Bohemian Society

by Lydia Leavitt

At eventide the sun is setting, throwing a golden glow over the valley, from a cottage near is heard the cradle song of some happy mother lulling her child to sleep; in the distance can be heard the tinkling cow bell, and on the purple hill side the sheep have lain down to rest. The sun has gone down a little lower and the shadows of the mountains have lengthened until they stretch almost across the valley; the sounds of life have almost ceased; the child is asleep and the lullaby ended; the tinkling of the bells is scarcely heard; the birds have gone to their nests, and up from the valley has risen a white mist that has hidden and completely covered the last sign of life. Surely a beautiful covering for such a valley, a fitting mantle for so pure a people.

The morning broke dull and cloudy over the last happy day of the peaceful valley.

A stranger from the outer world, about which they had speculated so much, appeared in their midst. Seeking a number of young men he soon engaged them in earnest conversation, arousing their curiosity by telling them of the strange and wonderful things which transpired in the world beyond the mountains; telling them of the wonderful discoveries of science; the fame of many brilliant men and women, telling them of the advantages of communication with the outer world, of the uselessness and folly of spending their lives in so simple a manner, ridiculing their simplicity, telling them that the mere youths of his country could teach the venerable grandsires of the valley things of which they had never dreamed, telling of the advantages of extended thought and education. After many days spent in persuasion, he gained the consent of some to erect a large college which was immediately begun. Some of the older ones shook their heads and asked each other the question, "Were we not happy? What more can be required?" Thus the first seeds of discord were sown where all had been harmony. Laborers came from afar to aid in the erection of the college, and day by day the work progressed and children stood and gazed in open-eyed wonder at the place where they were to gain a world of information. The work was finished; teachers came from foreign lands, masters of languages, teachers of science, and metaphysicians to puzzle the heads of the old and weary the brain of the young. Teachers of music with massive organs for the music rooms of the college arrived, teachers of piano and harp, all of which were a revelation to these simple people, who could not conceive of any sweeter music than the song of the birds, their mothers evening hymn or the soft sweet notes of the happy wife as she crooned her babe to sleep. The children were sent to the college and and in a short time the strife began, each one trying to excel the other. No more time to study the effect of the misty mountain tops, no more time to listen to the songs of the birds, for here within these four walls were to be found and learned stranger things than they had ever thought of. After a few years the youths who went to the old church could scarcely be recognized. The same sweet welcome was given by the old church bell but how changed were the people who assembled together! Where all had been love and faith before, there was now doubt and discord. For had they not dabbled in science? Some of the more learned ones even whispered that the old clergyman should be replaced by a younger man, one more advanced in culture and training. True his head was bent and very grey, his hands shook and voice trembled and at times it was almost difficult to understand him, his prayer was so weak and broken. But at the bed-side of the sick he was always welcome, the infirmities of age were forgotten there. For over half a century he had held himself in readiness to attend the bedside of all who might call upon him to speak cheering, hopeful words to the dying. But now our little community has become educated and they are able to criticise. As we look around the church we are lost in wonder as to what has come to the people. The older ones are sadder and a spirit of unrest seems to have seized upon the middle aged, while the very children have lost something of their charm.

In a short time factories and manufactories are running; clouds of smoke ascend from the valley to the mountain top which had never been touched by anything less pure than the rain from the cloud or the mists from the valley below. Nature itself was making a silent protest against the invasion of her solitude. The trees which had borne abundant fruit before were barren now.

The older people shook their heads and attributed the cause to the doubts and unbelief which had arisen in their lovely valley. The more learned ones assigned the smoke from the factories to be the cause. Death was of more frequent occurrence to the inhabitants than formerly. This dread visitor came at rare intervals and to the very aged before the advent of education and commerce. But now the little children and youths were frequently stricken with strange diseases, which baffled all skill.

And after a time enterprise steps in and a railroad is built, and with it every vestige of the happy valley disappears. The old church is torn down, and a new one of grand proportions and elaborate workmanship is built on the old spot. The venerable head of the clergyman has lain low for many a year, and in his place stands an eloquent divine, with all the modern ideas, who, in trying to prove the doctrines of his church to be the true faith, leaves the doctrine of Christianity out—and that too has gone; buried beneath the ruins of the old church and in the grave of the old clergyman.

Now let a person pass through the valley and they will look in vain for a vestige of the once beautiful spot. There is a-hurrying to and fro. On the faces of the young can be seen lines of care and thought. The innocent faces and sweet manner of the young girls have given place to a look of consciousness. The pretty, quaint dresses have gone and fashion has sway. The quiet, dreamy look and manner of the young men has given place to a worldly air. The mists which arise from the valley are mixed with the foul smoke of the factories and engines, and where all was peace and quietness; chaos reigns supreme.

An enthusiast is saying:

Philanthropists in many ages and many lands have put forth great and noble efforts for the benefit of mankind and as we advance in knowledge and civilization the ways and means chosen have undergone many modifications. It has dawned upon philanthropists that they must have some knowledge of the religion of humanity before the change can be very marked, in the lives of those they would assist. The religion of humanity is the noblest, the grandest of all religions. It is the one which our Saviour taught while on earth; the one which he taught his disciples to follow; one which requires no trained intellect or cultivated mind, but simply an understanding of the human heart, the human mind, and human passions. In it there are no creeds to learn, no dogmas to understand, but the simple lesson of "Do unto others as you would they should do unto you," which is the foundation of genuine religion. Phariseeism is the curse of modern times, "Stand aside for I am holier than thou," is the spirit too often shown among—so called—Christians. The teaching of our Saviour; his life and good words mean little with many persons. The story of Mary Magdalen is simply a story, and conveys nothing to their minds. A supplication from such a one as she would meet with no return. The drawing of the skirts aside for fear of contamination, the cold looks and averted gaze, prove that at least, one noble lesson has been disregarded.

In the German town of Andernach there is a huge wooden image of the Saviour on the cross. And this is the legend which all the simple peasants believe.