Part 8

At precisely 9:45 the Chautauqua Band, headed by Frank Wright, Marshal, marching up Lake Avenue, reached the cottage of Dr. Vincent. Here the banner of the C. L. S. C., with the “Guard of the Banner,” Mrs. M. Bailey and Mrs. Delos Hatch, were escorted to their places in the line. Four little children, Chippie Firestone, Edna McClellan, Nellie Mallory and Bobbie Davenport were conducted to their places as “streamer bearers,” while the beautiful fabric itself was borne by Mr. W. E. H. Massey and Mr. Will Butler. The Superintendent of Instruction, Dr. Vincent, took his place in the line.

The procession took its order of march, moving through Lake Avenue to Haven Avenue, and up Haven to the Hall of Philosophy, which it entered, and the band departed to escort thither “The Chautauqua Procession.” (Division V.) This division formed at the Hotel Athenæum, Frank Wright, Marshal, the right resting on the north main front of the hotel, in the following order:

Band.

Chautauqua Board of Trustees, led by Lewis Miller, Esq., President.

The Faculty and Students of the “Chautauqua School of Languages,” J. H. Worman, Marshal.

The Normal Alumni, carrying their banners for the various years since 1874, Frank Beard, Marshal.

The members of the classes of the C. L. S. C. for the years 1887, 1886, 1885, 1884, Mr. Copeland, Marshal.

The guests of the Assembly, Rev. Frank Russell, Marshal.

The procession, thus constituted, moved at ten o’clock from the piazza of the Hotel Athenæum, across the north side of the Park Athenæum, to Lake Avenue, out Lake Avenue to Cookman Avenue, up Cookman to Clark, halting on Cookman, the right resting on Clark, in open order, the Hall of Philosophy being on its right flank.

At this time the entire neighborhood of the “Hall in the Grove” was filled with interested crowds of spectators, whose eyes saw for the second time the “Recognition Services” of the immense class in the “People’s University.”

More than a hundred and fifty of the “Society of the Hall in the Grove” (graduates of the preceding year), entered the Hall, and were seated in its western side.

Precisely at ten o’clock, as the booming of the great bell at the Point indicated the hour, the members of the Class of 1883, with such members of the Class of 1882 as had not last year passed the Arches, standing at the gate of St. Paul’s Grove, read responsively the devotional services, Rev. George C. Wilding acting as precentor of the first section, and Rev. H. C. Farrar as the precentor of the second section.

The “Messenger,” Rev. A. H. Gillet, in slow and solemn utterance gave the announcement as follows:

I come to inform all candidates for enrollment in the “Society of the Hall in the Grove” that the hour appointed for your reception has arrived; the Hall has been set in order; the Path through the Grove has been opened; the Arches under which you must pass have been erected; the Key which will open this Gate has been placed in my hands. And to you who, as members of the CHAUTAUQUA LITERARY AND SCIENTIFIC CIRCLE, have completed the four years’ Course of Reading, and now hold in your hands a pledge of the same, I extend, in the name of the authorities, a welcome into St. Paul’s Grove, under the First Arch—and let the watchman guard carefully the Gate.

After the announcement by the Messenger, he turned and opened the gate. The first to enter was Mr. Miner Curtis, an invalid, borne in a wheeled carriage by the advance members of the class of ’83, and accompanied by his wife and son, who were graduates of last year.

Having entered the Gate, and the Gate having been closed, the class proceeded very slowly toward the Hall, passing the second and third Arches. As they walked up the beautifully decorated way, the “Choir of the Hall in the Grove” stationed at the fourth Arch, and led by Prof. C. C. Case, sang “A Song of To-day:”

“Sing peans over the Past! We bury the dead years tenderly.”

At the entrance to the Hall stood the Superintendent of Instruction to welcome the coming class, and as they passed by the Arch nearest the Hall, the fifty-two little girls standing in double columns, scattered the way of the coming graduates with the beauteous flowers, emblematic of the flower-strewn paths of intellectual light which they may hope to tread in the coming years.

On entering the building the “Society of the Hall in the Grove” received their brothers and sisters with the most marked tokens of good cheer, waving their handkerchiefs and vocally expressing the kindly feeling of the seniors of the year agone.

At precisely 10:20 the “C. L. S. C. Glee Club,” Prof. W. F. Sherwin, conductor, led the classes (which filled the Hall to repletion), as they sang

“A sound is thrilling thro’ the trees And vibrant thro’ the air.”

After the reading of the responsive services came the “Recognition,” by the Superintendent of Instruction, Dr. J. H. Vincent, as follows:

_Fellow Students of the Chautauqua Literary and Scientific Circle of the Class of 1883_:

DEARLY BELOVED—You have finished the appointed and accepted course of reading. You have been admitted to this sacred Grove. You have passed the Arches dedicated to “Faith,” “Science,” “Literature” and “Art.” You have entered in due form this Hall, the center of the Chautauqua Literary and Scientific Circle; and now, as Superintendent of Instruction, in behalf of my associates, the counselors, who are this day absent, I greet you, and hereby announce that you, and your brothers and sisters absent from us this day, who have completed with you the prescribed course of reading, are accepted and approved graduates of the “Chautauqua Literary and Scientific Circle,” and that you are entitled to membership in the “Society of the Hall in the Grove.” The Lord bless and keep thee; the Lord make his face to shine upon thee and be gracious unto thee; the Lord lift up his countenance upon thee, and give thee peace.

I may say on behalf of the only counselor who is on the ground, Dr. Lyman Abbott, that his indisposition renders it unsafe for him to be here, but at my cottage he will join the procession, and go with you to the Amphitheater. We will now unite in singing

“Bright gleams again Chautauqua’s wave, And green her forest arches.”

During the singing of the ode, according to the direction of the Superintendent of Instruction, the class of 1882, under the marshalship of W. A. Duncan, quietly marched from the Hall in double column, taking their position on Haven, Clark, and Cookman avenues, that the graduating class might pass through their ranks at the close of the service of recognition.

The Superintendent of Instruction, Dr. Vincent, Lewis Miller, the Messenger, the Secretary of the C. L. S. C., preceded by the children (flower bearers) and the Banner of the C. L. S. C., headed the procession, which passed out of the south side of the Hall, around Clark to Cookman Avenue, and passed down through the opened ranks of the classes of the C. L. S. C., from whom they received constant marks of recognition and affection, the classes in some cases waving their Chautauqua salute to the Chief as he passed by.

When the head of the procession reached the cottage of Dr. Vincent, a halt was made for a few moments, during which Dr. Lyman Abbott, one of the counselors of the C. L. S. C., and the orator of the day, took his place in the ranks.

As the procession marched up the long walk to the north door of the Amphitheater, immense throngs filled all the available standing room on the slopes of the ravine, and the “Blooming of the Lilies” (the Chautauqua salute) was given by all the opened ranks of the classes as the head of the procession passed through.

The Chautauqua Band, stationed at the entrance of the north gate, discoursed sweet music during the passage of the long _cortege_.

All the officers, invited guests, members of the board of Chautauqua trustees, officers and members of the Chautauqua School of Languages, the Normal Alumni, and the various classes of the C. L. S. C., passed into the great Amphitheater, when the ropes were dropped, and sooner than we write it, all the remaining seating space was filled to overflowing.

The platform was filled with distinguished Chautauquans and others; the organ gave forth its sweet harmonies under the manipulation of Prof. Andrews; the Chautauqua Banner of the C. L. S. C. was stationed in full view of the vast throng; and after the devotional exercises Dr. Vincent introduced Dr. Lyman Abbott, who delivered the Commencement oration, as follows:

THE DEMOCRACY OF LEARNING.

_Fellow Chautauquans_:—I see in some of your eyes triumph. You have run in four years a race with uncertainty whether you could ever reach the goal. You have carried on your work under difficulties and discouragements, such as are never known to him who has perfect and continual leisure for the pursuit of studies; but in the midst of employments which were incessant and imperative in their demands upon you; and your courage, your patience, your hope, have vanquished the obstacles, and you are here to-day to receive the outward sign and symbol of your inward victory. In other eyes I see expectation. You have commenced a course and you are hopeful of achieving a result, which has been made possible to you within the last few years, that the fruits and results of study might be yours though you could not give yourself to a life of study, still less to the persistent and professional pursuit of scholarship. In other eyes I see desire dimmed by fear and doubt; you do not know whether this great realm is open to you or not; you wish that you could be assured that it is. Is this all a mistake? Is your triumph a false one, your expectation a delusive one, your hope and your desire one impossible of attainment? This is so asserted. There are not a few in our times who are of the opinion that learning is of necessity only for the few, or at all events if the many can enter a little upon the realm, they must always live upon the border and never can enter into the heart of the country.

I desire, if I may this morning, to meet and to answer this objection of skepticism, and to show that learning is within the possible reach to-day of the great body of industrious, hard-working, perplexed, and driven people of America; that it is not the privilege of the few; that it is the prerogative of the many. I desire to show you that we are entering into an epoch which I may call the “Democracy of Learning.” We have already entered into the epoch of democracy in religion. The time has gone by, at least for all Protestant people, of believing that religion is for the few, or that even the higher and larger privileges of religious life are for the few. It has been established for all those who believe in an open Bible and in the universal religion of Jesus Christ that the innermost sanctuary of the temple is for every one. The great wall that before separated the court of Israel from the court of the priests has been broken down; there is but one court. The great veil that hung between the holy of holies and the court of the priests has been torn asunder, and every one of us is not only priest but high-priest, free to enter into the very holy of holies. And we have entered into the epoch of democracy in public affairs. The time has gone by when political power belonged to the few, and political intelligence was believed to be the prerogative of the few. We have come into an epoch in which political power is lodged in the hands of the great masses of the people; and it is lodged there because we believe that, on the whole, political intelligence is lodged in the hands of the great masses of the people. I desire to show you this morning that we are entering upon an epoch of the Democracy of Learning, in which the highest and best fruits of scholarship are also the privilege and the prerogative of the many. When we have entered upon that land, then we shall be ready to enter upon the last and the completest phase of the triumphant democracy, the Democracy of Industry. Then, when intelligence shall be universally diffused, and when all men shall have the power at least of acquiring the largest and the best and the ripest fruits of knowledge and of intelligence, we shall come into that epoch in which no longer the few will control the industries of the many, but in which industry will be the controlling power, and wealth will be its servant.

I have a three-fold object this morning—I desire in the first place to show you that the fruits of learning are fruits which hang on the lower boughs of the tree where we may all pluck them; to show you not only that, but that the ripest and the best fruits of learning hang there. I desire to show you that it is not necessary that men should go through a college course and should have four years of leisure and of quiet for college study in order to reap the best fruits of a college education. The _process_ of investigation must always be carried on by the few. The _results_ of education may be, yea! are already becoming the property of the many. Only a few explorers can bear the perils of the Arctic Sea and investigate the mystery of the North Pole; but we can all have the fruits of their investigation. Only a few men can labor and toil in the great libraries searching out the course and progress of history and its sacred events, but we can all have the garnered fruits of their toil and their industry. Not only may we pluck a single blossom, and here and there a single half-ripened fruit from this tree; but the ripest, the best, that which has hung the longest in the sun-light, that whose cheeks are painted the most rosy red, and whose heart has in it the most saccharine juice, that is ready to-day to fall into our open palm if we will but extend it.

In endeavoring to show you this, I shall also necessarily ask you to consider with me what are the ripest and best fruits of learning. What is the object of education? It is not an end, it is a means to an end. It is a great pity that our colleges do not understand this better; for if they did better comprehend that education is a means, and that the end lies behind, fewer students would come out with empty diplomas when the college course is ended.

And incidentally I shall hope also to answer one argument which is sometimes used, and oftener, I think, lies secretly in the minds of people, against a popular and universal education. Some satirist has said that “Ignorance is the mother of devotion.” If that were true, we might well doubt whether universal education is worth the price we should have to pay for it. If it were true that God held out in one hand devotion to us and in the other hand education, and said, “You must choose between these two; if you become educated you must be skeptical, if you would be devoted you must remain ignorant”—it would be a difficult question for most of us to decide whether we would have intelligence without piety or piety without intelligence. I shall show you that it is not learning, but a little learning which is a dangerous thing; and that if our work is thorough, the broader the culture, the profounder the piety.

For our purpose this morning, learning may be divided into four provinces: literature, history, science and philosophy, to which must be added in any complete topography of the realm, pure mathematics. By pure mathematics I mean arithmetic, algebra, geometry, logarithms, the calculus and the like. But pure mathematics is simply an instrument by which the scientific mind reaches certain results. I shall not therefore consider this department at all; it is not necessary for our purpose. Some one must look through the telescope, some one must know how to use the spectroscope in order to tell us what is the size of the sun and its constituent elements; but we do not need to examine the telescope or the spectroscope. Some one must be skilled in pure mathematics in order to tell us how many miles the sun is distant from our own earth, but we may take the result without going through the process. This instrument must always be left in the hand of the specialist. I wish to show you that all that is best, highest and most important in literature, history, science and philosophy lies within the power of your acquisition. I wish to show you the spirit with which you must study, and the purpose with which you must acquire it; and I wish to show you that if you acquire in that spirit and with that purpose you can not but gain in your religious nature.

I. In the first place, then, what is literature, and why do we study it? Literature is the expression of human life, in its innermost experiences, and in its outward forms. Sometimes it is the expression of social life, sometimes of the intellectual life, sometimes of the emotional life; but always and everywhere literature is a mirror held up either before society or before the human heart; no, not a mirror, but the sensitized plate in a photographic apparatus; and the picture, now of society, now of the brain, now of the palpitating heart with its fears, hopes, joys and experiences, is given upon the plate; and literature is the picture brought out for us to examine. To study literature is not to study language. Language is merely the instrument which we use for the study of literature. To study literature is to study life—life in its outward semblance or life in its inward experiences. It is to study the life of the community and of society as we study it in Thackeray; or it is to study the life of the brain and the thought as we study it in Plato and Bacon; or it is to study the life of the inward emotions as we study it in Tennyson or Wordsworth. Now, in order to study life as it is portrayed in literature it is not necessary to know the original language in which that life was portrayed. Some one must have studied the Greek language in order to bring Homer to our intelligence; some one must have studied Latin and brought Horace within our horizon; some one must have studied French and brought Molière within our knowledge; some one must have studied Italian in order to introduce Dante to our acquaintance; but it is not necessary for us to do so. Some one must have taken the negative and printed the picture on the paper for us; but we need not all be photographers in order to get the picture for our own enlightenment. I hold a silver dollar in my hand. Some one must have gone to the mines and dug out the ore with a pick; some one must have put it under the great stampers and beaten it out in the stamping mill; some one must have put it in the sieve and shaken it and shaken it until the grosser dross was washed away; some one must have put it into the furnace and heated it until the finer dross was eliminated; some one must have carried it to the mint and put the stamp of the United States authority upon it; but we need not all be miners digging in the mines; we need not all be workers in the stamping mill; we need not all be toilers in the furnace room; we need not all be masters or mechanics in the mint. The money was coined by those who have wrought for us, and to whom our gratitude is due, but the coin is ours; it is not merely for those who worked in producing it.

I hold in my hand an extract from Taine which expresses that which I desire to express better than I can perhaps express it myself. Let me read it: “What is your first remark on turning over the great leaves of a folio, the yellow sheets of a manuscript, a poem, a code of laws, a confession of faith? This, you say, did not come into existence all alone, it is but a mould like a fossil-shell, an imprint, like one of the shapes embossed in stone by an animal which lived and perished. Under the shell there was an animal; and behind the document there was a man. Why do you study the shell, except to bring before you the animal? So you study the document only to know the man. The shell and the document are lifeless wrecks, valuable only as a clue to the entire and living existence. We must get hold of this existence and endeavor to re-create it. It is a mistake to study the document as if it were isolated. This were to treat things as a simple scholar, to fall into the error of the bibliomaniac.”

You do not need to have traversed the ocean beach or climbed the mountain-top and gathered the shells; you may go into the museum where they have already been gathered, and study their history there. You do not need, with dictionary and grammar, to work out the secrets of the language; you may take the products of those who have thus wrought, and learn the man that lies behind the document.

Not only is it not necessary that a man should study language in order to study literature; in innumerable cases the study of the language has absolutely interfered with the study of the literature. In innumerable cases, men at college have ground away, day after day, and month after month, and year after year, over cases and nouns and parts of speech, and rules of syntax and rules of grammar—working only at the grammar, and utterly oblivious of the great light that lay behind it. Mr. Adams, of Massachusetts, has recently told us how hard a man may study Greek and how little he may know of it after he gets through with it, for he assures us that he does not know the Greek alphabet to-day, although he studied Greek six years, four years before college and two in it. I confess I should not have thought it possible for a man to have studied so much and yet know so little when he got through; but I am very certain of this, that my own experience reflects the experience of many college students. I learned more of Homer—of his life, of his character, of the lessons he has to teach, of the man himself—from reading in the “Ancient Classics for English Readers,” the Iliad and the Odyssey, and from reading Bryant’s translation, than I ever received from reading Homer himself in the original Greek in my college class. That which is highest, and supremest, and best in literature, you may obtain without a college education. You may learn the life, you may learn the man, you may learn the sacred truth; and you can not do that without broadening your sympathies and developing your charity. When you have read Homer and Virgil and Horace; when you have read Dante and Milton; when you have read Molière and Shakspere; when you have read Wordsworth and Tennyson, and when, out of all this reading, you have gathered their fruits, you will find this to be true, that, though you have one picture of Greek life, one of Italian life, one of French life, one of English life, one portraying the life of four centuries before Christ, and one portraying the life of eighteen centuries after; yet in all these languages, in all these epochs, in all these civilizations the great heart of hope and joy and love and fear and reverence and faith was one. And you will learn to know that humanity, in all its nationalities, in all its epochs, in all its civilizations,—aye, and under all the varied forms of its religions, true and false—that humanity is one in all its brotherhood, and one in its great Father in heaven.