Читать книгу The Story of Chautauqua - Jesse Lyman Hurlbut - Страница 14

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But let us come to the opening session of the Assembly, destined to greater fortune and fame than even its founders at that time dreamed. It was named "The Sunday School Teachers' Assembly," for the wider field of general education then lay only in the depths of one founder's mind. For the sake of history, let us name the officers of this first Assembly. They were as follows:

Chairman—Lewis Miller, Esq., of Akron, Ohio.

Department of Instruction—Rev. John H. Vincent, D.D., of New York.

Department of Entertainment—Rev. R. W. Scott, Mayville, N. Y.

Department of Supplies—J. E. Wesener, Esq., Akron, Ohio.

Department of Order—Rev. R. M. Warren, Fredonia, N. Y.

Department of Recreation—Rev. W. W. Wythe, M.D., Meadville, Pa.

Sanitary Department—J. C. Stubbs, M.D., Corry, Pa.

The property of the Camp Meeting Association, leased for the season to the Assembly, embraced less than one fourth of the present dimensions of Chautauqua, even without the golf course and other property outside the gates. East and west it extended as it does now from the Point and the Pier to the public highway. But on the north where Kellogg Memorial Hall now stands was the boundary indicated by the present Scott Avenue, though at that time unmarked. The site of Normal Hall and all north of it were outside the fence. And on the south its boundary was the winding way of Palestine Avenue. The ravine now covered by the Amphitheater was within the bounds, but the site of the Hotel Athenæum was without the limit.

Lewis Miller, Cottage and Tent

He who rambles around Chautauqua in our day sees a number of large, well-kept hotels, and many inns and "cottages" inviting the visitor to comfortable rooms and bountiful tables. But in those early days there was not one hotel or boarding-house at Fair Point. Tents could be rented, and a cottager might open a room for a guest, but it was forbidden to supply table board for pay. Everybody, except such as did their own cooking, ate their meals at the dining-hall, which was a long tabernacle of rough unpainted boards, with a leaky roof, and backless benches where the feeders sat around tables covered with oilcloth. And as for the meals—well, if there was high thinking at Chautauqua there was certainly plain living. Sometimes it rained, and D.D.'s, LL.D.'s, professors, and plain people held up umbrellas with one hand and tried to cut tough steaks with the other. But nobody complained at the fare, for the feast of reason and flow of soul made everybody forget burnt potatoes and hard bread.

Bishop Vincent's Tent-Cottage

What is now Miller Park, the level ground and lovely grove at the foot of the hill, was then the Auditorium, where stood a platform and desk sheltered from sun on some days and rain on others. Before it was an array of seats, lacking backs, instead of which the audience used their own backbones. Perhaps two thousand people could find sitting-room under the open sky, shaded by the noble trees. A sudden shower would shoot up a thousand umbrellas. One speaker said that happening to look up from his manuscript he perceived that an acre of toadstools had sprouted in a minute. At the lower end of this park stood the tent wherein Dr. Vincent dwelt during many seasons; at the upper end was the new cottage of the Miller family with a tent frame beside it for guests. At this Auditorium all the great lectures were given for the first four years of Chautauqua history, except when continued rain forbade. Then an adjournment, sometimes hasty, was made to a large tent up the hill, known as the Tabernacle.

One day, during the second season of the Assembly in 1875, Professor William F. Sherwin, singer, chorus leader, Bible teacher, and wit of the first water, was conducting a meeting in the Auditorium. The weather had been uncertain, an "open and shut day," and people hardly knew whether to meet for Sherwin's service in the grove or in the tent on the hill. Suddenly a tall form, well known at Chautauqua, came tearing down the hill and up the steps of the platform, breathless, wild-eyed, with mop of hair flying loose, bursting into the professor's address with the words, "Professor Sherwin, I come as a committee of fifty to invite you to bring your meeting up to the Tabernacle, safe from the weather, where a large crowd is gathered!" "Well," responded Sherwin, "you may be a committee of fifty, but you look like sixty!" And from that day ever after at Chautauqua a highly respected gentleman from Washington, D.C., was universally known as "the man who looks like sixty."

When we speak of Sherwin, inevitably we think of Frank Beard, the cartoonist, whose jokes were as original as his pictures. He would draw in presence of the audience a striking picture, seemingly serious, and then in a few quick strokes transform it into something absurdly funny. For instance, his "Moses in the Bulrushes" was a beautiful baby surrounded by waving reeds. A sudden twist of the crayon, and lo, a wild bull was charging at the basket and its baby. This was "The Bull Rushes." Beard was as gifted with tongue as with pen, and in the comradeship of the Chautauqua platform he and Sherwin were continually hurling jokes at each other. Oftentimes the retort was so pat that one couldn't help an inward question whether the two jesters had not arranged it in advance.

Frank Beard used to hold a question drawer occasionally. There was a show of collecting questions from the audience, but those to be answered had been prepared by Mr. Beard and his equally witty wife, and written on paper easily recognized. One by one, these were taken out, read with great dignity, and answered in a manner that kept the crowd in a roar. On one occasion Professor Sherwin was presiding at Mr. Beard's question drawer—for it was the rule that at every meeting there must be a chairman as well as the speaker. The question was drawn out, "Will Mr. Beard please explain the difference between a natural consequence and a miracle?" Mr. Beard did explain thus: "This difficult question can be answered by a very simple illustration. There is Professor Sherwin. If Professor Sherwin says to me, 'Mr. Beard, lend me five dollars,' and I should let him have it, that would be a natural consequence. If Professor Sherwin should ever pay it back, that would be a miracle!" It is needless to say that the opportunity soon arrived for Mr. Sherwin to repay Mr. Beard for full value of debt with abundant interest.

Mention has been made that at each address or public platform meeting a chairman must be in charge. In the old camp-meeting days all the ministers had been wont to sit on the platform behind the preacher; and some of them could not reconcile themselves to Dr. Vincent's rule that only the chairman and the speaker of the hour should occupy "the preachers' stand." Notwithstanding repeated announcements, some clergymen continued to invade the platform. The head of the Department of Order once pointed to a well-known minister and said to the writer, "Four times I have told that man—and a good man he is—that he must not take a seat on the platform." Whoever casts his eyes on the platform of the Amphitheater may notice that before every public service, the janitor places just the number of chairs needed, and no more. This is one of the Chautauqua traditions, begun under the Vincent régime.

Before we come to the more serious side of our story let us notice another instance of the contrast between the camp meeting and Chautauqua. A widely known Methodist came, bringing with him a box of revival song-books, compiled by himself. He was a leader of a "praying band," and accustomed to hold meetings where the enthusiasm was pumped up to a high pitch. One Sunday at a certain hour he noticed that the Auditorium in the grove was unoccupied; and gathering a group of friends with warm hearts and strong voices, he mounted the platform and in stentorian tones began a song from his own book. The sound brought people from all the tents and cottages around, and soon his meeting was in full blast, with increasing numbers responding to his ardent appeals. Word came to Dr. Vincent who speedily marched into the arena. He walked upon the platform, held up his hand in a gesture compelling silence, and calling upon the self-appointed leader by name, said:

"This meeting is not on the program, nor appointed by the authorities, and it cannot be held."

"What?" spoke up the praying-band commander. "Do you mean to say that we can't have a service of song and prayer on these grounds?"

"Yes," replied Dr. Vincent, "I do mean it. No meeting of any kind can be held without the order of the authorities. You should have come to me for permission to hold this service."

The man was highly offended, gathered up his books, and left the grounds on the next day. He would have departed at once, but it was Sunday, and the gates were closed. Let it be said, however, that six months later, when he had thought it over, he wrote to Dr. Vincent an ample apology for his conduct and said that he had not realized the difference between a camp meeting and a Sunday School Assembly. He ended by an urgent request that Dr. Vincent should come to the camp ground at Round Lake, of which he was president, should organize and conduct an assembly to be an exact copy of Chautauqua in its program and speakers, with all the resources of Round Lake at his command. His invitation was accepted. In due time, with this man's loyal support, Dr. Vincent organized and set in motion the Round Lake Assembly, upon the Chautauqua pattern, which continues to this day, true to the ideals of the founder.

One unique institution on the Fair Point of those early days must not be omitted—the Park of Palestine. Following the suggestion of Dr. Vincent's church lawn model of the Holy Land, Dr. Wythe of Meadville, an adept in other trades than physic and preaching, constructed just above the pier on the lake shore a park one hundred and twenty feet long, and seventy-five feet wide, shaped to represent in a general way the contour of the Holy Land. It was necessary to make the elevations six times greater than longitudinal measurements; and if one mountain is made six times as large as it should be, some other hills less prominent in the landscape or less important in the record must be omitted. The lake was taken to represent the Mediterranean Sea, and on the Sea-Coast Plain were located the cities of the Philistines, north of them Joppa and Cæsarea, and far beyond them on the shore, Tyre and Sidon. The Mountain Region showed the famous places of Israelite history from Beersheba to Dan, with the sacred mountains Olivet and Zion, Ebal and Gerizim having Jacob's Well beside them, Gilboa with its memories of Gideon's victory and King Saul's defeat, the mountain on whose crown our Lord preached his sermon, and overtopping all, Hermon, where he was transfigured. From two springs flowed little rills to represent the sources of the River Jordan which wound its way down the valley, through the two lakes, Merom and the Sea of Galilee, ending its course in the Dead Sea. There were Jericho and the Brook Jabbok, the clustered towns around the Galilean Sea, and at the foot of Mount Hermon, Cæsarea-Philippi. Across the Jordan rose the Eastern Tableland, with its mountains and valleys and brooks and cities even as far as Damascus.

As the Assembly was an experiment, and might be transferred later to other parts of the country, the materials for this Palestine Park were somewhat temporary. The mountains were made of stumps, fragments of timber, filled in with sawdust from a Mayville mill, and covered with grassy sods. But the park constructed from makeshift materials proved one of the most attractive features of the encampment. Groups of Bible students might be seen walking over it, notebooks in their hands, studying the sacred places. A few would even pluck and preserve a spear of grass, carefully enshrining it in an envelope duly marked. A report went abroad, indeed, that soil from the Holy Land itself had been spread upon the park, constituting it a sort of Campo Santo, but this claim was never endorsed by either its architect or its originator. The park of Palestine still stands, having been rebuilt several times, enlarged to a length of 350 feet, and now, as I write, with another restoration promised.

One fact in this sacred geography must needs be stated, in the interests of exact truth. In order to make use of the lake shore, north had to be in the south, and east in the west. Chautauqua has always been under a despotic though paternal government, and its visitors easily accommodate themselves to its decrees. But the sun persists in its independence, rises over Chautauqua's Mediterranean Sea where it should set, and continues its sunset over the mountains of Gilead, where it should rise. Dr. Vincent and Lewis Miller could bring to pass some remarkable, even seemingly impossible, achievements, but they were not able to outdo Joshua, and not only make the sun stand still, but set it moving in a direction opposite to its natural course.

In one of his inimitable speeches, Frank Beard said that Palestine Park had been made the model for all the beds on Fair Point. He slept, as he asserted, on Palestine, with his head on Mount Hermon, his body sometimes in the Jordan valley, at other times on the mountains of Ephraim; and one night when it rained, he found his feet in the Dead Sea.

In the early days of Chautauqua a tree was standing near Palestine Park, which invited the attention of every child, and many grown folks. It was called "the spouting tree." Dr. Wythe found a tree with one branch bent over near the ground and hollow. He placed a water-pipe in the branch and sent a current of fresh water through it, so that the tree seemed to be pouring forth water. At all times a troop of children might be seen around it. At least one little girl made her father walk down every day to the wonder, to the neglect of other walks on the Assembly ground. Afterward at home from an extended tour, they asked her what was the most wonderful thing that she had seen in her journey. They expected her to say, "Niagara Falls," but without hesitation she answered, "The tree that spouted water at Chautauqua." The standards of greatness in the eyes of childhood differ from those of the grown-up folks.

The true Chautauqua, aided as it was by the features of mirth and entertainment and repartee, was in the daily program followed diligently by the assembled thousands. Here is in part the schedule, taken from the printed report. It was opened on Tuesday evening, August 4, 1874, in the out-of-doors auditorium, now Miller Park, beginning with a brief responsive service of Scripture and song, prepared by Dr. Vincent. Chautauqua clings to ancient customs; and that same service, word for word, has been rendered every year on the first Tuesday evening in August, at what is known as "Old First Night."