r righteousness, the boldness with
which he censured the corruptions of the Roman Court, the
personal qualities by which he--a foreigner and a mere monk--made
himself for a short period the lawgiver, the prophet, and virtually
the dictator of Florence--that Florence which was at the time the
very gemmary of the Renaissance--his sudden fall and tragic death;
all combine to attract toward him our admiration, pity, and love,
and to leave upon our minds the impression of his extraordinary
moral genius. And yet, though a spiritual side was not wanting in
Savonarola, we should not quote him as an outstanding exemplar
of spirituality. The spiritual life is unperturbed and serene. His
nature was too passionate, he was too vehement in his philippics,
too deeply engrossed in the attainment of immediate results,
too stormy a soul to deserve the name of spiritual.

Again, our own Washington is one of the commanding figures in
history. He achieved the great task which he set himself; he
secured the political independence of America. He became the
master builder of a nation; he laid securely the foundations on
which succeeding generations have built. He was calm, too, with
rare exceptions; an expert in self-control. But there was mingled
with his calmness a certain coldness. He was lofty and pure, but
we should hardly go to him for instruction in the interior secrets of
the spiritual life. His achievements were in another field. His claim
to our gratitude rests on other grounds. The spiritual life is calm,
but serenely calm; irradiated by a fervor and a depth of feeling that
were to some extent lacking in our first president. Lincoln,
perhaps, came nearer to possessing them.

Again, we have such types of men as John Howard, the prison
reformer, and George Peabody, who devoted his great fortune to
bettering the housing of the poor and to multiplying and improving
schools. These men--especially the latter--were practical and sane,
and were prompted in their endeavors by an active and tender
benevolence. Yet we should scarcely think of them as conspicuous
examples of the spiritual quality in human life and conduct.
Benevolence, be it never so tender and practical, does not reach
the high mark of spirituality. Spirituality is more than benevolence
in the ordinary sense of the term. The spiritual man is benevolent
to a signal degree, but his benevolence is of a peculiar kind. It is
characterized by a certain serene fervor which we may