The Mystery of Monastery Farm | Page 8

serious disadvantage. But if Mr. Sparrow does not object, I will do
the best I can for you."
The end of the matter was that that evening Carl conducted all the
musical services in the chapel.
The news soon spread abroad that remarkable music could be heard in
the Monastery, and the people flocked there from outside to hear it, and
the spacious chapel became crowded at even the everyday services.
This new organist improvised such harmonies as they had never heard
before. And this inspiration seemed to touch the faculty as each
member of it took his turn in conducting the services. Bishop Albertson
preached as never before. He seemed to almost ignore his notes as he
talked to the people, and the people in turn manifested a devoutness
never witnessed before by a Monastery congregation. Dr. Ezra Day had
ever been a favorite, but the present hour brought him a far greater
degree of popularity. The veteran Dr. Peregrine Worth also preached as
never before. Indeed, everything seemed to receive new life; the old
monotony had departed; something new had come. What was it? Was
this what the Methodists called a revival?
So marked and intense was this feeling that a meeting of the faculty

and trustees was called. Was this a modern Pentecost? So Worth said;
so Cummings thought. A great meeting was held for consultation and
the people were publicly invited. Everyone declared a church should be
organized. The bishop was in favor of this, and at the proper time one
hundred and eighteen persons presented themselves as candidates for
confirmation. Up to this time what was known as Monastery was
simply a scientific and theological seminary. Its faculty was composed
of educated clergymen. It was a college with a bishop as president,
supported by the church at large and the products of the farm, having a
board of trustees to hold and manage the estate according to the laws of
the commonwealth. Now it was to become an organized parish church
and, in addition, the center of a diocese. The bishop was to assume the
duties of the rector, with the members of the faculty as his assistants,
and the trustees were incorporated as the "Board of Trustees of
Monastery Church and College," according to law. This was a new
regime for Bishop Albertson, who, years before, had been rector of a
small parish in Virginia. Even at that time he was a rigid churchman
and a profound scholar, and because of these and other qualifications
he had unexpectedly been elevated to the episcopal office. Soon after
this well-merited promotion he had been earnestly requested to take
this young seminary under his care and superintendence, and had
cheerfully accepted this added responsibility. From that time he had
made Monastery his home and the headquarters of his diocese. It
continued to be "a school of the prophets" during ten years, when it was
granted a university charter and it became a school of classics as well
as theology. No one ever felt disappointed at this appointment of
Bishop Albertson to the presidency of the institution, which under his
care had grown from a small seminary with seventeen students to its
present proportions and standing in the state. Now there were
seventy-two theological students and two hundred and forty-five in the
classical and scientific courses. This had been done under the fostering
care and superintendency of the present incumbent. This institution had
been simply a high-grade school of classics and theology, principally
the latter. Experimental religion had but a small place in its curriculum
or life. "Thou shalt not" of the Old Testament was strictly taught and
demanded of all. But "Thou shalt" of the New Testament was rarely
thought of, much less practiced. So apparent was this that critical

observers used to say of it: "Here is where they have neither religion
nor politics." And this local adage was literally true. The highest
morality was practiced and demanded, but the dogmas which insisted
upon the regeneration of the heart and life were very sparingly taught.
Morality in its highest life was demanded of all, but the inner life was
left to take care of itself.
But now, something had happened; here was a change. Even the organ
spoke with a new voice; the prayer book meant more than it had in the
past--everything spoke with a new tongue. Here was an amount of
emotion that was new and strange, and the responses in the services
were more prompt and fervent. The bishop ceased to read his sermons
and talked as one who had authority. His voice was more distinct. The
audiences heard him as never before. Several of the professors who had
always been spoken of as unattractive and uninteresting became exactly
the reverse. Young men were found