On the extreme southwestern limit of the old camp ground was a ravine, unoccupied until 1877. On the slopes of this valley the declivity was cleared and terraced, seats—this time with backs—were arranged upon its sides; toward the lake it was somewhat banked up to form a place for the speakers' platform. Over it was spread the tent, formerly known as "the pavilion," brought from the hill beside Vincent Avenue. This was the nucleus out of which grew in after years the famous Chautauqua Amphitheater. At first it was used only on rainy days, but after a year or two gradually took the place of the out-of-doors Auditorium.
Near the book-store on the hill stands a small gothic, steep-roofed building, now a flower-shop. It was built just before the Assembly of 1877 as a church for the benefit of those who lived through the year at Chautauqua, numbering at that time about two hundred people. The old chapel was the first permanent public building erected at Chautauqua and still standing.
The program of '77 began with a council of Reform and Church Congress, from Saturday, August 4th to Tuesday, August 7th. Anthony Comstock, that fearless warrior in the cause of righteousness, whose face showed the scars of conflict, who arrested more corrupters of youth, and destroyed more vile books, papers, and pictures than any other social worker, was one of the leading speakers. He reported at that time the arrest of 257 dealers in obscene literature and the destruction of over twenty tons of their publications. There is evil enough in this generation, but there would have been more if Anthony Comstock had not lived in the last generation. Another reformer of that epoch was Francis Murphy, who had been a barkeeper, but became a worker for temperance. His blue ribbon badge was worn by untold thousands of reformed drunkards. He had a power almost marvelous of freeing men from the chain of appetite. I was present once at a meeting in New York where from the platform I looked upon a churchful of men, more than three hundred in number, whose faces showed that the "pleasures of sin" are the merest mockery; and after his address a multitude came forward to sign Mr. Murphy's pledge and put on his blue ribbon. At Chautauqua Mr. Murphy made no appeal to victims of the drink habit, for they were not there to hear him, but he did appeal, and most powerfully, in their behalf, to the Christian assemblage before him. Another figure on the platform was that of John B. Gough,—we do not call him a voice, for not only his tongue, but face, hands, feet, even his coat-tails, were eloquent. No words can do justice to this peerless orator in the cause of reform. These were the three mighty men of the council, but the report shows twice as many names almost as distinguished.
On the evening of Tuesday, August 7th, came the regular opening of the Assembly proper, in the Auditorium on the Point. The report of attendance was far above that of any former opening day. Dr. Vincent presided and conducted the responsive service of former years—the same opening sentences and songs used every year since the first Assembly in 1874. We find fifteen names on the list of the speakers on that evening, representing many churches, many States, and at least two lands outside our own.
Is another story of Frank Beard on that evening beneath the dignity of history? When he came upon the platform, he found the chairs occupied, and sat down among the alto singers, where he insisted on remaining despite the expostulations of Mr. Sherwin. In the middle of the exercises, the steamboat whistle at the pier gave an unusually raucous scream. Mr. Sherwin came forward and told the audience that there was no cause for alarm; the sound was merely Mr. Beard tuning his voice to sing alto. Two or three speakers afterward incidentally referred to Mr. Beard as a singer, and hoped that he might favor the congregation with a solo. One of the speakers, an Englishman, prefaced his talk by singing an original song, set to Chautauqua music. That he might see his verses, Mr. Sherwin took down a locomotive headlight hanging on one of the trees, and held it by the side of the singer. The Englishman, short and fat, and Sherwin with dignity supporting the big lantern, formed a tableau. Immediately afterward Dr. Vincent called on Mr. Beard to speak; and this was his opening, delivered in his peculiar drawl.
"I was a good mind to sing a song instead of making a speech, but I was sure that Professor Sherwin wouldn't hold the lantern for me to sing by. He knows that he can't hold a candle to me, anyhow!"
With Professor Sherwin, in charge of the music in 1877, was associated Philip Phillips, whose solos formed a prelude to many of the lectures. No one who listened to that silvery yet sympathetic voice ever forgot it. It will be remembered that President Lincoln in Washington, after hearing him sing Your Mission, sent up to the platform his written request to have it repeated before the close of the meeting. Mr. Phillips ever after cherished that scrap of paper with the noblest name in the history of America. Another musical event of the season of 1877 was the visit of the Young Apollo Club of New York, one of the largest and finest boy-choirs in the country. They gave three concerts at Chautauqua, which in the rank and rendering of their music were a revelation to the listening multitudes.
While we are speaking of the music we must make mention of songs written and composed especially for Chautauqua. In Dr. Vincent's many-sided nature was a strain of poetry, although I do not know that he ever wrote a verse. Yet he always looked at life and truth through poetic eyes. Who otherwise would have thought of songs for Chautauqua, and called upon a poet to write them? Dr. Vincent found in Miss Mary A. Lathbury another poet who could compose fitting verses for the expression of the Chautauqua spirit. If I remember rightly her first song was prepared for the opening in 1875, the second Assembly, and as the earliest, it is given in full. In it is a reference to some speakers at the first Assembly who went on a journey to the Holy Land, and to one, the Rev. F. A. Goodwin, whose cornet led the singing in 1874, who became a missionary in India.
A HYMN OF GREETING
The flush of morn, the setting suns
Have told their glories o'er and o'er
One rounded year, since, heart to heart
We stood with Jesus by the shore.
We heard his wondrous voice; we touched
His garment's hem with rev'rent hand,
Then at his word, went forth to preach
His coming Kingdom in the land.
And following him, some willing feet
The way to Emmaus have trod;
And some stand on the Orient plains,
And some—upon the mount of God!
While over all, and under all,
The Master's eye, the Master's arm,
Have led in paths we have not known,
Yet kept us from the touch of harm.
One year of golden days and deeds,
Of gracious growth, of service sweet;
And now beside the shore again
We gather at the Master's feet.
"Blest be the tie that binds," we sing;
Yet to the bending blue above
We look, beyond the face of friends,
To mark the coming of the Dove.
Descend upon us as we wait
With open heart—with open Word;
Breathe on us, mystic Paraclete
Breathe on us, Spirit of the Lord!