepare for. Thru simple diet, work , play, music and study, you can live — live from seven in the morning until ten at night, and sleep without waking for eight hours. That means health. The ROYCROFT PHY SICAL DIRECTOR has time to take in charge at the ROY CROFT SHOP two or three men, of mid dle age preferred, who have lost their grip in a mental or physical way, and by Nature's help, without drugs, bring them back to Perfect Health. Elbert Hubbard II. FOR TERMS and PARTICULARS, SUPPOSE YOU WRITE TO PROF. STACY BETZLER PHYSICAL DIRECTOR OF THE ROYCROFTERS EAST AURORA, NEW YORK Albert Rubbard' A LIFE MEMBERSHIP IN THE Qlmertmn Q[tatiem|) of Immortals COl8ft0 Cen Dollars — No further dues or assessments, and no liabilities. Your duties consist in living up to your Ideal (as nearly as possible) and attending the Annual Dinner (if convenient). ( I ) The membership entitles you to one copy of the Philistine maga zine for ninety-nine years, but no longer. v (2 ) AU the back bound volumes of " The Philistine " we have on hand. (3) "Little Journeys," beginning with current numbers, and all that shall be issued in future. (4) Such other books, pamphlets, addresses and documents as the Roycrofters may elect to send you Every Little While. (5) Success, Health and Love Vibrations, sent daily by the Pastor or AU Baba. ADDRESS THE BURSAR, EAST AURORA, NEW YORK ¦HH WLittle ^outnt^!^ TO THE HOMES OP EMINENT ORATORS EDMUND BURKE Vol. XII. MAY, 1903. No. 5 By ELBERT HUBBARO Single Copies^ 25 cents By the Year, $3.00 LITTLE JOURNEYS TO THE HOMES OF EMINENT ORATORS By ELBERT HUBBARD SUBJECTS AS FOLLOWS: I Pericles 7 Marat 2 Mark Antony 8 Robert Ingersoll 3 Savonarola g John Randolph 4 Martin Luther 10 Thomas Starr King 5 Edmund Burke 11 Henry Ward Beecher : 6 William Pitt 12 Wendell Phillips One booklet a month will be issued as usual, begin ning on January ist. The LITTLE JOURNEYS for 1903 will be strictly de luxe in form and workmanship. The type will be a new font of antique blackface; the initials designed especially for this work ; a frontispiece portrait from the original drawing made at our Shop. The booklets will be stitched by hand with silk. The price — 25 cents each, or $3.00 for the year. Address THE ROYCROFTERS at their Shop, which is at East Aurora, New York Entered at the postoffice at East Aurora, New York, for transmission as second-class mail matter. Copyright, 1902, by Elbert Hubbard ^ O Y C R O F T ^nvnitnvt The accompanying illustration shows a round table of which the Roycroft carpenters have made a limited number. The table is of oak, entirely hand-made and is ornamental, as well as serviceable. In diameter the top measures 3 feet, and this piece of furniture is one that will last a lifetime and then go to the next generation as a prized heirloom. The table is finished in weathered oak, discreetly and well, and will satisfy the most particular purchaser. The price is $20. The Roycrofters EAST AURORA NEW YORK The New^ Vork Special ISTHE FINE TRAIN OF THE /VllCHIOAN ( 'ENTRAL " ne Niagara Falls Route." between Chicago and Detroit and Buffalo, Ne^v York and Boston. It leaves Chicago 5:20 p. m. daily and arrives Buffalo 7:50 a. m.. New York State points during the day, Grand Central Station, New York, at 6:30 p. m., daily, and Boston 11:30 p. m., except Sunday, with Dining, Pullman Sleeping and Buffet Library Cars. CAll Michigan Central trains arrive at and depart from the Grand Central Station, New York, and the New South Station, Boston. O. W. RUGGLES, General Passenger & Ticket Agent, Chicago. PHALANSTERY The word was first used by Fourier, and means literally "the home of friends." The ROYCROFT PHALANSTERY, with its new addition, just completed, consists of a kitchen, scientific and modern in all of its appointments ; a dining-room that seats a hundred people; thirty-eight sleeping rooms; reception rooms, etc., etc. That is to say it is an INN, managed somewhat like a Swiss Monastery, simple, yet complete in all of its appointments — where the traveler is made welcome. There are always a few visitors with us. Some remain simply for a iheal, others stay a day, or a week, or a month. A few avail themselves of the services of our Musical Director, the Physical Instructor, dr take lessons in drawing and painting. CThe prices: Meals, such as they are, say twenty - five cents; lodging, fifty cents. If parties of a dozen or more want accommodations, it is well to telegraph ahead to THE BURSAR of THE ROYCROFTERS EAST AURORA, NEW YORK MEAL TIME DRINKS Should Be Selected to Suitth^ Health as Well as the Taste. When the coffee toper, ill from coffee drinking, finally leaves off coffee the battle is only half won. Most people require some hot drink at meal time, and they also need the rebuilding agent to build up what coffee has destroyed, , Postum is the rebuilder, the other half of the battle. Some people stop coffee and drink hot water but find this a thin, unpalatable diet, with no rebuilding properties. It is much easier to break away from coffee by serving strong, hot, well boiled Ppstum in its place. A prpminent wholesale grocer of Faribault, Minn., says: "For a long time I was nervous and could not digest my food. I went to a doctor who prescribed a tonic and told me to leave bff coffee and drink hot water. *'I did -SO for a time and got some relief but did not get. entirely well, so Most patience and said : ' Oh well, coffee is n't the cause of my troubles,' and went back to drinking it.' I became worse than ever. Then Postum was pre scribed. It was not made right at first and for two morn-' ings I could hardly drink it. " Then I had it boiled full fifteen minutes and used good cream and I had a most charming beverage. " I fairly got. fat on the food drink and mf friends asked me what had happened I was so well. I was set right and cured when Postum was made right. I know other men here who use Postum, among others the Cashier of the Security Bank and a well known clergyman. "My firm sells a lot of Postum and I am certainly at your service for Postum^ cured me of stomach trouble." Name given by Postum Company, Battle Creek, Michigan. Little im bfoupneysITo tbe Homes ofj EMINENTORATORS lUititten by Elbettt iHubbattd & done linto a Book by tbe IRoycitofteits at tbe l$bop, iPbieb is in |Ea$tJ1uitoita,neu> Yoitk, fl. D. 1903 Eel 111 und Biirke WAS not, like His Grace of Bedford, swaddled and rocked and dandled into a legislator; nitor in adversum is the motto for a man like me. I possessed not one of the qualities, nor cultivated one of the arts, that recom mend men to the favour and protection of the great. I was not made for a minion or a tool. As little did I follow the trade of winning the hearts, by imposing on the understandings of the people. At every step of my progress in life, for in every step I was traversed and opposed, and at every turnpike I met, I was obliged to show my passport, and again and again to prove my sole title to the honour of being useful to my country, by a proof that I was not wholly unacquainted with its laws and the whole system of its inter ests both abroad and at home; otherwise no rank, no toleration even for me. EDMUND BURKE 139 N the American Encyclopedia, a work I cheerfully recommend, will be found a statement to the effect that Edmund Burke was one of the fifteen children of his parents. Aside from the natural curiosity to know what became of the fourteen, the matter is of small mo ment, and that its truth or falsity should divide men is most absurd. Of this, however, we know — the parents of Burke were plain people, rescued from oblivion only through the excel lence of this one son. The father was a lawyer, and fees being scarce, he be came chief clerk for another barrister, and so lived his life and did his work. Q'When Edmund Burke was born at Dublin in the year 1729, that famous city was at its flood tide of prosperity. It was a metropolis of commerce, art, wit, oratory and literary culture. The one name that looms large to us out of that time is that of Dean Swift, but then there were dozens just as great as he — so-said. Edmund must have been a bright, fine, attractive boy, for we hear that certain friends of his parents combined with his father and they bent themselves to 140 EDMUND BURKE the task of sending the lad to Trinity College. Before this, however, he had spent some time at a private school kept by one Shackleton, a Quaker and a rare sweet soul, v^ith enough of stern moral fiber in him that he exercised a profound and lasting influence for good on young Mr. Burke. The boy was to be a lawyer — a great lawyer. The elder Burke was not a great law^yer, but he felt com petent to raise one. There was another boy destined for fame at Trinity College while Burke was there, but they did not get acquainted then. Some years later they met in Lon don, though, and talked it over. In countenance these two young men had a certain marked resemblance. Reynolds painted pictures of both Burke and Goldsmith, and when I looked at these portraits this morning, side by side, I said, "Sir Joshua had n't quite got the Burke out of his brush before he painted the Goldsmith." Burke is Goldsmith grown big. Each had a wreak chin, ^vhich was redeemed by the fine, full forehead and brilliant eye. In face and features, taken as a whole, Burke had a countenance of surpassing beauty. Note the full sen suous lips, the clear, steady, lustrous beaming eye, the splendid head! There is nothing small, selfish, mean or trifling about the man — he is open, frank, sympathetic, gentle, generous and wise. He is a manly man. EDMUND BURKE 141 No wonder that even the staid and chilly Hannah More loved him ; and little Miss Burney worshipped at his shrine even in spite of "his friendship for those detested rebels, the Americans; and the other griev ous sin of persecuting that good man, Warren Hast ings." ff ff Goldsmith vras small in stature, apologetic in manner, hesitating, and at times there \vas a lisp in speech, which might have been an artistic and carefully ac quired adjunct of wit, but it was not. Burke was commanding in stature, dignified, suave, and in speech direct, copious and elegant. Goldsmith over worked the minor key, but Burke merely suggests that it had not been omitted. At college young Burke did not prove a brilliant stu dent — his intellect and aptitude it seems were a modest mouse-color, that escaped attention. His reading was desultory and general, with spasms of passion for this study or that, this author or the other. And he has remarked, most regretfully, that all of these passions were short-lived, none lasting more than six weeks. It is a splendid sign to find a youth with a passion for any branch of work, or study, or for any author. No matter how brief the love— it adds a ring of growth to character; and if you have loved a book once it is easy to go back to it. In all these varying moods of likes and dislikes, Burke was gathering up material for use in after years. 142 EDMUND BURKE But his teachers did not regard it so, neither did his father ff ff He got through college after a five years' course, aged twenty, by the grace of his tutors. He knew every thing excepting what was in the curriculum. EDMUND BURKE 143 ALL, handsome, with hair black as the raven's wing, and eyes that looked away off into space, dreamy and unconcerned, was Edmund Burke at twenty. His father was a business lawyer, with a sharp nose for technicali ties, quirks and quillets, but the son studied law as a literary curi osity. Occasionally there were quick chidings, an swered with irony needlessly calm: then the good wife and mother would intervene with her tears, and the result was that Burke the elder w^ould withdraw to the open air to cool his coppers. Be it know^n that no man can stand out against his v^rife and son vtrhen they in love combine. Finally it was proposed that Edmund go to London and take a course of Law at the Middle Temple. The plan was accepted with ill-concealed alacrity. Father and son parted with relief, but the good-bye between mother and son tore the hearts of both — they were parting forever, and Something told them so. It evidently was the intention of Burke the elder, who was a clear-headed practical person, competent in all petty plans, that if the son settled down to law and got his "call," then he would be summoned back to Dublin and put in a way to achieve distinction. But if the young man still pursued his desultory read ing and scribbling on irrelevant themes, then the re- 144 EDMUND BURKE mittances were to be withdrawn and Edmund Burke, being t^venty-one years of age, could sink or swim. Burke pater would wash his hands in innocency, having fully complied with all legal requirements, and God know^s that is all any man can do — there! EDMUND BURKE 145 N London-town since time began, no embryo Coke ever rapped at the bar for admittance — lawyers are "summoned" just as clergy men are "called," while other men find a job. In England this pretty little illusion of receiving a "call" to practice law still ob tains. Burke never received the call, for the reason that he failed to fit himself for it. He read everything but law books. He might have assisted a young man by the name of Blackstone in compiling his "Commenta ries," as their lodgings were not far apart, but he did not. They met occasionally, and when they did they always discussed Spenser or Milton, and \vaxed warm over Shakespeare. Burke gave Old Father Antic the Law as lavish a letter of recommendation as the Legal Profession ever received, and he gave it for the very natural reason that he had no use for the Law himself. The remittances from Dublin were always small, but they grew smaller, less frequent and finally ceased. It was sink or swim — and the young man simply paddled to keep afloat upon the tide of the times. He dawdled at Dodsley's, visited with the callers and browsed among the books. There was only one thing the young man liked better to do than read, and that was to talk. Once he had read a volume nearly through, 146 EDMUND BURKE when Dodsley up and sold it to a customer — "a rather ungentlemanly trick to play on an honest man," says Burke ff ff It was at Dodsley's he first met his countryman Goldsmith, also Garrick, Boswell and Johnson. It was then that Johnson received that lasting impres sion of Burke, of wrhom he said, "Sir, if you met Edmund Burke under a gateway, where you had taken shelter for five minutes to escape a shower, you would be so impressed by his conversation that you would say, 'This'is a most extraordinary man'." If one knows how, or has to, he can live in a large city at a small expense. For nine years Burke's Lon don life is a tale of a garret, with the details almost lost in the fog. Of this time, in after years, he seldom spoke, not because he was ashamed of all the straits and shifts he had to endure, but because he was en dowed with that fine dignity of mind which does not dwell on hardships gone and troubles past, but rather fixes itself on blessings now at hand and other bless ings yet to come. Then better still, there came a time when work and important business filled every mo ment of the fast flying hours. And so he himself once said, "The sure cure for all private griefs is a hearty interest in public affairs." The best search-light through the mist of those early days comes to us through Burke's letters to Shackle- ton, the son of his old Quaker teacher. Shackleton had the insight to perceive his friend was no com- EDMUND BURKE i47 mon man, and so preserved every scrap of Burke's writing that came his way. About that time there seems to have been a sort of meteoric shower of chip-munk magazines, following in the luminous pathway of the "Spectator" and the "Tatler." Burke was passing through his poetic period, and supplied various stanzas of alleged poetry to these magazines for a modest consideration. For one poem he received eighteen pence, as tearfully told by Shackleton, but we have Hawkins for it that this was a trifle more than the poem was worth. Of this poetry we know little, happily, but glimpses of it are seen in the Shackleton letters; for instance, when he asks his friend's criticism of such lines as these: The nymphs that haunt the dusky wood, Which hangs recumbent o'er the crystal flood. He speaks of his delight in ambient sunsets, when gilded oceans, ghostly ships and the dull, dark city vanish for the night. Of course, such things never happen except in books, but the practice of writing about them is a fine drill, in that it enables the writer to get a grasp on his vocabulary. Poetry is for the poet ff ff And if Burke wrote poetry in bed, having to remain there in the daytime, while his landlady was doing up his single ruffled shirt for an evening party, whose business was it? When he was invited out to dinner he did the meal 148 EDMUND BURKE such justice that he needed nothing the following day; and the welcome discovery was also made that fasting produced an exaltation of the "spiritual es sence that was extremely favorable to writing good poetry." ff ff Burke had wit, and what Johnson called a "mighty affluence of conversation"; so his presence was wel come at the Turk's Head. Burke and Johnson were so thoroughly vrell matched as talkers that they re spected each other's prowess and never with each other clinched in wordy warfare. Johnson was an arch Tory: Burke the leader of the ^Vhigs, but Ursa was wise enough to say "I '11 talk with him on any subject but politics." This led Goldsmith to remark "Dr. Johnson browbeats us little men, but makes quick peace with those he cannot down." Then there were debating societies, from one of which he re signed because the limit of a speech was seven min utes; but finally the time was extended to fifteen minutes in order to get the Irish orator back. During these nine years, once referred to by Burke as the "Dark Ages," he had four occupations, — book browsing at Dodsley's, debating in the clubs, attend ing the theatre on tickets probably supplied by Gar rick, who had taken a great fancy to him, and his writing ff ff No writing man could wish a better environment than this — the friction of mind with strong men, books and the drama stirred his emotions to the EDMUND BURKE 149 printing point. QBurke's personality made a swirl in the social sea that brought the best straight to him. QOne of the writers that Burke most admired was Bolingbroke, that man of masterly mind and mighty tread. His paragraphs move like a phalanx, and in every sentence there is an argument. No man in Eng land influenced his time more than Bolingbroke. He wras the inspirer of \writers. Burke devoured Boling broke, and vrhen he took up his pen, wrote with the same magnificent, stately minuet step. Finally he was full of the essence of Bolingbroke to the point of saturation, and then he began to criticise him. Had Bolingbroke been alive Burke would have quarreled with him — they were so much alike. As it was, Burke contented himself by writing a book in Bolingbroke's style, carrying the great man's arguments one step further with intent to show their fallacy. The para phrase is always a complement, and is never well done excepting by a man who loves the original and is a bit jealous of him. If Burke began his "Vindication of Natural Society," with intent to produce a burlesque, he missed his aim, and came very near convincing himself of the truth of his proposition. And in fact, the book was hailed by the rationalists as a vindication of Rous seau's philosophy. Burke was a conservative rationalist, w^hich is some thing like an altruistic pessimist. In the society of rationalists Burke was a conservative, and when with ISO EDMUND BURKE the conservatives he vras a rationalist. That he vras absolutely honest and sincere there is not a particle of doubt, and we will have to leave it to the psycholo gists to tell us vrhy men hate the thing they love. The "Vindication of Natural Society," is a great book, and the fact that in the second edition Burke had to explain it was an ironical paraphrase, does not con vince us that it was. The things prophesied have come about and the morning stars still sing together. ^Vise men are more and more learning by inclining their hearts toward Nature. Not only is this true in peda gogics, but in law, medicine and theology as well. Dogma has less place now in religion than ever be fore; many deeply religious men eschew the creed entirely, and in all pulpits may be heard the sublime truths of simple honesty and kindness ; being quite enough basis for a useful career. That is good which serves. Religions are many and diverse, but reason and goodness are one. Burke's attempt to prove that without "revealed re ligion" mankind would sit in eternal darkness, makes us think of the fable of the man who planted potatoes, hoed them, and finally harvested the crop. Every day when this man toiled there was another man who sat on the fence, chewed a straw and looked on. And the author of the story says that if it were not for the Bible, no one would have ever known to whom the po tatoes belonged. Q Burke wrote and talked as all good men do, just to clear the matter up in his own mind. EDMUND BURKE 151 Our wisest moves are accidents. Burke's first book was of a sort so striking that both sides claimed it. Men stopped other men on the street and asked if they had read the "Vindication" : at the coffee-houses they vrrangled and jangled over it: and all the time Dodsley smiled and rubbed his hands in glee. Burke soon blossomed out in clean ruffled shirt every morning, and shortly moved to a suite of rooms, where before he had received his mail and his friends at a coffee-house. Then came W^illiam Burke, a distant cousin, and to gether they tramped off through rural England, loiter ing along flowering hedge-rows, and stopping at quaint inns, where the villagers made guesses as to whether the two were gentlemen out for a lark, smugglers or Jesuits in disguise. One of these trips took our friends to Bath, and there we hear they were lodged at the house of a Dr. Nugent, an excellent and scholarly man. W^illiam Burke went back to London and left Edmund at Bath deep in pursuit of the Sublime. Dr. Nugent had a daughter, aged twenty, beautiful, gentle and gracious. The reader can guess the rest. That Burke's wife was a most amiable and excellent woman there is no doubt. She loved her lord, believed in him and had no other gods before him. But that she influenced his career directly or through antithesis, there is no trace. Her health was too frail to follow him — his stride was terrific — so she remained at home. 152 EDMUND BURKE and after every success he came back and told her of it, and rested his great, shaggy head in her lap. QOnly one child was born to them, and this boy closely resembled his mother in intellect and physique. This son passed out early in life, and so with Edmund died the name. EDMUND BURKE 153 HE next book Burke launched vras the one vre knov^ best, "On the Sublime." The original bore the terrifying title, "A Philosoph ical Inquiry into the Origin of our Ideas Concerning the Sublime and Beautiful." This book consists of one hundred and seventeen chap ters, each chapter dealing with some special phase of the subject. It is the most searching and complete analysis of an abstract theme of which I know. It sums the subject up like an essay by Herbert Spencer, and disposes of the case once and forever. It is so learned that only a sophomore could have written it, and we quite forgive the author when vre are told that it was composed when he was nineteen ff ff The book proved Burke's povrer to foUovr an idea to its lair, and its launching also launched the author upon the full tide of polite society. Goldsmith said, " W^e will lose him now," but Burke still stuck by his coffee-house companions and used them as a pontoon to bridge the gulf 'twixt Bohemia and Piccadilly. In the meantime he had written a book for Dodsley on "English Settlements in North America," and this did Burke more good than any one else, as it caused him to focus his inquiring mind on the New W^orld. After this man began to write on a subject, his intel lect became luminous on the theme, and it was his 154 EDMUND BURKE forevermore. QAt routs and fetes and four-o'clocks, Burke was sought as an authority on America. He had never been there, only promised himself to go, for a sick wife held him back. In the meantime he had seen every man of worth who had been to Amer ica, and had sucked the orange dry. Macaulay gives the idea when he describes Burke's speech at the AVarren Hastings trial. Burke had never been to India, Macaulay had, but that is nothing. Says Macaulay : " When Burke spoke, the burning sun, the strange vegetation of the palm and cocoa-tree, the rice-field, the tank, the huge trees, older than the Mogul Empire, under which the village crowds as semble, the thatched roof of the peasant's hut, the rich tracery of the mosque where the Imaum prays with his face to Mecca, the drums, the banners and gaudy idols, the devotee swinging in the air, the graceful maiden vrith the pitcher on her head, de scending the steps to the riverside, the black faces, the long beards, the yellow streaks of sect, the tur bans and the flowing robes, the spears and silver maces, the elephants with their canopies of state, the gorgeous palanquin of the prince, and the close litter of the noble lady, all these things vrere to him as fa miliar as the subjects which lay on the road between Beaconsfield and St. James Street. All India vras present to the eye of his mind, from the halls, vrhere suitors laid gold and perfumes at the feet of the sov ereign, to the wild moor where the gipsy camp vras pitched; from the bazar, humming like a beehive vrith the crowd of buyers and sellers, to the jungle where the lonely courier shakes his bunch of iron rings to scare away the hyenas. He had just as lively an idea EDMUND BURKE 155 of the insurrection at Benares as of Lord George Gor don's riots, and of the execution of Numcomar as of Dr. Dodd. Oppression in Bengal was to him the same thing as oppression in the streets of London." The wide encompassing quality*f Burke's mind made him a man among men. Just how much he lent his power in those early days to assist those in high places vrho needed him, we do not know. Such ser vices were sacred to him — done in friendship and in confidence, and held as steadfast as a good lavryer holds the secrets of his client. No doubt though, but that the one speech which gave glory and a nickname to Single Speech Hamilton was written by Burke. It was wise, vritty and profound — and never again did Hamilton do a thing that rose above the dull and deadly mediocre. It was a rival of Burke's who said, "He is the only man since Cicero who is a great orator, and who can vrrite as well as he can talk." That Burke wrote the lectures of Sir Joshua Reynolds is now pretty generally believed; in fact, that he re ceived the goodly sum of four thousand pounds for writing these lectures, has been proved to the satis faction of a jury. Burke never said he vrrote the Rey nolds lectures, and Sir Joshua left it to his valet to deny it. But read the lectures now and you will see the stately step of Bolingbroke, and the insight, wit and gravity of the man who said, "Mr. Speaker, I rise to a question of privilege: If it is the pleasure of 156 EDMUND BURKE the House that all the heaviest folios knovrn to us should be here read aloud, I am in honor bound to graciously submit, but only this I ask, that proceed ings shall be suspended long enough for me to send home for my night-cap." EDMUND BURKE 157 m^^^^^i^mm RESENTLY Burke graduated ^^^Z^ZgS^ from doing hack work for Wil liam Gerard Hamilton to the po sition of his private secretary — Hamilton had been appointed Lord Lieutenant of Ireland and so highly did he prize Burke's services that he had the Govern ment vote him a pension of three hundred pounds a year. This vras the first settled in come Burke had ever received, and he was then well past thirty years of age. But though he was in sore straits financially, when he perceived that the intent of the income vras to bind him into the exclusive ser vice of his patron, he resigned his office and refused the pension. Without knowing how wisely he was acting, Burke, by declining the pension and affronting Lord Hamil ton, had done the very thing that it was most ex pedient to do. \A^hen Hamilton could not buy his man, he foolishly sought to crush him, and this brought Burke for the first time into the white light of publicity. I suppose it is fully understood that the nobility of England are not necessarily either cultured or well- read. Literature to most of the titled gentry is a blank, my lord — it is so now and always has been so. Burke's brilliant books were not sufficient to make him famous excepting among the Elect Few, but the 158 EDMUND BURKE episode with Lord Hamilton set the gossips by the ears, and all who had never read Burke's books novr pretended they had. Burke vras a national character — such a man merely needs to be known to be wanted — strong men are al- vrays needed. The House of Commons opened its doors to him — several boroughs competing vrith each other for the favor of being represented by him. A political break-up with opportunity came along, and we find the Marquis of Rockingham made Premier, and Edmund Burke his secretary. It vras Fitzherbert who recommended Burke to Rockingham, and Fitz herbert is immortal for this and for the fact that John son used him to point a moral. Said Dr. Johnson, "A man is popular more through negative qualities than positive ones. Fitzherbert is the most acceptable man in London because he never overpovrers any one by the superiority of his talents, makes no man think worse of himself by being his rival, seems always ready to listen, does not oblige you to hear much from him, and never opposes vrhat you say." With Rockingham and Burke it was a case of the tail wagging the dog, but Burke and Rockingham under stood each other, and always remained firm friends. QI believe it was John J. Ingalls who said America had never elected but one first-class man for presi dent, and he was chosen only because he was un known ff ff Rockingham could neither make a speech nor write a EDMUND BURKE 159 readable article ; but he was kindly disposed, honest and intelligent and had a gracious and winning pres ence. He lives in history to-day chiefly because Ed mund Burke was associated with him. Burke vras too big a man for Premier — such men have to be kept in subjection — the popular will is wise. Men like Burke make enemies — common folks cannot foUovr them in their flight, and in their presence we feel "like a farmer in the presence of a sleight-of- hand man." To have life, and life in abundance is the prayer of every strong and valiant soul. But men are forever running away from life — getting into "positions," monasteries, communities, and now and again cutting the cable of existence by suicide. The man vrho com mits suicide usually leaves a letter giving a reason — most any reason is sufficient, — he was looking for a reason and when he thought he had found it, he seized upon it. Life to Edmund Burke was the gracious gift of the gods, and he was grateful for it. He ripened slowly. QArrested development never caught him — all the days of his life his mind was expanding and reaching out touching every phase of human existence. Noth ing was foreign to him, nothing that related to human existence was small or insignificant. When the home- thrust was made that Ireland had not suff'ered more through the absenteeism of her landlords than through the absenteeism of her men of genius, Burke made i6o EDMUND BURKE the reply that Ireland needed friends in the House of Commons more than at home. Burke loved Ireland to the last, and his fine loyalty for her people doubtless cost him a seat in the Cabi net. In moments of passion his tongue took on a touch of the old sod which gave Fox an opportunity of introducing a swell bull, "Burke's brogue is worth going miles to see." And once when Burke was speaking of America he referred to the wondrous forests "where the hand of man had never trod," Fox arose to a point of order. And this vras a good deal easier on the part of Fox than to try to meet his man in serious debate. Burke's was not the primrose path of dalliance. He fought his way inch by inch. Often it was a dozen to one against him. In one speech he said, "The min ister comes down in state attended by beasts clean and unclean. He opens his budget and edifies us with a speech — one-half the house goes away. A second gentleman gets up and another half goes, and a third gentleman launches a speech that rids the house of another half." A loud laugh here came in, and Burke stopped and said he was most happy if a small dehorned Irish bull of his could put the House in such good humor, and went on with his speech. Soon, however, there were cries of "Shame!" from the Tories who thought Burke was speaking disrespectfully of the King. Burke paused and said, "Mr. Speaker, I have not EDMUND BURKE i6i spoken of the King except in high esteem— I prize my head too well for that. But I do not think it necessary that I should bow down to his man-servant, his maid servant, his ox or his ass" — and he fixed his intrepid gaze upon the chief offender. Nature's best use for genius is to make other men think ; to stir things up so sedimentation does not take place ; to break the anchylosis of self-complacency ; and start the stream of public opinion running so it vrill purify itself. Burke was an agitator — not a leader. He had the great gift of exaggeration, without which no man can be a great orator. He painted the picture large, and put the matter in a way that compelled attention. For thirty years he was a most prominent figure in English poli tics — no great measure could be passed without count ing on him. His influence held dishonesty in check, and made oppression pause. History is usually vrritten from one of three points of vievr — political, literary or economic. Macaulay stands for the first, Taine the second. Buckle the third. Each vrriter considers his subject supreme. When we speak of the history of a country we usually refer to its statesmen. Politicians live the lives of moths as compared with the lasting influence of commerce that feeds, houses and clothes, says Buckle. Rulers govern, but it is literature that enlightens, says Taine. l62 EDMUND BURKE Literature and commerce are made possible only through the vrisdom of statesmen, says Macaulay. <( Edmund Burke's business was state-craft; his play was letters ; but he lives for us through letters. He had two sets of ardent friends, his political asso ciates, and that other little group of literary cronies made up of Johnson, Goldsmith, Bosvrell, Reynolds and Garrick. With these his soul was free — his sense of sublimity then found wings — the vocabulary of Johnson, the purling poetry of Goldsmith, the grace of Garrick's mimicry, the miracle of Reynolds' pencil and brush — these ministered to his hungry heart. They vrere forms of expression. All life is an expression of spirit. Burke's life was dedicated to expression. He expressed through speech, personal presence and wrritten words. 'Who ever expressed in this vray so well ? And — stay ! — who ever had so much that was vrorth vrhile to express ? so HERE ENDETH THE LITTLE JOURNEY TO THE HOME OF EDMUND BURKE: WRITTEN BY ELBERT HUBBARD. THE TITLE PAGE AND INITIALS BEING DESIGNED BY SAMUEL WARNER & THE WHOLE DONE INTO A PRINTED BOOK BY THE ROYCROFTERS AT THEIR SHOP, WHICH IS IN EAST AURORA, ERIE COUNTY, NEW YORK, IN MAY OF THE YEAR MCMIII 41 4t 4> * * * Burke's Works BeocADBfield Editioo. IncludiDghi3**Speeclies on American Aifairs," his "Writings on French Affairs," *' Articles of Charge against "WaiTen Hastinga," "Speeches in the Impeachnient of Hastings," " Miscel laneous Speeches," "Essays on the Vindication of Natural Society and The Sublime and Beautiful," etc., etc. Carefully reyised, and with many errors of previous editions corrected. Illustrated with W fine photogravure plates, and 12 pTiotot/rawre titles, in^ eluding portraits of the most famoxts law yers, judges, and statesmen of Burke's time, etc. Limited to one thousand sets. 12 vols. S^o. Printed •? choice paper at tbe Universitj Preas, k bound ia buckram, gilt top. Sold only by BubscriptioD, and every set nnmbered. For illuatrattd Burke pamphlet, price, etc., write LITTLE, BROWN & CO., Pub's., 254 Waahington Street, BOSTON, MASS. pERHAPS you would •¦• like to see the Roy croft Catalog. It contains a reprint of a "Cosmopoli tan" article, telling about the Shop and Tilings; cJso some pictures of the work ers, buildings, bindings, etc., that will interest the Eledl. A po^al card will fetch it. Address, THE ROYCROFTERS East Aurora, New York. WE BIND BOOKS BEAUTIFULLY AND WELL —at least some folks think we do. But we do not do job binding: however, we will bind up your back numbers of "The Philistine" and "Little Journeys" for you, the prices as follows : Six numbers of the " Little Journeys" in a volume, cov ers and advertising pages all bound together in solid boards and leather backs, $1.00. Six numbers of "The Philistine" in a volume, advertis ing pages and covers all bound in solid boards, leather backs, 75 cents. Che Roycnoftens EAST AURORA NEW YORK MONEY TV cooks $7,500.00 DONATED, TO BE DIVIDED • AMONG FAMILY CbOKS. The sum of $7,500.00 will be distributed between now and midsummer among family cooks, in 735 prizes ranging from $200.00 to $5.00. This is done to stimulate better cooking in the family kitchen. The contest is open to paid cooks (drop the name "hired girl," call them cooks if they deserve it) or to the mistress of the household if she does the cooking. The rules for contest are plain and simple. Each of the 735 winners of money prizes will, also receive an engraved certificate o^ merit or diploma as a cook. The diplomas bear the big gilt seal and signature of the most famous 'food company in the world. The Postum Cereal Co., Ltd., of Battle Creek, Mich., the well-known makers of Postum Coffee and Grape-Nuts. Write them and address Cookery Department, No. 340, for full particulars. This remarkable contest among cooks to win the money prizes and diplomas will give thousands of families better and more delicious, meals, as well as cleaner kitchens and. a general improvement in the culinary department, for the cooks must show mark ed. skill and betterment in service to win. Great suqis of money devoted to such enterprises always result in putting humanity further along on the road to civilization, health, comfort and happiness. IHE BEST VALUE, perhaps, in Roycroft Books is in the ,De Luxe copies of the LITTLE JOURNEYS. These Volumes are One Dollar each, and they are the only One Dol lar books the Roycrofters have ever made or will ever make. On hand-made paper, bound in limp chamois, silk lined, silk m£^ker, hand- illumined. We have a few on hand of each of the following subjects: William Morris Robert Browning Tennyson Robert Bui;ns John Milton Saknuel Johnson Macaulay Byron Addison SoutheyColeridgeDisraeli Wagner PaganiniChopin Mozart Bach^ Mendelssohn Liszt Beethoven Handel Verdi Schumann Brahms Raphael LeonardoBotticelli Thorwaldsen Gain.sborough Velasquez Corot Correggio Gian Bellini Cellini Abbey Whistler Just One Dollar each — there is no profijt in these books for us, but they keep our boys and girls busy, and show the world what we can do. The Roycrofters, East Aurora HE imperfections in the article made by hand are its chief charm^ The useful prod uct thus thought out and materialized by labor may be very simple, quite inexpen sive, thoroughly unobtrusive, yet at the same time decidedly artistic. We have Rag Carpet Rugs for Summer Cottages. Cut, dyed and woven by Roycroft girls seventy years young. They will make you think you are back on the old farm. The price for a three-yard rug is Three Dollars. Address THE ROYCROFTERS East Aurora New York N O finer find can be annexed than a Membership in the American Academy of Immortals. The advan tages are increased activity of all the secretions, deeper breathing capacity, perfect digestion and sleep o' nights : these things mean bigger bank balance and the return of wavering affection. The cost is Ten Dollars, with no further dues for ixinety-nine years. Address TH EPHILISTINE EAST AURORA NEW YORK ERFECT HEALTH You better not bother about pre paring for death; prepare for life! W^e are apt to get what we pre pare for. Through simple diet, work, play, music and study, you can live — live from seven in the morning until ten at night, and sleep without waking for eight hours. That means health. The ROYCROFT PHYSICAL DIRECTOR has time to take in charge at the Roycroft Shop two or three men, of middle age preferred, who have lost their grip in a mental or physical way, and by Nature's help, without drugs, bring them' back to PERFECT HEALTH. For terms and particulars, suppose you write to PROF. STACY BETZLER PHYSICAL DIRECTOR OF THE ROYCROFTERS EAST AURORA, N E W^ YORK Paris, January 2, IQOJ, I) ear Fra Elbertus: — / have just read your ^^ Little yourney to the Home of Whistler. ' ' / congratulate you. The book contains several things I never knew before. With best wishes I am ever, Tour Obedient Servant, JAMES McNeill whistler. • LITTLE JOURNEYS TO THE HOMES OF E M I N E NT O R A T O R S By ELBERT HUBBARD SUBJECTS AS POLL O W S : I Pericles 7 Marat 2 Mark Antony 8 Robert Ingersoll 3 Savonarola 9 John Randolph 4 Martin Luther lo Thomas Starr King 5 Edmund Burke ii Hfenry Ward Beecher 6 William Pitt liz W^endell Phillips One booklet a month vtrill be issued as usual, begin^- ning on January ist. The LITTLE JOURNEYS for 1903 will be strictly do luxe in form and workmanship. The type will be a new font of antique blaiiikfaGe ; the initials designed- especially for this work r^ frontispiece portrait from the original drawing i&ade at our Shop. The booklets will be stitched by hand with silk. The price — 125 cents each, or $3;oo for the year. Address THE ROYCROFTERS at their Shop, which is at East Aurora, New York Entered at the postoffice at East Aurora, New York, for transmission as second-class mail matter. Copyright, 1902, by Elbert Hubbard ^^ ROYCROFT . This illustration shows the sort of chair that is comfortable — it is easy to imagine yourself curled up on its spacious cush ions, taking a nap. The chair is a close replica of the original creation by William Morris, and is of oak, hand made, and built to last for all time. Finished in weathered or Flemish oak, as desired, and cushioned complete in either leather or velour, the price is $50. If you are interested in hand-made furniture, write for catalog. The Roycrofters EAST AURORA NEW YORK The Ne>v York Special IS THE FINE TRAIN OF THE MiGHlOAJy rENTKAL "The Niagara Falls Route." ¦ between Chicago and Detroit and Buffalo, New York and Boston. It leaves Chicago 5:20 p. m. daily and arrivfes Buffalo 7:50 a. m., New York State points during the day. Grand' Central' ¦ Station,* New York, at 6:30 p. m., daily, and Boston 11:30 p. m., except Sunday, with Dining, Pullman Sleeping afid Buffet Library Cars. 41. All Michigani Central trains arrive at and depart frotn the Grand Central Station, New York, and the' New South Station, Boston. O. W. RUGGLES, General Passenger & Ticket Agent, Chicago.' PHALANSTERY The word was first used by Fourier, and means literally "the'honpe of friends." The ROYCROFT PHALANSTERY, with its new addition, just conipleted, consists of a kitchen, scientific and modern in all of its appointments ; a dining-room that seats a hundred people; thirty-eight sleeping rooms; reception rooms, etc., etc. That is to say it is an INN, managed . somewhat like a Swiss Monastery, simple, yet complete in all of its appointments — where the traveler is made welcome. There are always a few visitors with us. Some remain simply for a meal, others stay a day, or a week, or a month. A few avail themselves of the services of our Musical Director, the Physical Instructor, or take lessons in drawing and painting. CThe prices: Meals, such as they are, Say twenty- five cents; lodging, fifty cents. If parties of a dozen or more want accommodations, it is well to telegraph ahead to THE BURSAR of THE ROYCROFTERS EAST AURORA, NEW YORK DOGTOR ON FOOD Experimented On Himself. A physician of Galion, O. says: "For the last few years I have been a sufferer from indigestion and although I have used various remedies and pre pared foods with some benefit it was not until I tried Grape-Nuts that I was completely cured. " As a food it is pleasant and agreeable, very nutritious and is digested and assimilated with very little effort on the part of the digestive or gans. As a nerve food and restorer it has no equal and as such is especially adapted to students and other brain workers. It contains the elements nec essary for the building of nerve tissue and by so doing maintains an equilibrium of waste and re pair. "It also enriches the blood by giving an increased number of red blood corpuscles and in tl;iis way strengthens all the organs, providing a vital fluid made more nearly perfect. I take great pleasure in recommending its use to my patients for I value it as a food and know it will benefit all who use it." Name furnished by Postum Co., Battle Creek, Michigan. \utt\cm\ pouttneys To tbe Homes of I EMINENT lORATORS (tt liXlPitten byElbePtj Hubband & done! into a Book by tbe Roycpofteps at tbe j $bop, u>bicb is in East /lupotta, tleu) i York, fl. D. 1903 WILLIAM PITT William Pitt IME was when slaves were exported like cattle from the British Coast and exposed for sale in the Roman market. These men and women who were thus sold were supposed to be guilty of witchcraft, debt, blas phemy or theft. Or else they were prisoners taken in war — they had forfeited their right to freedom, and we sold them. We said they were incapable of self-government and so must be looked after. Later we quit selling British slaves, but began to buy and trade in African humanity. We silenced conscience by saying, "It 's all right — they are incapable of self-government." We were once as obscure, as debased, as ignorant, as barbaric, as the African is now. I trust that the time will come when we are willing to give to Africa the opportunity, the hope, the right to attain to the same blessings that we ourselves enjoy. —WILLIAM PITT on Abolition of Slavery in England. WILLIAM PITT 163 HE Law of Heredity has been described as that Law of our nature which pro vides that a man shall resemble his grandmother — or not, as the case may be. Q What traits are inherited and what acquired — who shall say? Married folks who resort to the happy expedient of procuring their children at orphan asylums can testify to the many times they have been complimented on the striking resemblance of father to daugh ter, or son to mother. Possibly that is all there is of it — we resemble those with whom we associ ate. Far be it from me to say the final word on this theme — I would not if I could, deprive men of a problem they can never solve. When all questions are answered, it will be time to tele phone the undertaker. That men of genius do not reproduce themselves after the flesh is an axiom, but that William Pitt, Earl of Chatham, did, is brought forth as an exception, incident, accident or circumstance, just according to one's mood at the moment. Q" Great men do have great sons!" we cry. "Justlook at the Pitts, the Adamses, the W^alpoles, the Beechers, the Booths, 164 WILLIAM PITT the Bellinis, the Disraelis!" and here we begin to fal ter. And then the opposition takes it up and rattles off a list of great men whose sons w^ere spendthrifts, gamblers, ne'er-do-wells and jackanapes. When Pitt the Younger made his first speech in the House of Commons, he struck thirteen. The members of the House were amazed. "He's a chip off the old block," they said. " He 's the block itself," said Burke. Lord Rosebery, who had the felicity to own a Derby winner, once said of Pitt, "He was bred for speed, but not for endurance." WILLIAM PITT 165 INCE the subject of heredity always seems to come up when the Pitts are mentioned, it may be proper for us to go back and trace pedigree a bit, to see if we have here the formula for pro ducing a genius. The grandfather of ^A^illiam Pitt the Elder, was Thomas Pitt, a sea-captain, trader and gentleman adventurer. In fact, he was a bold buccaneer, but not too bold, for he gave large sums to church and charity and showed his zeal for virtue by once hanging three smugglers in chains, high up on a gibbet overlooking the coast of Cornwall, and there the bodies were left until the birds of prey and the elements had bleached their bones. Thomas Pitt v^as known as "Diamond Tom" through bringing from India and selling to the Regent Orleans the largest diamond, I believe, ever owned in Eng land. For this Diamond Tom received one hundred and thirty-five thousand pounds — a sum equal to one million dollars. That Diamond Tom received this money there is no doubt, but where and how he got the diamond nobody seems to know, and in his o^vn time it was deemed indelicate to inquire. Tom might have wasted that money right shortly — there are several ways of dissipating a fortune — but he wisely decided to found a house. That is to say he bought a borough — the borough of Old Sarum, the i66 VS^ILLIAM PITT locality that was to become famous as the "rotten borough" of the Reform Bill. He bought this borough and all the tenants outright from the Government, just as we bought the Filipinos at two dollars per head. All the people w^ho lived in the borough had to pay tribute, taxes or rent to Tom, for Tom owned the tenures. They had to pay, hike or have their heads cut off. Most of them paid. If the time were at our disposal it might be worth while to let this brochure extend itself into a picture of how all the land in England once belonged to the Crown, and how this land was transferred at will to Thomas, Richard and Henry for cash or as reward for services rendered. It was much the same in America — the Government once owned all the land, and then this land was sold, given out to soldiers, or to homesteaders who would clear the land of trees, and later we reversed the proposition and gave the land to those who would plant trees. There was this similarity, too, between English and American land laws: the Indians on the land in America had to pay, move or be perforated. For them to pay rent or work out a road tax, was quite out of the question. Indians, like the Irish, will not pay rent, so we were compelled to evict them. But there was this difference in America: the owner of the land could sell it; in England he could not. The law of entail has been much modified, but as a general proposition the land owner in England has the privi- WILLIAM PITT 167 lege of collecting the rent, and warning off poachers, but he cannot mortgage the land and eat it up. This keeps the big estates intact, and is a very good scheme. Under a similar law in the United States, Uncle Billy Bushnell or Ali Baba might live in Hot Springs, Ar kansas, and own every foot of East Aurora, and all of us v^ould then vote as Baron Bushnell or Sir Ali dic tated, thus avoiding much personal animus at Town Meetin' time. But no tenure can be made with death — he can neither be bought, bribed, cajoled nor intimidated. Diamond Tom died and his eldest son Robert came into pos session of the estate. Now Robert was commonplace and beautifully medi ocre. It is one of Nature's little ironies at the expense of the Law of Entail, that she will occasionally send out of the spirit realm, into a place of worldly im portance, a man who is a regular chibot, chitterling and chump. Robert Pitt, son of Diamond Tom, es caped all censure and unkind criticism by doing noth ing, saying nothing and being nothing. But he proved procreant and reared a goodly brood of sons and daughters — all much like himself, save one, the youngest son. This son, by name 'William Pitt, very much re sembled Diamond Tom, his illustrious grandfather — Nature bred back. William was strong in body, firm in will, active, alert, intelligent. Times had changed or he might have been a bold buccaneer, too. He was i68 yyiLLIAM PITT all his grandfather was, only sand-papered, buffed and polished by civilization. He was sent to Eton, and then to Trinity College, Oxford, where buccaneer instincts broke out and he left without a degree. Tv^o careers were open to him, as to all aspiring sons of Noble Beef-eaters — he could enter the Church or the Army. He chose the Army, and became in due course the first cornet of his company. His elder brother Thomas was very naturally a mem ber of the House of Commons for Old Sarum, and later sat for Oakhampton. Another of Nature's little ironies here outcrops: Thomas, who was named for his illustrious grandfather — he of the crystallized car bon — did n't resemble his grandfather nearly so much as did his younger brother W^illiam. So Thomas with surprising good sense named his brother for a seat in the House of Commons from Old Sarum. W^illiam was but twenty-seven years of age when he began his official career, but he seemed one who had leaped into life full armed. He absorbed knowledge on every hand. Demosthenes was his idol, and he, too, declaimed by the sea-shore with his mouth full of pebbles. His splendid command of language >was acquired by the practice of translation and re-trans lation. W^hether Greek or Latin ever helped any man to become a better thinker is a mooted question, but the practice of talking off in your own tongue a page of a foreign language is a mighty good way to lubri- WILLIAM PITT 169 cate your English. 0[ William Pitt had all the graces of a great orator — he was deliberate, self-possessed, positive. In form he was rather small, but he had a way of carrying himself that gave an impression of size. He was one of the Avorld's big little men — the type of Aaron Burr, Alexander Hamilton, Benjamin Harrison and John D. Long. In the House of Com mons he lost no time in making his presence felt. He was assertive, theatrical, declamatory — still, he usu ally knew^ vrhat he was talking about. His criticisms of the Government so exasperated Sir Robert Wal pole that W^alpole used to refer to him as "that ter rible cornet of horse." Finally Walpole had him dismissed from the Army. This instead of silencing the young man really made matters worse, and George II., who patronized the Opposition when he could not down it, made him groom of the bed cham ber to the Prince of Wales. This was an office lined with adipose, with no work to speak of. The feeling is that Pitt revealed his common clay by accepting the favor. He was large enough to get along without such things. In most of the good old "School Speakers" was an extract from a speech supposed to have been delivered by Pitt on the occasion of his being taunted by Horatio Walpole on account of his youth. Pitt replied in lan guage something like this : " It is true that I am young, yet I '11 get over that ; but the man who is a fool will probably remain one all his days." 170 WILLIAM PITT The speech was reported by a lout of a countryman, Samuel Johnson by name, who had come up to Lon don to make his fortune, and found his first work in reporting speeches in the House of Commons. Pitt did not write out his speeches for the press, weeks in ad vance, according to latter day methods ; the man who reported them had to have a style of his own — and certainly Johnson had. Pitt was much pleased with Johnson's reports of his speeches, but on one occasion mildly said, "Ah, Mr. Johnson — you know^ — I do not exactly remember using that expression! " And Samuel Johnson said, " Sir, it is barely possible that you did not use the language as I have written it out; but you should." Just how much Johnson we get in Pitt's printed speeches is still a topic for debate. QPitt could think on his feet, while Samuel Johnson never made but one speech and broke down in that. But Johnson could write, and the best of Pitt's speeches are those reported by Ursa Major in a style superbly Johnsonese. The member from Old Sarum once sent Johnson two butts of Canary and a barrel of white-bait, as a token of appreciation for his skill in accurate reporting. Pitt followed the usual course of successful reformers, and in due time lined up on the side of the conserva tives, and gradually succumbed to a strictly aristo cratic disease, gout. W^hether genius is transmissible or not is a question, but all authorities agree as to gout. Q Pitt's opposition to the Walpoles was so very firmly WILLIAM PITT 171 rooted that it continued for life, and for this he was rewarded by the Duchess of Marlborough with a legacy of ten thousand pounds. Her Grace was the mother of the lady who had the felicity to have her picture painted by Gainsborough, which picture was brought to America and secreted here for many years and finally was purchased for sixty-five thousand dollars by Pierpont Morgan, through the kind offices of my friend Patricius Sheedy, Philistine-at-Large. QThe Duchess in her will said she gave the money to Pitt as "an ackno^vledgment of the noble defense he had made for the support of the laws of England." But the belief is that it was her hatred for Walpole that prompted her admiration for Pitt. And her de testation of \A^alpole was not so much political as sentimental — a woman's love affairs being much more to her than patriotism, but the Duchess being a woman deceived herself as to reasons. Our acts are right, but our reasons seldom are. I leave this Marl borough matter ^vith those who are interested in the psychology of the heart — merely calling attention to the fact that although the Duchess was ninety when she passed out, the warm experiences of her early womanhood were very vivid in her memory. If you wish to know when love dies out of a woman's brain, you w^ill have to ask someone who is older than was the Duchess of Marlborough. ¦When George II. died, and his grandson George III. came into power, Pitt resigned his office in the cabinet 172 WILLIAM PITT and abandoned politics. QAt last he found time to get married. He was then forty-six years of age. Men retire from active life, but seldom remain upon the shelf, — either life or death takes them down. In five years time we find the King offering Pitt anything in sight, and Mr. Pitt, the Great Commoner, became Viscount Pitt, Earl of Chatham. By this move Pitt lost in popularity more than he had gained in dignity — there was a complete revulsion of feeling toward him by the people, and he never again attained the iniluence and power he had once known. Q Burke once referred to a certain proposed bill as "insignificant, irrelevant, pompous, creeping, explan atory and ambiguous — done in the true Chathamic style." ff ff But the disdain of Burke was really complimentary — it took a worthy foe to draw his fire. Chatham's faults were mostly on the surface, and were more a matter of manner than of head or heart. America has cause to treasure the memory of Chatham. He opposed the Stamp Act with all the vigor of his tremendous intel lect, and in the last speech of his life he prophesied that the Americans would never submit to taxation without representation, and that all the power of England was not great enough to subdue men who were fighting for their country. Yet his appeal to George III. and his minions was like bombarding a fog. But all he said proved true. On the occasion of this last great speech Chatham WILLIAM PITT 173 was attended by his favorite son William, then nine teen years old. Proud as was this father of his son, he did not guess that in four short years this boy would, through his brilliancy, cast his own splendid efforts into the shadow; and that Burke, the querulous, ^vould give the son a measure of approbation never vouchsafed to the father. William Pitt, the younger, is known as the "Great Pitt," to distinguish him from his father, who in his day was kno\wn as the greatest man in England. 174 WILLIAM PITT ILLIAM PITT, the second son of the Earl of Chatham, was born of poor but honest parents, in the year 1759. That was the year that gave us Robert Burns — betvsreen whom and Pitt, in some respects, averages were held good. The same year was born 'William 'Wilberforce, philanthropist and emancipator, father of Canon W^ilberforce. At this time the fortunes of \Villiam Pitt the elder were at full flood. England was in a fever of exulta tion — drunk with success. Just where the thought got abroad that the average Englishman is moderate in success and in defeat not cast down, I do not know. But this I have seen: All London mad, howling, ex ultant, savage drunk, because of the report that the Red Coats had subjugated this colony or that. To sub due, crush, slay and defeat, has caused shrieking shouts of joy in London since London began — unless the slain were Englishmen. This is patriotism, concerning which Samuel Johnson, reporter in the House of Commons, once made a re mark slightly touched with acerbity. In the years 1758 to 1759 not a month passed but bon fires burned bright from Cornwall to Scotland in honor of English victories on land and sea. In 'West phalia, British Infantry defeated the armies of Louis XV. ; Boscawen had sunk a French fleet ; Hawke put WILLIAM PITT 175 to flight another; Amherst took Ticonderoga; Clive de stroyed a Dutch armament; 'Wolfe achieved victory and a glorious death at Quebec. English arms had marched triumphant through India and secured for the tight little island an empire, while another had been gained on the shores of Ontario. For all this the Great Commoner received most of the glory; and that this tremendous popularity was too great to last is but a truism. But in such a year it was that ^Villiam Pitt was born. His father was fifty years old, his mother about thirty. This mother was a woman of rare grace, in tellect and beauty, the only sister of two remarkable brothers — George Grenville, the obstinate adviser of George III., the man who did the most to make America free — unintentionally — and the other brother was Richard Earl Temple, almost equally potent for right or wrong. That the child of a sensitive mother, born amid such a crash of excitement, should be feeble was to be ex pected. No one at first expected the baby to survive. QBut tenderness and care brought him through, and he grew into a tall, spindling boy whose intellect far outmatched his body. He was too weak to be sent to take his place at a common school, and so his father and mother taught him. Between the father and son there grew up a fine bond of affection. 'Whenever the father made a public ad dress the boy was there to admire and applaud. 176 WILLIAM PITT The father's declining fortunes drove him back to his family for repose, and all of his own ambitions became centered in his son. 'With a younger man this might not have been the case, but the baby boy of an old man means much more to him than a brood coming early ff ff Daily, this boy of twelve or fourteen, would go to his father's study to recite. Oratory was his aim, and the intent was that he should become the greatest parlia mentarian of his time. This little mutual admiration society composed of father and son, speaks volumes for both. Boys reach ing out toward manhood, when they are neither men nor boys, often have little respect for their fathers — they consider the pater to be both old-fashioned and tyrannical. And the father, expecting too much of the son, often fails in faith and patience; but there was no such failure here. Chatham personally superintended the matter of off-hand translation, and this practice was kept up daily from the time the boy was eight years old, until he was nineteen, when his father died. QThen there was the tutor Pretyman who must not be left out. He was a combination valet and teacher, and the most pedantic and idolatrous person that ever moused through dusty tomes. 'With a trifle more adi pose and a little less intellect, he would have made a most successful and awful butler. He seemed a type of the English waiter who by some chance had ac quired a college education, and never said a wrong WILLIAM PITT 177 thing, nor did a right one, during his whole life. QPretyman wrote a life of Pitt, and according to Macaulay it enjoys the distinction of being the worst biography ever written. Lord Rosebery, however, declares the book is not so bad as it might be. I be lieve there are two other biographies equally stupid — "'Weems' Life of 'Washington" and the book on Gainsborough by Thicknesse. 'Weems' book was written to elevate his man into a demi-god; Thick nesse was intent on lowering his subject and exalting himself; while Pretyman extols himself and his sub ject equally, revealing how 'William Pitt could never have been W^illiam Pitt were it not for his tutor. Pretyman emphasizes trifles, slights important mat ters, and waxes learned concerning the irrelevant. Q A legacy coming to Pretyman, he changed his name to Tomline, as women change their names when they marry or enter a convent. Religion to Pitt was quite a perfunctory affair, neces sary, of course ; but a bishop in England was one who could do little good and, fortunately, not much harm. With an irony too subtle to be seen by but very few, Pitt when twenty-seven years of age made his old tutor Bishop of Winchester. Tomline proved an ex cellent and praiseworthy bishop ; and his obsequious loyalty to Pitt led to the promise that if the Primacy should become vacant, Tomline was to be made Archbishop of Canterbury. This promise was told by the unthinking Tomline, iTf W^ILLIAM PITT and reached the ears of George III., a man who at times was very much alert. There came a day when the Primacy was vacant, and to head off the nomination by Pitt, the King one morning at eight o'clock vralked over to the residence of Bishop Manners Somers and plied the knocker. QThe servant who answered the summons explained that the Bishop ^vas taking his bath and could not be seen until he had had breakfast. But the visitor was importunate. The servant 'went back to his master and explained that the stout man at the door would neither go a^vay nor tell his name, but must see his lordship at once. Q'When the Bishop appeared in his dressing-gown and saw the King, he nearly had apoplexy. But the King quickly told his errand and made his friend Primate on the doorstep, with the butler and house maid for \vitnesses. Later in the day when Pitt appeared at the palace he was told that a Primate had been appointed — the King was very sorry, but the present incumbent could not be removed unless charges were preferred. Pitt smil ingly congratulated the King on the wisdom of his choice, but afterward referred to the transaction as *'a rather scurvy trick." At twenty-three years of age 'William Pitt entered the House of Commons from the same borough that his father had represented at twenty-seven. His elder brother made way just as had the elder brother of his WILLIAM PITT 179 father. QThe first speech he made in Parliament fixed his place in that body. His fame had preceded him, and when he arose every seat was taken to hear the favorite son of the Earl of Chatham, the greatest ora tor England had ever seen. The subject ^vas simply a plan of finance, and lacked all excuse for fine phrasing or flavor of sentiment. And what should a boy of twenty-three know about a nation's financial policy? Yet this boy knew all about it. Figures, statistics, re sults, conclusions, were shown in a steady, flowing, accurate, lucid manner. The young man knew his theme — every byway, highway and tracing of it. By that speech he proved his mathematical genius, and blazed the way straight to the office of Chancellor of the Exchequer. Not only did he know his theme, but he had the abil ity to explain it. He spoke without hesitation or em barrassment, and revealed the same splendid dignity that his father had shown, all flavored by the same dash of indifference for the auditor. But the discern ing ones saw that he surpassed his father, in that he carried more reserve and showed a suavity that was not the habit of Chatham. And the man was there— mighty and self-reliant. The voice is the index of the soul. The voice of the two Pitts was the same voice, we have been told — a deep, rich, cultivated lyric-baritone. It was a trained voice, a voice that came from a full column of air. i8o WILLIAM PITT that never broke into a screech, rasping the throat of the speaker and the ear of the listener. It >vas the natural voice carefully developed by right use. The power of Pitt lay in his cold, calculating intellect, but the instrument that made manifest this intellect was his deep, resonant, perfectly controlled voice. Pitt never married, and according to the biting phrase of Fox, all he kne^v of love was a description of it he got from the Iliad. That is to say he was separated from it about three thousand years. This is a trifle too severe, for when twenty-two years of age he met the daughter of Necker at Paris — she who vras to give the world of society a thrill as Madam de Stael. And if the gossips are right it was not the fault of Pitt that a love match did not follow. But the v/oman gauged the man, and she saw that love to him would merely be an incident, not a consuming passion, and she was not the woman to write a book on Farthest North. She dallied with the young man a day, and then sent him about his business, exasperated and perplexed. He could strike fire with men as flint strikes on flint, but women vrere outside his realm. QYet he followed the career of Madam de Stael, and never managed to quite get her out of his life. Once in his later years he referred to her as that "cold and trifling daughter of France's greatest financier." He admired the father more than he loved the daughter. QFor twenty-four years Pitt piloted England's ship of state. There were constant head winds, and now W^ILLIAM PITT i8i and again shifting gales of fierce opposition, and all the time a fat captain to pacify and appease. This captain was stupid, sly, obstinate and insane by turns, and to run the ship and still allow the captain to be lieve that he was in command, was the problem that confronted Pitt. And that he succeeded as well as any living man could, there is no doubt. During the reign of Pitt, England lost the American Colonies. This was not a defeat for England, it was Destiny. England preserved her independence by cutting the cable that bound her to us. The life of Pitt was a search for power — to love, wealth and fame he was indifferent. He was able to successfully manage the finances of a nation, but his ovrn were left in a sorry muddle — at his death it took forty thousand pounds to cause him to be vrorth nothing. His debts v^ere paid by the nation. And this indifference to his own afl^airs was put forth at the time as proof of his probity and ex cellence. We think now that it marked his limita tions. His income for twenty years preceding his death was about fifty thousand dollars a year. One hour a day in auditing accounts with his butler would have made all secure. He had neither wife, child nor dependent kinsmen, yet it v^as found that his house hold consumed nine hundred pounds of meat per week and enough beer to float a ship. For a man to waste his own funds in riotous living is only a trifle worse than to allow others to do the same. l82 WILLIAM PITT Literature, music and art owe little to Pitt — only lovers care for beauty — the sensuous was not for him. He knew the classics, spoke French like a Parisian, reveled in history, had no confidantes, and loved one friend — 'Wilberforce . Pictures of Pitt by Reynolds and Gainsborough reveal a face commonplace in feature save for the eye — "the most brilliant eye ever seen in a human face." In de scribing the man, one word alv^ays seems to creep in, the word "haughty." That the man was gentle, kind and even playful among the few vrho knew him best, there is no doubt. The austerity of his manner was the inevitable result of an ambition the sole aim of which was to dictate the policy of a great nation. All save honor was sacrificed to this end, and that the man was successful in his ambition, there is no dispute. QWhen he died, aged forty-seven, he v^as by popular acclaim the greatest Englishman of his time, and the passing years have not shaken that proud position. SO HERE ENDETH THE LITTLE JOURNEY TO THE HOME OF WILLIAM PITT: WRITTEN BY ELBERT HUBBARD. THE TITLE PAGE, INITIALS & ORNAMENTS DESIGNED BY SAMUEL WARNER, PRESSWORK BY LOUIS SCHELL, & THE WHOLE DONE INTO A BOOK BY THE ROYCROFT ERS AT THEIR SHOP, WHICH IS IN EAST AURORA, IN THE MONTH OF JUNE, IN THE YEAR MCMIII ^ ^ ^ ^ * JJigi^lJen gou mmt a piece of jFutnftute ^WbUl' and can't find just what you want, don't give up the idea till you have seen what we can do. We can make you most anything in the way of an artistic Piece of JFumitute, and will be glad to submit a sketch if you will let us know what you wish. You may find it in our catalog. Send for it and see. THE ROrCROFTERS, East Aurora, N. T. WE BIND BOOKS BEAUTIFULLY AND WELL — at least some folks think we do. But we do not do job binding: however, we will bind up your back numbers of " The Philistine " and " Little Journeys " for you, the prices as follows : Six numbers of the " Little Journeys " in a volume, cov ers and advertising pages all bound together in solid boards and leather backs, $1.00. 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And where the WILKE is in use the lady of the house finds it easy to KEEP SWEET! HE BEST VALUE, perhaps, in Roycroft Books is in the De Luxe copies of the LITTLE JOURNEYS. These Volumes are One Dollar each, and they are the only One Dol lar books the Roycrofters have ever made or will ever make. On hand-made paper, bound in limp chamois, silk lined, silk marker, hand- illumined. We have a few on hand of each- of the following subjects: William Morris Robert Burns Macaulay Southey Robert Browning John Milton ' Byron Coleridge Tennyson Samuel Johnson Addison Disraeli Wagner 1 Mozart Liszt Verdi Paganini Bach Beethoven Schumann Chopin Mendelssohn Handel Brahins Raphael Thorwaldsen Corot Cellini Leonardo Gainsborough Correggio Abbey Botticelli . Velasquez Gian Bellini Whistler Just One Dollar each — there is no profit in these books for us, but they keep our boys and girls busy, and show the world what we can do. The Roycrofters, East Aurora HE in^^perfections in the article made by hand are i^s chief charm. The useful prod uct thus thought out and materialized by labor may be very simple, quite inexpen sive, thoroughly unobtrusive, yet at the same tiffie decidedly artistic. We have Rag Carpet Rugs for Summer Cottages. Cut, dyed and woven by Roycroft girls seventy years young. They will make you think you are back on the old farm. The price for a t)iree-yard rug is Three Dollars. Address THE ROYCROFTERS East Aurora New York N2 finer find can be annexed than a Membership in the American Academy of Immortals. The advan tages are increased activity of all the/secretions, deeper breathing capacity, perfect "digestion and sleep o' nights : these things mean bigger bank balance and the return of wavering affection. prhe cost is Ten Dollars, with no further dues for ninety-nine years. 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Jlast Aurora, ^J? 1 he Koycroiters New York. ^ A UFE MEMBERSHIP IN THE OLmtxitm QLcatiemi^l of Immortals CO0t0 %tn jaE>Ollar0 — No further dues or assessments, and no liabilities. Your duties consist in living up to your Ideal (as nearly as possible) and attending ^ the Annual Dinner (if convenient). (i) The membership entitles you to one copy of the Philistine maga zine for ninety- nine years, but no longer. (s) AU the back bound volumes of " The Philistine " we have on hand.' (3) "Little Journeys," beginning with current numbers, and all that shall be issued in future. ^ (4) Such other books, pamphlets, addresses and documents as the $1^ Roycrofters may elect to send you Every Little While. S^ (5) Success, Health and I.ove Vibrations, sent dajly by the Pastor or |92> Ali Baba. IS ADDRESS THE BURSAR, EAST AURORA, NEW YORK ^ YALE UNIVERSITY LIBRARY 3 9002 01347 3203