Art of Reading

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Digitized by the Internet Archivein 2012 with funding fromThe Library of Congress

http://www.archive.org/details/artofreadingOOfros


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ART OF READING


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WHEN WRITING THE ESSAYS


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THE ART OF READING

jBY

JONATHAN B. FROSTi

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BY INVITATION ONLYJONATHAN B. FROSTATLANTA, GEORGIA


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CoPYRIQHT, 1912Bt JONATHAN B. FROST

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CONTENTSPAOI

The Art of Reading 3As You Like It 13Lent ,. . . 21Imagination ....... 33Some Proverbs and a Psalm ....... 47The Education or Jesus ....... 53Concerning Conscience 69Associations .83The Ocklawaha : . 89Right Thinking .97The Sages to the Youth 107Justifiable Aristocracy 117


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THE ART OF READINGBEING AN APPENDIX TO EVERYTHINGWRITTEN ON "THE CHOICE OF BOOKS."


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THE ART OF READING"PUBLISHERS' announcements, advertisements,* reviews and newspaper comments bring before thepublic, and consequently into the hands of novelty-seeking readers, the current literature. Its most worth-less portions are most read. Fiction seekers seem tohave no discriminating taste. Why is the slaver andincident of a weak writer of to-day preferred to theart and thought of a strong writer of yesterday? Itis not preferred, for in the matter there is no exerciseof choice. It is more widely read because it is moreprominently brought before the public. Worthy au-thors are well and handsomely bound and orderly placedupon shelves, while the unworthy are raggedly afloaton the breath of the public.

It is to be lamented that no happy accident thrustsinto the hands of neutral readers works of a higher or-der of merit and of wholesome charm. Taste is to alarge degree innate, to some degree acquired. Guard-ianship of the mind can influence only the latter.Worthless books, though the worthlessness be not rec-ognized by the reader, begets carelessness, for they con-tain nothing to stimulate care and study. Our liter-


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4 THE ART OF READINGary club read "Romola" for the story, without recogniz-ing the philosophy elucidated, for which purpose allthose characters were portrayed and situations invented.We are amused by the shell, but do not crack it for thekernel. We read in a week what genius was years inwriting; this we do because we are accustomed to whatis unworthy of prolonged attention, a thing whose onlyinterest lies in a data or a circumstance.

Let us restrict ourselves to the good; it exists inabundance. If we dwell alone with genius we adorethe literary world, just as when we dwell apart withgoodness we love humanity. "I wish an author whogives me facts," says a gentleman to me. Take him,say I; we do not quarrel for possession of the objectwished while we differ thus in taste, for I will take anauthor who has sweep of imagination and can give methought and can portray emotion, impart a feeling ofpower and beauty, whose ink-pot is his heart and whowrites in purple.A good book is body and soul of its author. Ourcommon method of reading is as though we meet himon the streetwe touch our hat and observe his broad-cloth. The proper self-improving method is as thoughwe take him home to our parlors, make him our friend,enfold him to ourselves and penetrate the depths of his


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THE ART OF READING 5nature. A great work possesses the magnetism of itsauthor, and, as it tumbles through the world, attractsits affinities. Strangers but yesterday, we have dis-covered that we are attached to the same author, at-tracted by the same work, and recognizing the tripleaffinity, are friends to-day. I love a comprehensivelover of my heroes and heroines. An idolator of thespirit, I aspire through books, to the souls of the great.I care naught for the letter, and if an author does notreveal himself, if he does not make me feel that he hasfelt, see that he has seen ; if he arouses no sense of poweror beauty, if he imparts no enthusiasm, awakens noemotions and stimulates no overwhelming thought, Ipass him by and devote myself to some more worthyfriend.

The manner of reading, however, is as importantas the matter. How? is as pertinent a question asWhat? We have volumes on "The Choice of Books."Let this appendix be written on "The Art of Read-ing."

If we look more at the quality of what we readthan at the quantity, we need not hasten. We maygather the flowers and pluck the fruit without bring-ing in the thicket and underbrush. We cannot re-ceive in a moment what an author has required hours


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6 THE ART OF READINGto give. We may devote a day to a page, yet not feelnor think half the author thought and felt while writ-ing it. Why should we not gain knowledge of hiswhole heart and appropriate the essence of his being?If it is not there he is not our author. Freely he hasgiven ; let us freely receive. We should study the emo-tions his words awaken within us, and record thethoughts aroused. If nothing comes to mind exceptthis skeleton outlined upon paper, his task is ill per-formed. An author must awaken the soul, and a readershould not hurry the sensations pell-mell through hisnature. They are his for the moment, and he shouldmake them his forever.

Let me illustrate.A few summers ago I read "Daniel Deronda," byGeorge Eliot. I to-day take it from the shelf, and fromthe margin can review all the emotions it first aroused.Every worthy thought the book awakened is there asa footnote. As I read, the author did not begrudgeme the time to think. At the close of the hotel sceneat Genoa, between Gwendolen and Deronda, afterthe death of Grandcourt, are we to hurry on to the nextchapter with uncontrolled eagerness, driving out atonce all the feeling aroused by that powerful and tragicclimax? The work should not be resumed until after


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THE ART OF READING 7hours of reflection upon the terror and agony of theheroine, and until we have held in mental review allthe past incidents of her life, that we may justly weighthis effect of the double thought of her freedom and hersin, and until we have from her past predicted whatmust be her future.

Until this moment I had not for a long time thoughtof this book. The opinions with which it was shelved,had, long since, faded out of my mind. Suppose to-day I wish to give judgment of the work. Must I toa considerable extent re-read it? I must but for thefact that I find already written out somewhat carelesslyon the blank leaves at the close just what opinions Iheld of the story. Thus, by a few moments' effort atthat time is preserved what to reacquire would consumemuch time, and rob some other author of his due at-tention.

To my thinking, Edgar Allan Poe had the secret ofliterary art, which is to drive straight forward to theproduction of an effect. When that effect is reached,there ends the work. The only point I shall give fromthe above-mentioned judgment of "Daniel Deronda"is that it is carried beyond its proper terminus. Gwen-dolen is the heroine, and when she leaves the scene thework is properly ended. We see Mirah in a sort of


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8 THE ART OF READINGpost-graduate course of misery, and misery wrought byno fatal errors of her own, but by situations into whichshe is helplessly thrust. We see Gwendolen pass theentire and terrible curriculum of the school of experi-ence. Within her soul is enacted the tragedy of hurry-ing desires and lurking vengeance. We need not fol-low out the destiny of Deronda, for he is secondary, asthe oak is secondary to the clinging vine bears the fruit.He is employed for his effect upon Gwendolen, and notGwendolen for her effect upon him. With the viva-cious maiden of Offendene the interest begins; with thespirit-broken widow of Offendene it culminates. Atthis point the prologue is fulfilled. The effect is pro-duced. We arise with a terror of our own soul, andfear to entertain a desire lest its bright allurement isbut the mask of some demons of vengeance.

What follows only dissipates this effect, and de-stroys the whole purpose of the work. If we hurry onfrom the last scene with the heroine to the marriage ofMirah and Deronda we throw away the final worth ofthe book. There is left upon the mind and heart abso-lutely no effect, for we are immediately dragged downfrom the climax by the later non-essential adjustments.

Well, the careful reader will not suffer this, but willpause at Offendene and there dwell. After finishing


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THE ART OF READING 9this scene, I allowed a week to pass before perusing theappended chapters, and it were just as well had theynever been readmuch better had they never been writ-ten.A work is not improperly judged by the state offeeling in which it leaves us. But in an epic poem, ina novel or romance, there will be more than one climax,more than one high tide of feeling, more than one ele-vated state of mind and heart, howsoever subordinatethey may be to the final state which is wrought by thecombined effect of the whole.

I find also there written after completing the pe-rusal of this Hotel scene of Daniel Deronda the follow-ing poem, if it may be so styled :

IMAGINATIONImagination keen though friend is fiend as well,It opens gates of heaven but plunges into hell.It lures by magic cords o'ercoming all resistance,To wishes fancy painted pictures in the distance;And on the plain our highest hopes to realize,We do the deed that opens castles in the skiesAnd then we think we've entered heaven's happy sphereTill joyous sylph has wiped away our struggling tear,And through the crystalline reflection of her mirrorImagination sees all fiendish forms of terror.


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10 THE ART OF READINGImagination keen both friend and fiend as well,In forms of heaven ushers in the ills of hell.While fancy faced as friend with signals caught from

AidennWith woeful pangs of palhd death comes heavy laden.And we taste this sugar-coated gall of vanity,Then we see such sights as scare away our sanity,For conscience, chief commander of these frightful

bands,Sends remorse with all the imps that he commands,Across the agitated brain, and fevered then,Imagination casts them in the air again.Imagination keen though fiend still friend remains,Forcing joy to birth through pangs of bitter pains;For in the pallid sleep when mortal sense is lostUnder fright of fiendish fancy painted ghost,There comes a soothing sense of higher spirit life,And in the heart a bloom with Aidenn's fragrance rife.And then we know the berry from the brier grows,And on the sharpest thorn unfolds the fairest rose,And whether forming fiend or painting pauline prize,Imagination pictures but for fancy's eyes.


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A STUDY OF"AS YOU LIKE IT"AND

MODJESKAAS OUTLINED IN

"THE ART OF READING"


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"AS YOU LIKE IT"T WAS not well pleased with Modjeska's Rosalind.

The first dialogue with Celia lacked depth of earnesttenderness. In the turn from sad thoughts to gay,when Celia pleads, "My sweet Rose, my dear Rose, hemerry." And Rosalind replies: "From henceforth Iwill, Coz, and devise sports. Let me see: what thinkyou of falling in love?" there was entirely too great achange, a kind of spasm of gay animation, a striking ofgiddy attitudes, and a shrill utterance of jests, whichshould have been subdued and placid, as being all theway through under the shade of that sorrow from whichCelia seeks to cheer her, but whose every trace wouldnot naturally disappear so suddenly. Indeed, the ele-ment does run through the jests"Love no man ingood earnest" (cynic). "Mock the good housewifeFortune, her benefits are mightily misplaced."

There is such a gradual transition from the grief ofRosalind to the wrestling scene that at no one pointshould we be conscious of change.

During the wrestle I saw none of that acting forwhich there is such opportunity in these expressions

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14 THE ART OF READINGCelia. I would I were invisible, to catch the strong

fellow by the leg.Rosalind. O, excellent young man!Celia. If I had a thunderbolt in mine eye, I can

tell who should down.Soon these two are left together again, and in their

manner and speech as interpreted by Modjeska is thesame flaw as before.

It may be the fault of my taste, but it was offendedby the intense pettishness in which Modjeska said, "Icould shake them off my coat; these burs are in myheart." Also the expression of "Oh, they take the partof a better wrestler than myself," should be spoken witha more subdued playfulness.

In short, Modjeska's Rosalind thus far, andthrough the balance of the first act, when the plans arediscussed for flight, by her sudden transitions from sor-row too explosive in its expression, as if from a spiriteasily overcome by calamity, to a superficial expres-sion of delight, somewhat suggestive of a giggling gay-ety, shows, it seemed to me, a failure to grasp theproper key to the interpretation of this drama. It wasgiven as though expected to produce merriment by themeans employed in the ordinary comedy of superficialwit.


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AS YOU LIKE IT 15We were much better pleased with Modjeska's

Rosalind in the forest. There was but one oppor-tunity for the same fault, and it was not taken advan-tage of to such degree. That is where she says she willweep because Orlando has broken his vow to visit her.

But there were other opportunities for interestingaction which were not improved; such as a manifesta-tion of lively and lovely interest in the war of jests twixtJaques and her Orlando.

Nevertheless my purpose is not so much a criticismof Modjeska's Rosalind, as to convey what seems tome the true idea of the interpretation of this drama.

To that end a word on this word-war. There arebut two points in the drama where the least envy ormeanness of disposition should at all be shown, andthose are from Duke Frederick to Rosalind and second-arily to Celia, and Charles to Orlando and secondarilyto Adam. Yet this scene between Orlando and Jaqueswas entirely spoiled by just such an element. Theirjests should be passed with a humorous, and not to theslightest degree with an impatient, envious disposition.

More we have not to say of this Orlando than thathe should have been hissed from the stage. It was inSt. Louis in eighteen eighty-nine that I saw Modjeskain this drama and wrote this criticism and I have for-


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16 THE ART OF READINGgotten who played this Orlando. We can not censureRosalind for a little lack of enthusiasm of love for thisfellow. To be pleased with the love of this lovely crea-ture we must be pleased with the object of her love.This we could not be with this vulgarly costumed, drawl-ing lout. We had presumed that love tends to animatethe spirits.

This failure to catch the spirit of the comedy spoiledalso the character of Touchstone. His voice, at timestoo piping, never had the proper tone for self-consciousbombast. He gave too much weight of thought tomost of his utterances, a defect apparent also in Corin'sphilosophizing, both of which should be given with therapidity of spontaneous outflow always characteristicof witty sophistry. All these defects, along with manyothers of like purport, certainly could have arisen fromnothing short of a misinterpretation of Shakespeare'scomedy.

One defect which furnished a little amusement mighthave arisen from the necessity of physique. Thatlovely little nymph who posed as Audry was no "countrywench," sufficiently repulsive to be mated with Touch-stone, especially with that Touchstone, and renderedquite inappropriate his expression, 'A poor humorof mine, sir, to take that that no man else will,"


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AS YOU LIKE IT 17why! we all would have chosen her out of that quartet.

But having ill-favoredly used this Rosalind for acounter-illustration of what I consider the secret of in-terpretation of this comedy, I will mention one or twoof Modjeska's excellencies, which, indeed, were many;for example, her first glance at Orlando; her re-en-trance after the wrestling scene is over and the objectof her love has departed; her preoccupation of lookingin the direction of his going, while Celia talks to her;the manner of her address to Phebe, her fainting, and,above all, her recovery, which was exquisite as was alsothe epilogue, which well nigh made us wish we had abeard, for the chance that it might please her. Yourpardon, Modjeska! for the chance that it might pleaseRosalind.

What a world of rich and wholesome interest we getout of drama, and a night at the classic theater, when weapply this study under "The Art of Reading."


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LENT:BEING A READING FROMTHE LITURGY, ON

THE DEVELOPMENT OF CHILDREN


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LENTfTlHE observance of Lent, as a religious ceremony, is

traceable almost to the beginning of Christianity.Indeed, it is properly much older, since it is but a periodof fasting.

I judge the real spirit of the institution to be con-sciously violated many times to every once that it is con-scientiously observed. Coffee instead of chocolate,jelly instead of butter, pie instead of plum pudding,can not by any parson or person very sincere with him-self be practiced as a sacrifice. Lent observed in thismanner is one of the many things made ludicrous by theunscrupulously silly.But it is not my purpose to criticise the institution,either in its original spirit or in its modern observance.I mean only to take the spirit of the institution as sug-gestive of a valuable lesson, the importance of whichwill be most appreciated by those who have neverlearned it.

At any time it is perhaps better, after becoming dis-satisfied with an old institution, not to throw it off as athing entirely worthless, but labor to transform it forone's self, if not for others, into a serviceable end. We

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22 THE ART OF READINGmust never forget that the past has brought forth thepresent, and that the present contains the germs ofall future. The arbitrary, theoretic, useless and cere-monial old "is the progenitor of what must get itselftransformed into the practical new. The present goodhas its tap roots in what was good before it."

It is nothing short of the lesson the Great Master,sounded through his teachings and which permeatedhis life, the lesson of Renunciation.

This lesson is capable of use in preparing child-hood for the coming catastrophe to its little world andall that dwells therein. Indeed, when the human fam-ily learns aright, there will come to childhood's littleworld, no catastrophe, but the grown-up world will befounded on it.

I am of opinion that the greatest benefit accruing tothe child from any moral or intellectual training isthat which makes him stronger in the former ratherthan wiser in the latter. All the learning with whichwe can pack the little skull may be, much later, gainedby a few brief glances of the mental eye; but moralimpressions, good or bad, are not in later years readilyreceived. But such impressions as are made in earlylife may govern the whole tenor of man's moral being.I maintain it to be our duty to give to coming man the


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LENT 23wisdom and strength naturally arising from our experi-ence, and since we have attained self-consciousness weneed not content ourselves with nature's automaticmethods of moral transmission. The child, however,need not now be left to nature's blindness. Parentalingenuity may serve a noble end in calling up elementsof strength which now remain latent, and in developinga vigor of submission, a power of resignation, so muchneeded in after years, when ends are not all unattain-able, when spasmodic effort ceases and the untrainedheart goes down into despair. It is from this abyss thatproper culture might possibly save one. It were togift one with a kind of God-like power to enable himto say, "What I can not attain I can renounce." Thetrue foundation for this strength is the frequent volun-tary renunciation of things we want and can attain.There, too, is the great secret of contentment.

One who has this power is self sufficient. He neednot be ministered unto; he can minister. He is self-poised, possessing one element of the eternalstability.Cursed with every wild, delirious passion, he is con-tinent, capable of calling in every desire. Gifted withall aspirations, he does not transcend his element, but isof steady pace, strong arm and able to take settled anddeep satisfaction in resigning what he can not reach.


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24 THE ART OF READINGSurely if this power is latent in man it should be

called into active efficiency. In no battle is the powerof retreat more necessary than in the battle of lifewhere defeat is so frequent, and where capture by thepowers of the flesh or avarice or vengeance or ambitionor vindictive malice, means to be rent asunder or im-prisoned in darkness.

"It is not much thought of," said Steele, "but it iscertainly a very important lesson to learn how to enjoyordinary life, and to be able to relish your being with-out the transport of some passion or gratification ofsome appetite."

Without this capacity human life is frail and petu-lant, often becoming vicious and raving. But how Lentcan be suggestive of any manner of renunciation, andfar less, how through any such suggestion children areto be inspired with any power of submission to abridg-ing destiny, is likely incomprehensible to one who ob-serves the season by substituting one relish for an-other.

It is my opinion that any performance exactedof children will be more readily undertaken if its motiveis held entirely aloof from what is usually consideredthe religious incentive. For the purpose of which Ispeak the observance of the Lenten season would on


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LENT 25the one hand be entirely unnecessary, and on the otherhand wholly insufficient. An annual application of alight force would produce no deep effect, and a forty-day fast would be too severe. Lent affords the onesuggestion of voluntary abstinence.

From any self-denial there accrues a strength of willby which it would gradually become dominant over allpossible appeals to palate, even in the child. If thispractice were suggested to children upon reasonable ^grounds, if they were taught the practice of this re-/nunciation plainly for the purpose of cultivating thepower of will and resignation, they would be found tqitake to it readily, for in its exercise there is indubitablesatisfaction. Next to the delight of actual participa-tion is the delight of voluntary renouncement, howeverhigh and vivacious and sweeping the one, and howeverplacid, deep and reserved the other.

Instead of attempting to impress childhood with alittle of the serious business of life, the attempt is tocontrol entirely by extraneous force. Instead of im-parting power, we exercise power. We seek to restrainby the rod rather than by self-respect and by awaken-ing the desire and enjoyable power of self-control.So, in fact, life's bitterness to a degree, and of exactlythe same quality, is inflicted by guardians and parents


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26 THE ART OF READINGbefore one reaches an age at which the draughts ofdestiny are appreciated. What curses does the parentproduce who declares a purpose to "conquer the child'swill." Instead of thrusting on the neck of childhood thegalling yoke of limitation and denial, it should be judi-ciously stimulated to self-denial. One of the early les-sons should be to voluntarily go without, and under thefrequent practice the child should be taught that by ex-ercise of power he is cultivating within himself the forceof manhood, and that by whatever he now attains ofwill and renunciation he shall, in future, escape humilia-tion, disappointment and distress and procure a foot-hold in the path of life forever. Mamma's little man,and papa's little woman, would be sure-nuff little men,and little women.

It may readily be supposed that children wouldoften wish no knowledge were possessed of delicaciesthey were obliged to forego. But man, too, often la-ments that he can not remain ignorant of that whichdispels whole troops of joy-giving illusions. "Strangecondition of man," says Balzac; "every one of his en-joyments proceeds from his ignorance." There is theexact reason for this training of children to frequentlydeny themselves the enjoyment of many simple grati-fications.


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LENT 27It were a grievous error to suppose I would deny

children any possible and wholesome delights. Iwould teach them the practice and power of self-re-straint. That is the object, and would be of beneficentresult only because man can not forever hug his delusivephantoms. "I wish for my part . . . that we werenot obliged to deny ourselves anything, and that we hadno knowledge of those blessings which we are not al-lowed to possess." But precisely because life inev-itably awakens us out of our sweet and easy dreams isit necessary that one have strength for meeting realities,and exactly to call up and develop that strength are ap-peals made to us on every hand which we must resist.I can conceive no other way for an education adaptedto these exigencies.

It comes to mind that the German apostle of thedoctrine of renunciation, Goethe, describes a householdwherein this principle of education is adopted. I turnto the passage and find a fitting conclusion to mythought, though I think great improvement could bemade by training the child to these denials under its ownchoice of time and object, only requiring that it becomea custom with each to forego possibly a specific numberof wishes or dishes within a stipulated time. The wholeidea is to teach the child to restrain itself, rather than


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28 THE ART OF READINGinflict restraint either by force or fear. In conclusion,here is Goethe's paragraph. It is from "WilhelmMeister."

"I once had an opportunity of witnessing an in-stance of the system he adopted. One of his childrenwas about to eat something at the table of which he wasparticularly fond. His father forbade it, apparentlywithout reason. To my astonishment the child obeyedwith the utmost cheerfulness, and dinner proceeded asif nothing had happened. And in this manner even theoldest members of the family often allowed a temptingdish of fruit or some other dainty to pass them untasted.But, notwithstanding this, a general freedom reigned inhis house; and there was at times a sufficient displayboth of good and bad conduct. But Ferdinand was forthe most part indifferent to what occurred, and al-lowed an almost unrestrained license. At times, how-ever, when a certain week came about, orders were givenfor precise punctuality, the clocks were regulated tothe second, every member of the family received hisorders for the day, business and pleasure had their turn,and no one dare to be a single second in arrear. . . .He said that every man should make a vow to prac-tice self-restraint, as well as to require obedience from


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LENT 29others ; but he observed that the exercise of these vows,in place of being perpetually demanded, was suitableonly for certain occasions."


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IMAGINATIONA READING OF OUR FACULTIES AS THE

BASIS OF OUR DISPOSITIONS


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IMAGINATIONfT^HERE is (in progress) this night "a musical." It

is a benefit for this summer sojourn, dedicated toan aesthetic purpose, the improvement of this village inappearance.

The Improvement Club indicates a development inthe artistic taste of our ladies, in advance of the condi-tion of our streets and dwellings. Shall the high be-come debased to the low, or can the spiritual uplift andshape the material to its elevation and form?

The ladies say that nature is plastic ; that a delicatetouch will change abrupt to graceful curves; that anyform they can create in the mind they can mold frommaterial; that ugliness is deformed beauty, and thatthe whole earth yields to the magnetism of man.

This is true. The frontispiece of the book of na-ture illustrates to man the lesson of pliability.Woman's thought is seconded by the groves and con-firmed by her heart. Man is worshiped by nature.With a few motions she is transformed to his image, be-comes the embodiment of his idea.

But man is man's worst enemy. Man against manis the insurmountable obstacle to each; man unplastic,

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34 THE ART OF READINGman not pliable, man stubborn. He is not to be likenedunto the rock, for that yields gradually away andgives up its essence under the song of the winds. Heis not the glacier; hard, cutting, crushing bulk of ice,for that wears its way to the valley of summer andyields up its essence to the kissing sun. There is no ob-ject of nature whereto man "set in his way," man stub-born, bull-headed man, can be likened. He is harsherthan rock, colder than ice, sharper than nettles, uglierthan bulls, more ominous than a dungeon, narrowerthan a cell, emptier than a gourd. He is a deformity,a two-legged beast who has failed to become man. Ihad rather quarry stone, tread ice, pull nettles, pene-trate briars, mow thistles than come into spiritual touchwith this monstrosity. It is agonizing to meet him, an-noying to contemplate him. With a forewarning grunthe says "no" to every proposition. The farmer whohas driven hogs knows him. The dude who has workedthe pig puzzle understands him. The belles who at-tempt village improvement find him out. The weedsoverhanging the sidewalk do not trouble him. Will ittrouble him then if they are cut away? Yes, if hisneighbors wish it done. He has no opinion till he knowswhat the other man wants. Then he knows he does notwant it. But will he allow it to others?


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IMAGINATION 35"No."Why? Then comes the foreboding grunt under

which the sharp ear can catch the half articulation of"well," uttered with the rising inflection. Will it pro-duce harm to any one or inconvenience to you? Thencomes a "no," which affirms that anyway his first wordmust prevail. Will it not result in such a benefit tosuch people and be a general good to all?

"Yes; butBut what? But nothing except the inherent stub-

bornness of the man.Stubbornness in man is what the thorn is on the tree,

a miscarried limb. The latter, properly developed,would have been a graceful, bending, fruit-ladenbranch; normally developed, the former would have beenplastic stability of character, at once firm and pliableas the tall hickorythe affable, the courteous,the genial, the sympathetic, the gentlemanly, the good,kind, generous, combined with the firm, resolute, de-termined. Stubbornness is the abnormal growth offirmness in a little soul. I have met men who seem tofear being thought ridiculous by being too accommodat-ing. The true man would choose to doff his coat andblack his companion's boots on the street rather than feardoing too much for a friend. There are also men who


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36 THE ART OF READINGfear to yield a wrong opinion, or to desist from a badcourse lest it be said they have no mind of their own.Slaves to a small pride! If they possessed "minds oftheir own" they would be strong enough to yield. Theyhave the moral fear of the boy who did a wrong actrather than be called "coward." Honor to the man whois grea'. enough to bear epithets from the little.

The ladies of the ^Esthetic Club found the pride ofthe small. Will the occupants of No. 29 permit shadetrees in the street before their property? "No, we arenot paupers, and will plant when we like for ourselves."But we, the ladies aesthetic, have purchased at whole-sale a supply of trees we present to the city, which ac-cepts them and appoints us the committee on distribu-tion, and on survey of this street we find space for threebefore your lots. "You need send no workman here.We will care for our own street ; we are indignant thatyou should assume to improve us; henceforth be thereantipathy betwixt us."

The occupants of No. 29 are people with such prideas fears to acknowledge its inability to buy to itself allluxury. The man of perception knows that more thanfor anything else the ladies do this for their own satis-faction. He sees here, in woman, a taste that demandsfood. The artistic sense must be pleased. It seeks to


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IMAGINATION 37harmonize and create. Assuredly, give it scope; planttrees, move sheds, mow grass, elevate my ways. Everysuggestion the ladies make is considered of interest, andthere is a readiness to assist in effecting any change theythink will enhance and improve. There is no higherpleasure to them than serving, nothing more agreeableto him than being served. Some changes in the lawnare contemplated, and this aesthetic committee's adviceis solicited. The man means to repair the house. Thisfor economic reasons he will do himself. His first ob-ject is utility, protection of the timber. Paint costsmoney. Buttermilk and lime must do. Yes, the ladieshave observed the cottage needs painting. But let ussend a painter. We have feared to offer it, but youmake us bold. Then, says the man, I am skillful withthe brush and know the art of mixing; your material Iaccept if you will superintend the work and suggestthe colors. All parties are delighted. The Improve-ment Club recognizes the boon of an opportunity. Theladies wish to give; they furnish trees and scythe, andpaints and taste. The man is man, delights to givealso, and gives all he hasthe privilege. The club re-members him, and he remembers the ladies. All weregenuine, and needed no whitewash. They knew hence-forth that he was a man and poor; he henceforth knew


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38 THE ART OF READINGthey were women and wealthy. Art made them friends.They were united in a common desire for beauty.They were harmonious in seeking the harmony of formsand colors. There was no little pride because therewas no small heart. There was no stubborn will be-cause there was a developed mind. They met, this manand these ladies, upon the broad ground of Imagina-tion.

But the stubborn man exists elsewhere than at No.29, and does more than thwart ladies in their aestheticpursuits. He is universal obstructionist.

He by accomplishment becomes better named. Inpolitics he is "tyranny" or "anarchy," which arise fromsimilar deformities and equally annul government. Inphilosophy he is "materialist," abnormal faculty forperceiving substance, no perception of essence. Inpoetry he is "didactic," in commerce "mercenary," intheology "atheist," everywhere the "iconoclast." He isthe National Liberal League, he is Bradlaugh and thetruth seeker, he is Gould, and "the striker," he is theClan-na-Gael, organized obstinacy, concentrated prej-udice.

Yet he becomes a degree lucid and assumes higherforms. In revolution he is will intoxicated with lib-


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IMAGINATION 39erty, in the inquisitor he is will stupefied by superstition.

Under the best development he is will and intellect.He is logic and force. In politics the partisan, in re-ligion the bigot.

This man is without perspective, a consequent victimof a delusion by which small things appear large be-cause they are near, and large things small becausethey are distant. He reverses the methods and mis-applies the implements of science. Earth he viewsthrough the telescope, and through the microscope,heaven. He solves the problem of his origin and gloatsover his affinity with the clod. What can be handled isimportant, what eludes the grasp is worthless. He isan exaggeration of the five senses. Of clay he canmake bricks; he can not utilize the star. He is repre-sented by the herdsman who, contemplating Niagara,said : "What a fine place to wash sheep !" He is "mat-ter of fact," too "realistic" to appreciate grandeur, too"practical" to understand the poetic, too wise for faithand too shrewd to hope. He can not be duped bypriestcraft, nor by nature. He lacks power to see ex-cept through the eye that never rolls in "fine frenzy."He wonders that people are so "visionary" as to ad-mire Shakespeare. He sees nothing in Shelley and onlybaseness in Byron.


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40 THE ART OF READINGHe is inspired by the verse that numbers the days

of the months. He has business penetration, he haslogical sequence, he has resolution and "drive," he hassystem, and tact, and skill, and perseverance, and en-durance ; he has sturdiness and hardihood ; being tough,sinewy and strong. His morals are severe and straight.He never swerves from the narrow way. He is honestto the cent. He will neither take nor give. He is agood man, in the sense of being true and virtuous ; notin the sense of being kind and generousfor he is im-placable.

He affects to be without affectation. He is, how-ever, with all his highest qualifications, not an agreeablenor an affable nor an entertaining companion. He istoo clear-cut and precise. Withal he is stubborn. Hisopinion must be granted. His wish must be fulfilled.He can realize no presence but his own. He is, in fact,only the two-thirds of a man, will and intellect. Andwhat he lacks is what makes man buoyant and plasticand lucid and hopeful, for he is without Imagination.A man of high order of intellect and strong will-power with suppressed imagination becomes atheist,materialist, or possibly agnostic. I include the agnosticbecause the strongest argument against his theology isthat man may possess stultified faculties. That the


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IMAGINATION 41blind can not see, is no reason upon which to disputesight. That the deaf can not hear, is no reason uponwhich to deny sound.

After the five senses fade away, the external appealsstill exista material argument with which to defeatthe materialist,and we retire to the Internal and restin loftiest repose. I believe poetry, I believe spiritu-ality, I believe hope and buoyancy and faith. I believeBuddha and Jesus and Homer and Dante. I believefriendship and sacrifice, and devotion and worship. Ibelieve sympathy and beauty and thought. I believeeternity, infinitude and immortality. I believe thesurgings of the spirit, the waves of the sea of the soul,the tides of aspiration in answer to the attractions ofheaven. I believe earth and sky, sunshine and air, andthe life they create. I believe the mountain and theplain, the water and the wind, smoke and fire, and hail,and the grandeur, placidity, fear and inspiration theyarouse, for I believe in Trustsand in Loveand inGod.

This is the creed of a man with imagination. Itanswers the materialist because his ground for disput-ing it is lack of imagination. It answers the man of"creed" by overbelieving him. The man of imagina-tion can not assent to the small in such a way as implies


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42 THE ART OF READIXGthat he disbelieves the large. He is not definite, to theexclusion of the indefinite. There are no scriptures hedisbelieves, and no revelations he rejects. He can signno formulated "article of faith" because it can not beall-inclusive, and he believes everything. He does notcare to give a bond for his right to religion, nor to pla-card his faith. He has it from God, the all-giver, andhe is man, the all-believer.To be, for clearness, a little more specific, I will take"The Truth-Seeker" and its methods of thought asfairly representative of the man without imagination.

Its premise is intellect. It accepts reason as afaculty of man. Reason is man, the one thing certain,fixed and indubitable. From this premise, namely,"intellect is the sum total of man," its inferences areperfectly logical. They are always precise, and, there-fore, limited. It proceeds by reason along one line ofthought, the intellectual. What can be discovered bythe faculty of reason from this one premise, from thisone-third of man, it discovers. But why not grant theexistence of imagination also as a faculty of man? Itsexistence is as well attested as the existence of intellectits creations are as real and reliable as the inferences ofreason. Man pictures as surely as he thinks. Assum-ing intellect as the only premise, all conclusions can be


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IMAGINATION 48grasped. Nothing can be reached which defies compre-hension. But, accept the imagination as just as trulya part of mind, proceed from that and you are at onceout into the lucid, up into the poetic ; you reach the un-limited, the indefinite, the expansive, and the end youcan not attain, the scope you can not encompass, thetruth you can not express, for you are floating out intothe infinite, and are in the regions of wonder and wor-ship and of the soul and God. You have now withimagination as premise just what you can never havewith the premise of intellect only. Your philosophy isannulled by what has been and by what is. "lis use-less to deny poetry when the Muse has been for yearssinging and still sings. "lis useless to deny imagina-tion, since it has strewn the path of man with beautyand still creates. Shall the crow convince the night-ingale there is no song? Or the grub prove to theeagle there is no flight. Then may the materialist re-fute history. Tell Dante there is no darkness, tell Poethere is no terrible, and Swedenborg there is no mys-terious, tell Homer there is no heroism and Beethoventhere is no music, tell Milton there is no grandeur, thesea there is no billow and the wave there is no rhythm;tell iEschylus there is no tragedy, Isaiah there is noprophecy, Goethe there is no emotion, the sun there is


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44 THE ART OF READINGno light, and the rose there is no beauty; tell the forestthere is no verdure, and youth there is no love; tell thesky there is no blue and woman there is no fidelity; tellthe east there was never a rainbow and motherhoodthere is no hope ; tell heaven there is no arch, and youmay tell Shakespeare there is no Imagination, Jesusthere is no God, and Man there is no religion.


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SOME PROVERBS AND A PSALM:A READING FROM THE SCRIPTURES


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SOME PROVERBS AND A PSALMSTILL wear an impression made when I was achild, by the simple word of my aged grandmother,

who, upon humming through an old familiar tune,closed her song with a sigh.

"How can it be that you sigh? You certainly werehappy when you sang?"

"No, the sweetest songs are sung by saddest hearts.Music is often poetic weeping."

I held the dilemma in youthful cogitation, and haveonly now come to appreciate the proverb that,

"Sorrow is better than laughter, for by the sadnessof the countenance is the heart made better."

It is by a superficial view that people are misledinto an overestimate of the pleasure of others. Wesee only the clothing of a man. We know only his goodtimes. Happy moments are but gleams of sunshinethrough thick clouded skies. Joy is a solitary gleamthrough the weeping heavens, one star-flash from thevast night of sadness. There is boundless depth in ournature, not sounded by the plummet of pleasure.

"The heart of fools is in the house of mirth, but theheart of the wise is in the house of mourning."

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48 THE ART OF READINGThere is, however, a consideration of charity for the

fool. It is not by choice that we mourn with those thatmourn. Had we not been pressed by the hard pressureof life's struggle we had not been on the verge of theeternal stream. "The willow stands at the water's edgenot from choice, but for sanctuary, driven there by com-petition."We are in essence, pretty much one, so that what we

seem and what we receive, depends not so much on whatwe are, as where we are in the great social fabric. OldAgur knew this even thousands of years ago, and criedunto his god,

"Give me neither poverty nor riches, . . . lestI be full and deny thee, and say, who is the Lord?

Lest I be poor and steal and take the name of myGod in vain."It is well to ponder this thought, and recalling the

many narrow turns our life-road has taken, remember-ing the influences of surroundings in all that we havechosen, not forgetting the bondage of heredity nor theaccidents of fate, nor the destiny of fools on this earthwhere "God turneth man to destruction," tremble andknow

"It is better to go to the house of mourning than tothe house of feasting."


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SOME PROVERBS AND A PSALM 49Fortune is ill. Fate is adverse. Calamity comes,

yet we should not grow petulant towards the implacablepowers. We should become incapable of lament. Thegreat give calamity an indifferent reception. Theyawait good fortune, but hate such ill favor as to be al-ways successful. Occasional defeat in the battle of lifeis the greatest prize won. It presses us into the king-dom of God. Heaven recognizes belligerents in everywarfare. The richest dowry to youth is all the defeatbearable. Irrigation is required to blossom the soul intodivine life. A defeated Dante picturedan invalidPope wrote,'a blind Milton sang,the rhythm ofBurns burst the bonds of toil,Poe's heart was blackwith tragic woe, Baptisma Agio Pneumatos. Baptismof the Holy Ghost is The Baptism of Tears.

There is no blessing greater than an apparent curse.No fortune better than misfortune. Great is the graceof God in endowing us with that spirit improvable byour blunders. Excitant of undying trust is that di-vinity whose retributive visitations are invariably frombeneath scourging us to higher life, nay; the heart ofman has created no picture of any ascension, exceptthrough a cloud.

"Why art thou bowed down, my soul?And why art thou disquieted within me?


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50 THE ART OF READINGHope thou in God ; for I shall yet praise him,For the health of his countenance."

WITNESSSamson. When we conquer the lion of adver-

sity we may turn aside to find honey in the carcass.Jacob. If our pillow be made of stones, our

youthful dream will be of angels, and when the daybreaketh on manhood's night of sorrow, we shall see, ifour strength endures, that we have wrestled a blessingfrom God.

Job. The solution of the whole problem of evil,calamity is powerless to touch the righteous heart;it stands the storm, it buffets hell. It is adamant toconditions. Its mantle is the elements. It companion-ships with God, its latter end is more blessed than its be-ginning.


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THE "EDUCATION" OF JESUSA MORE EXTENSIVE READING FROM THE

SCRIPTURES


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THE EDUCATION OF JESUS46TT OW knoweth this man things written, having

* **" never learned?" Thus asked the Jews con-cerning Jesus. Thus eighteen centuries later we repeatthe question.

The gramma or things written of the Hebrews werethe Old Testament manuscripts, and later the Talmudof traditions and commentaries, being a work of thebulk of a complete cyclopedia.

Learning, with the Hebrews, consisted in a knowl-edge of the Old Testament with ability to interpret, ortranslate; for in the time of Jesus the Hebrew tonguein which the things were written, was a dead language.You will readily see with how indefinite an answerwe must content ourselves, when you are aware thatscholars yet contend about the language of Jesus, as towhether it was that of the common people of his coun-try, the Aramaac, or the diplomatic language of thetime, which was Greek.

Indeed, we have no direct information concerningthe education of Jesus. We are told nothing of itssource, its extent, nor its profundity. No contempo-rary historian makes more than mere mention of the

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54 THE ART OF READINGman. No reliable or unreliable tradition bears verydirectly upon his learning. Luke alone (11-52) men-tions it in a very indefinite clause at the close of thestory of the youthful disputant of the Temple Doc-tors:"And Jesus increased in wisdom and stature,and in favor with God and man."

But indirectly, by a study of the social customs ofhis time and country, through our knowledge of theHebrew schools of that period, and from the discoursesof Jesus himself, we are enabled to discover the sourceof his information, measure the breadth of his learning,and to sound, in some instances, the depth of his wis-dom. Let us put ourselves for a brief time to thattask.

The learning pursued by the Hebrews, however,was exclusively theological. Their things written wereof matters pertaining to religion and the religious lifeof their people. There entered into their study, neitherscience nor art, nor literature except religious; so thatwhatever we may conclude about the knowledge ofJesus, this is certain, that his instruction was alone inthe Law and in theology.The varied thought of the Hebrews at this time di-vided their learned men into three parties. These werethe Pharisees, Sadducees, Essenes. They were divided


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THE EDUCATION OF JESUS 55by vital differences of doctrine, though united uponthe one point of the source and sacredness of the MosaicLaw. To this Law in its primal simplicity the Saddu-cees strictly adhered. They rejected tradition andwere protestant against what Matthew Arnold hascalled the Aberglaube, the overbelief, of the greatCatholic body of Pharisees. The Sadducees were asthough they would accept the written record as thebasis of their religious life, while the Pharisees had theirdivine doctors and infallible interpretation. Differ-ences enough there were for warm and protracted dis-cussions. The ablest expounders of each system ap-pealed to all to accept their burden of doctrine, and takeupon themselves their yoke, the symbol of their school.So Jesus adopting the appeal of the time said: "Takemy yoke upon you, and learn of me ; for I am meek andlonely in heart; and ye shall find rest unto your souls.For my yoke is easy and my burden is light." As isgenerally the case in theological controversies there wasmuch bigotry on both sides. So as general also, therewas malice and insolence, hatred, envy and the con-stant hurling into one another's teeth their sharpesttaunts and most effective weapons of debate. The rela-tive standpoint of these two schools, as well as the heatto which their discussions rose, is well represented in


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56 THE ART OF READINGthis traditional incident:"When a certain RabbiEliezer, being worsted in argument, cried out, 'If I amright, let heaven pronounce in my favor.' There washeard a Bath-kol or voice from the skies, saying, 'Doyou venture to dispute with Rabbi Eliezer, who is anauthority on all religious qestions?' But RabbiJoshua arose and said 'Our law is not in heaven, but inthe book which dates from Sinai.' " Thus we have therelative position of Pharisee and Sadducee, or Catholicand Protestant.

The Essenes were a sect of consistent believers whosought to practice the teachings of the Law. In orderto have no contact with idolaters, apostates and Gen-tiles, they stood aloof from society, withdrew to thewilderness where John held his ministry, subsisted, likehim, upon such fare as the wilderness afforded andwere clothed as he was clothed. They practiced theletter of the Law. They were unconcerned about themorrow. God fed the sparrow and clothed the lilies,he would feed and clothe them. A convert to theircreed kept all of the commandments, and did one thingmore, sold his goods, gave to the poor, and sought theEssene community.We can determine whether or not Jesus is indebted

to any of these Hebrew schools for his knowledge and


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THE EDUCATION OF JESUS 57morals, only by a comparison of his methods and pre-cepts with theirs. By this method we are very soonconvinced that he could not have derived much from theRabbinical Schools. The question, "How knoweth thisman learning, having never learned?" is sufficient indi-cation that he was never under any of the masters.Furthermore, Jesus taught a pure spiritualism, thePharisees a proud legalism. He was humble, they werehaughty. Both these and the Sadducees taught andpracticed an empty formalism of which Jesus knowsno trait. From the morals of these schools, AustinBierbower demonstrates that Jesus made a seven-folddeparture;from ceremonies to practical virtuesfrom sacramentarianism to common sensefrom trivialdistinction to real differencesfrom circumstantials tosubstantials, from tradition to experiencesfrom ex-clusiveness to charity, from proselytism to fraterniza-tion. Jesus might have learned from them what toavoid and condemn, but not what to teach and practice.

Nor could he have gained much from the phi-losophers of Greece and Rome. The loyal Jews hatedall foreign culture, and like the haters of innovationgenerally, knew very little of it. And though Jesuswas not one of that type, he followed the traditions ofhis people, and indeed, living a retired life at Nazareth,


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58 THE ART OF READINGhad no opportunity to do otherwise. His language,his style both of thought and expression, show no tracesof Greek learning or refinement. His figures of speech,his parables and allusions are always from Hebrew his-tory and the common events of Jewish life. He has noallusion to the literature, philosophy, or history ofGreece or Rome. His daily labors in the insignificantand illiterate village of Nazareth would afford butslight opportunity for mental culture of any sort. Thatthe village was on the commercial route between thepowerful West and the rich East may have affordedhim slight contact with the tradesmen and the travelersof the two worlds, but with no other apparent effectthan possibly to stimulate his cosmopolitan spirit.

Because of the shadow of doubt thrown over the veryexistence of any such sect as described under the nameof Essenes, there can be but little reliance placed uponany conclusion regarding them. Such traditions as wehave of their doctrines and customs bear such a markedresemblance to those of Jesus that DeQuincey, the Eng-lish Essayist, thought he fairly demonstrated the sectof that name to have been a sect of early Christians,originating out of the teachings of Jesus, insteadof an earlier order influencing the life and teach-ings of Jesus. If the Essenes were not a Christian


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THE EDUCATION OF JESUS 59sect, the conditions surely compel the conclusion thatJesus gained much from them. They were communis-tic, and good doers. They, just as Jesus, made circuitsof the country for the purpose of teaching. They wentclad and pursed, as he instructed his apostles to go.Jesus broke with their asceticism and isolation. He wassocial and tolerant. They sought the moral result byexternal restraint, he by purity of heart and right de-sire.We are not to presume that Jesus was educated in

a community of the Essenes, nor that he was even underthe set and protracted instruction of any of the EssenicDoctors. His receptive spirit, we may safely say, be-came imbued with Essenic ideas afloat among thepeople. If there were a pre-christian sect answeringthe description, there is no reasonable doubt that Johnthe Baptist was a successful teacher of the Order. Inthat case, baptism by John could signify nothing lessthan admission to the sect; and the tradition of theforty days in the wilderness, in that case, may havearisen from a short sojourn of Jesus in their midst. Cer-tain it is that the fire of his heart was set ablaze by thefierce denunciations of this wild, deep, rugged man ofthe desert. Much of the essence of his speech, did hecatch. "O Generation of vipers, who hath warned you


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60 THE ART OF READINGto flee from the wrath to come?" said John while Jesuswas in the audience ; and like an echo in the later monthscomes his voice, "Fill ye up, the measures of your fathers,ye serpents, ye generation of vipers." "How shall ye es-cape the damnation of hell?""The ax is laid unto theroot of the trees; therefore every tree which bringethnot forth good fruit is hewn down, and cast into the fire,"says John ; and Jesus says, "Ye shall know them by theirfruits. Every tree that bringeth not forth good fruitis hewn down and cast into the fire."

John warns the people to bring forth fruits meet forrepentance, and think not to justify themselves by thethought that they are the chosen, and by good works oftheir ancestors ; and Jesus warns them that the kingdomof God shall be taken from them, and given to a nationbringing forth the fruits thereof. In John we have thevoice of one crying, "The kingdom of heaven is at hand."The Essenes and Jesus taught charity, humility andcontentment, disregarded worldly affairs, and while theformer were communistic, the effect of the teachingsof Jesus was to render his immediate disciples com-munistic. Out of all this we infer no greater connectionof Jesus with the Essenes than a similarity of doctrineand spirit would indicate.

But to leave this shadowy realm of doubt, we may


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THE EDUCATION OF JESUS 61positively assert that Jesus learned the Law and theProphets from Mary and Joseph. The notices of Maryin the gospels, especially the Magnificat, show her topossess a remarkable knowledge of the Old Testament,to be a woman of deep devotion and religious zeal.Jesus was not the first nor the last genius supposed tobe indebted to the mother for superior faculties. Weknow from history that the scrupulous Israelite was innothing more scrupulous than in teaching his childrenthe law. This home training was increased at theschool of the Synagogue, which schools "Do not takea boy to be taught till he is six years old ; but from thattime receive him and train him as you do an ox that dayby day bears a heavier load." This training was so thor-ough that, says one of the Rabbis, "If you ask a Jewanything concerning the law, he can more readily explainthan tell you his name." And here Jesus evidentlylearned well his lesson, so well that when the great eventof a Jewish lad's life came, when at the age of twelve,he went up wide-eyed with wonder to the great city ofJerusalem, whose streets were lined with pilgrims, whoseair was filled with the sounds of devotion to the nation'sGod, so well had he learned his lesson of the Law andProphets that at this early age his questions puzzledthe doctors of the Temple.


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62 THE ART OF READINGJesus thus became acquainted, like every Jewish

child, with the morals and religion of the Old Testa-ment. But these were not his morals and religion.The Law he was taught did not contain his code. Itcould not directly have developed his spirit. Re-hearsal of "Eye for eye and tooth for tooth" would notteach one to forgive one's enemies and do good to themthat hate one. The moral and spiritual disposition ofJesus was the great heritage from a line of devout an-cestors. In the one individual we see the result ofyears of conscientious devotion to right and to God.We have faint glimmers of the higher life in the OldTestament ; as in the prediction of the meek and humbleby the second Isaiah. As in Micah's, "What doth theLord require of thee but to do justly, and to love mercy,and to walk humbly with thy God?"and as in the ap-peal of Malachi, "Have we not all one Father? Hathnot one God created us? Why do we deal treacherouslyevery man against his brother by profaning the cove-nant of our father?"

However, fully four hundred years had passed sincethe last of the Old Testament record was compsed,when the career of Jesus opened. Aie we to presumethat the germ of the higher thought thus early sproutedin the hearts of the prophets was violently plucked out


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THE EDUCATION OF JESUS 63by the roots and cast away to wither? Or are we notto accept the historical indications that this stretch ofcenturies between the two Testaments was, like everyother period, a period of development. Time enoughit was for the development of the doctrines of heavenand hell, of "grace" "atonement," Satan as the ad-versary of man, and the kingdom of God. Timeenough also was it for a considerable advance in themoral and religious life, and the implications of theoccasional utterances of the old prophets were, in thetime of Jesus, the essence of the familiar proverbs of thepeople. For an example or two :the wisdom of Jesus,son of Sirarch was quite familiar. Concerning prayer,it was the manner of the Hebrews, but the matter ofthe prayers of the Gentiles, to which Jesus objected."Our Father who art in heaven proclaim the unity ofthy name and establish thy kingdom perpetually.""Let us not fall into the power of sin, transgression oriniquity, and lead us not into temptation."."Thine O,Lord, is the greatness, the power and the majesty."*"Do whatsoever seemeth good in thy sight; give me,only, bread to eat and raiment to wear.""Our Fatherwho art in heaven, thy will be done on high." Suchwere the prayers that Jesus must have heard thousandsof times, the daily prayers uttered in the synagogues.


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64 THE ART OF READINGUtterances of the old prophets were, in the time ofJesus, the essence of the familiar proverbs of the people.For an example or two:It was well known that theRabbi Hillel had just taught that for a noble purposethe Sabbath might be desecrated; that he had said,"Whatever is displeasing unto thee, do not do to others."And to the objection urged against an action, that itwas in violation of holy writ, he had replied, "It maybe, but if we cling to the letter all morality will be lost.Whether anything be written or not, the life decides."Singular enough doth it seem that the inculcators ofmoral life have to-day that same old war to wage.

After Hillel had apparently won the victory, Jesusfell a victim. If we agree with the jealous Hebrew,Geiger, that "Jesus was a Pharisee who followed in thesteps of Hillel," we must contend that he ran beyondHillel's stopping point for many, many leagues. Yetso similar are some of the precepts of Jesus to those ofthe earlier Rabbi, that even Renan, the French biog-rapher of Jesus, is impelled to say that Hillel will neverbe regarded as the true founder of Christianity. Yetit is the judgment of Renan that "Jesus mostly followedHillel in his teaching. Hillel had fifty years before ut-tered aphorisms which bore a great similarity to his own.In consequence of his patience under poverty, the meek-


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THE EDUCATION OF JESUS 65ness of his character, his opposition to priests and hyp-ocrites, Hillel was, properly speaking, the real teacherof Jesus, if the name teacher may be mentioned at all,where the subject is one of such divine originality."

Jesus in his human career was the pupil of Israel.He was the disciple of his nation. He was taught bythe life of his race. He attended the school of no mas-ter but imbibed the thought of all. He was a wholesoul, disfigured by the mental regalia of no sect. Heabsorbed the rays of every satellite of the Temple. Hewas that type of genius which seems to be the incarnatewisdom of its age. The derived conclusions of thelearned were to him intuitive. His heart was the smelt-ing furnace of the ore of the time, and preserved thedrops of pure gold. With a single sweep of his won-derful glance over the social and religious attainmentsof his people, past and present, their wisdom was gath-ered into his soul. His was the greatness of range andextent ; his heart was receptive, his moral intuition keen,his utterance concise, his spirit brave, his manner modestand forcible, and what all had separately said beforecame from him, an astounding whole. His mother's di-vinity deepened his devotion. The words of the mastersin the Synagogue, of. the doctors in the temple, of thePharisees in the streets, touched his nature to vibrations


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66 THE ART OF READINGof harmony and of discord. The precepts of the Es-senes, the proverbs of the prophets, the aphorisms of theRabbis, the scattered wisdom of the nation gravitated tohis heart, and by the inspiration of the voice of Johnand the chants of the enthusiastic multitude, his soulwas lifted on high whence he knew without havinglearned and spoke without assigning authority.


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CONCERNING CONSCIENCEA READING FROM THE LIFE OF JOHN THE BAPTIST


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CONCERNING CONSCIENCET HAVE recently been meditatively reading of the* ministry of shaggy John of the Wilderness, andhaving been, more than usual, impressed with the roughheroism of his vigorous denunciations I was moved toshed a tear upon his tomb. I turned to the incidentof his death and was there impressed by a fact to which,in the haste of previous readings, I had been blind.

Tetrarch Herod was celebrating his birthday in allthe glee afforded by glad companions, luxuriant dishesand old wine, when a beautiful, bewitching damsel en-tered, and with her graceful dancing so delighted herstep-father that, under the influence of this quadrupleintoxication, he cried out impulsively: "Whatsoeverthou wilt ask of me I will give thee, unto the half ofmy kingdom."

In a twinkling the maid was away to her mother,"What shall I ask?" With the bitter memory of in-jured dignity the mother seized the opportunity and an-swered with the outburst of eager vengeance,

"The head of John the Baptist."Some time before this, Herod himself had sent

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70 THE ART OF READINGforth and laid hold upon John, and bound him in prisonfor Herodias' sake, his brother Phillip's wife, for he hadsaid unto Herod,"It is not lawful for thee to have thy brother's wife!"

Just so. As John was "A just man and a holy" hewas thenceforth a living rebuke to this living sin, andfor the woman's safety and ease of conscience, betterthan to have half a kingdom were it to have him dead.As peace of mind is to be preferred above great riches,so was the head of John to be chosen above the scepter.Very often does the only rebuke for our deeds exist inthe judgments of others. Among our severest penaltiesis the suspected censure of a silent friend. Since con-science is considered, by some, the outcome of communalopinion it is not possible to conceive a greater torturethan would result from the public unveiling of oursecret souls. Those who leaned upon our strength nowsee they were as well to rest upon a dream; those whotrusted us now turn away and weep; exulting envylaughs, and not without a cause, since fondest friendsand closely bound companions blush with shame andseek to purge away some vile contamination caught fromus, for friends there be not many who to one anothersay:


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CONCERNING CONSCIENCE 71"I have unclasp'dTo thee the book even of my secret soul."

Humility more sad could not be eaten from the dust, norcould fiercer regret be kindled in the heart, the soul moresickened with remorse than thus by thrusting nakedconscience helpless under play of pity, shame and scorn,of haughty pride and fierce derision, infamy and flam-ing trust and broken faith, of all the painful parentforces of the moral sense ; where others see us as we seeourselves, and we realize how little we have known, howless been known. The thought of such a final state ishell to any living soul, and were the doctrine made con-viction in the heart, it would drive we human creaturesmad. May heaven save us, in her mercies, from a spherewhere mental eyes may penetrate the deepest secrets ofcompanion hearts, or rather,

"Lord, cleanse thou me from secret sins."This, then, is a fact concerning conscience, that a

great number of its rebukes are not innate, but comeeither from the expressed or our imagined judgment ofothers. It were better to elevate oneself accordinglythan to debase that judgment. If we are ill at easeunder any such censure, much wiser is it to outlive itsfurther application to us than to gain temporary peace


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72 THE ART OF READINGby avoiding this objective conscience, for certain as thereis enduring reality of mind or soul we must at last en-dure all condemnation.

But while Herodias freed herself from the immediatetorment of her objective conscience, let us observe fur-ther what befalls Herod.

The girl returns from her mother and modestlymakes her request, "I will that thou give me, by and by,in a charger the head of John the Baptist." And hereis the fact that particularly arrested my attention

"And the king was sorry."Nevertheless, the head was severed from his mighty,heaving heart by the velvety pats of a tender damsel'slight fantastic toe. I little thought in coming to thetomb of John that I should find his executioner inmourning. "And the king was sorry." I had beforenoted the hilarious conditions under which the vow wasmade and John beheaded, but I now, for the first time,followed this sorry king that night into the seclusion ofhis private apartments.

He withdrew from the company with sadness onhis brow and self-condemnation in his thought. Thedin of revelry died away as he gloomily passed throughthe corridors, and now alone and in silence he sits,


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CONCERNING CONSCIENCE 73while the wine-provoked laughter has passed its fullstage into the withered smile of regret, while the superfi-cial impressions wrought by the charm of the dancingdamsel fade out of the mind and confused images of thenight's carnival drop by groups from his vision untilalone remains a solitary scenethe head of John in thecharger, as it was swung before him to the hands of herwhose charm it rewarded. That remains with all thevividness of its original impression, and will still swingon forever, innumerable heads of John passing fromhand of executioner to hand of maiden, the object ofhis night dreams and day reveries; the ghost of hismemory.

I bethink me now of a mention of John, many daysafterwards, by this sorry king. Rumors of the preach-ing of Jesus came to the ear of Herod. Some said, "Itis Elias, and others said that it is a prophet." "Butno," says the king, with that rash jump of conclusioncharacteristic of an affrighted and afflicted soul, "itis John, whom I beheaded ; he is risen from the dead."

I fear the terror of that ghastly face upon thecharger never entirely disappeared from the thoughtsof the tetrarch. And for one reason I am led to pityhim. At the climax of an evening's enjoyment he verythoughtlessly, but also very naturally, makes a very


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74 THE ART OF READINGrash vow. And yet who would ever have thought of amaiden preferring the head of a man to the half of akingdom? Herod must kill John or break his vow. Ineither case he must violate his conscience. That is whyI pity him. There is no way out of his dilemma butthrough the pangs of remorse. Herod should havechosen the lesser evil. But the apparent magnitude ofevils depends upon the age, circumstances and moraltraining.To break such a vow of kingly honor, in those dayswas no slight offense. It is the dilemma of Jephtharepeated, and we know his choice and are without rec-ord of his remorse. What would seem the least evil toone man might seem the greater to another. What isleast under one circumstance might under other condi-tions seem to the same man the greater. Thus it waswith Herod. The killing of John was of concern tothe purely subjective conscience, its motives a part ofthe mental constitution, constant with one through alltime. The breaking of the vow was very largely of con-cern to the objective conscience, praise and blame, ifyou please, which is not yet become oneself. Butthat conscience was present with Herod in all its pos-sible force. He was feasting with the nobles of therealm. He possessed a manly wish to reward this ex-


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CONCERNING CONSCIENCE 75cellent entertainment of the damsel. He gave his vowbefore the glittering company of"The high captains and chief estates of Galilee."

Should he break it never more could he face a dignitaryof the realm ; never again could he lift his eyes in coun-cil chamber; he would cringe consciously under the gazeof common subjects; never more could he expect thestep-daughterly caresses of the damsel and forevermoremight he expect the bitter reproach of Herodias.Hence,

"For his oath's sake and their sakes which sat withhim,"

he ordered John executed and the head brought in acharger to the damsel.

Now could the objective conscience remain foreverpresent in such force as to obliterate the dictates of thesubjective, Herod would have escaped "the deep dam-nation of his taking off." But those forces are as fleet-ing as the effects of flattery, inconstant as caprice anddisappear with the shifting of a scene, leaving thewretched soul a helpless victim to its true conscience inunavoidable meditation.


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76 THE ART OF READINGHere, then, is a significant fact of conscience con-

cerning the cause of our frequent disobedience. Weare often under conditions whose mighty but fleeting in-fluence for an instant overpowers the perpetual butweaker moral dictate. There is the craving of appe-tite ; there is convulsive rage or livid wrath ; there is all-absorbing vanity and pride; there is the overpoweringeagerness of excited passion ; these and a thousand will-annulling impulses rise in a momentary power to whichthe categorical imperative is as nothing, and to whosemotive the inward monitor must succumb. "Immedi-ate desires are in general strong, but of short duration,and can not be adequately represented to the mind afterthey have passed," while the conscience, though lessviolent, has a steady, continuous and everlasting action.Thus comes its rebuke and after repentance. Thusdoth it rise to avenge the wrongs our impulses commitand thou mayst as well "flee thyself" as escape the tor-tures it will inflict. It is ever present and eternal asthe mind. Its magic power seems to transform the ugli-ness of an evil deed into the likeness of a self-producedmonster, as that of "Frankenstein," to pursue the per-petrator into the frigid regions of despair. Or it willthrow him into the madness of the "ancient mariner" tohurry before him icy visions of sea-clad death. Or it


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CONCERNING CONSCIENCE 77will chase him in hopeless search for some comfortthrough the bleak regions of his barren soul, and at eachturn he shall be frightened at the shadow of his ownthoughts. Cursed are the evil in heart for theySHALL SEE SATAN.

In the afflicted soul the memory of evil done seems toobliterate all things else. The violated feelings seem torecoil from the presence of so much sanctity as rests inhuman creatures and the mind sinks "self withdrawninto a wondrous depth" where nothing seems real but thephantom of its own creation. There it endures the pro-bationary tortures of self-condemnation, graduallysoothes away its embosomed pangs, nurses unto healthits wounded conscience and re-ascends "through thetroubled surface of crime to purity immovable," re-en-ters the affairs of daily life with subdued and deeperfeelings with Charles Lamb's expression written in itsfeature,

"EccoirThis child has been in hell."But this is the conscience of the evil-doer for whom

it will take the savor from his palate and the rest fromhis pillow for days and nights.We may obtain somewhat more beautiful concern-

ing the conscience of the righteous. I do not much


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78 THE ART OF READINGlament our lack of a great fear-harrowing phantom.I suspect we too much seek to frighten one another withwhat little imps we have, as unwise mothers do theirchildren with "the black man." For the attempted ap-plication of this motive we are apt to borrow the replyof Euripides : "And shadows never scare me, thanks tohell." Our people are of a mettle not so much to bedriven by the braggart as lured by the beauty. Thedread of blame and desire of glory are but the belowand above zero of the mercury of conscience ; as we shunthe terrible blasts of winter, so we seek the brisk breezesof summer. They are but different states of the samefeeling. Some mental physiologist says that the nervesin proportion to their capacity for pleasure are suscep-tible of pain. It is equally true that in proportion asthe feelings are susceptible of pain, they are capaciousfor pleasure. Conscience is a goodly portion of hu-manity embosomed within us, and surrounding us; itscensure or approval is as the frowns or smiles of a multi-tude. Its condemnation is the vented wrath of ourancestors, or their pity; its approval is their expressedsatisfaction with our conduct.

As much as we writhe under the one, so much dowe rejoice under the other. The power of conscienceto inflict with remorse is but equal to its power to visit


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CONCERNING CONSCIENCE 79with delight. We need not, therefore, concern our-selves altogether, with the imps of an "embosomed hell"as an incentive to duty, since we may as well be enticedby the angels of an embosomed heaven. We may makethe Zarathustrian judgment a daily experience, and aswe turn from the repulsive ugly hag who is the creatureof evil deeds, we may be lured, if we see aright, by themost beautiful of maidens who is our religion, that is,daily life, within ourselves. Aye, truly, "The breast ofa good man is a little heaven commencing on earth."It will expand with the growth of grace; it will be em-blazoned by the ideal figures of the moral fancy, andunless an evil deed done in a weak moment conjuressome John in the conscience to frighten away all beau-ties, thou wilt thus continue to "Build thee more statelymansions, O, my soul!" and feel within thee a peaceabove all earthly dignities, a still and quiet conscience.

One word now concerning the relative importanceof the subjective, and what I have called the objective,conscience. And that word may be given from Addi-son, "A man's first care should be to avoid the reproachesof his own heart; his next, to escape the censures ofthe world." However painful may be the latter for atime, they will leave no lasting scar upon the souLTheir effect may entirely disappear with the fading


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80 THE ART OF READINGmemory of a friend. The conscience proper, on theother hand, is a part of the soul, co-existent and co-eternal with it. It enters in the heart and is of man'sown substance. Its presence is unavoidable. Its dic-tates never cease. We can not flee its vengeance. Sobinding is its law upon the soul, so terrible its inflictionsand so enduring its force within us that it will at lastteach all what Channing has told, "that it were betterfor a man to do a wrong act in obeying his own con-science than a right one in obeying mine." Let no manthink to be guided by borrowed light. Best, however,that he do the right act in obeying his own. He shouldno more than consider himself fortunate if the light ofhis own soul and that of his friends falls for a timeupon the same path. In the end he must walk alone,and will walk well only by keeping alive the celestialspark within his own breast. It seems as though I haveheard someone say, man is but a process of becoming.The deeds of the present in their own image make theman of the future, and fitly picture the region of hisimagination with shadows of themselves.

Let every soulHeed what it doth to-day, because to-morrowThe same thing it shall find gone forward thereTo meet and make and judge it.


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ASSOCIATIONSA READING OF THE CONSEQUENCES OF

SOCIAL CONTACT


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ASSOCIATIONSTESUS once told his disciples to search out the** worthyan advice rendered fourfold emphatic bya knowledge of human adaptability. The child is moltensentiment poured into the mold of circumstance.There is a tap root of individuality, but the growthbends and twists and warps according to the light andshade, heat and cold, attractions and repulsions, by andthrough which it grows. What manner of man we be-come depends on what manner of mold we choose.Environment shapes us, but what our environment de-pends on where we place ourselves. Truisms :Incompany of the idle, we become indolent;In themidst of vice, we become vicious;Virtue transformsus to her ways ;Activity calls up our energy, and theconstant presence of noble industry awakens the highestand best of the sleeping powers of man. Society seeks,like water, a level ; frequently still more like water, thelowest level. Why should we flounder in the bog?Are not the lawns more pleasant? Heaven is nighestthat spot where divinest creatures sport. We may havethe keenest pleasure and glory of the highest and

83


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84 THE ART OF READINGsweetest activities of mortals, or become senseless heapsof creeping dust, according to whether or not we heedthat advice from the Judean hills, to search who in theworld is worthy.

It is evidence of human dignity and worth that wor-ship is half-conscious honor of the qualities realized inour neighbors. We need the association of men who inverity may say, "I and divinity are one," and womenunder whose influence we feel the presence of the im-mortal.

Let us receive our material from such as Carlyle, whosays of a hero all the good, and as little evil as possible.We will dwell under the greatest characteristic. Fromsuch as Carlyle and Emerson we have the advantage ofa double force. We have Carlyle and his hero, we haveEmerson and his representative man. We cannot comeunder this magnetism without feeling an increased buoy-ancy of spirit. And if we dwell long at once within thescope of this influence, we feel ourselves drawn percep-tibly towards the Zenith of being.

The inspiration gained from personal companion-ship comes with fresh charm. When this fountainflows, it is with the coolness of the springtime of joy.From our associates we can pick and choose always forour condition, but each word of kindness is an ounce of


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ASSOCIATIONS 85gold dropped into the treasury of life. How preciousthe hidden treasure thus revealed, yet how careless we,in the selection and mining of hearts.

Companions inevitably buoy us up or bear us down,they will either strengthen or weaken our faith and de-termination, stifle or expand our hope, ennoble or abaseour purposes. Thus we admonish ourselves to be ofsuch intercourse with people as to awaken andstrengthen their good desires. Dwell apart fromthoughts of viciousness and vice. Gossip about good-ness. Entertain one another with the excellence ofyour neighbor. Tell me of only the noble character-istics of your acquaintance. I gain the double potencyof his goodness and your affinity. But tell me of hisfaults, and I become cynic with thinking upon motes,and misanthropic under the weight of our combined de-pravity. I wish to grasp that man's hand from whoseheart will flow a current of strength to my own, whosewords upon my ears will have the rousing effect of ma-terial drums. I wish to look into those eyes whose mildglance imparts the charm of virtue. Plant in your so-cial vineyards fruit bearing friends.As destiny lies in such associations more than our-selves, we will gain companions, "the very echo of whosefootsteps sink upon the ear with the awe that belongs to

i


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86 THE ART OF READINGspiritual phenomena," and the mention of whose nameswill send through the nerves a thrill of rapture. Wewill gather about us galaxes in the midst of which wemay dwell in delight and wonder. We will search outthe worthy, whom to be with is to be blest. We willdwell among gods and goddesses, for, under right com-panionship, humanity becomes "Incarnate Providence."Whichever way we glance in the circle of worthy asso-ciates we will meet

Woman's fearless eyeLit by her deep love's truth,

and of whatever friend we speak we may say,He is a god to me.

(to


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WHEN WRITING " THE OKLAWAHA


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THE OCKLAWAHAA READING OF ONE'S OWN TRAVELS


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THE OCKLAWAHA/^\N the morning of the twenty-sixth of December,^-, the sun rose as on most Florida mornings^ cast-ing bright smiles on the St. John's. The red children ofnature caught this brilliancy from a sheet of water andcalled it Lake Astatula, meaning Lake of Sunbeams.Colonel H. L. Hart, who has navigated the Floridarivers for half a century, stood on the bank of the St.Johns a living example of the contagion of the climate,his face smiling like the sun on the river. He caughtthe Indian inspiration and the heavy, narrow threedecked boat which plies the Ocklawaha was called Asta-tula; heavy, because it must meet floating logs cut fromthe swamp forests above ; narrow, because in the narrowchannel closely lined with woods, it must turn a thou-sand short and narrow bends.

At Palatka at eleven o'clock, we took our easy chairson the middle front deck, and caressed by such a mildbreeze as indicated the service of the palm forests, wewere so enchanted by the soft, distant, scenery of theSt. John's that at four-thirty in the afternoon we stillrocked and

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Art of Reading