The Temple of Fame — Oct. 1900

WE Americans have found a short cut to truth, which we use on every occasion. No matter what the subject in doubt may be, we vote on it. The majority, we assume, must be right.

The Romans and Greeks paid some deference to the wisdom of the gods, who were supposed to give their ideas on doubtful matters to men through the flight of birds or the entrails of beasts.

The Jews drew lots to decide a vexed question, and they, too, held that God was behind the apparent chance of the lot. Even the Apostles resorted to this way of reaching the truth.

But we turn our back on that Other, who, yonder in the darkness, rules over us, and do not take Him into our councils. Even when a change in the creed of a great denomination is discussed the decision is left to a ballot. Not God, but “a majority,” will decide where is truth in the great fundamental doctrines of religion.

Of course, the old augurs were ridiculous enough as they anxiously watched chickens feeding or dogs running to find some hint of the Divine Will; but are we any less absurd when we expect to find truth at the bottom of the ballot-box, and put the Divine Will out of the matter altogether?

The voting habit is a chronic disease now among Americans. We only used the ballot at first to choose our rulers when we threw off the yoke of King George, but now we appeal to it to settle every possible question, from that of predestination and the damnation of unbaptized infants down to which is the prettiest girl at a church fair. For us the plebiscite is the voice of God—it cannot err.

For example: At intervals of a few months some editor calls upon his readers to decide now and forever, by vote, which American poet or artist, short story or water-color, is and ever shall be the foremost and best. A hundred or two votes are taken from among the eighty millions of Americans, amid breathless excitement in the breasts of the editor and of the voters. A decision is reached by the majority of these voters and is announced as final; but a month or two later another editor holds another election and we are all at sea again, and know not who are our true demigods, and Fame gives uncertain squawks through her trumpet, not knowing what she is bidden to say.

The last effort of this kind is that of the University of New York, which is not content that America, like the older countries, should have an invisible Valhalla[1], into which the shades of her great men should pass, to be reverently honored and held dear in the hearts of their countrymen.

The University must have a real Temple of Fame, built of real bricks and mortar, and set upon a hill, to be visited by tourists and described by reporters of the illustrated papers. And upon its walls must be an actual list of names in gilt letters, so that the American people may fully understand that these are their great men for all time—the Immortals of the United States, whose glory never can perish out of the earth.

But how are these Immortals to be chosen? How? By a vote, of course, according to our custom.

A hundred men eminent as jurists, doctors of divinity and science, journalists, ex-Presidents, etc., were invited to elect the great shades to whom this nation must forever pay reverence. The ballot has been taken and here are the successful candidates:

George Washington — 97[2]

Abraham Lincoln — 96[3]

Daniel Webster — 96[4]

Benjamin Franklin — 96[5]

U.S. Grant — 92[6]

John Marshall — 91[7]

Thomas Jefferson — 90[8]

Ralph Waldo Emerson — 86[9]

Henry W. Longfellow — 94[10]

Washington Irving — 82[11]

Jonathan Edwards — 82[12]

David G. Farragut — 79[13]

Samuel F. B. Morse — 79[14]

Henry Clay — 74[15]

George Peabody — 72[16]

Nathaniel Hawthorne — 72[17]

Robert E. Lee — 69[18]

Peter Cooper — 68[19]

Horace Mann — 67[20]

Henry Ward Beecher — 66[21]

Eli Whitney — 66[22]

James Kent — 65[23]

Joseph Storey — 64[24]

John Adams — 61[25]

William Ellery Channing — 58[26]

James Audubon — 57[27]

Elias Howe — 53[28]

William Morris Hunt — 52[29]

Gilbert Stuart — 52[30]

Asa Gray — 51[31]

The list suggests one or two practical questions.

The judges were well and carefully chosen. They no doubt represent our wisest and best living men. But how can they or any other jury of a hundred give a dead man Fame? If the temple had been one of Honor—yes. That would simply have meant that these thirty chosen soldiers, statesmen, artists, writers and naturalists were those whom the hundred jurymen thought most worthy of homage or honor. The public might and probably would differ with them in opinion, but would have no right to interfere. The University of New York has built its temple, and can put any names chosen by its judges on the walls as those who, in their opinion, are most deserving of remembrance.

The University and its corps of wise men—any university and any body of intelligent critics—can give honor to whom they will.

But it is the public—the great mass of obscure men and women in any nation—who give fame. They may give it stupidly or unjustly, but it is they who give it. Not any college of cardinals, nor jury of doctors of divinity or ex-Presidents.

Zola[32], for instance, has been pounding at the door of the Academy for years in vain. The discriminating Forty inside will not give him honor. But the common people of all Europe know him—“the pit rises at him.” He has won fame.

Solomon pays homage to a nameless poor wise man, who by his wisdom delivered a besieged city in extremity[33]. “Yet no man,” he tells us, “remembers that same poor man.” He had honor, but not fame.

The decision of the chosen jury will not affect the status of a single man on their list with the mass of the people. It takes something more than the approval of a few wise critics to win the applause and affection of the people.

Another point is that several of these chosen thirty men are already almost forgotten outside of their own province and clientele. In the best dictionaries of modern biography and Lives of men of the Century—books used in most schools and newspaper offices—I find no mention whatever of Gilbert Stuart[30], Horace Mann[20], Eli Whitney[22], Elias Howe[28], William Morris Hunt[29], or Asa Gray[31].

I am not justifying this neglect. I only say that it exists. They now are forgotten so far that the compilers of the biographies of notable men of their time do not think it worth while even to mention their names. When this is the case, justly or unjustly, how can they be placed upon the roll of “famous” men? If their share of reputation has already so rapidly diminished is it likely to return to them hereafter?

Another amusing feature of the list is that the majority of the jurymen, being of Northern birth, they have promised “fame” to but six Southern men. Now the temperament of the Southerner is that which gives fame. His great soldier, or poet, is his idol; he worships him, he celebrates him; he holds him up for public homage generation after generation. He tolerates no other claimant for applause. Whatever is his own, his family, his State, the pretty girl or poet of his town, is the best of this or any other time—it is flawless, peerless.

This trait to the outsider may seem weak, unreasonable, even tedious. But the people who have it assuredly will keep the memory of their great men green. Robert E. Lee[18] and Edgar Poe[34] will continue to be live influences in the poorest Southern homes when Northern men of their generation are forgotten. The University of New York, it is stated, proposes to go on in the future with its elections to the Temple of Fame. It will serve a useful purpose if it continue to suggest men to the nation as worthy of its respect and honor. It can do no more.

The “Temple of Fame” is a misnomer.

PHILADELPHIA, PA.

Notes

1. The hall of the gods in Norse mythology.

2. George Washington (1731-1799), first president of the U.S.

3. Abraham Lincoln (1809-1865), sixteenth president of the U.S.

4. Daniel Webster (1782-1852), U.S. Senator.

5. Benjamin Franklin (1706-1790).

6. Ulysses S. Grant (1822-1885), eighteenth president of the U.S and Commanding General of the Union Army during the Civil War.

7. John Marshall (1755-1835), U.S. statesman and fourth Chief Justice of the U.S. Supreme Court.

8. Thomas Jefferson (1743-1826), an author of the Declaration of Independence and the third president of the U.S.

9. Ralph Waldo Emerson (1803-1882), Transcendentalist.

10. Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1807-1882), poet.

11. Washington Irving (1783-1859), author.

12. Jonathan Edwards (1703-1758), theologian.

13. David Glasgow Farragut (1801-1870), first U.S. Navy Admiral.

14. Samuel Finley Breese Morse (1791-1872), painter and instrumental in the development of the American telegraph system and Morse code.

15. Henry Clay (1777-1852), Speaker of the House of Representatives and Secretary of State.

16. George Peabody (1795-1869), philanthropist.

17. Nathaniel Hawthorne (1804-1864), author.

18. Robert Edward Lee (1807-1870), commander in the Confederate Army.

19. Peter Cooper (1791-1883), designer of the first American steam locomotive.

20. Horace Mann (1796-1859), proponent of the development of the public education system.

21. Henry Ward Beecher (1813-1887), Congregationalist speaker, reformist, and brother of Harriet Beecher Stowe (1811-1869).

22. Eli Whitney (1765-1825), inventor of the cotton gin.

23. James Kent (1763-1847), jurist.

24. Joseph Court (1779-1845), Justice of the Supreme Court.

25. John Adams (1735-1826), second president of the U.S.

26. William Ellery Channing (1780-1842), Unitarian preacher.

27. John James Audubon (1785-1851), ornithologist and painter.

28. Elias Howe (1819-1867), developer of the sewing machine.

29. William Morris Hunt (1824-1879), painter.

30. Gilbert Charles Stuart (1755-1828), painter.

31. Asa Gray (1810-1888), botanist and author of Gray’s Manual.

32. Émile Zola (1840-1902), French naturalist writer.

33. Ecclesiastes 9:15.

34. Edgar Allan Poe (1809-1849), author and poet, often of the macabre.

Key Words

American traits, fame

Creator

Abigail Fagan