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+ background-color: inherit; + text-decoration: none; + } + + a:visited { + color: #000066; + background-color: inherit; + text-decoration: none; + } + + a:hover { + color: #A8480E; + background-color: #CC9; + } + --> + </style> + +</head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Lost Art of Reading, by Gerald Stanley Lee + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Lost Art of Reading + +Author: Gerald Stanley Lee + +Release Date: August 14, 2008 [EBook #26312] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LOST ART OF READING *** + + + + +Produced by Barbara Tozier, Bill Tozier and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + +<div id="the_beginning"> </div> +<div id="title_page"><a class="pagenum disguise" id="pagei" title="i"> </a> + <h1>The<br /> + Lost Art of Reading</h1> + + <p id="byline"><span class="stopword">By</span><br /> + + <span id="author">Gerald Stanley Lee</span><br /> + + <span id="works">Author of “The Shadow Christ” (A Study of the Hebrew Poets)<br /> + and “About an Old New England Church”<br /> + “A Little History”</span></p> + + <div id="pub_info"> + <p id="publisher">G. P. PUTNAM’S SONS</p> + <p id="pub_cities">New York and London</p> + <p class="press">The Knickerbocker Press</p> + <p id="date">1903</p> + </div> +</div> +<div id="copyright_page"><a class="pagenum disguise" id="pageii" title="ii"> </a> + <p id="copyright_statement">Copyright, 1902<br /> + by<br /> + GERALD STANLEY LEE</p> + <p id="publish_history">Published, November, 1902<br /> + Reprinted January 1903</p> + <p class="press">The Knickerbocker Press, New York</p> +</div> +<div id="dedication_page"><a class="pagenum disguise" id="pageiv" title="iv"> </a> + <p id="dedication">To<br /> + JENNETTE LEE</p> +</div> +<!-- <a class="pagenum" id="pagev" title="v"> </a>[Blank Page] --> +<div id="contents"><a class="pagenum cheater" id="pagev" title="v"> </a> + <div class="deco"> + <img src="images/style01.png" width="561" height="128" alt="" /> + </div> + <h2>Contents</h2> + <ul> + <li class="ul_li"><a href="#book_1">BOOK I</a> <span class="toc_page smaller">PAGE</span> + <br /><a href="#book_1">INTERFERENCES WITH THE READING HABIT</a> <a href="#page1" class="toc_page">1</a> + <ul> + <li class="ul_li_ul_li"><a href="#chapter_1.1">CIVILISATION</a> <a href="#page3" class="toc_page">3</a> + <ol> + <li class="ul_li_ul_li_ol_li"><a href="#section_1.1.1">Dust</a> <a href="#page3" class="toc_page">3</a></li> + <li class="ul_li_ul_li_ol_li"><a href="#section_1.1.2">Dust</a> <a href="#page5" class="toc_page">5</a></li> + <li class="ul_li_ul_li_ol_li"><a href="#section_1.1.3">Dust to Dust</a> <a href="#page8" class="toc_page">8</a></li> + <li class="ul_li_ul_li_ol_li"><a href="#section_1.1.4">Ashes</a> <a href="#page12" class="toc_page">12</a></li> + <li class="ul_li_ul_li_ol_li"><a href="#section_1.1.5">The Literary Rush</a> <a href="#page15" class="toc_page">15</a></li> + <li class="ul_li_ul_li_ol_li"><a href="#section_1.1.6">Parenthesis—To the Gentle Reader</a> <a href="#page24" class="toc_page">24</a></li> + <li class="ul_li_ul_li_ol_li"><a href="#section_1.1.7">More Parenthesis—But More to the Point</a> <a href="#page28" class="toc_page">28</a></li> + <li class="ul_li_ul_li_ol_li"><a href="#section_1.1.8">More Literary Rush</a> <a href="#page34" class="toc_page">34</a></li> + <li class="ul_li_ul_li_ol_li"><a href="#section_1.1.9">The Bugbear of Being Well Informed—A Practical Suggestion</a> <a href="#page41" class="toc_page">41</a></li> + <li class="ul_li_ul_li_ol_li"><a href="#section_1.1.10">The Dead Level of Intelligence</a> <a href="#page48" class="toc_page">48</a></li> + <li class="ul_li_ul_li_ol_li"><a href="#section_1.1.11">The Art of Reading as One Likes</a> <a href="#page58" class="toc_page">58</a></li> + </ol> + </li> + <li class="ul_li_ul_li"><a class="pagenum cheater" id="pagevi" title="vi"> </a><a href="#chapter_1.2">THE DISGRACE OF THE IMAGINATION</a> <a href="#page67" class="toc_page">67</a> + <ol> + <li class="ul_li_ul_li_ol_li"><a href="#section_1.2.1">On Wondering Why One Was Born</a> <a href="#page67" class="toc_page">67</a></li> + <li class="ul_li_ul_li_ol_li"><a href="#section_1.2.2">The Top of the Bureau Principle</a> <a href="#page74" class="toc_page">74</a></li> + </ol> + </li> + <li class="ul_li_ul_li"><a href="#chapter_1.3">THE UNPOPULARITY OF THE FIRST PERSON SINGULAR</a> <a href="#page82" class="toc_page">82</a> + <ol> + <li class="ul_li_ul_li_ol_li"><a href="#section_1.3.1">The First Person a Necessary Evil</a> <a href="#page82" class="toc_page">82</a></li> + <li class="ul_li_ul_li_ol_li"><a href="#section_1.3.2">The Art of Being Anonymous</a> <a href="#page89" class="toc_page">89</a></li> + <li class="ul_li_ul_li_ol_li"><a href="#section_1.3.3">Egoism and Society</a> <a href="#page96" class="toc_page">96</a></li> + <li class="ul_li_ul_li_ol_li"><a href="#section_1.3.4">i + I = We</a> <a href="#page99" class="toc_page">99</a></li> + <li class="ul_li_ul_li_ol_li"><a href="#section_1.3.5">The Autobiography of Beauty</a> <a href="#page104" class="toc_page">104</a></li> + </ol> + </li> + <li class="ul_li_ul_li"><a href="#chapter_1.4">THE HABIT OF NOT LETTING ONE’S SELF GO</a> <a href="#page109" class="toc_page">109</a> + <ol> + <li class="ul_li_ul_li_ol_li"><a href="#section_1.4.1">The Country Boy in Literature</a> <a href="#page109" class="toc_page">109</a></li> + <li class="ul_li_ul_li_ol_li"><a href="#section_1.4.2">The Subconscious Self</a> <a href="#page115" class="toc_page">115</a></li> + <li class="ul_li_ul_li_ol_li"><a href="#section_1.4.3">The Organic Principle of Inspiration</a> <a href="#page120" class="toc_page">120</a></li> + </ol> + </li> + <li class="ul_li_ul_li"><a href="#chapter_1.5">THE HABIT OF ANALYSIS</a> <a href="#page125" class="toc_page">125</a> + <ol> + <li class="ul_li_ul_li_ol_li"><a href="#section_1.5.1">If Shakespeare Came to Chicago</a> <a href="#page125" class="toc_page">125</a></li> + <li class="ul_li_ul_li_ol_li"><a href="#section_1.5.2">Analysis Analysed</a> <a href="#page136" class="toc_page">136</a></li> + </ol> + </li> + <li class="ul_li_ul_li"><a href="#chapter_1.6">LITERARY DRILL IN COLLEGE</a> <a href="#page144" class="toc_page">144</a> + <ol> + <li class="ul_li_ul_li_ol_li"><a href="#section_1.6.1">Seeds and Blossoms</a> <a href="#page144" class="toc_page">144</a></li> + <li class="ul_li_ul_li_ol_li"><a href="#section_1.6.2">Private Road: Dangerous</a> <a href="#page150" class="toc_page">150</a></li> + <li class="ul_li_ul_li_ol_li"><a href="#section_1.6.3">The Organs of Literature</a> <a href="#page159" class="toc_page">159</a></li> + <li class="ul_li_ul_li_ol_li"><a class="pagenum cheater" id="pagevii" title="vii"> </a><a href="#section_1.6.4">Entrance Examinations in Joy</a> <a href="#page164" class="toc_page">164</a></li> + <li class="ul_li_ul_li_ol_li"><a href="#section_1.6.5">Natural Selection in Theory</a> <a href="#page171" class="toc_page">171</a></li> + <li class="ul_li_ul_li_ol_li"><a href="#section_1.6.6">Natural Selection in Practice</a> <a href="#page175" class="toc_page">175</a></li> + <li class="ul_li_ul_li_ol_li"><a href="#section_1.6.7">The Emancipation of the Teacher</a> <a href="#page182" class="toc_page">182</a></li> + <li class="ul_li_ul_li_ol_li"><a href="#section_1.6.8">The Test of Culture</a> <a href="#page186" class="toc_page">186</a></li> + <li class="ul_li_ul_li_ol_li"><a href="#section_1.6.9">Summary</a> <a href="#page188" class="toc_page">188</a></li> + <li class="ul_li_ul_li_ol_li"><a href="#section_1.6.10">A Note</a> <a href="#page194" class="toc_page">194</a></li> + </ol> + </li> + <li class="ul_li_ul_li"><a href="#chapter_1.7">LIBRARIES. WANTED: AN OLD-FASHIONED LIBRARIAN</a> <a href="#page196" class="toc_page">196</a> + <ol> + <li class="ul_li_ul_li_ol_li"><a href="#section_1.7.1">viz.</a> <a href="#page196" class="toc_page">196</a></li> + <li class="ul_li_ul_li_ol_li"><a href="#section_1.7.1">cf.</a> <a href="#page199" class="toc_page">199</a></li> + <li class="ul_li_ul_li_ol_li"><a href="#section_1.7.1">et al.</a> <a href="#page202" class="toc_page">202</a></li> + <li class="ul_li_ul_li_ol_li"><a href="#section_1.7.1">etc.</a> <a href="#page205" class="toc_page">205</a></li> + <li class="ul_li_ul_li_ol_li"><a href="#section_1.7.1">O</a> <a href="#page212" class="toc_page">212</a></li> + </ol> + </li> + </ul> + </li> + <li class="ul_li"><a href="#book_2">BOOK II<br />POSSIBILITIES</a> <a href="#page217" class="toc_page">217</a> + <ul> + <li class="ul_li_ul_li" style="padding-top:0em;"> + <ol> + <li class="ul_li_ul_li_ol_li"><a href="#section_2.1.1">The Issue</a> <a href="#page219" class="toc_page">219</a></li> + <li class="ul_li_ul_li_ol_li"><a href="#section_2.1.2">The First Selection</a> <a href="#page222" class="toc_page">222</a></li> + <li class="ul_li_ul_li_ol_li"><a href="#section_2.1.3">Conveniences</a> <a href="#page223" class="toc_page">223</a></li> + <li class="ul_li_ul_li_ol_li"><a href="#section_2.1.4">The Charter of Possibility</a> <a href="#page230" class="toc_page">230</a></li> + <li class="ul_li_ul_li_ol_li"><a href="#section_2.1.5">The Great Game</a> <a href="#page233" class="toc_page">233</a></li> + <li class="ul_li_ul_li_ol_li"><a href="#section_2.1.6">Outward Bound</a> <a href="#page239" class="toc_page">239</a></li> + </ol> + </li> + </ul> + </li> + <li class="ul_li"><a class="pagenum cheater" id="pageviii" title="viii"> </a><a href="#book_3">BOOK III<br />DETAILS. THE CONFESSIONS OF AN UNSCIENTIFIC MIND</a> <a href="#page247" class="toc_page">247</a> + <ol> + <li class="ul_li_ol_li"><a href="#chapter_3.1">UNSCIENTIFIC</a> <a href="#page249" class="toc_page">249</a> + <ol> + <li class="ul_li_ol_li_ol_li"><a href="#section_3.1.1">On Being Intelligent in a Library</a> <a href="#page249" class="toc_page">249</a></li> + <li class="ul_li_ol_li_ol_li"><a href="#section_3.1.2">How It Feels</a> <a href="#page253" class="toc_page">253</a></li> + <li class="ul_li_ol_li_ol_li"><a href="#section_3.1.3">How a Specialist Can Be an Educated Man</a> <a href="#page254" class="toc_page">254</a></li> + <li class="ul_li_ol_li_ol_li"><a href="#section_3.1.4">On Reading Books Through their Backs</a> <a href="#page258" class="toc_page">258</a></li> + <li class="ul_li_ol_li_ol_li"><a href="#section_3.1.5">On Keeping Each Other in Countenance</a> <a href="#page261" class="toc_page">261</a></li> + <li class="ul_li_ol_li_ol_li"><a href="#section_3.1.6">The Romance of Science</a> <a href="#page264" class="toc_page">264</a></li> + <li class="ul_li_ol_li_ol_li"><a href="#section_3.1.7">Monads</a> <a href="#page267" class="toc_page">267</a></li> + <li class="ul_li_ol_li_ol_li"><a href="#section_3.1.8">Multiplication Tables</a> <a href="#page277" class="toc_page">277</a></li> + </ol> + </li> + <li class="ul_li_ol_li"><a href="#chapter_3.2">READING FOR PRINCIPLES</a> <a href="#page279" class="toc_page">279</a> + <ol> + <li class="ul_li_ol_li_ol_li"><a href="#section_3.2.1">On Changing One’s Conscience</a> <a href="#page279" class="toc_page">279</a></li> + <li class="ul_li_ol_li_ol_li"><a href="#section_3.2.2">On the Intolerance of Experienced People</a> <a href="#page282" class="toc_page">282</a></li> + <li class="ul_li_ol_li_ol_li"><a href="#section_3.2.3">On Having One’s Experience Done Out</a> <a href="#page285" class="toc_page">285</a></li> + <li class="ul_li_ol_li_ol_li"><a href="#section_3.2.4">On Reading a Newspaper in Ten Minutes</a> <a href="#page289" class="toc_page">289</a></li> + <li class="ul_li_ol_li_ol_li"><a href="#section_3.2.5">General Information</a> <a href="#page291" class="toc_page">291</a></li> + <li class="ul_li_ol_li_ol_li"><a href="#section_3.2.6">But——</a> <a href="#page299" class="toc_page">299</a></li> + </ol> + </li> + <li class="ul_li_ol_li"><a href="#chapter_3.3">READING DOWN THROUGH</a> <a href="#page307" class="toc_page">307</a> + <ol> + <li class="ul_li_ol_li_ol_li"><a href="#section_3.3.1">Inside</a> <a href="#page307" class="toc_page">307</a></li> + <li class="ul_li_ol_li_ol_li"><a href="#section_3.3.2">On Being Lonely with a Book</a> <a href="#page308" class="toc_page">308</a></li> + <li class="ul_li_ol_li_ol_li"><a class="pagenum cheater" id="pageix" title="ix"> </a><a href="#section_3.3.3">Keeping Other Minds Off</a> <a href="#page311" class="toc_page">311</a></li> + <li class="ul_li_ol_li_ol_li"><a href="#section_3.3.4">Reading Backwards</a> <a href="#page313" class="toc_page">313</a></li> + </ol> + </li> + <li class="ul_li_ol_li"><a href="#chapter_3.4">READING FOR FACTS</a> <a href="#page319" class="toc_page">319</a> + <ol> + <li class="ul_li_ol_li_ol_li"><a href="#section_3.4.1">Calling the Meeting to Order</a> <a href="#page319" class="toc_page">319</a></li> + <li class="ul_li_ol_li_ol_li"><a href="#section_3.4.2">Symbolic Facts</a> <a href="#page323" class="toc_page">323</a></li> + <li class="ul_li_ol_li_ol_li"><a href="#section_3.4.3">Duplicates: A Principle of Economy</a> <a href="#page325" class="toc_page">325</a></li> + </ol> + </li> + <li class="ul_li_ol_li"><a href="#chapter_3.5">READING FOR RESULTS</a> <a href="#page329" class="toc_page">329</a> + <ol> + <li class="ul_li_ol_li_ol_li"><a href="#section_3.5.1">The Blank Paper Frame of Mind</a> <a href="#page329" class="toc_page">329</a></li> + <li class="ul_li_ol_li_ol_li"><a href="#section_3.5.2">The Usefully Unfinished</a> <a href="#page334" class="toc_page">334</a></li> + <li class="ul_li_ol_li_ol_li"><a href="#section_3.5.3">Athletics</a> <a href="#page340" class="toc_page">340</a></li> + </ol> + </li> + <li class="ul_li_ol_li"><a href="#chapter_3.6">READING FOR FEELINGS</a> <a href="#page347" class="toc_page">347</a> + <ol> + <li class="ul_li_ol_li_ol_li"><a href="#section_3.6.1">The Passion of Truth</a> <a href="#page347" class="toc_page">347</a></li> + <li class="ul_li_ol_li_ol_li"><a href="#section_3.6.2">The Topical Point of View</a> <a href="#page352" class="toc_page">352</a></li> + </ol> + </li> + <li class="ul_li_ol_li"><a href="#chapter_3.7">READING THE WORLD TOGETHER</a> <a href="#page359" class="toc_page">359</a> + <ol> + <li class="ul_li_ol_li_ol_li"><a href="#section_3.7.1">Focusing</a> <a href="#page359" class="toc_page">359</a></li> + <li class="ul_li_ol_li_ol_li"><a href="#section_3.7.2">The Human Unit</a> <a href="#page364" class="toc_page">364</a></li> + <li class="ul_li_ol_li_ol_li"><a href="#section_3.7.3">The Higher Cannibalism</a> <a href="#page367" class="toc_page">367</a></li> + <li class="ul_li_ol_li_ol_li"><a href="#section_3.7.4">Spiritual Thrift</a> <a href="#page378" class="toc_page">378</a></li> + <li class="ul_li_ol_li_ol_li"><a href="#section_3.7.5">The City, the Church, and the College</a> <a href="#page384" class="toc_page">384</a></li> + <li class="ul_li_ol_li_ol_li"><a href="#section_3.7.6">The Outsiders</a> <a href="#page389" class="toc_page">389</a></li> + <li class="ul_li_ol_li_ol_li"><a href="#section_3.7.7">Reading the World Together</a> <a href="#page397" class="toc_page">397</a></li> + </ol> + </li> + </ol> + </li> + <li class="ul_li"><a class="pagenum cheater" id="pagex" title="x"> </a><a href="#book_4">BOOK IV<br />WHAT TO DO NEXT</a> <a href="#page403" class="toc_page">403</a> + <ul> + <li class="ul_li_ul_li" style="padding-top:0em;"> + <ol> + <li class="ul_li_ul_li_ol_li"><a href="#section_4.1.1">See Next Chapter</a> <a href="#page405" class="toc_page">405</a></li> + <li class="ul_li_ul_li_ol_li"><a href="#section_4.1.2">Diagnosis</a> <a href="#page410" class="toc_page">410</a></li> + <li class="ul_li_ul_li_ol_li"><a href="#section_4.1.3">Eclipse</a> <a href="#page412" class="toc_page">412</a></li> + <li class="ul_li_ul_li_ol_li"><a href="#section_4.1.4">Apocalypse</a> <a href="#page419" class="toc_page">419</a></li> + <li class="ul_li_ul_li_ol_li"><a href="#section_4.1.5">Every Man His Own Genius</a> <a href="#page426" class="toc_page">426</a></li> + <li class="ul_li_ul_li_ol_li"><a href="#section_4.1.6">An Inclined Plane</a> <a href="#page430" class="toc_page">430</a></li> + <li class="ul_li_ul_li_ol_li"><a href="#section_4.1.7">Allons</a> <a href="#page435" class="toc_page">435</a></li> + </ol> + </li> + </ul> + </li> + </ul> +</div> +<div id="book_1" class="book"><a class="pagenum" id="page1" title="1"> </a> + <h2 class="book_title"><span class="book_number">Book I</span><br /> + Interferences with the Reading Habit</h2> + + <!-- <a class="pagenum" id="page2" title="2"> </a>[Blank Page] --> + + <div id="chapter_1.1" class="chapter"><a class="pagenum" id="page3" title="3"> </a> + <div class="deco"> + <img src="images/style02.png" width="470" height="107" alt="" /> + </div> + <h3 class="chapter_title">The First Interference:<br /> + Civilisation</h3> + + <div id="section_1.1.1" class="section"> + <h4 class="section_title"><abbr class="section_number" title="one">I</abbr><br/> + Dust</h4> + + <p class="first_paragraph"><span class="first_word">“I see</span> the ships,” said The Eavesdropper, + as he stole round the world to me, “on + a dozen sides of the world. I hear them fighting + with the sea.”</p> + + <p>“And what do you see on the ships?” I + said.</p> + + <p>“Figures of men and women—thousands of + figures of men and women.”</p> + + <p>“And what are they doing?”</p> + + <p>“They are walking fiercely,” he said,—“some + of them,—walking fiercely up and down + the decks before the sea.”</p> + + <p>“Why?” said I.</p> + + <p>“Because they cannot stand still and look at + <a class="pagenum" id="page4" title="4"> </a>it. Others are reading in chairs because they + cannot sit still and look at it.”</p> + + <p>“And there are some,” said The Eavesdropper, + “with roofs of boards above their + heads (to protect them from Wonder)—down + in the hold—playing cards.”</p> + + <p>There was silence.</p> + + <p class="dotbreak">••••••••</p> + + <p>“What are you seeing now?” I said.</p> + + <p>“Trains,” he said—“a globe full of trains. + They are on a dozen sides of it. They are + clinging to the crusts of it—mountains—rivers—prairies—some + in the light and some in the + dark—creeping through space.”</p> + + <p>“And what do you see in the trains?”</p> + + <p>“Miles of faces.”</p> + + <p>“And the faces?”</p> + + <p>“They are pushing on the trains.”</p> + + <p class="dotbreak">••••••••</p> + + <p>“What are you seeing now?” I said.</p> + + <p>“Cities,” he said—“streets of cities—miles + of streets of cities.”</p> + + <p>“And what do you see in the streets of + cities?”</p> + + <p>“Men, women, and smoke.”</p> + + <p>“And what are the men and women doing?”</p> + + <p>“Hurrying,” said he.</p> + + <p>“Where?” said I.</p> + + <p>“God knows.”</p> + </div> + <div id="section_1.1.2" class="section"><a class="pagenum" id="page5" title="5"> </a> + <h4 class="section_title"><abbr class="section_number" title="two">II</abbr><br/> + Dust</h4> + + <p>The population of the civilised world to-day + may be divided into two classes,—millionaires + and those who would like to be + millionaires. The rest are artists, poets, + tramps, and babies—and do not count. Poets + and artists do not count until after they are + dead. Tramps are put in prison. Babies are + expected to get over it. A few more summers, + a few more winters—with short skirts or with + down on their chins—they shall be seen burrowing + with the rest of us.</p> + + <p>One almost wonders sometimes, why it is + that the sun keeps on year after year and day + after day turning the globe around and around, + heating it and lighting it and keeping things + growing on it, when after all, when all is said + and done (crowded with wonder and with + things to live with, as it is), it is a comparatively + empty globe. No one seems to be using + it very much, or paying very much attention + to it, or getting very much out of it. There + are never more than a very few men on it at a + time, who can be said to be really living on it. + They are engaged in getting a living and in + hoping that they are going to live sometime. + They are also going to read sometime.</p> + + <p>When one thinks of the wasted sunrises and + sunsets—the great free show of heaven—the + <a class="pagenum" id="page6" title="6"> </a>door open every night—of the little groups of + people straggling into it—of the swarms of + people hurrying back and forth before it, + jostling their getting-a-living lives up and + down before it, not knowing it is there,—one + wonders why it is there. Why does it not fall + upon us, or its lights go suddenly out upon us? + We stand in the days and the nights like stalls—suns + flying over our heads, stars singing + through space beneath our feet. But we do + not see. Every man’s head in a pocket,—boring + for his living in a pocket—or being bored + for his living in a pocket,—why should he see? + True we are not without a philosophy for this—to + look over the edge of our stalls with. + “Getting a living is living,” we say. We + whisper it to ourselves—in our pockets. Then + we try to get it. When we get it, we try to + believe it—and when we get it we do not believe + anything. Let every man under the + walled-in heaven, the iron heaven, speak for + his own soul. No one else shall speak for + him. We only know what we know—each of + us in our own pockets. The great books tell + us it has not always been an iron heaven or a + walled-in heaven. But into the faces of the + flocks of the children that come to us, year + after year, we look, wondering. They shall + not do anything but burrowing—most of them. + Our very ideals are burrowings. So are our + books. Religion burrows. It barely so much + as looks at heaven. Why should a civilised man—a + <a class="pagenum" id="page7" title="7"> </a>man who has a pocket in civilisation—a + man who can burrow—look at heaven? It + is the glimmering boundary line where burrowing + leaves off. Time enough. In the meantime + the shovel. Let the stars wheel. Do + men look at stars with shovels?</p> + + <hr class="thoughtbreak" /> + + <p class="post_thoughtbreak">The faults of our prevailing habits of reading + are the faults of our lives. Any criticism + of our habit of reading books to-day, which + actually or even apparently confines itself to + the point, is unsatisfactory. A criticism of the + reading habit of a nation is a criticism of its + civilisation. To sketch a scheme of defence + for the modern human brain, from the kindergarten + stage to Commencement day, is merely + a way of bringing the subject of education up, + and dropping it where it begins.</p> + + <p>Even if the youth of the period, as a live, + human, reading being (on the principles to be + laid down in the following pages), is so fortunate + as to succeed in escaping the dangers and + temptations of the home—even if he contrives + to run the gauntlet of the grammar school and + the academy—even if, in the last, longest, and + hardest pull of all, he succeeds in keeping a + spontaneous habit with books in spite of a college + course, the story is not over. Civilisation + waits for him—all-enfolding, all-instructing + civilisation, and he stands face to face—book + in hand—with his last chance.</p> + </div> + <div id="section_1.1.3" class="section"><a class="pagenum" id="page8" title="8"> </a> + <h4 class="section_title"><abbr class="section_number" title="three">III</abbr><br/> + Dust to Dust</h4> + + <p>Whatever else may be said of our present + civilisation, one must needs go very far in it to + see Abraham at his tent’s door, waiting for + angels. And yet, from the point of view of + reading and from the point of view of the books + that the world has always called worth reading, + if ever there was a type of a gentleman + and scholar in history, and a Christian, and a + man of possibilities, founder and ruler of + civilisations, it is this same man Abraham + at his tent’s door waiting for angels. Have + we any like him now? Peradventure there + shall be twenty? Peradventure there shall + be ten? Where is the man who feels that + he is free to-day to sit upon his steps and have + a quiet think, unless there floats across the + spirit of his dream the sweet and reassuring + sound of some one making a tremendous din + around the next corner—a band, or a new literary + journal, or a historical novel, or a special + correspondent, or a new club or church or + something? Until he feels that the world is + being conducted for him, that things are tolerably + not at rest, where shall one find in civilisation, + in this present moment, a man who is + ready to stop and look about him—to take a + spell at last at being a reasonable, contemplative, + or even marriageable being?</p> + + <p><a class="pagenum" id="page9" title="9"> </a>The essential unmarriageableness of the + modern man and the unreadableness of his + books are two facts that work very well together.</p> + + <p>When Emerson asked Bronson Alcott + “What have you done in the world, what + have you written?” the answer of Alcott, “If + Pythagoras came to Concord whom would he + ask to see?” was a diagnosis of the whole + nineteenth century. It was a very short sentence, + but it was a sentence to found a college + with, to build libraries out of, to make a whole + modern world read, to fill the weary and heedless + heart of it—for a thousand years.</p> + + <p>We have plenty of provision made for books + in civilisation, but if civilisation should ever + have another man in the course of time who + knows how to read a book, it would not know + what to do with him. No provision is made + for such a man. We have nothing but libraries—monstrous + libraries to lose him in. + The books take up nearly all the room in + civilisation, and civilisation takes up the rest. + The man is not allowed to peep in civilisation. + He is too busy in being ordered around by + it to know that he would like to. It does + not occur to him that he ought to be allowed + time in it to know who he is, before he dies. + The typical civilised man is an exhausted, + spiritually hysterical man because he has no + idea of what it means, or can be made to mean + to a man, to face calmly with his whole life a + <a class="pagenum" id="page10" title="10"> </a>great book, a few minutes every day, to rest + back on his ideals in it, to keep office hours + with his own soul.</p> + + <p>The practical value of a book is the inherent + energy and quietness of the ideals in it—the + immemorial way ideals have—have always had—of + working themselves out in a man, of doing + the work of the man and of doing their own + work at the same time.</p> + + <p>Inasmuch as ideals are what all real books + are written with and read with, and inasmuch + as ideals are the only known way a human + being has of resting, in this present world, it + would be hard to think of any book that would + be more to the point in this modern civilisation + than a book that shall tell men how to read to + live,—how to touch their ideals swiftly every + day. Any book that should do this for us + would touch life at more points and flow out + on men’s minds in more directions than any + other that could be conceived. It would contribute + as the June day, or as the night for + sleep, to all men’s lives, to all of the problems + of all of the world at once. It would be a + night latch—to the ideal.</p> + + <p>Whatever the remedy may be said to be, one + thing is certainly true with regard to our reading + habits in modern times. Men who are + habitually shamefaced or absent-minded before + the ideal—that is, before the actual nature + of things—cannot expect to be real readers of + books. They can only be what most men + <a class="pagenum" id="page11" title="11"> </a>are nowadays, merely busy and effeminate, + running-and-reading sort of men—rushing + about propping up the universe. Men who + cannot trust the ideal—the nature of things,—and + who think they can do better, are naturally + kept very busy, and as they take no time + to rest back on their ideals they are naturally + very tired. The result stares at us on every + hand. Whether in religion, art, education, or + public affairs, we do not stop to find our ideals + for the problems that confront us. We do + not even look at them. Our modern problems + are all Jerichos to us—most of them paper + ones. We arrange symposiums and processions + around them and shout at them and march up + and down before them. Modern prophecy is + the blare of the trumpet. Modern thought is + a crowd hurrying to and fro. Civilisation is + the dust we scuffle in each other’s eyes.</p> + + <p>When the peace and strength of spirit with + which the walls of temples are builded no + longer dwell in them, the stones crumble. + Temples are built of eon-gathered and eon-rested + stones. Infinite nights and days are + wrought in them, and leisure and splendour + wait upon them, and visits of suns and stars, + and when leisure and splendour are no more in + human beings’ lives, and visits of suns and + stars are as though they were not, in our + civilisation, the walls of it shall crumble upon + us. If fulness and leisure and power of living + are no more with us, nothing shall save us. + <a class="pagenum" id="page12" title="12"> </a>Walls of encyclopædias—not even walls of + Bibles shall save us, nor miles of Carnegie-library. + Empty and hasty and cowardly living + does not get itself protected from the laws of + nature by tons of paper and ink. The only + way out for civilisation is through the practical + men in it—men who grapple daily with + ideals, who keep office hours with their souls, + who keep hold of life with books, who take + enough time out of hurrahing civilisation + along—to live.</p> + + <p>Civilisation has been long in building and + its splendour still hangs over us, but Parthenons + do not stand when Parthenons are no longer + being lived in Greek men’s souls. Only those + who have Coliseums in them can keep Coliseums + around them. The Ideal has its own + way. It has it with the very stones. It was + an Ideal, a vanished Ideal, that made a moonlight + scene for tourists out of the Coliseum—out + of the Dead Soul of Rome.</p> + </div> + <div id="section_1.1.4" class="section"> + <h4 class="section_title"><abbr class="section_number" title="four">IV</abbr><br/> + Ashes</h4> + + <p>There seem to be but two fundamental characteristic + sensibilities left alive in the typical, + callously-civilised man. One of these sensibilities + is the sense of motion and the other is the + sense of mass. If he cannot be appealed to + through one of these senses, it is of little use + <a class="pagenum" id="page13" title="13"> </a>to appeal to him at all. In proportion as he + is civilised, the civilised man can be depended + on for two things. He can always be touched + by a hurry of any kind, and he never fails to + be moved by a crowd. If he can have hurry + and crowd together, he is capable of almost + anything. These two sensibilities, the sense + of motion and the sense of mass, are all that is + left of the original, lusty, tasting and seeing + and feeling human being who took possession + of the earth. And even in the case of comparatively + rudimentary and somewhat stupid + senses like these, the sense of motion, with the + average civilised man, is so blunt that he needs + to be rushed along at seventy miles an hour to + have the feeling that he is moving, and his + sense of mass is so degenerate that he needs to + live with hundreds of thousands of people next + door to know that he is not alone. He is seen + in his most natural state,—this civilised being,—with + most of his civilisation around him, in + the seat of an elevated railway train, with a + crowded newspaper before his eyes, and another + crowded newspaper in his lap, and crowds of + people reading crowded newspapers standing + round him in the aisles; but he can never be + said to be seen at his best, in a spectacle like + this, until the spectacle moves, until it is felt + rushing over the sky of the street, puffing + through space; in which delectable pell-mell + and carnival of hurry—hiss in front of it, shriek + under it, and dust behind it—he finds, to all + <a class="pagenum" id="page14" title="14"> </a>appearances at least, the meaning of this present + world and the hope of the next. Hurry and + crowd have kissed each other and his soul + rests. “If Abraham sitting in his tent door + waiting for angels had been visited by a spectacle + like this and invited to live in it all his + days, would he not have climbed into it cheerfully + enough?” asks the modern man. Living + in a tent would have been out of the question, + and waiting for angels—waiting for anything, + in fact—forever impossible.</p> + + <p>Whatever else may be said of Abraham, his + waiting for angels was the making of him, and + the making of all that is good in what has followed + since. The man who hangs on a strap—up + in the morning and down at night, hurrying + between the crowd he sleeps with and the + crowd he works with, to the crowd that hurries + no more,—even this man, such as he is, with + all his civilisation roaring about him, would + have been impossible if Abraham in the stately + and quiet days had not waited at his tent door + for angels to begin a civilisation with, or if he + had been the kind of Abraham that expected + that angels would come hurrying and scurrying + after one in a spectacle like this. “What + has a man,” says Blank in his <cite>Angels of the + Nineteenth Century</cite>,—“What has a man who + consents to be a knee-bumping, elbow-jamming, + foothold-struggling strap-hanger—an + abject commuter all his days (for no better + reason than that he is not well enough to keep + <a class="pagenum" id="page15" title="15"> </a>still and that there is not enough of him to be + alone)—to do with angels—or to do with anything, + except to get done with it as fast as he + can?” So say we all of us, hanging on straps + to say it, swaying and swinging to oblivion. + “Is there no power,” says Blank, “in heaven + above or earth beneath that will <em>help us to + stop?</em>”</p> + + <p>If a civilisation is founded on two senses—the + sense of motion and the sense of mass,—one + need not go far to find the essential traits + of its literature and its daily reading habit. + There are two things that such a civilisation + makes sure of in all its concerns—hurry and + crowd. Hence the spectacle before us—the + literary rush and mobs of books.</p> + </div> + <div id="section_1.1.5" class="section"> + <h4 class="section_title"><abbr class="section_number" title="five">V</abbr><br/> + The Literary Rush</h4> + + <p>The present writer, being occasionally addicted + (like the reader of this book) to a seemly + desire to have the opinions of some one besides + the author represented, has fallen into the way + of having interviews held with himself from + time to time, which are afterwards published at + his own request. These interviews appear in + the public prints as being between a Mysterious + Person and The Presiding Genius of the State of + Massachusetts. The author can only earnestly + hope that in thus generously providing for an + <a class="pagenum" id="page16" title="16"> </a>opposing point of view, in taking, as it were, + the words of the enemy upon his lips, he will + lose the sympathy of the reader. The Mysterious + Person is in colloquy with The Presiding + Genius of the State of Massachusetts. As + The P. G. S. of M. lives relentlessly at his + elbow—dogs every day of his life,—it is hoped + that the reader will make allowance for a certain + impatient familiarity in the tone of The + Mysterious Person toward so considerable a + personage as The Presiding Genius of the State + of Massachusetts—which we can only profoundly + regret.</p> + + <p>The Mysterious Person: “There is no escaping + from it. Reading-madness is a thing we + all are breathing in to-day whether we will or + no, and it is not only in the air, but it is worse + than in the air. It is underneath the foundations + of the things in which we live and on + which we stand. It has infected the very + character of the natural world, and the movement + of the planets, and the whirl of the globe + beneath our feet. Without its little paling of + books about it, there is hardly a thing that is + left in this modern world a man can go to for + its own sake. Except by stepping off the + globe, perhaps, now and then—practically + arranging a world of one’s own, and breaking + with one’s kind,—the life that a man must live + to-day can only be described as a kind of eternal + parting with himself. There is getting to + be no possible way for a man to preserve his + <a class="pagenum" id="page17" title="17"> </a>five spiritual senses—even his five physical + ones—and be a member, in good and regular + standing, of civilisation at the same time.</p> + + <p>“If civilisation and human nature are to + continue to be allowed to exist together there + is but one way out, apparently—an extra + planet for all of us, one for a man to live on + and the other for him to be civilised on.”</p> + + <p>P. G. S. of M.: <span class="keep_together">“But——”</span></p> + + <p>“As long as we, who are the men and women + of the world, are willing to continue our present + fashion of giving up living in order to get + a living, one planet will never be large enough + for us. If we can only get our living in one + place and have it to live with in another, the + question is, To whom does this present planet + belong—the people who spend their days in + living into it and enjoying it, or the people + who never take time to notice the planet, who + do not seem to know that they are living on a + planet at all?”</p> + + <p>P. G. S. of M.: <span class="keep_together">“But——”</span></p> + + <p>“I may not be very well informed on very + many things, but I am very sure of one of + them,” said The Mysterious Person, “and that + is, that this present planet—this one we are + living on now—belongs by all that is fair and + just to those who are really living on it, and + that it should be saved and kept as a sacred + and protected place—a place where men shall + be able to belong to the taste and colour and + meaning of things and to God and to themselves. + <a class="pagenum" id="page18" title="18"> </a>If people want another planet—a + planet to belong to Society on,—let them go + out and get it.</p> + + <p>“Look at our literature—current literature. + It is a mere headlong, helpless literary rush + from beginning to end. All that one can extract + from it is getting to be a kind of general + sound of going. We began gently enough. + We began with the annual. We had Poor + Richard’s Almanac. Then we had the quarterly. + A monthly was reasonable enough in + course of time; so we had monthlies. Then + the semi-monthly came to ease our literary + nerves; and now the weekly magazine + stumbles, rapt and wistful, on the heels of men + of genius. It makes contracts for prophecy. + Unborn poems are sold in the open market. + The latest thoughts that thinkers have, the + trend of the thoughts they are going to have—the + public makes demand for these. It gets + them. Then it cries ‘More! More!’ Where + is the writer who does not think with the + printing-press hot upon his track, and the + sound of the pulp-mill making paper for his + poems, and the buzz of editors, instead of the + music of the spheres? Think of the destruction + to American forests, the bare and glaring + hills that face us day and night, all for a literature + like this—thousands of square miles of it, + spread before our faces, morning after morning, + week after week, through all this broad + and glorious land! Seventy million souls—brothers + <a class="pagenum" id="page19" title="19"> </a>of yours and mine—walking through + prairies of pictures Sunday after Sunday, flickered + at by head-lines, deceived by adjectives, + each with his long day’s work, column after + column, sentence after sentence, plodding—plodding—plodding + down to <span class="keep_together">——.</span> My geography + may be wrong; the general direction is + right.”</p> + + <p>“But don’t you believe in newspapers?”</p> + + <p>“Why, yes, in the abstract; <em>news</em>papers. + But we do not have any news nowadays. It is + not news to know a thing before it’s happened, + nor is it news to know what might happen, or + why it might happen, or why it might not + happen. To be told that it doesn’t make + any difference whether it happens at all, + would be news, perhaps, to many people—such + news as there is; but it is hardly + worth while to pay three cents to be sure of + that. An intelligent man can be sure of it for + nothing. He has been sure of it every morning + for years. It’s the gist of most of the + newspapers he reads. From the point of view + of what can be called truly vital information, + in any larger sense, the only news a daily + paper has is the date at the top of the page. + If a man once makes sure of that, if he feels + from the bottom of his heart what really good + news it is that one more day is come in a world + as beautiful as this,—the rest of <span class="keep_together">it——”</span></p> + + <p>P. G. S. of M.: <span class="keep_together">“But——”</span></p> + + <p>“The rest of it, if it’s true, is hardly worth + <a class="pagenum" id="page20" title="20"> </a>knowing; and if it’s worth knowing, it can be + found better in books; and if it’s not true—‘Every + man his own liar’ is my motto. He + might as well have the pleasure of it, and he + knows how much to believe. The same lunging, + garrulous, blindly busy habit is the law of + all we do. Take our literary critical journals. + If a critic can not tell what he sees at once, he + must tell what he fails to see at once. The + point is not his seeing or not seeing, nor anybody’s + seeing or not seeing. The point is the + imperative ‘at once.’ Literature is getting to + be the filling of orders—time-limited orders. + Criticism is out of a car window. Book reviews + are telegraphed across the sea (Tennyson’s + memoirs). The —— (Daily) —— (a + spectacle for Homer!) begins a magazine to ‘review + in three weeks every book of permanent + value that is published’—one of the gravest + and most significant blows at literature—one + of the gravest and most significant signs of the + condition of letters to-day—that could be conceived! + Three weeks, man! As if a ‘book of + permanent value’ had ever been recognised, as + yet, in three years, or reviewed in thirty years + (in any proper sense), or mastered in three + hundred years—with all the hurrying of this + hurrying world! We have no book-reviewers. + Why should we? Criticism begins where a + man’s soul leaves off. It comes from brilliantly-defective + minds,—so far as one can see,—from + men of attractively imperfect sympathies. + <a class="pagenum" id="page21" title="21"> </a>Nordau, working himself into a mighty + wrath because mystery is left out of his soul, + gathering adjectives about his loins, stalks this + little fluttered modern world, puts his huge, + fumbling, hippopotamus hoof upon the <cite>Blessed + Damozel</cite>, goes crashing through the press. He + is greeted with a shudder of delight. Even + Matthew Arnold, a man who had a way of seeing + things almost, sometimes, criticises Emerson + for lack of unity, because the unity was on + so large a scale that Arnold’s imagination could + not see it; and now the chirrup from afar, rising + from the east and the west, ‘Why doesn’t + George Meredith?’ etc. People want him to + put guide-posts in his books, apparently, or + before his sentences: ‘<span class="small_all_caps">TO ——</span>’ or ‘<span class="small_all_caps">TEN MILES + TO THE NEAREST VERB</span>’—the inevitable fate of + any writer, man or woman, who dares to ask, + in this present day, that his reader shall stop + to think. If a man cannot read as he runs, he + does not read a book at all. The result is, he + ought to run; that is natural enough; and the + faster he runs, in most books, the better.”</p> + + <p>At this point The Mysterious Person reached + out his long arm from his easy-chair to some + papers that were lying near. I knew too well + what it meant. He began to read. (He is + always breaking over into manuscript when he + talks.)</p> + + <p>“We are forgetting to see. Looking is a + lost art. With our poor, wistful, straining + eyes, we hurry along the days that slowly, + <a class="pagenum" id="page22" title="22"> </a>out of the rest of heaven, move their stillness + across this little world. The more we hurry, + the more we read. Night and noon and morning + the panorama passes before our eyes. By + tables, on cars, and in the street we see them—readers, + readers everywhere, drinking their + blindness in. Life is a blur of printed paper. + We see no more the things themselves. We + see about them. We lose the power to see + the things themselves. We see in sentences. + The linotype looks for us. We know the + world in columns. The sounds of the street + are muffled to us. In papers up to our ears, + we whirl along our endless tracks. The faces + that pass are phantoms. In our little woodcut + head-line dream we go ceaseless on, turning + leaves,—days and weeks and months of leaves,—wherever + we go—years of leaves. Boys who + never have seen the sky above them, young + men who have never seen it in a face, old men + who have never looked out at sea across a + crowd, nor guessed the horizons there—dead + men, the flicker of life in their hands, not yet + beneath the roofs of graves—all turning + leaves.”</p> + + <p>The Mysterious Person stopped. Nobody + said anything. It is the better way, generally, + with The Mysterious Person. We were beginning + to feel as if he were through, when his + eye fell on a copy of The ——, lying on the + floor. It was open at an unlucky page.</p> + + <p>“Look at that!” said he. He handed the + <a class="pagenum" id="page23" title="23"> </a>paper to The P. G. S. of M., pointing with his + finger, rather excitedly. The P. G. S. of M. + looked at it—read it through. Then he put it + down; The Mysterious Person went on.</p> + + <p>“Do you not know what it means when you, + a civilised, cultivated, converted human being, + can stand face to face with a list—a list like + that—a list headed ‘<span class="small_all_caps">BOOKS OF THE WEEK</span>’—when, + unblinking and shameless, and without + a cry of protest, you actually read it through, + without seeing, or seeming to see, for a single + moment that right there—right there in that + list—the fact that there is such a list—your + civilisation is on trial for its life—that any + society or nation or century that is shallow + enough to publish as many books as that has + yet to face the most awful, the most unprecedented, + the most headlong-coming crisis in + the history of the human race?”</p> + + <p>The Mysterious Person made a pause—the + pause of settling things. [There are people + who seem to think that the only really adequate + way to settle a thing, in this world, is + for them to ask a question about it.]</p> + + <p>At all events The Mysterious Person having + asked a question at this point, everybody + might as well have the benefit of it.</p> + + <p>In the meantime, it is to be hoped that in + the next chapter The Presiding Genius of the + State of Massachusetts, or somebody—will get + a word in.</p> + </div> + <div id="section_1.1.6" class="section"><a class="pagenum" id="page24" title="24"> </a> + <h4 class="section_title"><abbr class="section_number" title="six">VI</abbr><br/> + Parenthesis + To the Gentle Reader</h4> + + <p>This was a footnote at first. It is placed at + the top of the page in the hope that it will + point at itself more and let the worst out at + once. I want to say I—a little—in this + book.</p> + + <p>I do not propose to do it very often. Indeed + I am not sure just now, that I shall be able to + do it at all, but I would like to have the feeling + as I go along that arrangements have been + made for it, and that it is all understood, and + that if I am fairly good about it—ring a little + bell or something—and warn people, I am + going to be allowed—right here in my own + book at least—to say I when I want to.</p> + + <p>I is the way I feel on the inside about this + subject. Anybody can see it. And I want to + be honest, in the first place, and in the second + place (like a good many other people) I never + have had what could be called a real good + chance to say I in this world, and I feel that + if I had—somehow, it would cure me.</p> + + <p>I have tried other ways. I have tried calling + myself he. I have stated my experiences + in principles—called myself it, and in the first + part of this book I have already fallen into the + way—page after page—of borrowing other + people, when all the time I knew perfectly well + <a class="pagenum" id="page25" title="25"> </a>(and everybody) that I preferred myself. At all + events this calling one’s self names—now one + and now another,—working one’s way <em lang="la" xml:lang="la">incognito</em>, + all the way through one’s own book, is + not making me as modest as I had hoped. + There seems to be nothing for it—with some + of us, but to work through to modesty the + other way—backward—I it out.</p> + + <p>There is one other reason. This Mysterious + Person I have arranged with in these opening + chapters, to say I for me, does not seem to me + to be doing it very well. I think any one—any + fairly observing person—would admit that I + could do it better, and if it’s going to be done + at all, why should a mere spiritual machine—a + kind of moral phonograph like this Mysterious + Person—be put forward to take the ignominy + of it? I have set my “I” up before me and + duly cross-examined it. I have said to it, + “Either you are good enough to say I in a + book or you are not,” and my “I” has replied + to me, “If I am not, I want everybody to know + why and if I <span class="keep_together">am—am——.”</span> Well of course he + is not, and we will all help him to know why. + We will do as we would be done by. If there + is ever going to be any possible comfort in this + world for me, in not being what I ought to be, + it is the thought that I am not the only one that + knows it. At all events, this feeling that the + worst is known, even if one takes, as I am + doing now, a planet for a confessional, gives + one a luxurious sense—a sense of combined + <a class="pagenum" id="page26" title="26"> </a>safety and irresponsibility which would not be + exchanged for a world. + Every book should have I-places in it—breathing-holes—places + where one’s soul can + come up to the surface and look out through + the ice and say things. I do not wish to seem + superior and I will admit that I am as respectable + as anybody in most places, but I do think + that if half the time I am devoting, and am + going to devote, to appearing as modest as + people expect in this world, could be devoted + to really doing something in it, my little + modesty—such as it is—would not be missed. + At all events I am persuaded that anything—almost + anything—would be better than this + eternal keeping up appearances of all being a + little less interested in ourselves than we are, + which is what Literature and Society are for, + mostly. We all do it, more or less. And yet + if there were only a few scattered-along places, + public soul-open places to rest in, and be honest + in—(in art-parlours and teas and things)—wouldn’t + we see people rushing to them? I + would give the world sometimes to believe that + it would pay to be as honest with some people + as with a piece of paper or with a book.</p> + + <p>I dare say I am all wrong in striking out and + flourishing about in a chapter like this, and in + threatening to have more like them, but there + is one comfort I lay to my soul in doing it. If + there is one thing rather than another a book + is for (one’s own book) it is, that it furnishes + <a class="pagenum" id="page27" title="27"> </a>the one good, fair, safe place for a man to talk + about himself in, because it is the only place + that any one—absolutely any one,—at any moment, + can shut him up.</p> + + <p>This is not saying that I am going to do it. + My courage will go from me (for saying I, I + mean). Or I shall not be humble enough or + something and it all will pass away. I am + going to do it now, a little, but I cannot guarantee + it. All of a sudden, no telling when or + why, I shall feel that Mysterious Person with + all his worldly trappings hanging around me + again and before I know it, before you know + it, Gentle Reader, I with all my I (or i) shall + be swallowed up. Next time I appear, you + shall see me, decorous, trim, and in the third + person, my literary white tie on, snooping + along through these sentences one after the + other, crossing my I’s out, wishing I had never + been born.</p> + + <hr class="thoughtbreak" /> + + <p class="post_thoughtbreak">Postscript. I cannot help recording at this + point, for the benefit of reckless persons, how + saying I in a book feels. It feels a good deal + like a very small boy in a very high swing—a + kind of flashing-of-everything through-nothing + feeling, but it cannot be undone now, + and so if you please, Gentle Reader, and if + everybody will hold their breath, I am going + to hold on tight and do it.</p> + </div> + <div id="section_1.1.7" class="section"><a class="pagenum" id="page28" title="28"> </a> + <h4 class="section_title"><abbr class="section_number" title="seven">VII</abbr><br/> + More Parenthesis—But More to + the Point</h4> + + <p>I have gotten into a way lately, while I am + just living along, of going out and taking a + good square turn every now and then, in front + of myself. It is not altogether an agreeable + experience, but there seems to be a window in + every man’s nature on purpose for it—arranged + and located on purpose for it, and I find on the + whole that going out around one’s window, + once in so often, and standing awhile has + advantages. The general idea is to stand + perfectly still for a little time, in a kind of + general, public, disinterested way, and then + suddenly, when one is off one’s guard and not + looking, so to speak, take a peek backwards + into one’s self.</p> + + <p>I am aware that it does not follow, because I + have just come out and have been looking into + my window, that I have a right to hold up any + person or persons who may be going by in + this book, and ask them to look in too, but at + the same time I cannot conceal—do not wish + to conceal, even if I could—that there have + been times, standing in front of my window + and looking in, when what I have seen there + has seemed to me to assume a national significance.</p> + + <p>There are millions of other windows like it. + <a class="pagenum" id="page29" title="29"> </a>It is one of the daily sorrows of my life that the + people who own them do not seem to know it—most + of them—except perhaps in a vague, + hurried pained way. Sometimes I feel like + calling out to them as I stand by my window—see + them go hurrying by on The Great Street: + “Say there, Stranger! Halloa, Stranger! + Want to see yourself? Come right over here + and look at me!”</p> + + <p>Nobody believes it, of course. It’s a good + deal like standing and waving one’s arms in + the Midway—being an egotist,—but I must say, + I have never got a man yet—got him in out of + the rush, I mean, right up in front of my window—got + him once stooped down and really + looking in there, but he admitted there was + something in it.</p> + + <p>Thus does it come to pass—this gentle swelling. + Let me be a warning to you, Gentle + Reader, when you once get to philosophising + yourself over (along the line of your faults) + into the disputed territory of the First Person + Singular. I am not asking you to try to believe + my little philosophy of types. I am trying + to, in my humble way, to be sure, but I + would rather, on the whole, let it go. It is + not so much my philosophy I rest my case + on, as my sub-philosophy or religion—viz., I + like it and believe in it—saying I. (Thank + Heaven that, bad as it is, I have struck bottom + at last!) The best I can do under the circumstances, + I suppose, is to beg (in a perfectly + <a class="pagenum" id="page30" title="30"> </a>blank way) forgiveness—forgiveness of any and + every kind from everybody, if in this and the + following chapters I fall sometimes to talking + of people—people at large—under the general + head of myself.</p> + + <hr class="thoughtbreak" /> + + <p class="post_thoughtbreak">I was born to read. I spent all my early + years, as I remember them, with books,—peering + softly about in them. My whole being + was hushed and trustful and expectant at the + sight of a printed page. I lived in the presence + of books, with all my thoughts lying open + about me; a kind of still, radiant mood of welcome + seemed to lie upon them. When I + looked at a shelf of books I felt the whole + world flocking to me.</p> + + <p>I have been civilised now, I should say, + twenty, or possibly twenty-five, years. At + least every one supposes I am civilised, and + my whole being has changed. I cannot so + much as look upon a great many books in a + library or any other heaped-up place, without + feeling bleak and heartless. I never read if I + can help it. My whole attitude toward current + literature is grouty and snappish, a kind of + perpetual interrupted “What are you ringing + my door-bell now for?” attitude. I am a + disagreeable character. I spend at least one + half my time, I should judge, keeping things + off, in defending my character. Then I spend + the other half in wondering if, after all, it was + worth it. What I see in my window has + <a class="pagenum" id="page31" title="31"> </a>changed. When I used to go out around and + look into it, in the old days, to see what I was + like, I was a sunny, open valley—streams and + roads and everything running down into it, + and opening out of it, and when I go out suddenly + now, and turn around in front of myself + and look in—I am a mountain pass. I sift + my friends—up a trail. The few friends that + come, come a little out of breath (God bless + them!), and a book cannot so much as get to + me except on a mule’s back.</p> + + <p>It is by no means an ideal arrangement—a + mountain pass, but it is better than always + sitting in one’s study in civilisation, where + every passer-by, pamphlet, boy in the street, + thinks he might just as well come up and ring + one’s door-bell awhile. All modern books are + book agents at heart, around getting subscriptions + for themselves. If a man wants to be + sociable or literary nowadays, he can only do + it by being a more or less disagreeable character, + and if he wishes to be a beautiful character, + he must go off and do it by himself.</p> + + <p>This is a mere choice in suicides.</p> + + <p>The question that presses upon me is: Whose + fault is it that a poor wistful, incomplete, human + being, born into this huge dilemma of a + world, can only keep on having a soul in it, by + keeping it (that is, his soul) tossed back and + forth—now in one place where souls are lost, + and now in another? Is it your fault, or mine, + Gentle Reader, that we are obliged to live in + <a class="pagenum" id="page32" title="32"> </a>this undignified, obstreperous fashion in what is + called civilisation? I cannot believe it. Nearly + all the best people one knows can be seen sitting + in civilisation on the edge of their chairs, or + hurrying along with their souls in satchels.</p> + + <p>There is but one conclusion. Civilisation is + not what it is advertised to be. Every time I + see a fresh missionary down at the steamer + wharf, as I do sometimes, starting away for + other lands, loaded up with our Institutions to + the eyes, Church in one hand and Schoolhouse + in the other, trim, happy, and smiling over + them, at everybody, I feel like stepping up to + him and saying, what seem to me, a few appropriate + words. I seldom do it, but the other + day when I happened to be down at the <i>Umbria</i> + dock about sailing-time, I came across one (a + foreign missionary, I mean) pleasant, thoughtless, + and benevolent-looking, standing there all + by himself by the steamer-rail, and I thought + I would try speaking to him.</p> + + <p>“Where are you going to be putting—those?” + I said, pointing to a lot of funny little + churches and funny little schoolhouses he was + holding in both hands.</p> + + <p>“From Greenland’s icy mountains to India’s + coral strand,” he said.</p> + + <p>I looked at them a minute. “You don’t + think, do you?” I said—“You don’t really + think you had better wait over a little—bring + them back and let us—finish them for you, do + you? one or two—samples?” I said.</p> + + <p><a class="pagenum" id="page33" title="33"> </a>He looked at me with what seemed to me at + first, a kind of blurred, helpless look. I soon + saw that he was pitying me and I promptly + stepped down to the dining-saloon and tried to + appreciate two or three tons of flowers.</p> + + <p>I do not wish to say a word against missionaries. + They are merely apt to be somewhat + heedless, morally-hurried persons, rushing + about the world turning people (as they think) + right side up everywhere, without really noticing + them much, but I do think that a great + deliberate corporate body like The American + Board of Commissioners of Foreign Missions + ought to be more optimistic about the Church—wait + and work for it a little more, expect a + little more of it.</p> + + <p>It seems to me that it ought to be far less + pessimistic than it is, also, about what we can + do in the way of schools and social life in + civilisation and about civilisation’s way of + doing business. Is our little knack of Christianity + (I find myself wondering) quite worthy + of all this attention it is getting from The + American Board of Commissioners of Foreign + Missions? Why should it approve of civilisation + with a rush? Does any one really suppose + that it is really time to pat it on the back—yet?—to + spend a million dollars a year—patting it + on the back?</p> + + <p>I merely throw out the question.</p> + </div> + <div id="section_1.1.8" class="section"><a class="pagenum" id="page34" title="34"> </a> + <h4 class="section_title"><abbr class="section_number" title="eight">VIII</abbr><br/> + More Literary Rush</h4> + + <p>We had been talking along, in our Club, as + usual, for some time, on the general subject of + the world—fixing the blame for things. We + had come to the point where it was nearly all + fixed (most of it on other people) when I + thought I might as well put forward my little + theory that nearly everything that was the + matter, could be traced to the people who + “belong to Society.”</p> + + <p>Then The P. G. S. of M. (who is always + shoving a dictionary around in front of him + when he talks) spoke up and said:</p> + + <p>“But who belongs to Society?”</p> + + <p>“All persons who read what they are told to + and who call where they can’t help it. What + this world needs just now,” I went on, looking + The P. G. S. of M. as much in the eye as I + could, “is emancipation. It needs a prophet—a + man who can gather about him a few + brave-hearted, intelligently ignorant men, who + shall go about with their beautiful feet on the + mountains, telling the good tidings of how + many things there are we do not need to know. + The prejudice against being ignorant is largely + because people have not learned how to do it. + The wrong people have taken hold of it.”</p> + + <p>I cannot remember the exact words of what + was said after this, but I said that it seemed to me + <a class="pagenum" id="page35" title="35"> </a>that most people were afraid not to know everything. + Not knowing too much is a natural + gift, and unless a man can make his ignorance + contagious—inspire people with the books he + dares not read—of course the only thing he + can do is to give up and read everything, and + belong to Society. He certainly cannot belong + to himself unless he protects himself with well-selected, + carefully guarded, daring ignorance. + Think of the books—the books that are dictated + to us—the books that will not let a man + go,—and behind every book a hundred intelligent + men and women—one’s friends, too—one’s + own <span class="keep_together">kin——</span></p> + + <p>P. G. S. of M.: “But the cultured man + <span class="keep_together">must——”</span></p> + + <p>The cultured man is the man who can tell + me what he does not know, with such grace + that I feel ashamed of knowing it.</p> + + <p>Now there’s <span class="keep_together">M——,</span> for example. Other + people seem to read to talk, but I never see + him across a drawing-room without an impulse + of barbarism, and I always get him off into a + corner as soon as I can, if only to rest myself—to + feel that I have a right not to read everything. + He always proves to me something + that I can get along without. He is full of the + most choice and picturesque bits of ignorance. + He is creatively ignorant. He displaces a + book every time I see him—which is a deal + better in these days than writing one. A + man should be measured by his book-displacement. + <a class="pagenum" id="page36" title="36"> </a>He goes about with his thinking face, + and a kind of nimbus over him, of never needing + to read at all. He has nothing whatever + to give but himself, but I had rather have one + of his <em>questions</em> about a book I had read, than + all the other opinions and subtle distinctions + in the room—or the book itself.</p> + + <p>P. G. S. of M. “But the cultured man + <span class="keep_together">must——”</span></p> + + <p><strong>NOT.</strong> It is the very essence of a cultured + man that when he hears the word “must” it + is on his own lips. It is the very essence of + his culture that he says it to himself. His + culture is his belonging to himself, and his belonging + to himself is the first condition of his + being worth giving to other people. One longs + for Elia. People know too much, and there + doesn’t seem to be a man living who can + charm them from the error of their way. + Knowledge takes the place of everything else, + and all one can do in this present day as he + reads the reviews and goes to his club, is to + look forward with a tired heart to the prophecy + of Scripture, “Knowledge shall pass away.”</p> + + <p>Where do we see the old and sweet content + of loving a thing for itself? Now, there are + the flowers. The only way to delight in a + flower at your feet in these days is to watch + with it all alone, or keep still about it. The + moment you speak of it, it becomes botany. + It’s a rare man who will not tell you all he + knows about it. Love isn’t worth anything + <a class="pagenum" id="page37" title="37"> </a>without a classic name. It’s a wonder we + have any flowers left. Half the charm of a + flower to me is that it looks demure and talks + perfume and keeps its name so gently to itself. + The man who always enjoys views by picking + out the places he knows, is a symbol of all + our reading habits and of our national relation + to books. One can glory in a great cliff down + in the depths of his heart, but if you mention + it, it is geology, and an argument. Even the + birds sing zoölogically, and as for the sky, it + has become a mere blue-and-gold science, and + all the wonder seems to be confined to one’s + not knowing the names of the planets. I was + brought up wistfully on</p> + + <div class="poem"> + <p>Twinkle, twinkle, little star,</p> + <p>How I wonder what you are.</p> + </div> + + <p class="continued_paragraph">But now it is become:</p> + + + <div class="poem"> + <p>Twinkle, twinkle, little star,</p> + <p>Teacher’s told me what you are.</p> + </div> + + <p>Even babies won’t wonder very soon. That + is to say, they won’t wonder out loud. Nobody + does. Another of my poems was:</p> + + <div class="poem"> + <p>Where did you come from, baby dear?</p> + <p>Out of the everywhere into here.</p> + </div> + + <p>I thought of it the other day when I stepped + into the library with the list of books I had to + have an opinion about before Mrs. <span class="keep_together">W——‘s</span> + <a class="pagenum" id="page38" title="38"> </a>Thursday Afternoon, I felt like a literary + infant.</p> + + <div class="poem"> + <p>Where did you come from, baby fair?</p> + <p>Out of the here into everywhere.</p> + </div> + + <p class="continued_paragraph">And the bookcases stared at me.</p> + + <p>It is a serious question whether the average + American youth is ever given a chance to thirst + for knowledge. He thirsts for ignorance instead. + From the very first he is hemmed in + by knowledge. The kindergarten with its + suave relentlessness, its perfunctory cheerfulness, + closes in upon the life of every child with + himself. The dear old-fashioned breathing + spell he used to have after getting here—whither + has it gone? The rough, strong, ruthless, + unseemly, grown-up world crowds to the + very edge of every beginning life. It has no + patience with trailing clouds of glory. Flocks + of infants every year—new-comers to this planet—who + can but watch them sadly, huddled + closer and closer to the little strip of wonder + that is left near the land from which they + came? No lingering away from us. No infinite + holiday. Childhood walks a precipice + crowded to the brink of birth. We tabulate its + moods. We register its learning inch by inch. + We draw its poor little premature soul out of + its body breath by breath. Infants are well + informed now. The suckling has nerves. A + few days more he will be like all the rest of + us. It will be:</p> + + <p><a class="pagenum" id="page39" title="39"> </a>Poem: “When I Was Weaned.”</p> + + <p>“My First Tooth: A Study.”</p> + + <p>The Presiding Genius of the State of Massachusetts, + with his dazed, kind look, looked up + and said: “I fear, my dear fellow, there is no + place for you in the world.”</p> + + <p>Thanks. One of the delights of going fishing + or hunting is, that one learns how small + “a place in the world” is—comes across so + many accidentally preserved characters—preserved + by not having a place in the world—persons + that are interesting to be with—persons + you can tell things.</p> + + <p>The real object—it seems to me—in meeting + another human being is complement—fitting + into each other’s ignorances. Sometimes it + seems as if it were only where there is something + to be caught or shot, or where there is + plenty of room, that the highest and most + sociable and useful forms of ignorance were + allowed to mature.</p> + + <p>One can still find such fascinating prejudices, + such frank enthusiasms of ignorance, where + there’s good fishing; and then, in the stray + hamlets, there is the grave whimsicalness and + the calm superior air of austerity to cultured + people.</p> + + <p>Ah, let me live in the Maine woods or wander + by the brooks of Virginia, and rest my + soul in the delights—in the pomposity—of + ignorance—ignorance in its pride and glory + and courage and lovableness! I never come + <a class="pagenum" id="page40" title="40"> </a>back from a vacation without a dream of what + I might have been, if I had only dared to know + a little less; and even now I sometimes feel I + have ignorance enough, if like Elia, for instance, + I only knew how to use it, but I cannot + as much as get over being ashamed of it. I + am nearly gone. I have little left but the gift + of being bored. That is something—but + hardly a day passes without my slurring over + a guilty place in conversation, without my + hiding my ignorance under a bushel, where I + can go later and take a look at it by myself. + Then I know all about it next time and sink + lower and lower. A man can do nothing + alone. Of course, ignorance must be natural + and not acquired in order to have the true ring + and afford the most relief in the world; but + every wide-awake village that has thoughtful + people enough—people who are educated up to + it—ought to organise an Ignoramus Club to + defend the town from papers and <span class="keep_together">books——.</span></p> + + <p>It was at about this point that The Presiding + Genius of the State of Massachusetts took + up the subject, and after modulating a little + and then modulating a little more, he was soon + listening to himself about a book we had not + read, and I sat in my chair and wrote out this.</p> + </div> + <div id="section_1.1.9" class="section"><a class="pagenum" id="page41" title="41"> </a> + <h4 class="section_title"><abbr class="section_number" title="nine">IX</abbr><br/> + The Bugbear of Being Well Informed—A Practical Suggestion</h4> + + <p>1. This Club shall be known as the Ignoramus + Club of <span class="keep_together">——.</span></p> + + <p>4. Every member shall be pledged not to + read the latest book until people have stopped + expecting it.</p> + + <p>5. The Club shall have a Standing Committee + that shall report at every meeting on New + Things That People Do Not Need to Know.</p> + + <p>6. It shall have a Public Library Committee, + appointed every year, to look over the books + in regular order and report on Old Things That + People Do Not Need to Know. (Committee + instructed to keep the library as small as possible.)</p> + + <p>8. No member (vacations excepted) shall + read any book that he would not read twice. + In case he does, he shall be obliged to read it + twice or pay a fine (three times the price of + book, net).</p> + + <p>11. The Club shall meet weekly.</p> + + <p>12. Any person of suitable age shall be + eligible for membership in the Club, who, after + a written examination in his deficiencies, shall + appear, in the opinion of the Examining Board, + to have selected his ignorance thoughtfully, + conscientiously, and for the protection of his + mind.</p> + + <p><a class="pagenum" id="page42" title="42"> </a>13. All persons thus approved shall be voted + upon at the next regular meeting of the Club—the + vote to be taken by ballot (any candidate + who has not read <cite>When Knighthood Was in + Flower</cite>, or <cite>Audrey</cite>, or <cite>David Harum</cite>—by acclamation).</p> + + + <p class="post_thoughtbreak">Perhaps I have quoted from the by-laws + sufficiently to give an idea of the spirit and + aim of the Club. I append the order of meeting:</p> + + <ol> + <li><p>Called to order.</p></li> + <li><p>Reports of Committees.</p></li> + <li><p>General Confession (what members have + read during the week).</p></li> + <li><p><strong>FINES.</strong></p></li> + <li><p>Review: Books I Have Escaped.</p></li> + <li><p>Essay: Things Plato Did Not Need to + Know.</p></li> + <li><p>Omniscience. Helpful Hints. Remedies.</p></li> + <li><p>The Description Evil; followed by an + illustration.</p></li> + <li><p><em>Not</em> Travelling on the Nile: By One Who + Has Been There.</p></li> + <li><p>Our Village Street: Stereopticon.</p></li> + <li><p>What Not to Know about Birds.</p></li> + <li><p>Myself through an Opera-Glass.</p></li> + <li><p>Sonnet: Botany.</p></li> + <li><p>Essay: Proper Treatment of Paupers, + Insane, and Instructive People.</p></li> + <li><p>The Fad for Facts.</p></li> + <li><p>How to Organise a Club against Clubs.</p></li> + <li><p><a class="pagenum" id="page43" title="43"> </a> Paper: How to Humble Him Who Asks, + “Have You <span class="keep_together">Read——?”</span></p></li> + <li><p>Essay, by youngest member: Infinity. + An Appreciation.</p></li> + <li><p>Review: The Heavens in a Nutshell.</p></li> + <li><p>Review. Wild Animals I Do Not Want + to Know.</p></li> + <li><p>Exercise in Silence. (Ten Minutes. + Entire Club.)</p></li> + <li><p>Essay (Ten Minutes): <cite>Encyclopædia Britannica</cite>, + Summary.</p></li> + <li><p>Exercise in Wondering about Something. + (Selected. Ten Minutes. Entire Club.)</p></li> + <li><p>Debate: Which Is More Deadly—the + Pen or the Sword?</p></li> + <li><p>Things Said To-Night That We Must + Forget.</p></li> + <li><p><strong class="special_emphasis">Adjournment.</strong> (Each member required + to walk home alone looking at the stars.)</p></li> + </ol> + + + <p class="post_thoughtbreak">I have sometimes thought I would like to go + off to some great, wide, bare, splendid place—nothing + but Time and Room in it—and read + awhile. I would want it built in the same + general style and with the same general effect + as the universe, but a universe in which everything + lets one alone, in which everything just + goes quietly on in its great still round, letting + itself be looked at—no more said about it, + nothing to be done about it. No exclamations + required. No one standing around explaining + things or showing how they appreciated them.</p> + + <p><a class="pagenum" id="page44" title="44"> </a>Then after I had looked about a little, seen + that everything was safe and according to + specifications, I think the first thing I would + do would be to sit down and see if I could not + read a great book—the way I used to read a + great book, before I belonged to civilisation, + read it until I felt my soul growing softly + toward it, reaching up to the day and to the + night with it.</p> + + <p>I have always kept on hoping that I would + be allowed, in spite of being somewhat mixed + up with civilisation, to be a normal man sometime. + It has always seemed to me that the + normal man—the highly organised man in all + ages, is the man who takes the universe primarily + as a spectacle. This is his main use for + it. The object of his life is to get a good look + at it before he dies—to be the kind of man who + can get a good look at it. How any one can + go through a whole life—sixty or seventy years + of it—with a splendour like this arching over + him morning, noon, and night, flying beneath + his feet, blooming out at him on every side, + and not spend nearly all his time (after the + bare necessaries of life) in taking it in, listening + and tasting and looking in it, is one of the + seven wonders of the world. I never look out + of my factory window in civilisation, see a + sunset or shore of the universe,—am reminded + again that there is a universe—but I wonder + at myself and wonder at It. I try to put + civilisation and the universe together. I cannot + <a class="pagenum" id="page45" title="45"> </a>do it. It’s as if we were afraid to be caught + looking at it—most of us—spending the time + to look at it, or as if we were ashamed before + the universe itself—running furiously to and + fro in it, lest it should look at us.</p> + + <p>It is the first trait of a great book, it seems + to me, that it makes all other books—little + hurrying, petulant books—wait. A kind of + immeasurable elemental hunger comes to a + man out of it. Somehow I feel I have not had + it out with a great book if I have not faced + other great things with it. I want to face storms + with it, hours of weariness and miles of walking + with it. It seems to ask me to. It seems + to bring with it something which makes me + want to stop my mere reading-and-doing kind + of life, my ink-and-paper imitation kind of life, + and come out and be a companion with the + silent shining, with the eternal going on of + things. It seems to be written in every + writing that is worth a man’s while that it + can not—that it shall not—be read by itself. + It is written that a man shall work to read, that + he must win some great delight to do his reading + with. Many and many a winter day I + have tramped with four lines down to the edge + of the night, to overtake my soul—to read + four lines with. I have faced a wind for + hours—been bitterly cold with it—before the + utmost joy of the book I had lost would come + back to me. I find that when I am being + normal (vacations mostly) I scarcely know + <a class="pagenum" id="page46" title="46"> </a>what it is to give myself over to another mind + for more than an hour or so at a time. If a + chapter has anything in it, I want to do something + with it, go out and believe it, live with + it, exercise it awhile. I am not only bored + with a book when it does not interest me. I + am bored with it when it does. I want to + interrupt it, take it outdoors, see what the + hills and clouds think, try it on, test it, see if + it is good enough—see if it can come down + upon me as rain or sunlight or other real + things and blow upon me as the wind. It + does not belong to me until it has found its + way through all the weathers within and the + weathers without, until it drifts with me + through moods, events, sensations, and days + and nights, faces and sunsets, and the light of + stars,—until it is a part of life itself. I find + there is no other or shorter or easier way for + me to do with a great book than to greet it as + it seems to ask to be greeted, as if it were a + world that had come to me and sought me out—wanted + me to live in it. Hundreds and hundreds + of times, when I am being civilised, + have I not tried to do otherwise? Have I not + stopped my poor pale, hurried, busy soul (like + a kind of spectre flying past me) before a great + book and tried to get it to speak to it, and it + would not? It requires a world—a great book + does—as a kind of ticket of admission, and + what have I to do, when I am being civilised, + with a world—the one that’s running still + <a class="pagenum" id="page47" title="47"> </a>and godlike over me? Do I not for days and + weeks at a time go about in it, guilty, shut-in, + and foolish under it, slinking about—its emptied + miracles all around me, mean, joyless, anxious, + unable to look the littlest flower in the face—unable——. “Ah, + God!” my soul cries out + within me. Are not all these things mine? + Do they not belong with me and I with them? + And I go racing about, making things up in + their presence, plodding for shadows, cutting + out paper dolls to live with. All the time this + earnest, splendid, wasted heaven shining over + me—doing nothing with it, expecting nothing + of it—a little more warmth out of it perhaps, + a little more light not to see in——. Who am I + that the grasses should whisper to me, that the + winds should blow upon me? Now and then + there are days that come, when I see a flower—when + I really see a flower—and my soul cries + out to it.</p> + + <p>Now and then there are days too, when I + see a great book, a book that has the universe + wrought in it. I find my soul feeling it vaguely, + creeping toward it. I wonder if I dare to read + it. I remember how I used to read it. I all + but pray to it. I sit in my factory window and + try sometimes. But it is all far away—at least + as long as I stay in my window. It’s all about + some one else—a kind of splendid wistful walking + in a dream. It does not really belong to + me to live in a great book—a book with the + universe in it. Sometimes it almost seems to. + <a class="pagenum" id="page48" title="48"> </a>But it barely, faintly belongs to me. It is as + if the sky came to me, and stooped down over + me, and then went softly away in my sleep.</p> + + </div> + <div id="section_1.1.10" class="section"> + <h4 class="section_title"><abbr class="section_number" title="ten">X</abbr><br/> + The Dead Level of Intelligence</h4> + + <p>Your hostess introduces you to a man in a + drawing-room. “Mr. <span class="keep_together">C——</span> belongs to a + Browning Club, too,” she says.</p> + + <p>What are you going to do about it? Are + you going to talk about Browning?</p> + + <p>Not if Browning is one of your alive places. + You will reconnoitre first—James Whitcomb + Riley or Ella Wheeler Wilcox. There is no + telling where The Enemy will bring you up, if + you do not. He may tell you something about + Browning you never knew—something you + have always wanted to know,—but you will + be hurt that he knew it. He may be the + original Grammarian of “The Grammarian’s + Funeral” (whom Robert Browning took—and + knew perfectly well that he took at the one + poetic moment of his life), but his belonging to + a Browning Club—The Enemy, that is—does + not mean anything to you or to any one else + nowadays—either about Browning or about + himself.</p> + + <p>There was a time once, when, if a man + revealed in conversation, that he was familiar + with poetic structure in John Keats, it meant + <a class="pagenum" id="page49" title="49"> </a>something about the man—his temperament, + his producing or delighting power. It means + now, that he has taken a course in poetics in + college, or teaches English in a high school, + and is carrying deadly information about with + him wherever he goes. It does not mean that + he has a spark of the Keats spirit in him, or + that he could have endured being in the same + room with Keats, or Keats could have endured + being in the same room with him, for fifteen + minutes.</p> + + <p>If there is one inconvenience rather than + another in being born in the latter half of the + nineteenth century, it is the almost constant + compulsion one is under in it, of finding people + out—making a distinction between the people + who know a beautiful thing and are worth + while, and the boors of culture—the people who + know all about it. One sees on every hand + to-day persons occupying positions of importance + who have been taken through all + the motions of education, from the bottom to + the top, but who always belong to the intellectual + lower classes whatever their positions + may be, because they are not masters. They + are clumsy and futile with knowledge. Their + culture has not been made over into them—selves. + They have acquired it largely under + mob-influence (the dead level of intelligence), + and all that they can do with it, not wanting + it, is to be teachery with it—force it on other + people who do not want it.</p> + + <p><a class="pagenum" id="page50" title="50"> </a>Whether in the origin, processes, or results + of their learning, these people have all the + attributes of a mob. Their influence and force + in civilisation is a mob influence, and it operates + in the old and classic fashion of mobs upon all + who oppose it.</p> + + <p>It constitutes at present the most important + and securely intrenched intimidating force that + modern society presents against the actual + culture of the world, whether in the schools or + out of them. Its voice is in every street, and its + shout of derision may be heard in almost every + walk of life against all who refuse to conform + to it. There are but very few who refuse. + Millions of human beings, young and old, in + meek and willing rows are seen on every side, + standing before It—<span class="small_all_caps">THE DEAD LEVEL</span>,—anxious + to do anything to be graded up to it, + or to be graded down to it—offering their heads + to be taken off, their necks to be stretched, or + their waists—willing to live footless all their + days—anything—anything whatever, bless + their hearts! to know that they are on the + Level, the Dead Level, the precise and exact + Dead Level of Intelligence.</p> + + <p>The fact that this mob-power keeps its hold + by using books instead of bricks is merely a + matter of form. It occupies most of the + strategic positions just now in the highways + of learning, and it does all the things that + mobs do, and does them in the way that mobs + do them. It has broken into the gardens, into + <a class="pagenum" id="page51" title="51"> </a>the arts, the resting-places of nations, and with + its factories to learn to love in, its treadmills + to learn to sing in, it girdles its belt of drudgery + around the world and carries bricks and mortar + to the clouds. It shouts to every human being + across the spaces—the outdoors of life: “Who + goes there? Come thou with us. Dig thou + with us. Root or die!”</p> + + <p>Every vagrant joy-maker and world-builder + the modern era boasts—genius, lover, singer, + artist, has had to have his struggle with the + hod-carriers of culture, and if a lover of books + has not enough love in him to refuse to be + coerced into joining the huge Intimidator, the + aggregation of the Reading Labour Unions + of the world, which rules the world, there is + little hope for him. All true books draw + quietly away from him. Their spirit is a + spirit he cannot know.</p> + + <p>It would be hard to find a more significant + fact with regard to the ruling culture of + modern life than the almost total displacement + of temperament in it,—its blank, staring inexpressiveness. + We have lived our lives so + long under the domination of the “Cultured-man-must” + theory of education—the industry + of being well informed has gained such headway + with us, that out of all of the crowds of + the civilised we prefer to live with to-day, one + must go very far to find a cultivated man who + has not violated himself in his knowledge, who + has not given up his last chance at distinction—his + <a class="pagenum" id="page52" title="52"> </a>last chance to have his knowledge fit him + closely and express him and belong to him.</p> + + <p>The time was, when knowledge was made to + fit people like their clothes. But now that we + have come to the point where we pride ourselves + on educating people in rows and civilising + them in the bulk, “If a man has the + privilege of being born by himself, of beginning + his life by himself, it is as much as he + can expect,” says the typical Board of Education. + The result is, so far as his being + educated is concerned, the average man looks + back to his first birthday as his last chance of + being treated—as God made him,—a special + creation by himself. “The Almighty may + deal with a man, when He makes him, as a + special creation by himself. He may manage + to do it afterward. <em>We</em> cannot,” says The + Board, succinctly, drawing its salary; “It increases + the tax rate.”</p> + + <p>The problem is dealt with simply enough. + There is just so much cloth to be had and just + so many young and two-legged persons to be + covered with it—and that is the end of it. + The growing child walks down the years—turns + every corner of life—with Vistas of + Ready-Made Clothing hanging before him, + closing behind him. Unless he shall fit himself + to these clothes—he is given to understand—down + the pitying, staring world he shall + go, naked, all his days, like a dream in the + night.</p> + + <p><a class="pagenum" id="page53" title="53"> </a>It is a general principle that a nation’s life + can be said to be truly a civilised life, in proportion + as it is expressive, and in proportion + as all the persons in it, in the things they + know and in the things they do, are engaged + in expressing what they are.</p> + + <p>A generation may be said to stand forth in + history, to be a great and memorable generation + in art and letters, in material and spiritual + creation, in proportion as the knowledge of + that generation was fitted to the people who + wore it and the things they were doing in it, + and the things they were born todo.</p> + + <p>If it were not contradicted by almost every + attribute of what is being called an age of + special and general culture, it would seem to + be the first axiom of all culture that knowledge + can only be made to be true knowledge, + by being made to fit people, and to express + them as their clothes fit them and express + them.</p> + + <p>But we do not want knowledge in our civilisation + to fit people as their clothes fit them. + We do not even want their clothes to fit them. + The people themselves do not want it. Our + modern life is an elaborate and organised endeavour, + on the part of almost every person in + it, to escape from being fitted, either in knowledge + or in anything else. The first symptom + of civilisation—of the fact that a man is becoming + civilised—is that he wishes to appear + to belong where he does not. It is looked + <a class="pagenum" id="page54" title="54"> </a>upon as the spirit of the age. He wishes to be + learned, that no one may find out how little + he knows. He wishes to be religious, that no + one may see how wicked he is. He wishes to + be respectable, that no one may know that he + does not respect himself. The result mocks + at us from every corner in life. Society is a + struggle to get into the wrong clothes. Culture + is a struggle to learn the things that belong + to some one else. Black Mollie (who is + the cook next door) presented her betrothed + last week—a stable hand on the farm—with an + eight-dollar manicure set. She did not mean + to sum up the condition of culture in the + United States in this simple and tender act. + But she did.</p> + + <p>Michael O’Hennessy, who lives under the + hill, sums it up also. He has just bought a + brougham in which he and Mrs. O’H. can be + seen almost any pleasant Sunday driving in + the Park. It is not to be denied that Michael + O’Hennessy, sitting in his brougham, is a + genuinely happy-looking object. But it is not + the brougham itself that Michael enjoys. + What he enjoys is the fact that he has bought + the brougham, and that the brougham belongs + to some one else. Mrs. John Brown-Smith, + who presides at our tubs from week to week, + and who comes to us in a brilliant silk waist + (removed for business), has just bought a + piano to play <cite>Hold the Fort</cite> on, with one finger, + when the neighbours are passing by—a fact + <a class="pagenum" id="page55" title="55"> </a>which is not without national significance, + which sheds light upon schools and upon + college catalogues and learning-shows, and + upon educational conditions through the whole + United States.</p> + + <p>It would be a great pity if a man could not + know the things that have always belonged + before, to other men to know, and it is the + essence of culture that he should, but his appearing + to know things that belong to some one + else—his desire to appear to know them—heaps + up darkness. The more things there + are a man knows without knowing the inside + of them—the spirit of them—the more kinds + of an ignoramus he is. It is not enough to say + that the learned man (learned in this way) is + merely ignorant. His ignorance is placed + where it counts the most,—generally,—at the + fountain heads of society, and he radiates + ignorance.</p> + + <p>There seem to be three objections to the + Dead Level of Intelligence,—getting people at + all hazards, alive or dead, to know certain + things. First, the things that a person who + learns in this way appears to know, are blighted + by his appearing to know them. Second, he + keeps other people who might know them from + wanting to. Third, he poisons his own life, + by appearing to know—by even desiring to + appear to know—what is not in him to know. + He takes away the last hope he can ever have + of really knowing the thing he appears to + <a class="pagenum" id="page56" title="56"> </a>know, and, unless he is careful, the last hope + he can ever have of really knowing anything. + He destroys the thing a man does his knowing + with. It is not the least pathetic phase of the + great industry of being well informed, that + thousands of men and women may be seen on + every hand, giving up their lives that they + may appear to live, and giving up knowledge + that they may appear to know, taking pains for + vacuums. Success in appearing to know is success + in locking one’s self outside of knowledge, + and all that can be said of the most learned + man that lives—if he is learned in this way—is + that he knows more things that he does not + know, about more things, than any man in the + world. He runs the gamut of ignorance.</p> + + <p>In the meantime, as long as the industry of + being well informed is the main ideal of living + in the world, as long as every man’s life, + chasing the shadow of some other man’s life, + goes hurrying by, grasping at ignorance, there + is nothing we can do—most of us—as educators, + but to rescue a youth now and then from + the rush and wait for results, both good and + evil, to work themselves out. Those of us who + respect every man’s life, and delight in it and + in the dignity of the things that belong to it, + would like to do many things. We should be + particularly glad to join hands in the “practical” + things that are being hurried into the + hurry around us. But they do not seem to us + practical. The only practical thing we know + <a class="pagenum" id="page57" title="57"> </a>of that can be done with a man who does not + respect himself, is to get him to. It is true, + no doubt, that we cannot respect another man’s + life for him, but we are profoundly convinced + that we cannot do anything more practical for + such a man’s life than respecting it until he + respects it himself, and we are convinced also + that until he does respect it himself, respecting + it for him is the only thing that any one else + can do—the beginning and end of all action for + him and of all knowledge. Democracy to-day + in education—as in everything else—is facing + its supreme opportunity. Going about in the + world respecting men until they respect themselves + is almost the only practical way there is + of serving them.</p> + + <p>We find it necessary to believe that any man + in this present day who shall be inspired to respect + his life, who shall refuse to take to himself + the things that do not belong to his life, + who shall break with the appearance of things, + who shall rejoice in the things that are really + real to him—there shall be no withstanding + him. The strength of the universe shall be in + him. He shall be glorious with it. The man + who lives down through the knowledge that + he has, has all the secret of all knowledge that he + does not have. The spirit that all truths are + known with, becomes his spirit. The essential + mastery over all real things and over all + real men is his possession forever.</p> + + <p>When this vital and delighted knowledge—knowledge + <a class="pagenum" id="page58" title="58"> </a>that is based on facts—one’s own + self-respecting experience with facts, shall begin + again to be the habit of the educated life, + the days of the Dead Level of Intelligence + shall be numbered. Men are going to be the + embodiment of the truths they know—some-time—as + they have been in the past. When + the world is filled once more with men who + know what they know, learning will cease to + be a theory about a theory of life, and children + will acquire truths as helplessly and inescapably + as they acquire parents. Truths will be + learned through the types of men the truths + have made. A man was meant to learn truths + by gazing up and down lives—out of his own + life.</p> + + <p>When these principles are brought home to + educators—when they are practised in some + degree by the people, instead of merely, as + they have always been before, by the leaders + of the people, the world of knowledge shall be + a new world. All knowledge shall be human, + incarnate, expressive, artistic. Whole systems + of knowledge shall come to us by seeing one + another’s faces on the street.</p> + </div> + <div id="section_1.1.11" class="section"> + <h4 class="section_title"><abbr class="section_number" title="eleven">XI</abbr><br/> + The Art of Reading as One Likes</h4> + + <p>Most of us are apt to discover by the time we + are too old to get over it, that we are born with + <a class="pagenum" id="page59" title="59"> </a>a natural gift for being interested in ourselves. + We realise in a general way, that our lives are + not very important—that they are being lived + on a comparatively obscure but comfortable + little planet, on a side street in space—but no + matter how much we study astronomy, nor + how fully we are made to feel how many other + worlds there are for people to live on, and + how many other people have lived on this one, + we are still interested in ourselves.</p> + + <p>The fact that the universe is very large is + neither here nor there to us, in a certain sense. + It is a mere matter of size. A man has to live + on it. If he had to live on all of it, it would + be different. It naturally comes to pass that + when a human being once discovers that he is + born in a universe like this, his first business + in it is to find out the relation of the nearest, + most sympathetic part of it to himself.</p> + + <p>After the usual first successful experiment a + child makes in making connection with the + universe, the next thing he learns is how much + of the universe there is that is not good to eat. + He does not quite understand it at first—the + unswallowableness of things. He soon comes + to the conclusion that, although it is worth + while as a general principle, in dealing with + a universe, to try to make the connection, as + a rule, with one’s mouth, it cannot be expected + to succeed except part of the time. He + looks for another connection. He learns that + some things in this world are merely made to + <a class="pagenum" id="page60" title="60"> </a>feel, and drop on the floor. He discovers each + of his senses by trying to make some other + sense work. If his mouth waters for the moon, + and he tries to smack his lips on a lullaby, who + shall smile at him, poor little fellow, making + his sturdy lunges at this huge, impenetrable + world? He is making his connection and getting + his hold on his world of colour and sense + and sound, with infinitely more truth and + patience and precision and delight than nine + out of ten of his elders are doing or have ever + been able to do, in the world of books.</p> + + <p>The books that were written to be breathed—gravely + chewed upon by the literary infants + of this modern day,—who can number them?—books + that were made to live in—vast, open + clearings in the thicket of life—chapters like + tents to dwell in under the wide heaven, visited + like railway stations by excursion trains of + readers,—books that were made to look down + from—serene mountain heights criticised because + factories are not founded on them—in + every reading-room hundreds of people (who + has not seen them?), looking up inspirations + in encyclopædias, poring over poems for facts, + looking in the clouds for seeds, digging in the + ground for sunsets; and everywhere through + all the world, the whole huddling, crowding + mob of those who read, hastening on its endless + paper-paved streets, from the pyramids of + Egypt and the gates of Greece, to Pater Noster + Row and the Old Corner Book Store—nearly + <a class="pagenum" id="page61" title="61"> </a>all of them trying to make the wrong connections + with the right things or the right connections + with things they have no connection + with, and only now and then a straggler lagging + behind perhaps, at some left-over bookstall, + who truly knows how to read, or some + beautiful, over-grown child let loose in a library—making + connections for himself, who + knows the uttermost joy of a book.</p> + + <p>In seeking for a fundamental principle to + proceed upon in the reading of books, it seems + only reasonable to assert that the printed universe + is governed by the same laws as the real + one. If a child is to have his senses about + him—his five reading senses—he must learn + them in exactly the way he learns his five + living senses. The most significant fact about + the way a child learns the five senses he has to + live with is, that no one can teach them to + him. We do not even try to. There are still—thanks + to a most merciful Heaven—five + things left in the poor, experimented-on, battered, + modern child, that a board of education + cannot get at. For the first few months of his + life, at least, it is generally conceded, the + modern infant has his education—that is, his + making connection with things—entirely in + his own hands. That he learns more these + first few months of his life when his education + is in his own hands, than he learns in all the + later days when he is surrounded by those who + hope they are teaching him something, it may + <a class="pagenum" id="page62" title="62"> </a>not be fair to say; but while it cannot be said + that he learns more perhaps, what he does + learn, he learns better, and more scientifically, + than he is ever allowed to learn with ordinary + parents and ordinary teachers and text-books + in the years that come afterward. With most + of us, this first year or so, we are obliged to + confess, was the chance of our lives. Some of + us have lived long enough to suspect that if + we have ever really learned anything at all we + must have learned it then.</p> + + <p>The whole problem of bringing to pass in + others and of maintaining in ourselves a vital + and beautiful relation to the world of books, + turns entirely upon such success as we may + have in calling back or keeping up in our attitude + toward books, the attitude of the new-born + child when he wakes in the sunshine of the + earth, and little by little on the edge of the + infinite, groping and slow, begins to make + his connections with the universe. It cannot + be over-emphasised that this new-born child + makes these connections for himself, that the + entire value of having these connections made + is in the fact that he makes them for himself. + As between the books in a library that ought + to be read, and a new life standing in it, that + ought to read them, the sacred thing is not the + books the child ought to read. The sacred + thing is the way the child feels about the + books; and unless the new life, like the needle + of a magnet trembling there under the whole + <a class="pagenum" id="page63" title="63"> </a>wide heaven of them all, is allowed to turn and + poise itself by laws of attraction and repulsion + forever left out of our hands, the magnet is + ruined. It is made a dead thing. It makes + no difference how many similar books may be + placed within range of the dead thing afterward, + nor how many good reasons there may + be for the dead thing’s being attracted to + them, the poise of the magnet toward a book, + which is the sole secret of any power that a + book can have, is trained and disciplined out + of it. The poise of the magnet, the magnet’s + poising itself, is inspiration, and inspiration is + what a book is for.</p> + + <p>If John Milton had had any idea when he + wrote the little book called <cite>Paradise Lost</cite> that + it was going to be used mostly during the + nineteenth century to batter children’s minds + with, it is doubtful if he would ever have had + the heart to write it. It does not damage a book + very much to let it lie on a wooden shelf little + longer than it ought to. But to come crashing + down into the exquisite filaments of a human + brain with it, to use it to keep a brain from + continuing to be a brain—that is, an organ + with all its reading senses acting and reacting + warm and living in it, is a very serious matter. + It always ends in the same way, this modern + brutality with books. Even Bibles cannot + stand it. Human nature stands it least of all. + That books of all things in this world, made + to open men’s instincts with, should be so + <a class="pagenum" id="page64" title="64"> </a>generally used to shut them up with, is one + of the saddest signs we have of the caricature + of culture that is having its way in our modern + world. It is getting so that the only way the + average dinned-at, educated modern boy, shut + in with masterpieces, can really get to read is in + some still overlooked moment when people are + too tired of him to do him good. Then softly, + perhaps guiltily, left all by himself with a book, + he stumbles all of a sudden on his soul—steals + out and loves something. It may not be + the best, but listening to the singing of the + crickets is more worth while than seeming to + listen to the music of the spheres. It leads to + the music of the spheres. All agencies, persons, + institutions, or customs that interfere + with this sensitive, self-discovering moment + when a human spirit makes its connection in + life with its ideal, that interfere with its being + a genuine, instinctive, free and beautiful connection, + living and growing daily of itself,—all + influences that tend to make it a formal connection + or a merely decorous or borrowed one, + whether they act in the name of culture or + religion or the state, are the profoundest, most + subtle, and most unconquerable enemies of + culture in the world.</p> + + <p>It is not necessary to contend for the doctrine + of reading as one likes—using the word + “likes” in the sense of direction and temperament—in + its larger and more permanent sense. + It is but necessary to call attention to the fact + <a class="pagenum" id="page65" title="65"> </a>that the universe of books is such a very large + and various universe, a universe in which so + much that one likes can be brought to bear at + any given point, that reading as one likes is + almost always safe in it. There is always + more of what one likes than one can possibly + read. It is impossible to like any one thing + deeply without discovering a hundred other + things to like with it. One is infallibly led + out. If one touches the universe vitally at + one point, all the rest of the universe flocks to + it. It is the way a universe is made.</p> + + <p>Almost anything can be accomplished with + a child who has a habit of being eager with + books, who respects them enough, and who respects + himself enough, to leave books alone + when he cannot be eager with them. Eagerness + in reading counts as much as it does in + living. A live reader who reads the wrong + books is more promising than a dead one who + reads the right ones. Being alive is the point. + Anything can be done with life. It is the Seed + of Infinity.</p> + + <p>While much might be said for the topical or + purely scientific method in learning how to + read, it certainly is not claiming too much for + the human, artistic, or personal point of view + in reading, that it comes first in the order of + time in a developing life and first in the order + of strategic importance. Topical or scientific + reading cannot be fruitful; it cannot even be + scientific, in the larger sense, except as, in its + <a class="pagenum" id="page66" title="66"> </a>own time and in its own way, it selects itself + in due time in a boy’s life, buds out, and is + allowed to branch out, from his own inner + personal reading.</p> + + <p>As the first and most important and most far-reaching + of the arts of reading is the Art of + Reading as One Likes, the principles, inspirations, + and difficulties of reading as one likes + are the first to be considered in the following + chapters.</p> + + <p>The fact that the art of reading as one likes + is the most difficult, perhaps the most impossible, + of all the arts in modern times, constitutes + one of those serio-comic problems of civilisation—a + problem which civilisation itself, with all + its swagger of science, its literary braggadocio, + its Library Cure, with all its Board Schools, + Commissioners of Education and specialists, + and bishops and newsboys, all hard at work + upon it, is only beginning to realise.</p> + </div> + <div class="deco"> + <img src="images/style03.png" width="326" height="172" alt="" /> + </div> + </div> + <div id="chapter_1.2" class="chapter"><a class="pagenum" id="page67" title="67"> </a> + <div class="deco"> + <img src="images/style04.png" width="553" height="124" alt="" /> + </div> + + <h3 class="chapter_title">The Second Interference:<br /> + The Disgrace of the + Imagination</h3> + + <div id="section_1.2.1" class="section"> + <h4 class="section_title"><abbr class="section_number" title="one">I</abbr><br/> + On Wondering Why One Was + Born</h4> + + <p class="first_paragraph"><span class="first_word">The</span> real trouble with most of the attempts + that teachers and parents make, to teach + children a vital relation to books, is that they + do not believe in the books and that they do + not believe in the children.</p> + + <p>It is almost impossible to find a child who, + in one direction or another, the first few years + of his life, is not creative. It is almost impossible + to find a parent or a teacher who does not + discourage this creativeness. The discouragement + begins in a small way, at first, in the + <a class="pagenum" id="page68" title="68"> </a>average family, but as the more creative a + child becomes the more inconvenient he is, as + a general rule, every time a boy is caught + being creative, something has to be done to him + about it.</p> + + <p>It is a part of the nature of creativeness that + it involves being creative a large part of the + time in the wrong direction. Half-proud and + half-stupefied parents, failing to see that the + mischief in a boy is the entire basis of his education, + the mainspring of his life, not being + able to break the mainspring themselves, frequently + hire teachers to help them. The + teacher who can break a mainspring first and + keep it from getting mended, is often the most + esteemed in the community. Those who have + broken the most, “secure results.” The spectacle + of the mechanical, barren, conventional + society so common in the present day to all + who love their kind is a sign there is no withstanding. + It is a spectacle we can only stand + and watch—some of us,—the huge, dreary + kinetoscope of it, grinding its cogs and wheels, + and swinging its weary faces past our eyes. + The most common sight in it and the one that + hurts the hardest, is the boy who could be + made into a man out of the parts of him that + his parents and teachers are trying to throw + away. The faults of the average child, as + things are going just now, would be the making + of him, if he could be placed in seeing hands. + It may not be possible to educate a boy by + <a class="pagenum" id="page69" title="69"> </a>using what has been left out of him, but it is + more than possible to begin his education by + using what ought to have been left out of him. + So long as parents and teachers are either + too dull or too busy to experiment with mischief, + to be willing to pay for a child’s originality + what originality costs, only the most hopeless + children can be expected to amount to + anything. If we fail to see that originality is + worth paying for, that the risk involved in a + child’s not being creative is infinitely more + serious than the risk involved in his being + creative in the wrong direction, there is little + either for us or for our children to hope for, as + the years go on, except to grow duller together. + We do not like this growing duller together + very well, perhaps, but we have the feeling at + least that we have been educated, and when + our children become at last as little interested + in the workings of their minds, as parents and + teachers are in theirs, we have the feeling that + they also have been educated. We are not unwilling + to admit, in a somewhat useless, kindly, + generalising fashion, that vital and beautiful + children delight in things, in proportion as + they discover them, or are allowed to make + them up, but we do not propose in the meantime + to have our own children any more vital + and beautiful than we can help. In four or + five years they discover that a home is a place + where the more one thinks of things, the more + unhappy he is. In four or five years more + <a class="pagenum" id="page70" title="70"> </a>they learn that a school is a place where + children are expected not to use their brains + while they are being cultivated. As long as + he is at his mother’s breast the typical American + child finds that he is admired for thinking + of things. When he runs around the house + he finds gradually that he is admired very + much less for thinking of things. At school + he is disciplined for it. In a library, if he has + an uncommonly active mind, and takes the + liberty of being as alive there, as he is outdoors, + if he roams through the books, vaults + over their fences, climbs up their mountains, + and eats of their fruit, and dreams by their + streams, or is caught camping out in their + woods, he is made an example of. He is + treated as a tramp and an idler, and if he cannot + be held down with a dictionary he is looked + upon as not worth educating. If his parents + decide he shall be educated anyway, dead or + alive, or in spite of his being alive, the more + he is educated the more he wonders why he + was born and the more his teachers from + behind their dictionaries, and the other boys + from underneath their dictionaries, wonder + why he was born. While it may be a general + principle that the longer a boy wonders why + he was born in conditions like these, and the + longer his teachers and parents wonder, the + more there is of him, it may be observed that + a general principle is not of very much comfort + to the boy while the process of wondering is + <a class="pagenum" id="page71" title="71"> </a>going on. There seems to be no escape from + the process, and if, while he is being educated, + he is not allowed to use himself, he can hardly + be blamed for spending a good deal of his time + in wondering why he is not some one else. In + a half-seeing, half-blinded fashion he struggles + on. If he is obstinate enough, he manages to + struggle through with his eyes shut. Sometimes + he belongs to a higher kind, and opens + his eyes and struggles.</p> + + <p>With the average boy the struggle with the + School and the Church is less vigorous than + the struggle at home. It is more hopeless. + A mother is a comparatively simple affair. + One can either manage a mother or be managed. + It is merely a matter of time. It is + soon settled. There is something there. She + is not boundless, intangible. The School and + the Church are different. With the first fresh + breaths of the world tingling in him, the youth + stands before them. They are entirely new to + him. They are huge, immeasurable, unaccountable. + They loom over him—a part of + the structure of the universe itself. A mother + can meet one in a door. The problem is concentrated. + The Church stretches beyond the + sunrise. The School is part of the horizon of + the earth, and what after all is his own life and + who is he that he should take account of it? + Out of space—out of time—out of history they + come to him—the Church and the School. + They are the assembling of all mankind around + <a class="pagenum" id="page72" title="72"> </a>his soul. Each with its Cone of Ether, its + desire to control the breath of his life, its + determination to do his breathing for him, to + push the Cone down over him, looms above + him and above all in sight, before he speaks—before + he is able to speak.</p> + + <p>It is soon over. He lies passive and insensible + at last,—as convenient as though he were + dead, and the Church and the School operate + upon him. They remove as many of his + natural organs as they can, put in Presbyterian + ones perhaps, or School-Board ones instead. + Those that cannot be removed are numbed. + When the time is fulfilled and the youth is + cured of enough life at last to like living with + the dead, and when it is thought he is enough + like every one else to do, he is given his degree + and sewed up.</p> + + <p>After the sewing up his history is better + imagined than described. Not being interesting + to himself, he is not apt to be very interesting + to any one else, and because of his + lack of interest in himself he is called the + average man.<a href="#footnote_1" id="fnm1" title="A Typical Case..." class="fnmarker">1</a></p> + + <p><a class="pagenum" id="page73" title="73"> </a>The main distinction of every greater or more + extraordinary book is that it has been written + by an extraordinary man—a natural or wild + man, a man of genius, who has never been + operated on. The main distinction of the man + of talent is that he has somehow managed to + escape a complete operation. It is a matter of + common observation in reading biography that + in proportion as men have had lasting power + in the world there has been something irregular + in their education. These irregularities, + whether they happen to be due to overwhelming + circumstance or to overwhelming temperament, + seem to sum themselves up in one + fundamental and comprehensive irregularity + that penetrates them all—namely, every powerful + mind, in proportion to its power, either in + school or out of it or in spite of it, has educated + itself. The ability that many men have used + to avoid being educated is exactly the same + ability they have used afterward to move the + world with. In proportion as they have moved + the world, they are found to have kept the lead + in their education from their earliest years, to + have had a habit of initiative as well as hospitality, + to have maintained a creative, selective, + active attitude toward all persons and toward + all books that have been brought within range + of their lives.</p> + </div> + <div id="section_1.2.2" class="section"><a class="pagenum" id="page74" title="74"> </a> + <h4 class="section_title"><abbr class="section_number" title="two">II</abbr><br/> + The Top of the Bureau Principle</h4> + + <p class="first_paragraph"><span class="first_word">The</span> experience of being robbed of a story + we are about to read, by the good friend who + cannot help telling how it comes out, is an + occasional experience in the lives of older + people, but it sums up the main sensation of + life in the career of a child. The whole existence + of a boy may be said to be a daily—almost + hourly—struggle to escape from being + told things.</p> + + <p>It has been found that the best way to emphasise + a fact in the mind of a bright boy is to + discover some way of not saying anything + about it. And this is not because human + nature is obstinate, but because facts have been + intended from the beginning of the world to + speak for themselves, and to speak better than + anyone can speak for them. When a fact + speaks, God speaks. Considering the way + that most persons who are talking about the + truth see fit to rush in and interrupt Him, the + wonder is not that children grow less and less + interested in truth as they grow older, but that + they are interested in truth at all—even lies + about the truth.</p> + + <p>The real trouble with most men and women + as parents is, that they have had to begin life + with parents of their own. When the child’s + first memory of God is a father or mother interrupting + <a class="pagenum" id="page75" title="75"> </a>Him, he is apt to be under the impression, + when he grows up, that God can only + be introduced to his own children by never + being allowed to get a word in. If we as + much as see a Fact coming toward a child—most + of us—we either run out where the child + is, and bring him into the house and cry over + him, or we rush to his side and look anxious + and stand in front of the Fact, and talk to him + about it.</p> + + <p>And yet it is doubtful if there has ever been + a boy as yet worth mentioning, who did not + wish we would stand a little more one side—let + him have it out with things. He is very + weary—if he really amounts to anything—of + having everything about him prepared for + him. There has never been a live boy who + would not throw a store-plaything away in two + or three hours for a comparatively imperfect + plaything he had made himself. He is equally + indifferent to a store Fact, and a boy who does + not see through a store-God, or a store-book, + or a store-education sooner than ninety-nine + parents out of a hundred and sooner than most + synods, is not worth bringing up.</p> + + <p>No just or comprehensive principle can be + found to govern the reading of books that + cannot be made to apply, by one who really + believes it (though in varying degrees), to the + genius and to the dolt. It is a matter of history + that a boy of fine creative powers can + only be taught a true relation to books through + <a class="pagenum" id="page76" title="76"> </a>an appeal to his own discoveries; but what is + being especially contended for, and what most + needs to be emphasised in current education, + is the fact that the boy of ordinary creative + powers can only be taught to read in the same + way—by a slower, broader, and more patient + appeal to his own discoveries. The boy of no + creative powers whatever, if he is ever born, + should not be taught to read at all. Creation + is the essence of knowing, and teaching him + to read merely teaches him more ways of not + knowing. It gives him a wider range of places + to be a nobody in—takes away his last opportunity + for thinking of anything—that is, getting + the meaning of anything for himself. If + a man’s heart does not beat for him, why substitute + a hot-water bottle? The less a mind + is able to do, the less it can afford to have anything + done for it. It will be a great day for + education when we all have learned that the + genius and the dolt can only be educated—at + different rates of speed—in exactly the same + way. The trouble with our education now is, + that many of us do not see that a boy who has + been presented with an imitation brain is a + deal worse off than a boy who, in spite of his + teachers, has managed to save his real one, + and has not used it yet.</p> + + <p>It is dangerous to give a program for a principle + to those who do not believe in the + principle, and who do not believe in it instinctively, + but if a program were to be given it + <a class="pagenum" id="page77" title="77"> </a>would be something like this: It would assume + that the best way to do with an uncreative + mind is to put the owner of it where his mind + will be obliged to create.</p> + + <p>First. Decide what the owner of the mind + most wants in the world.</p> + + <p>Second. Put this thing, whatever it may be + where the owner of the mind cannot get it + unless he uses his mind. Take pains to put + it where he can get it, if he does use his mind.</p> + + <p>Third. Lure him on. It is education.</p> + + <p>If this principle is properly applied to books, + there is not a human being living on the earth + who will not find himself capable of reading + books—as far as he goes—with his whole mind + and his whole body. He will read a printed + page as eagerly as he lives, and he will read it + in exactly the same way that he lives—with + his imagination. A boy lives with his imagination + every hour of His life—except in school. + The moment he discovers, or is allowed to + discover, that reading a book and living a day + are very much alike, that they are both parts + of the same act, and that they are both properly + done in the same way, he will drink up + knowledge as Job did scorning, like water.</p> + + <p>But it is objected that many children are + entirely imitative, and that the imagination + cannot be appealed to with them and that they + cut themselves off from creativeness at every + point.</p> + + <p>While it is inevitable in the nature of things + <a class="pagenum" id="page78" title="78"> </a>that many children should be largely imitative, + there is not a child that does not do some of + his imitating in a creative way, give the hint + to his teachers even in his imitations, of where + his creativeness would come if it were allowed + to. His very blunders in imitating, point to + desires that would make him creative of themselves, + if followed up. Some children have + many desires in behalf of which they become + creative. Others are creative only in behalf + of a few. But there is always a single desire + in a child’s nature through which his creativeness + can be called out.</p> + + <p>A boy learns to live, to command his body, + through the desires which make him creative + with it—hunger, and movement, and sleep—desires + the very vegetables are stirred with, + and the boy who does not find himself responding + to them, who can help responding to them, + does not exist. There may be times when a + boy has no desire to fill himself with food, and + when he has no desire to think, but if he is + kept hungry he is soon found doing both—thinking + things into his stomach. A stomach, + in the average boy, will all but take the part + of a brain itself, for the time being, to avoid + being empty. If a human being is alive at all, + there is always at least one desire he can be + educated with, prodded into creativeness, until + he learns the habit and the pleasure of it. + The best qualification for a nurse for a child + whose creativeness turns on his stomach, is a + <a class="pagenum" id="page79" title="79"> </a>natural gift for keeping food on the tops of + bureaus and shelves just out of reach. The + best qualification for a teacher is infinite contrivance + in high bureaus. The applying of + the Top of the High Bureau to all knowledge + and to all books is what true education is for.</p> + + <p>It is generally considered a dangerous thing + to do, to turn a child loose in a library. It + might fairly be called a dangerous thing to do + if it were not much more dangerous not to. + The same forces that wrought themselves into + the books when they were being made can be + trusted to gather and play across them on the + shelves. These forces are the self-propelling + and self-healing forces of the creative mood. + The creative mood protects the books, and it + protects all who come near the books. It protects + from the inside. It toughens and makes + supple. Parents who cannot trust a boy to + face the weather in a library should never let + him outdoors.</p> + + <p>Trusting a boy to the weather in a library + may have its momentary embarrassments, but + it is immeasurably the shortest and most natural + way to bring him into a vital connection + with books. The first condition of a vital connection + with books is that he shall make the + connection for himself. The relation will be + vital in proportion as he makes it himself.</p> + + <p>The fact that he will begin to use his five + reading senses by trying to connect in the + wrong way, or by connecting with the wrong + <a class="pagenum" id="page80" title="80"> </a>books or parts of books, is a reason, not for + action on the part of parents and teachers, but + for inspired waiting. As a vital relation to + books is the most immeasurable outfit for living + and the most perfect protection against the + dangers of life, a boy can have, the one point + to be borne in mind is not the book but the + boy—the instinct of curiosity in the boy.</p> + + <p>A boy who has all his good discoveries in + books made for him—spoiled for him, if he has + any good material in him—will proceed to + make bad ones. The vices would be nearly as + safe from interference as the virtues, if they + were faithfully cultivated in Sunday-schools or + by average teachers in day-schools. Sin itself + is uninteresting when one knows all about it. + The interest of the average young man in + many a more important sin to-day is only kept + up by the fact that no one stands by with a + book teaching him how to do it. Whatever + the expression “original sin” may have meant + in the first place, it means now that we are full + of original sin because we are not given a + chance to be original in anything else. A + virtue may be defined as an act so good that a + religiously trained youth cannot possibly learn + anything more about it. A classic is a pleasure + hurried into a responsibility, a book read + by every man before he has anything to read + it with. A classical author is a man who, if + he could look ahead—could see the generations + standing in rows to read his book, + <a class="pagenum" id="page81" title="81"> </a>toeing the line to love it—would not read it + himself.</p> + + <p>Any training in the use of books that does + not base its whole method of rousing the instinct + of curiosity, and keeping it aroused, is a + wholesale slaughter, not only of the minds that + might live in the books, but of the books themselves. + To ignore the central curiosity of a + child’s life, his natural power of self-discovery + in books, is to dispense with the force of gravity + in books, instead of taking advantage of it.</p> + </div> + <div class="deco"> + <img src="images/style05.png" width="409" height="200" alt="" /> + </div> + </div> + <div id="chapter_1.3" class="chapter"><a class="pagenum" id="page82" title="82"> </a> + <div class="deco"> + <img src="images/style06.png" width="559" height="125" alt="" /> + </div> + + <h3 class="chapter_title">The Third Interference:<br /> + The Unpopularity of the + First Person Singular</h3> + + <div id="section_1.3.1" class="section"> + <h4 class="section_title"><abbr class="section_number" title="one">I</abbr><br/> + The First Person a Necessary Evil</h4> + + <p class="first_paragraph"><span class="first_word">Great</span> emphasis is being laid at the + present time upon the tools that readers + ought to have to do their reading with. We + seem to be living in a reference-book age. + Whatever else may be claimed for our own + special generation it stands out as having one + inspiration that is quite its own—the inspiration + of conveniences. That these conveniences + have their place, that one ought to have the + best of them there can be no doubt, but it is + very important to bear in mind, particularly in + the present public mood, that if one cannot + <a class="pagenum" id="page83" title="83"> </a>have all of these conveniences, or even the best + of them, the one absolutely necessary reference + book in reading the masters of literature is one + that every man has.</p> + + <p>It is something of a commonplace—a rather + modest volume with most of us, summed up on + a tombstone generally, easily enough, but we + are bound to believe after all is said and done + that the great masterpiece among reference + books, for every man,—the one originally intended + by the Creator for every man to use,—is + the reference book of his own life. We believe + that the one direct and necessary thing + for a man to do, if he is going to be a good + reader, is to make, this reference book—his + own private edition of it—as large and complete + as possible. Everything refers to it, + whatever his reading is. Shakespeare and the + New York <cite>World</cite>, Homer and <cite>Harper’s Bazar</cite>, + Victor Hugo and <cite>The Forum</cite>, <cite>Babyhood</cite> and + the Bible all refer to it,—are all alike in making + their references (when they are really looked + up) to private editions. Other editions do not + work. In proportion as they are powerful in + modern life, all the books and papers that we + have are engaged in the business of going + about the world discovering people to themselves, + unroofing first person singulars in it, + getting people to use their own reference books + on all life. Literature is a kind of vast international + industry of comparing life. We read + to look up references in our own souls. The + <a class="pagenum" id="page84" title="84"> </a>immortality of Homer and the circulation of + the <cite>Ladies’ Home Journal</cite> both conform to this + fact, and it is equally the secret of the last + page of <cite>Harper’s Bazar</cite> and of Hamlet and of + the grave and monthly lunge of <cite>The Forum</cite> at + passing events. The difference of appeal may + be as wide as the east and the west, but the + east and the west are in human nature and not + in the nature of the appeal. The larger selves + look themselves up in the greater writers and + the smaller selves spell themselves out in the + smaller ones. It is here we all behold as in + some vast reflection or mirage of the reading + world our own souls crowding and jostling, + little and great, against the walls of their + years, seeking to be let out, to look out, to look + over, to look up—that they may find their possible + selves.</p> + + <p>When men are allowed to follow what might + be called the forces of nature in the reading + world they are seen to read:</p> + + <p>1st. About themselves.</p> + + <p>2nd. About people they know.</p> + + <p>3rd. About people they want to know.</p> + + <p>4th. God.</p> + + <p>Next to their interest in persons is their interest + in things:</p> + + <p>1st. Things that they have themselves.</p> + + <p>2nd. Things that people they know, have.</p> + + <p>3rd. Things they want to have.</p> + + <p>4th. Things they ought to want to have.</p> + + <p>5th. Other things.</p> + + <p><a class="pagenum" id="page85" title="85"> </a>6th. The universe—things God has.</p> + + <p>7th. God.</p> + + <p>A scale like this may not be very complimentary + to human nature. Some of us feel + that it is appropriate and possibly a little religious + to think that it is not. But the scale + is here. It is mere psychological-matter-of-fact. + It is the way things are made, and + while it may not be quite complimentary to + human nature, it seems to be more complimentary + to God to believe, in spite of appearances, + that this scale from I to God is made + right and should be used as it stands. It + seems to have been in general use among our + more considerable men in the world and among + all our great men and among all who have + made others great. They do not seem to have + been ashamed of it. They have climbed up + frankly on it—most of them, in full sight of all + men—from I to God. They have claimed that + everybody (including themselves) was identified + with God, and they have made people believe + it. It is the few in every generation + who have dared to believe in this scale, and + who have used it, who have been the leaders + of the rest. The measure of a man’s being + seems to be the swiftness with which his nature + runs from the bottom of this scale to the top, + the swiftness with which he identifies himself, + says “I” in all of it. The measure of his ability + to read on any particular subject is the swiftness + with which he runs the scale from the + <a class="pagenum" id="page86" title="86"> </a>bottom to the top on that subject, makes the + trip with his soul from his own little I to God. + When he has mastered the subject, he makes + the run almost without knowing it, sees it as + it is, <em lang="la" xml:lang="la">i. e.</em>, identifies himself with God on it. + The principle is one which reaches under all + mastery in the world, from the art of prophecy + even to the art of politeness. Tho man who + makes the trip on any subject from the first + person out through the second person to the + farthest bounds of the third person,—that is, + who identifies himself with all men’s lives, is + called the poet or seer, the master-lover of persons. + The man who makes the trip most + swiftly from his own things to other men’s + things and to God’s things—the Universe—is + called the scientist, the master-lover of things. + The God is he who identifies his own personal + life, with all lives and his own things with all + men’s things—who says “I” forever everywhere.</p> + + <p>The reason that the Hebrew Bible has had + more influence in history than all other literatures + combined, is that there are fewer emasculated + men in it. The one really fundamental + and astonishing thing about the Bible is the + way that people have of talking about themselves + in it. No other nation that has ever + existed on the earth would ever have thought + of daring to publish a book like the Bible. So + far as the plot is concerned, the fundamental + literary conception, it is all the Bible comes to + <a class="pagenum" id="page87" title="87"> </a>practically—two or three thousand years of it—a + long row of people talking about themselves. + The Hebrew nation has been the + leading power in history because the Hebrew + man, in spite of all his faults has always had + the feeling that God sympathised with him, in + being interested in himself. He has dared to + feel identified with God. It is the same in all + ages—not an age but one sees a Hebrew in it, + out under his lonely heaven standing and crying + “God and I.” It is the one great spectacle + of the Soul this little world has seen. Are not + the mightiest faces that come to us flickering + out of the dark, their faces? Who can look at + the past who does not see—who does not always + see—some mighty Hebrew in it singing and + struggling with God? What is it—what else + could it possibly be but the Hebrew soul, like + a kind of pageantry down the years between us + and God, that would ever have made us guess—men + of the other nations—that a God belonged + to us, or that a God could belong to us and be a + God at all? Have not all the other races, each + in their turn spawning in the sun and lost in + the night, vanished because they could not say + “I” before God? The nations that are left, + the great nations of the modern world, are but + the moral passengers of the Hebrews, hangers-on + to the race that can say “I”—I to the <i>n</i><sup>th</sup> + power,—the race that has dared to identify itself + with God. The fact that the Hebrew, instead + of saying God and I, has turned it around + <a class="pagenum" id="page88" title="88"> </a>sometimes and said I and God is neither here + nor there in the end. It is because the Hebrew + has kept to the main point, has felt related to + God (the main point a God cares about), that + he has been the most heroic and athletic figure + in human history—comes nearer to the God-size. + The rest of the nations sitting about + and wondering in the dark, have called this + thing in the Hebrew “religious genius.” If + one were to try to sum up what religious + genius is, in the Hebrew, or to account for the + spiritual and material supremacy of the Hebrew + in history, in a single fact, it would be the fact + that Moses, their first great leader, when he + wanted to say “It seems to me,” said “The + Lord said unto Moses.”</p> + + <p>The Hebrews may have written a book that + teaches, of all others, self-renunciation, but the + way they taught it was self-assertion. The + Bible begins with a meek Moses who teaches + by saying “The Lord said unto Moses,” and it + comes to its climax in a lowly and radiant man + who dies on a cross to say “I and the Father + are one.” The man Jesus seems to have called + himself God because he had a divine habit of + identifying himself, because he had kept on + identifying himself with others until the first + person and the second person and the third + person were as one to him. The distinction + of the New Testament is that it is the one book + the world has seen, which dispenses with pronouns. + It is a book that sums up pronouns + <a class="pagenum" id="page89" title="89"> </a>and numbers, singular and plural, first person, + second and third person, and all, in the one + great central pronoun of the universe. The + very stars speak it—<span class="small_all_caps">WE</span>.</p> + + <p>We is a developed I.</p> + + <p>The first person may not be what it ought + to be either as a philosophy or an experience, + but it has been considered good enough to + make Bibles out of, and it does seem as if a + good word might occasionally be said for it in + modern times, as if some one ought to be born + before long, who will give it a certain standing, + a certain moral respectability once more in + human life and in the education of human life.</p> + + <p>It would not seem to be an overstatement + that the best possible book to give a child to + read at any time is the one that makes the + most cross references at that time to his undeveloped + We.</p> + </div> + <div id="section_1.3.2" class="section"> + <h4 class="section_title"><abbr class="section_number" title="two">II</abbr><br/> + The Art of Being Anonymous</h4> + + <p>The main difficulty in getting a child to live + in the whole of his nature, to run the scale + from the bottom to the top, from “I” to God, + is to persuade his parents and teachers, and + the people who crowd around him to educate + him, that he must begin at the bottom.</p> + + <p>The Unpopularity of the First Person Singular + in current education naturally follows from + <a class="pagenum" id="page90" title="90"> </a>The Disgrace of the Imagination in it. Our + typical school is not satisfied with cutting off a + boy’s imagination about the outer world that + lies around him. It amputates his imagination + at its tap root. It stops a boy’s imagination + about himself, and the issues, connections, and + possibilities of his own life.</p> + + <p>Inasmuch as the education of a child—his + relation to books—must be conducted either + with reference to evading personality, or accumulating + it, the issue is one that must be + squarely drawn from the first. Beginning at + the bottom is found by society at large to be + such an inconvenient and painstaking process, + that the children who are allowed to lay a + foundation for personality—to say “I” in its + disagreeable stages—seem to be confined, for + the most part, to either one or the other of + two classes—the Incurable or the Callous. + The more thorough a child’s nature is, the + more real his processes are, the more incurable + he is bound to be—secretly if he is sensitive, + and offensively if he is callous. In either case + the fact is the same. The child unconsciously + acts on the principle that self-assertion is self-preservation. + One of the first things that he discovers + is that self-preservation is the last thing + polite parents desire in a child. If he is to be + preserved, they will preserve him themselves.</p> + + <p>The conspiracy begins in the earliest days. + The world rolls over him. The home and the + church and the school and the printed book + <a class="pagenum" id="page91" title="91"> </a>roll over him. The story is the same in all. + Education—originally conceived as drawing a + boy out—becomes a huge, elaborate, overwhelming + scheme for squeezing him in—for + keeping him squeezed in. He is mobbed on + every side. At school the teachers crowd + round him and say “I” for him. At home + his parents say “I” for him. At church the + preacher says “I” for him. And when he retreats + into the privacy of his own soul and betakes + himself to a book, the book is a classic + and the book says “I” for him. When he + says “I” himself after a few appropriate years, + he says it in disguised quotation marks. If he + cannot always avoid it—if in some unguarded + moment he is particularly alive about something + and the “I” comes out on it, society + expects him to be ashamed of it, at least to + avoid the appearance of not being ashamed of + it. If he writes he is desired to say “we.” + Sometimes he shades himself off into “the + present writer.” Sometimes he capitulates in + bare initials.</p> + + <p>There are very few people who do not live + in quotation marks most of their lives. They + would die in them and go to heaven in them, + if they could. Nine times out of ten it is + some one else’s heaven they want to go to. + The number of people who would know what + to do or how to act in this world or the next, + without their quotation marks on, is getting + more limited every year.</p> + + <p><a class="pagenum" id="page92" title="92"> </a>And yet one could not very well imagine a + world more prostrate that this one is, before a + man without quotation marks. It dotes on + personality. It spends hundreds of years at a + time in yearning for a great man. But it + wants its great man finished. It is never willing + to pay what he costs. It is particularly + unwilling to pay what he costs as it goes along. + The great man as a boy has had to pay for himself. + The bare feat of keeping out of quotation + marks has cost him generally more than he + thought he was worth—and has had to be paid + in advance.</p> + + <p>There is a certain sense in which it is true + that every boy, at least at the point where he + is especially alive, is a kind of great man in + miniature—has the same experience, that is, + in growing. Many a boy who has been regularly + represented to himself as a monster, a + curiosity of selfishness (and who has believed + it), has had occasion to observe when he grew up + that some of his selfishness was real selfishness + and that some of it was life. The things he was + selfish with, he finds as he grows older, are the + things he has been making a man out of. As + a boy, however, he does not get much inkling + of this. He finds he is being brought up in a + world where boys who so little know how to + play with their things that they give them + away, are pointed out to him as generous, and + where boys who are so bored with their own + minds that they prefer other people’s, are considered + <a class="pagenum" id="page93" title="93"> </a>modest. If he knew in the days when + models are being pointed out to him, that the + time would soon come in the world for boys + like these when it would make little difference + either to the boys themselves, or to any one + else, whether they were generous or modest or + not, it would make his education happier. In + the meantime, in his disgrace, he does not + guess what a good example to models he is. + Very few other people guess it.</p> + + <p>The general truth, that when a man has + nothing to be generous with, and nothing to + be modest about, even his virtues are superfluous, + is realised by society at large in a + pleasant helpless fashion in its bearing on the + man, but its bearing on the next man, on education, + on the problem of human development, + is almost totally overlooked.</p> + + <p>The youth who grasps at everything in sight + to have his experience with it, who cares more + for the thing than he does for the person it + comes from, and more for his experience with + the thing than he does for the thing, is by no + means an inspiring spectacle while this process + is going on, and he is naturally in perpetual + disgrace, but in proportion as they are wise, + our best educators are aware that in all probability + this same youth will wield more spiritual + power in the world, and do more good in it, + than nine or ten pleasantly smoothed and adjustable + persons. His boy-faults are his man-virtues + wrongside out.</p> + + <p><a class="pagenum" id="page94" title="94"> </a>There are very few lives of powerful men in + modern times that do not illustrate this. The + men who do not believe it—who do not approve + of illustrating it, have illustrated it the + most—devoted their lives to it. It would be + hard to find a man of any special importance + in modern biography who has not been indebted + to the sins of his youth. “It is the + things I ought not to have done—see page 93, + 179, 321,” says the average autobiography, + “which have been the making of me.” “They + were all good things for me to do (see page + 526, 632, 720), but I did not think so when I + did them. Neither did any one else.” “Studying + Shakespeare and the theatre in the theological + seminary, and taking walks instead of + examinations in college,” says the biography + of Beecher (between the lines), “meant definite + moral degeneration to me. I did habitually + what I could not justify at the time, either to + myself or to others, and I have had to make + up since for all the moral degeneration, item + by item, but the things I got with the degeneration + when I got it—habits of imagination, + and expression, headway of personality—are + the things that have given me all my + inspirations for being moral since.” “What + love of liberty I have,” Wendell Phillips + seems to say, “I got from loving my own.” + It is the boy who loves his liberty so much + that he insists on having it to do wrong with, + as well as right, who in the long run gets the + <a class="pagenum" id="page95" title="95"> </a>most right done. The basis of character is + moral experiment and almost all the men who + have discovered different or beautiful or right + habits of life for men, have discovered them by + doing wrong long enough. (The ice is thin at + this point, Gentle Reader, for many of us, + perhaps, but it has held up our betters.) The + fact of the matter seems to be that a man’s + conscience in this world, especially if it is an + educated one, or borrowed from his parents, + can get as much in his way as anything else. + There is no doubt that The Great Spirit prefers + to lead a man by his conscience, but if it + cannot be done, if a man’s conscience has + no conveniences for being led, He leads him + against his conscience. The doctrine runs + along the edge of a precipice (like all the best + ones), but if there is one gift rather than another + to be prayed for in this world it is the + ability to recognise the crucial moment that + sometimes comes in a human life—the moment + when The Almighty Himself gets a man—against + his conscience—to do right. It + seems to be the way that some consciences are + meant to grow, by trying wrong things on a + little. Thousands of inferior people can be + seen every day stumbling over their sins to + heaven, while the rest of us are holding back + with our virtues. It has been intimated from + time to time in this world that all men are sinners. + Inasmuch as things are arranged so + that men can sin in doing right things, and + <a class="pagenum" id="page96" title="96"> </a>sin in doing wrong ones both, they can hardly + miss it. The real religion of every age seems + to have looked a little askance at perfection, + even at purity, has gone its way in a kind of + fine straightforwardness, has spent itself in an + inspired blundering, in progressive noble culminating + moral experiment.</p> + + <p>The basis for a great character seems to be + the capacity for intense experience with the + character one already has. So far as most of + us can judge, experience, in proportion as it + has been conclusive and economical, has had to + be (literally or with one’s imagination) in the + first person. The world has never really + wanted yet (in spite of appearances) its own + way with a man. It wants the man. It is + what he is that concerns it. All that it asks of + him, and all that he has to give, is the surplus + of himself. The trouble with our modern + fashion of substituting the second person or the + third person for the first, in a man’s education, + is that it takes his capacity for intense experience + of himself, his chance for having a surplus + of himself, entirely away.</p> + </div> + <div id="section_1.3.3" class="section"> + <h4 class="section_title"><abbr class="section_number" title="three">III</abbr><br/> + Egoism and Society</h4> + + <p>That the unpopularity of the first person + singular is honestly acquired and heartily deserved, + it would be useless to deny. Every one + <a class="pagenum" id="page97" title="97"> </a>who has ever had a first person singular for a + longer or shorter period in his life knows that it + is a disagreeable thing and that every one else + knows it, in nine cases out of ten, at least, and + about nine tenths of the time during its development. + The fundamental question does not + concern itself with the first person singular + being agreeable or disagreeable, but with what + to do with it, it being the necessary evil that + it is.</p> + + <p>It seems to be a reasonable position that + what should be objected to in the interests of + society, is not egoism, a man’s being interested + in himself, but the lack of egoism, a man’s + having a self that does not include others. + The trouble would seem to be—not that people + use their own private special monosyllable overmuch, + but that there is not enough of it, that + nine times out of ten, when they write “I” it + should be written “i.”</p> + + <p>In the face of the political objection, the + objection of the State to the first person singular, + the egoist defends every man’s reading for + himself as follows. Any book that is allowed + to come between a man and himself is doing + him and all who know him a public injury. + The most important and interesting fact about + a man, to other people, is his attitude toward + himself. It determines his attitude toward + every one else. The most fundamental question + of every State is: “What is each man’s + attitude in this State toward himself? What + <a class="pagenum" id="page98" title="98"> </a>can it be?” A man’s expectancy toward himself, + so far as the State is concerned, is the + moral centre of citizenship. It determines + how much of what he expects he will expect + of himself, and how much he will expect of + others and how much of books. The man + who expects too much of himself develops + into the headlong and dangerous citizen who + threatens society with his strength—goes + elbowing about in it—insisting upon living + other people’s lives for them as well as his + own. The man who expects too much of + others threatens society with weariness. He + is always expecting other people to do his living + for him. The man who expects too much + of books lives neither in himself nor in any one + else. The career of the Paper Doll is open to + him. History seems to be always taking turns + with these three temperaments whether in art + or religion or public affairs,—the over-manned, + the under-manned, and the over-read—the + Tyrant, the Tramp, and the Paper Doll. Between + the man who keeps things in his own + hands, and the man who does not care to, and + the man who has no hands, the State has a + hard time. Nothing could be more important + to the existence of the State than that every + man in it shall expect just enough of himself + and just enough of others and just enough of + the world of books. Living is adjusting these + worlds to one another. The central fact about + society is the way it helps a man with himself. + <a class="pagenum" id="page99" title="99"> </a>The society which cuts a man off from himself + cuts him still farther off from every one else. + A man’s reading in the first person—enough + to have a first person—enough to be identified + with himself, is one of the defences of society.</p> + </div> + <div id="section_1.3.4" class="section"> + <h4 class="section_title"><abbr class="section_number" title="four">IV</abbr><br/> + i + I = We</h4> + + <p>The most natural course for a human being, + who is going to identify himself with other + people, is to begin by practising on himself. + If he has not succeeded in identifying himself + with himself, he makes very trying work of the + rest of us. A man who has not learned to say + “I” and mean something very real by it, has + it not in his power, without dulness or impertinence, + to say “you” to any living creature. + If a man has not learned to say “you,” + if he has not taken hold of himself, interpreted + and adjusted himself to those who are + face to face with him, the wider and more + general privilege of saying “they,” of judging + any part of mankind or any temperament + in it, should be kept away from him. It is + only as one has experienced a temperament, + has in some mood of one’s life said “I” in + that temperament, that one has the outfit for + passing an opinion on it, or the outfit for living + with it, or for being in the same world with it.</p> + + <p>There are times, it must be confessed, when + <a class="pagenum" id="page100" title="100"> </a>Christ’s command, that every man shall love + his neighbour as himself, seems inconsiderate. + There are some of us who cannot help feeling, + when we see a man coming along toward us + proposing to love us a little while the way he + loves himself, that our permission might have + been asked. If there is one inconvenience + rather than another in our modern Christian + society, it is the general unprotected sense one + has in it, the number of people there are about + in it (let loose by Sunday-school teachers and + others) who are allowed to go around loving + other people the way they love themselves. A + codicil or at least an explanatory footnote to + the Golden Rule, in the general interest of + neighbours, would be widely appreciated. How + shall a man dare to love his neighbour as himself, + until he loves himself, has a self that he + really loves, a self he can really love, and + loves it? There is no more sad or constant + spectacle that this modern world has to face + than the spectacle of the man who has overlooked + himself, bustling about in it, trying to + give honour to other people,—the man who + has never been able to help himself, hurrying + anxious to and fro as if he could help some one + else.</p> + + <p>It is not too much to say “Charity begins at + home.” Everything does. The one person + who has the necessary training for being an + altruist is the alert egoist who does not know + he is an altruist. His service to society is a + <a class="pagenum" id="page101" title="101"> </a>more intense and comprehensive selfishness. + He would be cutting acquaintance with himself + not to render it. When he says “I” he + means “we,” and the second and third persons + are grown dim to him.</p> + + <p>An absolutely perfect virtue is the conveying + of a man’s self, with a truth, to others. The + virtues that do not convey anything are cheap + and common enough. Favours can be had + almost any day from anybody, if one is not too + particular, and so can blank staring self-sacrifices. + One feels like putting up a sign over + the door of one’s life, with some people: “Let + no man do me a favour except he do it as a + self-indulgence.” Even kindness wears out, + shows through, becomes impertinent, if it is + not a part of selfishness. It may be that there + are certain rudimentary virtues the outer form + of which had better be maintained in the world, + whether they can be maintained spiritually—that + is, thoroughly and egotistically, or not. + If my enemy who lives under the hill will continue + to not-murder me, I desire him to continue + whether he enjoys not-murdering me or + not. But it is no credit to him. Except in + some baldly negative fashion as this, however, + it is literally true that a man’s virtues are of + little account to others except as they are of + account to him, and except he enjoys them as + much as his vices. The first really important + shock that comes to a young man’s religious + sentiment in this world is the number of + <a class="pagenum" id="page102" title="102"> </a>bored-looking people around, doing right. + An absolutely substantial and perfect love + is transfigured selfishness. It is no mere + playing with words to say this, nor is it + substituting a comfortable and pleasant doctrine + for a strenuous altruism. If it were as + light and graceful an undertaking to have + enough selfishness to go around, to live in the + whole of a universe like this, as it is to slip out + of even living in one’s self in it, like a mere + shadow or altruist, egoism were superficial + enough. As it is, egoism being terribly or + beautifully alive, so far as it goes, is now and + always has been, and always must be the running + gear of the spiritual world—egoism socialised. + The first person is what the second and + third persons are made out of. Altruism, as + opposed to egoism, except in a temporary + sense, is a contradiction in terms. Unless a + man has a life to identify other lives, with a + self which is the symbol through which he + loves all other selves and all other experiences, + he is selfish in the true sense.</p> + + <p>With all our Galileos, Agassizes, and Shakespeares, + the universe has not grown in its + countless centuries. It has not been getting + higher and wider over us since the human + race began. It is not a larger universe. It is + lived in by larger men, more all-absorbing, all-identifying, + and selfish men. It is a universe + in which a human being is duly born, given + place with such a self as he happens to have, + <a class="pagenum" id="page103" title="103"> </a>and he is expected to grow up to it. Barring + a certain amount of wear and tear and a few + minor rearrangements on the outside, it is the + same universe that it was in the beginning, + and is now and always will be quite the same + universe, whether a man grows up to it or not. + The larger universe is not one that comes with + the telescope. It comes with the larger self, + the self that by reaching farther and farther + in, reaches farther and farther out. It is as if + the sky were a splendour that grew by night + out of his own heart, the tent of his love of + God spreading its roof over the nature of + things. The greater distance knowledge + reaches, the more it has to be personal, because + it has to be spiritual.</p> + + <p>The one thing that it is necessary to do in + any part of the world to make any branch of + knowledge or deed of mercy, a living and eager + thing, is to get men to see how direct its bearing + is upon themselves. The man who does + not feel concerned when the Armenians are + massacred, thousands of miles away, because + there is a sea between, is not a different man + in kind from the man who does feel concerned. + The difference is one of degree. It is a matter + of area in living. The man who does feel concerned + has a larger self. He sees further, feels + the cry as the cry of his own children. He + has learned the oneness and is touched with + the closeness, of the great family of the world.</p> + </div> + <div id="section_1.3.5" class="section"><a class="pagenum" id="page104" title="104"> </a> + <h4 class="section_title"><abbr class="section_number" title="five">V</abbr><br/> + The Autobiography of Beauty</h4> + + <p>But the brunt of the penalty of the unpopularity + of the first person singular in modern + society falls upon the individual. The hard + part of it, for a man who has not the daily + habit of being a companion to himself, is his + own personal private sense of emptiness—of + missing things. All the universe gets itself + addressed to some one else—a great showy + heartless pantomime it rolls over him, beckoning + with its nights and days and winds and + faces—always beckoning, but to some one else. + All that seems to be left to him in a universe + is a kind of keeping up appearances in it—a + looking as if he lived—a hurrying, dishonest + trying to forget. He dare not sit down and + think. He spends his strength in racing with + himself to get away from himself, and those + greatest days of all in human life—the days + when men grow old, world-gentle, and still + and deep before their God, are the days he + dreads the most. He can only look forward to + old age as the time when a man sits down with + his lie at last, and day after day and night + after night faces infinite and eternal loneliness + in his own heart.</p> + + <p>It is the man who cuts acquaintance with + himself, who dares to be lonely with himself, + who dares the supreme daring in this world. + <a class="pagenum" id="page105" title="105"> </a>He and his loneliness are hermetically sealed + up together in infinite Time, infinite Space,—not + a great man of all that have been, not a + star or flower, not even a great book that can + get at him.</p> + + <p>It is the nature of a great book that in proportion + as it is beautiful it makes itself helpless + before a human soul. Like music or poetry or + painting it lays itself radiant and open before + all that lies before it—to everything or to + nothing, whatever it may be. It makes the + direct appeal. Before the days and years of a + man’s life it stands. “Is not this so?” it says. + It never says less than this. It does not know + how to say more.</p> + + <p>A bare and trivial book stops with what it + says itself. A great book depends now and + forever upon what it makes a man say back, + and if he does not say anything, if he does not + bring anything to it to say, nothing out of his + own observation, passion, experience, to be + called out by the passing words upon the page, + the most living book, in its board and paper + prison, is a dead and helpless thing before a + Dead Soul. The helplessness of the Dead + Soul lies upon it.</p> + + <p>Perhaps there is no more important distinction + between a great book and a little book + than this—that the great book is always a + listener before a human life, and the little book + takes nothing for granted of a reader. It does + not expect anything of him. The littler it is, + <a class="pagenum" id="page106" title="106"> </a>the less it expects and the more it explains. + Nothing that is really great and living explains. + Living is enough. If greatness does + not explain by being great, nothing smaller + can explain it. God never explains. He + merely appeals to every man’s first person + singular. Religion is not what He has told to + men. It is what He has made men wonder + about until they have been determined to find + out. The stars have never been published + with footnotes. The sun, with its huge, soft + shining on people, kept on with the shining + even when the people thought it was doing so + trivial and undignified and provincial a thing + as to spend its whole time going around them, + and around their little earth, that they might + have light on it perchance, and be kept warm. + The moon has never gone out of its way to + prove that it is not made of green cheese. + And this present planet we are allowed the use + of from year to year, which was so little observed + for thousands of generations that all the + people on it supposed it was flat, made no answer + through the centuries. It kept on burying + them one by one, and waited—like a work of + genius or a masterpiece.</p> + + <p>In proportion as a thing is beautiful, whether + of man or God, it has this heroic helplessness + about it with the passing soul or generation of + souls. If people are foolish, it can but appeal + from one dear, pitiful fool to another until + enough of us have died to make it time for a + <a class="pagenum" id="page107" title="107"> </a>wise man again. History is a series of crises + like this, in which once in so often men who say + “I” have crossed the lives of mortals—have + puzzled the world enough to be remembered in + it, like Socrates, or been abused by it enough + to make it love them forever, like Christ.</p> + + <p>The greatest revelation of history is the patience + of the beauty in it, and truth can always + be known by the fact that it is the only thing + in the wide world that can afford to wait. A + true book does not go about advertising itself, + huckstering for souls, arranging its greatness + small enough. It waits. Sometimes for twenty + years it waits for us, sometimes for forty, sometimes + sixty, and then when the time is fulfilled + and we come at length and lay before it the + burden of the blind and blundering years we + have tried to live, it does little with us, after + all, but to bring these same years singing and + crying and struggling back to us, that through + their shadowy doors we may enter at last the + confessional of the human heart, and cry out + there, or stammer or whisper or sing there, + the prophecy of our own lives. Dead words + out of dead dictionaries the book brings to us. + It is a great book because it is a listening book, + because it makes the unspoken to speak and + the dead to live in it. To the vanished pen + and the yellowed paper of the man who writes + to us, thy soul and mine, Gentle Reader, shall + call back, “This is the truth.”</p> + + <p>If a book has force in it, whatever its literary + <a class="pagenum" id="page108" title="108"> </a>form may be, or however disguised, it is biography + appealing to biography. If a book has + great force in it, it is autobiography appealing + to autobiography. The great book is always + a confession—a moral adventure with its + reader, an incredible confidence.</p> + </div> + <div class="deco"> + <img src="images/style03.png" width="326" height="172" alt="" /> + </div> + </div> + <div id="chapter_1.4" class="chapter"><a class="pagenum" id="page109" title="109"> </a> + <div class="deco"> + <img src="images/style07.png" width="551" height="123" alt="" /> + </div> + <h3 class="chapter_title">The Fourth Interference:<br /> + The Habit of Not Letting + One’s Self Go</h3> + + <div id="section_1.4.1" class="section"> + <h4 class="section_title"><abbr class="section_number" title="one">I</abbr><br/> + The Country Boy in Literature</h4> + + <p class="first_paragraph"><span class="first_word">“Let</span> not any Parliament Member,” says + Carlyle, “ask of the Present Editor + ‘What is to be done?’ Editors are not here + to say, ‘How.’”</p> + + <p>“Which is both ungracious and tantalisingly + elusive,” suggests a Professor of Literature, + who has been recently criticising the Nineteenth + Century.</p> + + <p>This criticism, as a part of an estimate of + Thomas Carlyle, is not only a criticism on + itself and an autobiography besides, but it + sums up, in a more or less characteristic fashion + <a class="pagenum" id="page110" title="110"> </a>perhaps, what might be called the ultra-academic + attitude in reading. The ultra-academic + attitude may be defined as the attitude of sitting + down and being told things, and of expecting + all other persons to sit down and be + told things, and of judging all authors, principles, + men, and methods accordingly.</p> + + <p>If the universe were what in most libraries + and clubs to-day it is made to seem, a kind + of infinite Institution of Learning, a Lecture + Room on a larger scale, and if all the men in + it, instead of doing and singing in it, had + spent their days in delivering lectures to it, + there would be every reason, in a universe + arranged for lectures, why we should exact of + those who give them, that they should make + the truth plain to us—so plain that there + would be nothing left for us to do, with truth, + but to read it in the printed book, and then + analyse the best analysis of it—and die.</p> + + <p>It seems to be quite generally true of those + who have been the great masters of literature, + however, that in proportion as they have been + great they have proved to be as ungracious + and as tantalisingly elusive as the universe + itself. They have refused, without exception, + to bear down on the word “how.” They have + almost never told men what to do, and have + confined themselves to saying something that + would make them do it, and make them find + a way to do it. This something that they + have said, like the something that they have + <a class="pagenum" id="page111" title="111"> </a>lived, has come to them they know not how, + and it has gone from them they know not how, + sometimes not even when. It has been incommunicable, + incalculable, infinite, the subconscious + self of each of them, the voice beneath + the voice, calling down the corridors of the + world.</p> + + <p>If a boy from the country were to stand in a + city street before the window of a shop, gazing + into it with open mouth, he would do more in + five or six minutes to measure the power and + calibre of the passing men and women than + almost any device that could be arranged. + Ninety-five out of a hundred of them, probably, + would smile a superior smile at him and + hurry on. Out of the remaining five, four + would look again and pity him. One, perhaps, + would honour and envy him.</p> + + <p>The boy who, in a day like the present one, + is still vital enough to forget how he looks in + enjoying something, is not only a rare and refreshing + spectacle, but he is master of the most + important intellectual and moral superiority + a boy can be master of, and if, in spite of + teachers and surroundings, he can keep this + superiority long enough, or until he comes to + be a man, he shall be the kind of man whose + very faults shall be remembered better and + cherished more by a doting world than the + virtues of the rest of us.</p> + + <p>The most important fact—perhaps the only + important fact—about James Boswell—the + <a class="pagenum" id="page112" title="112"> </a>country boy of literature—is that, whatever + may have been his limitations, he had the + most important gift that life can give to a man—the + gift of forgetting himself in it. In the + Fleet Street of letters, smiling at him and jeering + by him, who does not always see James + Boswell, completely lost to the street, gaping + at the soul of Samuel Johnson as if it were the + show window of the world, as if to be allowed + to look at a soul like this were almost to have + a soul one’s self?</p> + + <p>Boswell’s <cite>Life of Johnson</cite> is a classic because + James Boswell had the classic power in him of + unconsciousness. To book-labourers, college + employees, analysis-hands of whatever kind, + his book is a standing notice that the prerogative + of being immortal is granted by men, + even to a fool, if he has the grace not to know + it. For that matter, even if the fool knows he + is a fool, if he cares more about his subject than + he cares about not letting any one else know it, + he is never forgotten. The world cannot afford + to leave such a fool out. Is it not a world in + which there is not a man living of us who does + not cherish in his heart a little secret like this of + his own? We are bound to admit that the main + difference between James Boswell and the rest, + consists in the fact that James Boswell found + something in the world so much more worth living + for, than not letting the common secret out, + that he lived for it, and like all the other great + naïves he will never get over living for it.</p> + + <p><a class="pagenum" id="page113" title="113"> </a>Even allowing that Boswell’s consistent and + unfailing motive in cultivating Samuel Johnson + was vanity, this very vanity of Boswell’s has + more genius in it than Johnson’s vocabulary, + and the important and inspiring fact remains, + that James Boswell, a flagrantly commonplace + man in every single respect, by the law of letting + himself go, has taken his stand forever in English + literature, as the one commonplace man in + it who has produced a work of genius. The + main quality of a man of genius, his power of + sacrificing everything to his main purpose, belonged + to him. He was not only willing to + seem the kind of fool he was, but he did not + hesitate to seem several kinds that he was + not, to fulfil his main purpose. That Samuel + Johnson might be given the ponderous and + gigantic and looming look that a Samuel Johnson + ought to have, Boswell painted himself into + his picture with more relentlessness than any + other author that can be called to mind, except + three or four similarly commonplace and + similarly inspired and self-forgetful persons in + the New Testament. There has never been + any other biography in England with the + single exception of Pepys, in which the author + has so completely lost himself in his subject. + If the author of Johnson’s life had written his + book with the inspiration of not being laughed + at (which is the inspiration that nine out of + ten who love to laugh are likely to write with), + James Boswell would never have been heard + <a class="pagenum" id="page114" title="114"> </a>of, and the burly figure of Samuel Johnson + would be a blur behind a dictionary.</p> + + <p>It may be set down as one of the necessary + principles of the reading habit that no true and + vital reading is possible except as the reader + possesses and employs the gift of letting himself + go. It is a gift that William Shakespeare + and James Boswell and Elijah and Charles + Lamb and a great many other happy but unimportant + people have had in common. No + man of genius—a man who puts his best and + his most unconscious self into his utterance—can + be read or listened to or interpreted for + one moment without it. Except from those + who bring to him the greeting of their own + unconscious selves, he hides himself. He + gives himself only to those with whom unconsciousness + is a daily habit, with whom the joy + of letting one’s self go is one of the great resources + of life. This joy is back of every great + act and every deep appreciation in the world, + and it is the charm and delight of the smaller + ones. On its higher levels, it is called genius + and inspiration. In religion it is called faith. + It is the primal energy both of art and religion.</p> + + <p>Probably only the man who has very little + would be able to tell what faith is, as a basis + of art or religion, but we have learned some + things that it is not. We know that faith is + not a dead-lift of the brain, a supreme effort + either for God or for ourselves. It is the soul + giving itself up, finding itself, feeling itself + <a class="pagenum" id="page115" title="115"> </a>drawn to its own, into infinite space, face to + face with strength. It is the supreme swinging-free + of the spirit, the becoming a part of + the running-gear of things. Faith is not an + act of the imagination—to the man who knows + it. It is infinite fact, the infinite crowding of + facts, the drawing of the man-self upward and + outward, where he is surrounded with the infinite + man-self. Perhaps a man can make himself + not believe. He can not make himself + believe. He can only believe by letting himself + go, by trusting the force of gravity and + the law of space around him. Faith is the + universe flowing silently, implacably, through + his soul. He has given himself up to it. In + the tiniest, noisiest noon his spirit is flooded + with the stars. He is let out to the boundaries + of heaven and the night-sky bears him up in + the heat of the day.</p> + + <p>In the presence of a great work of art—a + work of inspiration or faith, there is no such + thing as appreciation, without letting one’s + self go.</p> + </div> + <div id="section_1.4.2" class="section"> + <h4 class="section_title"><abbr class="section_number" title="two">II</abbr><br/> + The Subconscious Self</h4> + + <p>The criticism of Carlyle’s remark, “Editors + are not here to say ‘How,’”—that it is “ungracious + and tantalisingly elusive,” is a fair + illustration of the mood to which the habit of + <a class="pagenum" id="page116" title="116"> </a>analysis leads its victims. The explainer cannot + let himself go. The puttering love of explaining + and the need of explaining dog his + soul at every turn of thought or thought of + having a thought. He not only puts a microscope + to his eyes to know with, but his eyes + have ingrown microscopes. The microscope + has become a part of his eyes. He cannot see + anything without putting it on a slide, and + when his microscope will not focus it, and it + cannot be reduced and explained, he explains + that it is not there.</p> + + <p>The man of genius, on the other hand, with + whom truth is an experience instead of a specimen, + has learned that the probabilities are that + the more impossible it is to explain a truth + the more truth there is in it. In so far as the + truth is an experience to him, he is not looking + for slides. He will not mount it as a specimen + and he is not interested in seeing it explained + or focussed. He lives with it in his own heart + in so far as he possesses it, and he looks at it + with a telescope for that greater part which he + cannot possess. The microscope is perpetually + mislaid. He has the experience itself and the + one thing he wants to do with it is to convey + it to others. He does this by giving himself + up to it. The truth having become a part of + him by his thus giving himself up, it becomes + a part of his reader, by his reader’s giving + himself up.</p> + + <p>Reading a work of genius is one man’s unconsciousness + <a class="pagenum" id="page117" title="117"> </a>greeting another man’s. No + author of the higher class can possibly be read + without this mutual exchange of unconsciousness. + He cannot be explained. He cannot + explain himself. And he cannot be enjoyed, + appreciated, or criticised by those who expect + him to. Spiritual things are spiritually discerned, + that is, experienced things are discerned + by experience. They are “ungracious + and tantalisingly elusive.”</p> + + <p>When the man who has a little talent tells a + truth he tells the truth so ill that he is obliged + to tell how to do it. The artist, on the other + hand, having given himself up to the truth, + almost always tells it as if he were listening to + it, as if he were being borne up by it, as by + some great delight, even while he speaks to us. + It is the power of the artist’s truth when he + writes like this that it shall haunt his reader + as it has haunted him. He lives with it and + is haunted by it day after day whether he + wants to be or not, and when a human being + is obliged to live with a burning truth inside + of him every day of his life, he will find a how + for it, he will find some way of saying it, of + getting it outside of him, of doing it, if only + for the common and obvious reason that it + burns the heart out of a man who does not. + If the truth is really in a man—a truth to be + done,—he finds out how to do it as a matter of + self-preservation.</p> + + <p>The average man no doubt will continue + <a class="pagenum" id="page118" title="118"> </a>now as always to consider Carlyle’s “Editors + are not here to say ‘How’” ungracious and + tantalisingly elusive. He demands of every + writer not only that he shall write the truth + for every man but that he shall—practically—read + it for him—that is, tell him how to read + it—the best part of reading it. It is by this + explaining the truth too much, by making it + small enough for small people that so many lies + have been made out of it. The gist of the + matter seems to be that if the spirit of the truth + does not inspire a man to some more eager way + of finding out how to do a truth than asking + some other man how to do it, it must be some + other spirit. The way out for the explotterating + or weak man does not consist in the scientist’s + or the commentator’s how, or the + artist’s how, or in any other strain of helping + the ground to hold one up. It consists in the + power of letting one’s self go.</p> + + <p>To say nothing of appreciation of power, + criticism of power is impossible, without letting + one’s self go. Criticism which is not the + faithful remembering and reporting of an unconscious + mood is not worthy of being called + criticism at all. A critic cannot find even the + faults of a book who does not let himself go in + it, and there is not a man living who can expect + to write a criticism of a book until he has + given himself a chance to have an experience + with it, to write his criticism with. The larger + part of the professional criticism of the ages + <a class="pagenum" id="page119" title="119"> </a>that are past has proved worthless to us, because + the typical professional critic has generally + been a man who professes not to let + himself go and who is proud of it. If it were + not for the occasional possibility of his being + stunned by a book—made unconscious by it,—the + professional critic of the lesser sort would + never say anything of interest to us at all, and + even if he did, being a maimed and defective + conscious person, the evidence that he was + stunned is likely to be of more significance + than anything he may say about the book that + stunned him, or about the way he felt when he + was being stunned. Having had very little + practice in being unconscious, the bare fact is + all that he can remember about it. The unconsciousness + of a person who has long lost the + habit of unconsciousness is apt to be a kind + of groping stupor or deadness at its best, and + not, as with the artist, a state of being, a way + of being incalculably alive, and of letting in + infinite life. It is a small joy that is not unconscious. + The man who knows he is reading + when he has a book in his hands, does not + know very much about books.</p> + + <p>People who always know what time it is, who + always know exactly where they are, and exactly + how they look, have it not in their power + to read a great book. The book that comes to + the reader as a great book is always one that + shares with him the infinite and the eternal in + himself.</p> + + <p><a class="pagenum" id="page120" title="120"> </a>There is a time to know what time it is, and + there is a time not to, and there are many + places small enough to know where they are. + The book that knows what time it is, in every + sentence, will always be read by the clock, but + the great book, the book with infinite vistas in + it, shall not be read by men with a rim of time + around it. The place of it is unmeasured, and + there is no sound that men can make which + shall tick in that place.</p> + </div> + <div id="section_1.4.3" class="section"> + <h4 class="section_title"><abbr class="section_number" title="three">III</abbr><br/> + The Organic Principle of Inspiration</h4> + + <p>Letting one’s self go is but a half-principle, + however, to do one’s reading with. The other + half consists in getting one’s self together + again. In proportion as we truly appreciate + what we read, we find ourselves playing; at being + Boswell to a book and being Johnson to it + by turns. The vital reader lets himself go and + collects himself as the work before him demands. + There are some books, where it is + necessary to let one’s self go from beginning + to end. There are others where a man may + sit as he sits at a play, being himself between + acts, or at proper intervals when the author lets + down the curtain, and being translated the rest + of the time.</p> + + <p><a class="pagenum" id="page121" title="121"> </a>Our richest moods are those in which, as we + look back upon them, we seem to have been + impressing, impressionable, creative, and receptive + at the same time. The alternating + currents of these moods are so swift that they + seem simultaneous, and the immeasurable + swiftness with which they pass from one to the + other is the soul’s instinctive method of kindling + itself—the very act of inspiration. Sometimes + the subconscious self has it all its own + way with us except for a corner of dim, burning + consciousness keeping guard. Sometimes + the conscious has it all its own way with us + and the subconscious self is crowded to the + horizon’s edge, like Northern Lights still playing + in the distance; but the result is the same—the + dim presence of one of these moods in + the other, when one’s power is least effective, + and the gradual alternating of the currents + of the moods as power grows more effective. + In the higher states of power, the moods + are seen alternating with increasing heat and + swiftness until in the highest state of power + of all, they are seen in their mutual glow and + splendour, working as one mood, creating + miracles.</p> + + <p>The orator and the listener, the writer and + the reader, in proportion as they become alive + to one another, come into the same spirit—the + spirit of mutual listening and utterance. At + the very best, and in the most inspired mood, + the reader reads as if he were a reader and + <a class="pagenum" id="page122" title="122"> </a>writer both, and the writer writes as if he were + a writer and reader both.</p> + + <p>While it is necessary in the use and development + of power, that all varieties and combinations + of these moods should be familiar + experiences with the artist and with the reader + of the artist, it remains as the climax and + ideal of all energy and beauty in the human + soul that these moods shall be found alternating + very swiftly—to all appearances together. + The artist’s command of this alternating current, + the swiftness with which he modulates + these moods into one another, is the measure + of his power. The violinist who plays best is + the one who sings the most things together in + his playing. He listens to his own bow, to + the heart of his audience, and to the soul of + the composer all at once. His instrument + sings a singing that blends them together. + The effect of their being together is called art. + The effect of their being together is produced + by the fact that they are together, that they + are born and living and dying together in the + man himself while the strings are singing to + us. They are the spirit within the strings. + His letting himself go to them, his gathering + himself out of them, his power to receive and + create at once, is the secret of the effect he + produces. The power to be receptive and + creative by turns is only obtained by constant + and daily practice, and when the modulating + of one of these moods into the other becomes a + <a class="pagenum" id="page123" title="123"> </a>swift and unconscious habit of life, what is + called “temperament” in an artist is attained + at last and inspiration is a daily occurrence. + It is as hard for such a man to keep from being + inspired as it is for the rest of us to make ourselves + inspired. He has to go out of his way + to avoid inspiration.</p> + + <p>In proportion as this principle is recognised + and allowed free play in the habits that obtain + amongst men who know books, their habits + will be inspired habits. Books will be read + and lived in the same breath, and books that + have been lived will be written.</p> + + <p>The most serious menace in the present + epidemic of analysis in our colleges is not that + it is teaching men to analyse masterpieces + until they are dead to them, but that it is + teaching men to analyse their own lives until + they are dead to themselves. When the process + of education is such that it narrows the + area of unconscious thinking and feeling in a + man’s life, it cuts him off from his kinship + with the gods, from his habit of being unconscious + enough of what he has to enter into the + joy of what he has not.</p> + + <p>The best that can be said of such an education + is that it is a patient, painstaking, laborious + training in locking one’s self up. It dooms a + man to himself, the smallest part of himself, + and walls him out of the universe. He comes + to its doorways one by one. The shining of + them falls at first on him, as it falls on all of + <a class="pagenum" id="page124" title="124"> </a>us. He sees the shining of them and hastens + to them. One by one they are shut in his + face. His soul is damned—is sentenced to + perpetual consciousness of itself. What is + there that he can do next? Turning round + and round inside himself, learning how little + worth while it is, there is but one fate left + open to such a man, a blind and desperate + lunge into the roar of the life he cannot see, + for facts—the usual L.H.D., Ph.D. fate. If + he piles around him the huge hollow sounding + outsides of things in the universe that have + lived, bones of soul, matter of bodies, skeletons + of lives that men have lived, who shall blame + him? He wonders why they have lived, why + any one lives; and if, when he has wondered + long enough why any one lives, we choose to + make him the teacher of the young, that the + young also may wonder why any one lives, + why should we call him to account? He cannot + but teach what he has, what has been + given him, and we have but ourselves to thank + that, as every radiant June comes round, + diplomas for ennui are being handed out—thousands + of them—to specially favoured + children through all this broad and glorious + land.</p> + </div> + </div> + <div id="chapter_1.5" class="chapter"><a class="pagenum" id="page125" title="125"> </a> + <div class="deco"> + <img src="images/style01.png" width="561" height="128" alt="" /> + </div> + <h3 class="chapter_title">The Fifth Interference:<br /> + The Habit of Analysis</h3> + + <div id="section_1.5.1" class="section"> + <h4 class="section_title"><abbr class="section_number" title="one">I</abbr><br/> + If Shakespeare Came to Chicago</h4> + + <p class="first_paragraph"><span class="first_word">It</span> is one of the supreme literary excellences + of the Bible that, until the other day almost, + it had never occurred to any one that it + is literature at all. It has been read by men + and women, and children and priests and + popes, and kings and slaves and the dying + of all ages, and it has come to them not as a + book, but as if it were something happening to + them.</p> + + <p>It has come to them as nights and mornings + come, and sleep and death, as one of the + great, simple, infinite experiences of human + life. It has been the habit of the world to take + the greatest works of art, like the greatest + <a class="pagenum" id="page126" title="126"> </a>works of God, in this simple and straightforward + fashion, as great experiences. If a + masterpiece really is a masterpiece, and rains + and shines its instincts on us as masterpieces + should, we do not think whether it is literary + or not, any more than we gaze on mountains + and stop to think how sublimely scientific, + raptly geological, and logically chemical they + are. These things are true about mountains, + and have their place. But it is the nature of a + mountain to insist upon its own place—to be + an experience first and to be as scientific and + geological and chemical as it pleases afterward. + It is the nature of anything powerful to be an + experience first and to appeal to experience. + When we have time, or when the experience + is over, a mountain or a masterpiece can be + analysed—the worst part of it; but we cannot + make a masterpiece by analysing it; and a + mountain has never been appreciated by pounding + it into trap, quartz, and conglomerate; and + it still holds good, as a general principle, that + making a man appreciate a mountain by pounding + it takes nearly as long as making the + mountain, and is not nearly so worth while.</p> + + <p>Not many years ago, in one of our journals + of the more literary sort, there appeared a few + directions from Chicago University to the late + John Keats on how to write an “Ode to a + Nightingale.” These directions were from the + Head of a Department, who, in a previous paper + in the same journal, had rewritten the “Ode to + <a class="pagenum" id="page127" title="127"> </a>a Grecian Urn.” The main point the Head of + the Department made, with regard to the nightingale, + was that it was not worth rewriting. + “‘The Ode to the Nightingale,’” says he, + “offers me no such temptation. There is almost + nothing in it that properly belongs to + the subject treated. The faults of the Grecian + Urn are such as the poet himself, under wise + criticism” (see catalogue of Chicago University) + “might easily have removed. The faults + of the Nightingale are such that they cannot + be removed. They inhere in the idea and + structure.” The Head of the Department + dwells at length upon “the hopeless fortune + of the poem,” expressing his regret that it can + never be retrieved. After duly analysing what + he considers the poem’s leading thought, he + regrets that a poet like John Keats should go + so far, apropos of a nightingale, as to sigh in + his immortal stanzas, “for something which, + whatever it may be, is nothing short of a dead + drunk.”</p> + + <p>One hears the soul of Keats from out its + eternal Italy—</p> + + <div class="poem"> + <p>“Is there no one near to help me</p> + <p class="i14">… No fair dawn</p> + <p>Of life from charitable voice? No sweet saying</p> + <p>To set my dull and sadden’d spirit playing?”</p> + </div> + + <p class="continued_paragraph">The Head of the Department goes on, and the + lines—</p> + + <div class="poem"> + <p><a class="pagenum" id="page128" title="128"> </a>Still wouldst thou sing and I have ears in vain—</p> + <p>To thy high requiem become a sod—</p> + </div> + + <p class="continued_paragraph">are passed through analysis. “What the fitness + is,” he says, “or what the poetic or other + effectiveness of suggesting that the corpse of a + person who has ceased upon the midnight still + has ears, only to add that it has them in vain, I + cannot pretend to understand”—one of a great + many other things that the Head of the Department + does not pretend to understand. It + is probably with the same outfit of not pretending + to understand that—for the edification of + the merely admiring mind—the “Ode to a + Grecian Urn” was rewritten. To Keats’s + lines—</p> + + <div class="poem"> + <p>Oh, Attic shape! Fair attitude! with brede</p> + <p class="i2">Of marble men and maidens overwrought,</p> + <p>With forest branches and the trodden weed;</p> + <p class="i2">Thou, silent form, dost tease us out of thought</p> + <p>As doth eternity: Cold Pastoral!</p> + <p class="i2">When old age shall this generation waste,</p> + <p>Thou shalt remain, in midst of other woe</p> + <p class="i2">Than ours, a friend to man, to whom thou sayest,</p> + <p>“Beauty is truth, truth beauty”—that is all</p> + <p>Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know—</p> + </div> + + <p class="continued_paragraph">he makes various corrections, offering as a + substitute-conclusion to the poet’s song the + following outburst:</p> + + <div class="poem"> + <p>Preaching this wisdom with thy cheerful mien:</p> + <p>Possessing beauty thou possessest all;</p> + <p>Pause at that goal, nor farther push thy quest.</p> + </div> + + <p><a class="pagenum" id="page129" title="129"> </a>It would not be just to the present state of + academic instruction in literature to illustrate + it by such an extreme instance as this of the + damage the educated mind—debauched with + analysis—is capable of doing to the reading + habit. It is probable that a large proportion of + the teachers of literature in the United States, + both out of their sense of John Keats and out + of respect to themselves, would have publicly + resented this astonishing exhibit of the extreme + literary-academic mind in a prominent + journal, had they not suspected that its editor, + having discovered a literary-academic mind + that could take itself as seriously as this, had + deliberately brought it out as a spectacle. It + could do no harm to Keats, certainly, or to any + one else, and would afford an infinite deal of + amusement—the journal argued—to let a mind + like this clatter down a column to oblivion. + So it did. It was taken by all concerned, + teachers, critics, and observers alike, as one + of the more interesting literary events of the + season.</p> + + <p>Unfortunately, however, entertainments of + this kind have a very serious side to them. It + is one thing to smile at an individual when one + knows that standing where he does he stands + by himself, and another to smile at an individual + when one knows that he is not standing + by himself, that he is a type, that there must + be a great many others like him or he would + not be standing where he does at all. When + <a class="pagenum" id="page130" title="130"> </a>a human being is seen taking his stand over + his own soul in public print, summing up its + emptiness there, and gloating over it, we are + in the presence of a disheartening fact. It can + be covered up, however, and in what, on the + whole, is such a fine, true-ringing, hearty old + world as this, it need not be made much of; + but when we find that a mind like this has + been placed at the head of a Department of + Poetry in a great, representative American + university, the last thing that should be done + with it is to cover it up. The more people + know where the analytical mind is to-day—where + it is getting to be—and the more they + think what its being there means, the better. + The signs of the times, the destiny of education, + and the fate of literature are all involved + in a fact like this. The mere possibility of + having the analysing-grinding mind engaged + in teaching a spontaneous art in a great educational + institution would be of great significance. + The fact that it is actually there and that no + particular comment is excited by its being + there, is significant. It betrays not only what + the general, national, academic attitude toward + literature is, but that that attitude has become + habitual, that it is taken for granted.</p> + + <p>One would be inclined to suppose, looking + at the matter abstractly, that all students and + teachers of literature would take it for granted + that the practice of making a dispassionate + criticism of a passion would be a dangerous + <a class="pagenum" id="page131" title="131"> </a>practice for any vital and spontaneous nature—certainly + the last kind of practice that a + student of the art of poetry (that is, the art of + literature, in the essential sense) would wish + to make himself master of. The first item in + a critic’s outfit for criticising a passion is having + one. The fact that this is not regarded as + an axiom in our current education in books is + a very significant fact. It goes with another + significant fact—the assumption, in most + courses of literature as at present conducted, + that a little man (that is, a man incapable of a + great passion), who is not even able to read a + book with a great passion in it, can somehow + teach other people to read it.</p> + + <p>It is not necessary to deny that analysis occasionally + plays a valuable part in bringing a + pupil to a true method and knowledge of + literature, but unless the analysis is inspired + nothing can be more dangerous to a pupil under + his thirtieth year, even for the shortest period + of time, or more likely to move him over to the + farthest confines of the creative life, or more + certain, if continued long enough, to set him + forever outside all power or possibility of power, + either in the art of literature or in any of the + other arts.</p> + + <p>The first objection to the analysis of one of + Shakespeare’s plays as ordinarily practised in + courses of literature is that it is of doubtful + value to nine hundred and ninety-nine pupils + in a thousand—if they do it. The second is, + <a class="pagenum" id="page132" title="132"> </a>that they cannot do it. The analysing of one + of Shakespeare’s plays requires more of a + commonplace pupil than Shakespeare required + of himself. The apology that is given for the + analysing method is, that the process of analysing + a work of Shakespeare’s will show the pupil + how Shakespeare did it, and that by seeing + how Shakespeare did it he will see how to do + it himself.</p> + + <p>In the first place, analysis will not show how + Shakespeare did it, and in the second place, if + it does, it will show that he did not do it by + analysis. In the third place,—to say nothing + of not doing it by analysis,—if he had analysed + it before he did it, he could not have analysed + it afterward in the literal and modern sense. In + the fourth place, even if Shakespeare were able + to do his work by analysing it before he did it, it + does not follow that undergraduate students can.</p> + + <p>A man of genius, with all his onset of natural + passion, his natural power of letting himself + go, could doubtless do more analysing, both + before and after his work, than any one else + without being damaged by it. What shall be + said of the folly of trying to teach men of + talent, and the mere pupils of men of talent, + by analysis—by a method, that is, which, even + if it succeeds in doing what it tries to do, can + only, at the very best, reveal to the pupil the + roots of his instincts before they have come + up? And why is it that our courses of literature + may be seen assuming to-day on every + <a class="pagenum" id="page133" title="133"> </a>hand, almost without exception, that by teaching + men to analyse their own inspirations—the + inspirations they have—and teaching them to + analyse the inspirations of other men—inspirations + they can never have—we are somehow + teaching them “English literature”?</p> + + <p>It seems to have been overlooked while we + are all analytically falling at Shakespeare’s + feet, that Shakespeare did not become Shakespeare + by analytically falling at any one’s feet—not + even at his own—and that the most important + difference between being a Shakespeare + and being an analyser of Shakespeare is that + with the man Shakespeare no submitting of + himself to the analysis-gymnast would ever + have been possible, and with the students of + Shakespeare (as students go and if they are + caught young enough) the habit of analysis is + not only a possibility but a sleek, industrious, + and complacent certainty.</p> + + <p>After a little furtive looking backward perhaps, + and a few tremblings and doubts, they + shall all be seen, almost to a man, offering + their souls to Moloch, as though the not having + a soul and not missing it were the one final + and consummate triumph that literary culture + could bring. Flocks of them can be seen with + the shining in their faces year after year, term + after term, almost anywhere on the civilised + globe, doing this very thing—doing it under + the impression that they are learning something, + and not until the shining in their faces + <a class="pagenum" id="page134" title="134"> </a>is gone will they be under the impression that + they have learned it (whatever it is) and that + they are educated.</p> + + <p>The fact that the analytic mind is establishing + itself, in a greater or less degree, as the + sentinel in college life of the entire creative + literature of the world is a fact with many + meanings in it. It means not only that there + are a great many more minds like it in literature, + but that a great many other minds—nearly + all college-educated minds—are being + made like it. It means that unless the danger + is promptly faced and acted upon the next + generation of American citizens can neither + expect to be able to produce literature of its + own nor to appreciate or enjoy literature that + has been produced. It means that another + eighteenth century is coming to the world; + and, as the analysis is deeper than before and + more deadly-clever with the deeper things than + before, it is going to be the longest eighteenth + century the world has ever seen—generations + with machines for hands and feet, machines + for minds, machines outside their minds to enjoy + the machines inside their minds with. + Every man with his information-machine to be + cultured with, his religious machine to be good + with, and his private Analysis Machine to be + beautiful with, shall take his place in the + world—shall add his soul to the Machine we + make a world with. For every man that is + born on the earth one more joy shall be crowded + <a class="pagenum" id="page135" title="135"> </a>out of it—one more analysis of joy shall take + its place, go round and round under the stars—dew, + dawn, and darkness—until it stops. + How a sunrise is made and why a cloud is + artistic and how pines should be composed in + a landscape, all men shall know. We shall + criticise the technique of thunderstorms. “And + what is a sunset after all?” The reflection of + a large body on rarefied air. Through analysed + heaven and over analysed fields it trails its + joylessness around the earth.</p> + + <p>Time was, when the setting of the sun was + the playing of two worlds upon a human being’s + life on the edge of the little day, the + blending of sense and spirit for him, earth and + heaven, out in the still west. His whole being + went forth to it. He watched with it and + prayed and sang with it. In its presence his + soul walked down to the stars. Out of the joy + of his life, the finite sorrow and the struggle of + his life, he gazed upon it. It was the portrait + of his infinite self. Every setting sun that + came to him was a compact with Eternal Joy. + The Night itself—his figure faint before it in + the flicker of the east—whispered to him: + “Thou also—hills and heavens around thee, + hills and heavens within thee—oh, Child of + Time—Thou also art God!”</p> + + + <p>“Ah me! How I could love! My soul doth + melt,” cries Keats:</p> + + <div class="poem"> + <p>Ye deaf and senseless minutes of the day,</p> + <p>And thou old forest, hold ye this for true,</p> + <p><a class="pagenum" id="page136" title="136"> </a>There is no lightning, no authentic dew</p> + <p>But in the eye of love; there’s not a sound,</p> + <p>Melodious howsoever, can confound</p> + <p>The heavens and the earth to such a death</p> + <p>As doth the voice of love; there’s not a breath</p> + <p>Will mingle kindly with the meadow air,</p> + <p>Till it has panted round, and stolen a share</p> + <p>Of passion from the heart.</p> + </div> + + <p>John Keats and William Shakespeare wrote + masterpieces because they had passions, spiritual + experiences, and the daily habit of inspiration. + In so far as these masterpieces are being + truthfully taught, they are taught by teachers + who themselves know the passion of creation. + They teach John Keats and William Shakespeare + by rousing the same passions and experiences + in the pupil that Keats and Shakespeare + had, and by daily appealing to them.</p> + </div> + <div id="section_1.5.2" class="section"> + <h4 class="section_title"><abbr class="section_number" title="two">II</abbr><br/> + Analysis Analysed</h4> + + <p>There are a great many men in the world to-day, + faithfully doing their stint in it (they are + commonly known as men of talent), who would + have been men of genius if they had dared. + Education has made cowards of us all, and the + habit of examining the roots of one’s instincts, + before they come up, is an incurable habit.</p> + + <p>The essential principle in a true work of art + is always the poem or the song that is hidden + <a class="pagenum" id="page137" title="137"> </a>in it. A work of art by a man of talent is + generally ranked by the fact that it is the + work of a man who analyses a song before + he sings it. He puts down the words of the + song first—writes it, that is—in prose. Then + he lumbers it over into poetry. Then he + looks around for some music for it. Then he + practises at singing it, and then he sings it. + The man of genius, on the other hand, whether + he be a great one or a very little one, is known + by the fact that he has a song sent to him. + He sings it. He has a habit of humming it + over afterwards. His humming it over afterwards + is his analysis. It is the only possible + inspired analysis.</p> + + <p>The difference between these two types of + men is so great that anything that the smaller + of them has to say about the spirit or the processes + of the other is of little value. When + one of them tries to teach the work of the + other, which is what almost always occurs,—the + man of talent being the typical professor + of works of genius,—the result is fatal. + A singer who is so little capable of singing that + he can give a prose analysis of his own song + while it is coming to him and before he sings + it, can hardly be expected to extemporise an + inspired analysis of another man’s song after + reading it. If a man cannot apply inspired + analysis to a little common passion in a song + he has of his own, he is placed in a hopeless + position when he tries to give an inspired + <a class="pagenum" id="page138" title="138"> </a>analysis of a passion that only another man + could have and that only a great man would + forget himself long enough to have.</p> + + <p>An inspired analysis may be defined as the + kind of analysis that the real poet in his creatively + critical mood is able to give to his work—a + low-singing or humming analysis in which + all the elements of the song are active and all + the faculties and all the senses work on the + subject at once. The proportions and relations + of a living thing are all kept perfect in an inspired + analysis, and the song is made perfect + at last, not by being taken apart, but by being + made to pass its delight more deeply and more + slowly through the singer’s utmost self to its + fulfilment.</p> + + <p>What is ordinarily taught as analysis is very + different from this. It consists in the deliberate + and triumphant separation of the faculties + from one another and from the thing they have + produced—the dull, bare, pitiless process of + passing a living and beautiful thing before one + vacant, staring faculty at a time. This faculty, + being left in the stupor of being all by itself, + sits in complacent judgment upon a work of + art, the very essence of the life and beauty of + which is its appealing to all of the faculties + and senses at once, in their true proportion, + glowing them together into a unit—namely, + several things made into one thing, that is—several + things occupying the same time and + the same place, that is—synthesis. An inspired + <a class="pagenum" id="page139" title="139"> </a>analysis is the rehearsal of a synthesis. + An analysis is not inspired unless it comes as + a flash of light and a burst of music and a + breath of fragrance all in one. Such an analysis + cannot be secured with painstaking and + slowness, unless the painstaking and slowness + are the rehearsal of a synthesis, and all the + elements in it are laboured on and delighted in + at once. It must be a low-singing or humming + analysis.</p> + + <p>The expert student or teacher of poetry who + makes “a dispassionate criticism” of a passion, + who makes it his special boast that he is able + to apply his intellect severely by itself to a + great poem, boasts of the devastation of the + highest power a human being can attain. The + commonest man that lives, whatever his powers + may be, if they are powers that act together, + can look down on a man whose powers cannot, + as a mutilated being. While it cannot be denied + that a being who has been thus especially + mutilated is often possessed of a certain literary + ability, he belongs to the acrobats of literature + rather than to literature itself. The contortionist + who separates himself from his hands + and feet for the delectation of audiences, the + circus performer who makes a battering-ram of + his head and who glories in being shot out of a + cannon into space and amazement, goes through + his motions with essentially the same pride in + his strength, and sustains the same relation to + the strength of the real man of the world.</p> + + <p><a class="pagenum" id="page140" title="140"> </a>Whatever a course of literary criticism may + be, or its value may be, to the pupils who take + it, it consists, more often than not, on the part + of pupil and teacher both, in the dislocating of + one faculty from all the others, and the bearing + it down hard on a work of art, as if what it was + made of, or how it was made, could only be + seen by scratching it.</p> + + <p>It is to be expected now and then, in the + hurry of the outside world, that a newspaper + critic will be found writing a cerebellum criticism + of a work of the imagination; but the + student of literature, in the comparative quiet + and leisure of the college atmosphere, who + works in the same separated spirit, who estimates + a work by dislocating his faculties on it, + is infinitely more blameworthy; and the college + teacher who teaches a work of genius by + causing it to file before one of his faculties at a + time, when all of them would not be enough,—who + does this in the presence of young persons + and trains them to do it themselves,—is a public + menace. The attempt to master a masterpiece, + as it were, by reading it first with the sense of + sight, and then with the sense of smell, and + with all the senses in turn, keeping them carefully + guarded from their habit of sensing things + together, is not only a self-destructive but a + hopeless attempt. A great mind, even if it + would attempt to master anything in this way, + would find it hopeless, and the attempt to + learn a great work of art—a great whole—by + <a class="pagenum" id="page141" title="141"> </a>applying the small parts of a small mind to it, + one after the other, is more hopeless still. It + can be put down as a general principle that a + human being who is so little alive that he finds + his main pleasure in life in taking himself + apart, can find little of value for others in a + masterpiece—a work of art which is so much + alive that it cannot be taken apart, and which + is eternal because its secret is eternally its + own. If the time ever comes when it can + be taken apart, it will be done only by a man + who could have put it together, who is more + alive than the masterpiece is alive. Until the + masterpiece meets with a master who is more + creative than its first master was, the less the + motions of analysis are gone through with by + those who are not masters, the better. A + masterpiece cannot be analysed by the cold and + negative process of being taken apart. It can + only be analysed by being melted down. It + can only be melted down by a man who has + creative heat in him to melt it down and the + daily habit of glowing with creative heat.</p> + + <p>It is a matter of common observation that + the fewer resources an artist has, the more + things there are in nature and in the nature + of life which he thinks are not beautiful. The + making of an artist is his sense of selection. + If he is an artist of the smaller type, he selects + beautiful subjects—subjects with ready-made + beauty in them. If he is an artist of the larger + type, he can hardly miss making almost any + <a class="pagenum" id="page142" title="142"> </a>subject beautiful, because he has so many + beautiful things to put it with. He sees every + subject the way it is—that is, in relation to a + great many other subjects—the way God saw + it, when He made it, and the way it is.</p> + + <p>The essential difference between a small + mood and a large one is that in the small one + we see each thing we look on, comparatively + by itself, or with reference to one or two relations + to persons and events. In our larger + mood we see it less analytically. We see it as + it is and as it lives and as a god would see it, + playing its meaning through the whole created + scheme into everything else.</p> + + <p>The soul of beauty is synthesis. In the + presence of a mountain the sound of a hammer + is as rich as a symphony. It is like the little + word of a great man, great in its great relations. + When the spirit is waked and the man within + the man is listening to it, the sound of a hoof + on a lonely road in the great woods is the + footstep of cities to him coming through the + trees, and the low, chocking sound of a cartwheel + in the still and radiant valley throngs + his being like an opera. All sights and echoes + and thoughts and feelings revel in it. It is + music for the smoke, rapt and beautiful, rising + from the chimneys at his feet. A sheet of water—making + heaven out of nothing—is beautiful + to the dullest man, because he cannot analyse it, + could not—even if he would—contrive to see it + by itself. Skies come crowding on it. There + <a class="pagenum" id="page143" title="143"> </a>is enough poetry in the mere angle of a sinking + sun to flood the prose of a continent with, because + the gentle earthlong shadows that follow + it lay their fingers upon all life and creep together + innumerable separated things.</p> + + <p>In the meadow where our birds are there is + scarcely a tree in sight to tangle the singing in. + It is a meadow with miles of sunlight in it. It + seems like a kind of world-melody to walk in the + height of noon there—infinite grass, infinite + sky, gusts of bobolinks’ voices—it’s as if the air + that drifted down made music of itself; and the + song of all the singing everywhere—the song + the soul hears—comes on the slow winds.</p> + + <p>Half the delight of a bobolink is that he is + more synthetic, more of a poet, than other + birds,—has a duet in his throat. He bursts + from the grass and sings in bursts—plays his + own obligato while he goes. One can never + see him in his eager flurry, between his low + heaven and his low nest, without catching the + lilt of inspiration. Like the true poet, he suits + the action to the word in a weary world, and + does his flying and singing together. The song + that he throws around him, is the very spirit of + his wings—of all wings. More beauty is always + the putting of more things together. They + were created to be together. The spirit of art + is the spirit that finds this out. Even the + bobolink is cosmic, if he sings with room + enough; and when the heart wakes, the song of + the cricket is infinite. We hear it across stars.</p> + </div> + </div> + <div id="chapter_1.6" class="chapter"><a class="pagenum" id="page144" title="144"> </a> + <div class="deco"> + <img src="images/style08.png" width="530" height="126" alt="" /> + </div> + <h3 class="chapter_title">The Sixth Interference:<br /> + Literary Drill in College</h3> + + <div id="section_1.6.1" class="section"> + <h4 class="section_title"><abbr class="section_number" title="one">I</abbr><br/> + Seeds and Blossoms</h4> + + <p class="first_paragraph"><span class="first_word">Four</span> men stood before God at the end of + The First Week, watching Him whirl + His little globe.<a href="#footnote_2" id="fnm2" title="Recently discovered manuscript." class="fnmarker">2</a> The first man said to Him, + “Tell me how you did it.” The second man + said, “Let me have it.” The third man said, + “What is it for?” The fourth man said nothing, + and fell down and worshipped. Having + worshipped he rose to his feet and made a + world himself.</p> + + <p>These four men have been known in history + as the Scientist, the Man of Affairs, the Philosopher, + and the Artist. They stand for the + four necessary points of view in reading books.</p> + + <p><a class="pagenum" id="page145" title="145"> </a>Most of the readers of the world are content + to be partitioned off, and having been duly set + down for life in one or the other of these four + divisions of human nature they take sides + from beginning to end with one or the other + of these four men. It is the distinction of the + scholar of the highest class in every period, + that he declines to do this. In so far as he + finds each of the four men taking sides against + each other, he takes sides against each of them + in behalf of all. He insists on being able to + absorb knowledge, to read and write in all four + ways. If he is a man of genius as well as a + scholar, he insists on being able to read and + write, as a rule, in all four ways at once; if his + genius is of the lesser kind, in two or three ways + at once. The eternal books are those that + stand this four-sided test. They are written + from all of these points of view. They have + absorbed into themselves the four moods of + creation morning. It is thus that they bring + the morning back to us.</p> + + <p>The most important question in regard to + books that our schools and institutions of + learning are obliged to face at present is, + “How shall we produce conditions that will + enable the ordinary man to keep the proportions + that belong to a man, to absorb knowledge, + to do his reading and writing in all four + ways at once?” In other words, How shall + we enable him to be a natural man, a man of + genius as far as he goes?</p> + + <p><a class="pagenum" id="page146" title="146"> </a>A masterpiece is a book that can only be + read by a man who is a master in some degree + of the things the book is master of. The man + who has mastered things the most is the man + who can make those things. The man who + makes things is the artist. He has bowed + down and worshipped and he has arisen and + stood before God and created before Him, and + the spirit of the Creator is in him. To take + the artist’s point of view, is to take the point + of view that absorbs and sums up the others. + The supremacy and comprehensiveness of this + point of view is a matter of fact rather than + argument. The artist is the man who makes + the things that Science and Practical Affairs + and Philosophy are merely about. The artist + of the higher order is more scientific than the + scientist, more practical than the man of + affairs, and more philosophic than the philosopher, + because he combines what these men do + about things, and what these men say about + things, into the things themselves, and makes + the things live.</p> + + <p>To combine these four moods at once in + one’s attitude toward an idea is to take the + artist’s—that is, the creative—point of view toward + it. The only fundamental outfit a man + can have for reading books in all four ways + at once is his ability to take the point of view + of the man who made the book in all four + ways at once, and feel the way he felt when he + made it.</p> + + <p><a class="pagenum" id="page147" title="147"> </a>The organs that appreciate literature are the + organs that made it. True reading is latent + writing. The more one feels like writing a + book when he reads it the more alive his reading + is and the more alive the book is.</p> + + <p>The measure of culture is its originating and + reproductive capacity, the amount of seed and + blossom there is in it, the amount it can afford + to throw away, and secure divine results. Unless + the culture in books we are taking such + national pains to acquire in the present generation + can be said to have this pollen quality in + it, unless it is contagious, can be summed up + in its pollen and transmitted, unless it is nothing + more or less than life itself made catching, + unless, like all else that is allowed to have + rights in nature, it has powers also, has an + almost infinite power of self-multiplication, + self-perpetuation, the more cultured we are + the more emasculated we are. The vegetables + of the earth and the flowers of the field—the + very codfish of the sea become our superiors. + What is more to the point, in the minds and + interests of all living human beings, their + culture crowds ours out.</p> + + <p>Nature may be somewhat coarse and simple-minded + and naïve, but reproduction is her main + point and she never misses it. Her prejudice + against dead things is immutable. If a man + objects to this prejudice against dead things, + his only way of making himself count is to die. + Nature uses such men over again, makes them + <a class="pagenum" id="page148" title="148"> </a>into something more worth while, something + terribly or beautifully alive,—and goes on her + way.</p> + + <p>If this principle—namely, that the reproductive + power of culture is the measure of its + value—were as fully introduced and recognised + in the world of books as it is in the world of + commerce and in the natural world, it would + revolutionise from top to bottom, and from + entrance examination to diploma, the entire + course of study, policy, and spirit of most of + our educational institutions. Allowing for + exceptions in every faculty—memorable to all + of us who have been college students,—it would + require a new corps of teachers.</p> + + <p>Entrance examinations for pupils and + teachers alike would determine two points. + First, what does this person know about + things? Second, what is the condition of his + organs—what can he do with them? If the + privilege of being a pupil in the standard college + were conditioned strictly upon the second + of these questions—the condition of his organs—as + well as upon the first, fifty out of a hundred + pupils, as prepared at present, would fall + short of admission. If the same test were applied + for admission to the faculty, ninety out + of a hundred teachers would fall short of admission. + Having had analytic, self-destructive, + learned habits for a longer time than + their pupils, the condition of their organs is + more hopeless.</p> + + <p><a class="pagenum" id="page149" title="149"> </a>The man who has the greatest joy in a symphony + is:</p> + + <p>First, the man who composes it.</p> + + <p>Second, the conductor.</p> + + <p>Third, the performers.</p> + + <p>Fourth, those who might be composers of + such music themselves.</p> + + <p>Fifth, those in the audience who have been + performers.</p> + + <p>Sixth, those who are going to be.</p> + + <p>Seventh, those who are composers of such + music for other instruments.</p> + + <p>Eighth, those who are composers of music in + other arts—literature, painting, sculpture, and + architecture.</p> + + <p>Ninth, those who are performers of music on + other instruments.</p> + + <p>Tenth, those who are performers of music in + other arts.</p> + + <p>Eleventh, those who are creators of music + with their own lives.</p> + + <p>Twelfth, those who perform and interpret in + their own lives the music they hear in other + lives.</p> + + <p>Thirteenth, those who create anything whatever + and who love perfection in it.</p> + + <p>Fourteenth, “The Public.”</p> + + <p>Fifteenth, the Professional Critic—almost + inevitably at the fifteenth remove from the + heart of things because he is the least creative, + unless he is a man of genius, or has pluck and + talent enough to work his way through the + <a class="pagenum" id="page150" title="150"> </a>other fourteen moods and sum them up before + he ventures to criticise.</p> + + <p>The principles that have been employed in + putting life into literature must be employed + on drawing life out of it. These principles are + the creative principles—principles of joy. All + influences in education, family training, and a + man’s life that tend to overawe, crowd out, + and make impossible his own private, personal, + daily habit of creative joy are the enemies of + books.</p> + </div> + <div id="section_1.6.2" class="section"> + <h4 class="section_title"><abbr class="section_number" title="two">II</abbr><br/> + Private Road: Dangerous</h4> + + <p>The impotence of the study of literature as + practised in the schools and colleges of the + present day turns largely on the fact that the + principle of creative joy—of knowing through + creative joy—is overlooked. The field of vision + is the book and not the world. In the average + course in literature the field is not even the + book. It is still farther from the creative + point of view. It is the book about the book.</p> + + <p>It is written generally in the laborious unreadable, + well-read style—the book about the + book. You are as one (when you are in the + book about the book) thrust into the shadow + of the endless aisles of Other Books—not that + they are referred to baldly, or vulgarly, or in + the text. It is worse than this (for this could + <a class="pagenum" id="page151" title="151"> </a>be skipped). But you are surrounded helplessly. + Invisible lexicons are on every page. + Grammars and rhetorics, piled up in paragraphs + and between the lines thrust at you + everywhere. Hardly a chapter that does not + convey its sense of struggling faithfulness, of + infinite forlorn and empty plodding—and all + for something a man might have known anyway. + “I have toted a thousand books,” each + chapter seems to say. “This one paragraph + [page 1993—you feel it in the paragraph] + has had to have forty-seven books carried to + it.” Not once, except in loopholes in his reading + which come now and then, does the face of + the man’s soul peep forth. One does not expect + to meet any one in the book about the + book—not one’s self, not even the man who + writes it, nor the man who writes the book that + the book is about. One is confronted with a + mob.</p> + + <p>Two things are apt to be true of students + who study the great masters in courses employing + the book about the book. Even if the + books about the book are what they ought to + be, the pupils of such courses find that (1) + studying the master, instead of the things he + mastered, they lose all power over the things + he mastered; (2) they lose, consequently, not + only the power of creating masterpieces out + of these things themselves, but the power + of enjoying those that have been created by + others, of having the daily experiences that + <a class="pagenum" id="page152" title="152"> </a>make such joy possible. They are out of + range of experience. They are barricaded + against life. Inasmuch as the creators of + literature, without a single exception, have + been more interested in life than in books, + and have written books to help other people to + be more interested in life than in books, this is + the gravest possible defect. To be more interested + in life than in books is the first essential + for creating a book or for understanding one.</p> + + <p>The typical course of study now offered in + literature carries on its process of paralysis in + various ways:</p> + + <p>First. It undermines the imagination by + giving it paper things instead of real ones to + work on.</p> + + <p>Second. By seeing that these things are selected + instead of letting the imagination select + its own things—the essence of having an + imagination.</p> + + <p>Third. By requiring of the student a rigorous + and ceaselessly unimaginative habit. The + paralysis of the learned is forced upon him. + He finds little escape from the constant reading + of books that have all the imagination left + out of them.</p> + + <p>Fourth. By forcing the imagination to work + so hard in its capacity of pack-horse and memory + that it has no power left to go anywhere + of itself.</p> + + <p>Fifth. By overawing individual initiative, + undermining personality in the pupil, crowding + <a class="pagenum" id="page153" title="153"> </a>great classics into him instead of attracting little + ones out of him. Attracting little classics out of + a man is a thing that great classics are always + intended to do—the thing that they always + succeed in doing when left to themselves.</p> + + <p>Sixth. The teacher of literature so-called, + having succeeded in destroying the personality + of the pupil, puts himself in front of the personality + of the author.</p> + + <p>Seventh. A teacher who destroys personality + in a pupil is the wrong personality to put in + front of an author. If he were the right one, + if he had the spirit of the author, his being in + front, now and then at least, would be interpretation + and inspiration. Not having the + spirit of the author, he is intimidated by him, + or has all he can do not to be. A classic cannot + reveal itself to a groveller or to a critic. + It is a book that was written standing up and + it can only be studied and taught by those + who stand up without knowing it. The decorous + and beautiful despising of one’s self + that the study of the classics has come to be as + conducted under unclassic teachers, is a fact + that speaks for itself.</p> + + <p>Eighth. Even if the personality of the + teacher of literature is so fortunate as not to + be the wrong one, there is not enough of it. + There is hardly a course of literature that can + be found in a college catalogue at the present + time that does not base itself on the dictum + that a great book can somehow—by some + <a class="pagenum" id="page154" title="154"> </a>mysterious process—be taught by a small person. + The axiom that necessarily undermines all + such courses is obvious enough. A great book + cannot be taught except by a teacher who is + literally living in a great spirit, the spirit the + great book lived in before it became a book,—a + teacher who has the great book in him—not + over him,—who, if he took time for it, might + be capable of writing, in some sense at least, a + great book himself. When the teacher is a + teacher of this kind, teaches the spirit of what + he teaches—that is, teaches the inside,—a + classic can be taught.</p> + + <p>Otherwise the best course in literature that + can be devised is the one that gives the masterpieces + the most opportunity to teach themselves. + The object of a course in literature is + best served in proportion as the course is arranged + and all associated studies are arranged + in such a way as to secure sensitive and contagious + conditions for the pupil’s mind in the + presence of the great masters, such conditions + as give the pupil time, freedom, space, and + atmosphere—the things out of which a masterpiece + is written and with which alone it can be + taught, or can teach itself.</p> + + <p>All that comes between a masterpiece and + its thus teaching itself, spreads ruin both + ways. The masterpiece is partitioned off from + the pupil, guarded to be kept aloof from him—outside + of him. The pupil is locked up from + himself—his possible self.</p> + + <p><a class="pagenum" id="page155" title="155"> </a>Not too much stress could possibly be laid + upon intimacy with the great books or on the + constant habit of living on them. They are + the movable Olympus. All who create camp + out between the heavens and the earth on them + and breathe and live and climb upon them. + From their mighty sides they look down on + human life. But classics can only be taught + by classics. The creative paralysis of pupils + who have drudged most deeply in classical + training—English or otherwise—is a fact that + no observer of college life can overlook. The + guilt for this state of affairs must be laid at + the door of the classics or at the door of the + teachers. Either the classics are not worth + teaching or they are not being taught properly.</p> + + <p>In either case the best way out of the difficulty + would seem to be for teachers to let the + classics teach themselves, to furnish the students + with the atmosphere, the conditions, the + points of view in life, which will give the + classics a chance to teach themselves.</p> + + <p>This brings us to the important fact that + teachers of literature do not wish to create the + atmosphere, the conditions, and points of view + that give the classics a chance to teach themselves. + Creating the atmosphere for a classic + in the life of a student is harder than creating + a classic. The more obvious and practicable + course is to teach the classic—teach it one’s + self, whether there is atmosphere or not.</p> + + <p>It is admitted that this is not the ideal way + <a class="pagenum" id="page156" title="156"> </a>to do with college students who suppose they + are studying literature, but it is contended—college + students and college electives being + what they are—that there is nothing else to + do. The situation sums itself up in the attitude + of self-defence. “It may be (as no one + needs to point out), that the teaching of literature, + as at present conducted in college, is a + somewhat faithful and dogged farce, but whatever + may be the faults of modern college-teaching + in literature, it is as good as our pupils + deserve.” In other words, the teachers are + not respecting their pupils. It may be said to + be the constitution and by-laws of the literature + class (as generally conducted) that the + teachers cannot and must not respect their + pupils. They cannot afford to. It costs more + than most pupils are mentally worth, it is + plausibly contended, to furnish students in + college with the conditions of life and the conditions + in their own minds that will give masterpieces + a fair chance at them. <em lang="la" xml:lang="la">Ergo</em>, inasmuch + as the average pupil cannot be taught a + classic he must be choked with it.</p> + + <p>The fact that the typical teacher of literature + is more or less grudgingly engaged in doing + his work and conducting his classes under the + practical working theory that his pupils are + not good enough for him, suggests two important + principles.</p> + + <p>First. If his pupils are good enough for him, + they are good enough to be taught the best + <a class="pagenum" id="page157" title="157"> </a>there is in him, and they must be taught this + best there is in him, as far as it goes, whether + all of them are good enough for it or not. + There is as much learning in watching others + being educated as there is in appearing to be + educated one’s self.</p> + + <p>Second. If his pupils are not good enough + for him, the most literary thing he can do with + them is to make them good enough. If he is + not a sufficiently literary teacher to divine the + central ganglion of interest in a pupil, and play + upon it and gather delight about it and make + it gather delight itself, the next most literary + thing he can do is protect both the books and + the pupil by keeping them faithfully apart until + they are ready for one another.</p> + + <p>If the teacher cannot recognise, arouse, and + exercise such organs as his pupil has, and + carry them out into themselves, and free them + in self-activity, the pupil may be unfortunate in + not having a better teacher, but he is fortunate + in having no better organs to be blundered on.</p> + + <p>The drawing out of a pupil’s first faint but + honest and lasting power of really reading a + book, of knowing what it is to be sensitive to + a book, does not produce a very literary-looking + result, of course, and it is hard to give the result + an impressive or learned look in a catalogue, + and it is a difficult thing to do without + considering each pupil as a special human being + by himself,—worthy of some attention on that + account,—but it is the one upright, worthy, + <a class="pagenum" id="page158" title="158"> </a>and beautiful thing a teacher can do. Any + easier course he may choose to adopt in an institution + of learning (even when it is taken helplessly + or thoughtlessly as it generally is) is insincere + and spectacular, a despising not only of the + pupil but of the college public and of one’s self.</p> + + <p>If it is true that the right study of literature + consists in exercising and opening out the human + mind instead of making it a place for cold + storage, it is not necessary to call attention to + the essential pretentiousness and shoddiness of + the average college course in literature. At + its best—that is, if the pupils do not do the + work, the study of literature in college is a + sorry spectacle enough—a kind of huge girls’ + school with a chaperone taking its park walk. + At its worst—that is, when the pupils do do + the work, it is a sight that would break a + Homer’s heart. If it were not for a few inspired + and inconsistent teachers blessing particular + schools and scholars here and there, + doing a little guilty, furtive teaching, whether + or no, discovering short-cuts, climbing fences, + breaking through the fields, and walking on + the grass, the whole modern scheme of elaborate, + tireless, endless laboriousness would come + to nothing, except the sight of larger piles of + paper in the world, perhaps, and rows of dreary, + dogged people with degrees lugging them back + and forth in it,—one pile of paper to another + pile of paper, and a general sense that something + is being done.</p> + + <p><a class="pagenum" id="page159" title="159"> </a>In the meantime, human life around us, + trudging along in its anger, sorrow, or bliss, + wonders what this thing is that is being done, + and has a vague and troubled respect for it; + but it is to be noted that it buys and reads the + books (and that it has always bought and read + the books) of those who have not done it, and + who are not doing it,—those who, standing in + the spectacle of the universe, have been sensitive + to it, have had a mighty love in it, or a + mighty hate, or a true experience, and who + have laughed and cried with it through the + hearts of their brothers to the ends of the + earth.</p> + </div> + <div id="section_1.6.3" class="section"> + <h4 class="section_title"><abbr class="section_number" title="three">III</abbr><br/> + The Organs of Literature</h4> + + <p>The literary problem—the problem of possessing + or appreciating or teaching a literary + style—resolves itself at last into a pure problem + of personality. A pupil is being trained in + literature in proportion as his spiritual and + physical powers are being brought out by the + teacher and played upon until they permeate + each other in all that he does and in all that + he is—in all phases of his life. Unless what a + pupil is glows to the finger tips of his words, + he cannot write, and unless what he is makes + the words of other men glow when he reads, + he cannot read.</p> + + <p><a class="pagenum" id="page160" title="160"> </a>In proportion as it is great, literature is addressed + to all of a man’s body and to all of his + soul. It matters nothing how much a man + may know about books, unless the pages of + them play upon his senses while he reads, he + is not physically a cultivated man, a gentleman, + or scholar with his body. Unless books + play upon all his spiritual and mental sensibilities + when he reads he cannot be considered + a cultivated man, a gentleman, and a scholar + in his soul. It is the essence of all great + literature that it makes its direct appeal to + sense-perceptions permeated with spiritual suggestion. + There is no such thing possible as + being a literary authority, a cultured or scholarly + man, unless the permeating of the sense-perceptions + with spiritual suggestion is a daily + and unconscious habit of life. “Every man + his own poet” is the underlying assumption + of every genuine work of art, and a work of + art cannot be taught to a pupil in any other + way than by making this same pupil a poet, + by getting him to discover himself. Continued + and unfaltering disaster is all that can be expected + of all methods of literary training that + do not recognise this.</p> + + <p>To teach a pupil all that can be known + about a great poem is to take the poetry out + of him, and to make the poem prose to him + forever. A pupil cannot even be taught great + prose except by making a poet of him, in his + attitude toward it, and by so governing the + <a class="pagenum" id="page161" title="161"> </a>conditions, excitements, duties, and habits of + his course of study that he will discover he is + a poet in spite of himself. The essence of + Walter Pater’s essays cannot be taught to a + pupil except by making a new creature of him + in the presence of the things the essays are + about. Unless the conditions of a pupil’s + course are so governed, in college or otherwise, + as to insure and develop the delicate and strong + response of all his bodily senses, at the time of + his life when nature decrees that his senses + must be developed, that the spirit must be + waked in them, or not at all, the study of + Walter Pater will be in vain.</p> + + <p>The physical organisation, the mere bodily + state of the pupil, necessary to appreciate either + the form or the substance of a bit of writing + like <cite>The Child in the House</cite>, is the first thing a + true teacher is concerned with. A college + graduate whose nostrils have not been trained + for years,—steeped in the great, still delights + of the ground,—who has not learned the spirit + and fragrance of the soil beneath his feet, is not + a sufficiently cultivated person to pronounce + judgment either upon Walter Pater’s style or + upon his definition of style.</p> + + <p>To be educated in the great literatures of + the world is to be trained in the drawing out + in one’s own body and mind of the physical + and mental powers of those who write great + literatures. Culture is the feeling of the induced + current—the thrill of the lives of the + <a class="pagenum" id="page162" title="162"> </a>dead—the charging the nerves of the body + and powers of the spirit with the genius that + has walked the earth before us. In the borrowed + glories of the great for one swift and + passing page we walk before heaven with + them, breathe the long breath of the centuries + with them, know the joy of the gods and live. + The man of genius is the man who literally + gives himself. He makes every man a man + of genius for the time being. He exchanges + souls with us and for one brief moment we are + great, we are beautiful, we are immortal. We + are visited with our possible selves. Literature + is the transfiguring of the senses in which men + are dwelling every day and of the thoughts of + the mind in which they are living every day. + It is the commingling of one’s life in one vast + network of sensibility, communion, and eternal + comradeship with all the joy and sorrow, taste, + odor, and sound, passion of men and love of + women and worship of God, that ever has been + on the earth, since the watching of the first + night above the earth, or since the look of the + first morning on it, when it was loved for the + first time by a human life.</p> + + <p>The artist is recognised as an artist in proportion + as the senses of his body drift their + glow and splendour over into the creations of + his mind. He is an artist because his flesh is + informed with the spirit, because in whatever + he does he incarnates the spirit in the flesh.</p> + + <p>The gentle, stroking delight in this universe + <a class="pagenum" id="page163" title="163"> </a>that Dr. Holmes took all his days, his contagious + gladness in it and approval of it, his + impressionableness to its moods—its Oliver-Wendell + ones,—who really denies in his soul + that this capacity of Dr. Holmes to enjoy, this + delicate, ceaseless tasting with sense and spirit + of the essence of life, was the very substance + of his culture? The books that he wrote and + the things that he knew were merely the form + of it. His power of expression was the blending + of sense and spirit in him, and because his + mind was trained into the texture of his body + people delighted in his words in form and spirit + both.</p> + + <p>There is no training in the art of expression + or study of those who know how to express, + that shall not consist, not in a pupil’s knowing + wherein the power of a book lies, but in his + experiencing the power himself, in his entering + the life behind the book and the habit of life + that made writing such a book and reading it + possible. This habit is the habit of incarnation.</p> + + <p>A true and classic book is always the history + some human soul has had in its tent of flesh, + camped out beneath the stars, groping for the + thing they shine to us, trying to find a body + for it. In the great wide plain of wonder there + they sing the wonder a little time to us, if we + listen. Then they pass on to it. Literature + is but the faint echo tangled in thousands of + years, of this mighty, lonely singing of theirs, + <a class="pagenum" id="page164" title="164"> </a>under the Dome of Life, in the presence of the + things that books are about. The power to + read a great book is the power to glory in these + things, and to use that glory every day to do + one’s living and reading with. Knowing what + is in the book may be called learning, but the + test of culture always is that it will not be content + with knowledge unless it is inward knowledge. + Inward knowledge is the knowledge + that comes to us from behind the book, from + living for weeks with the author until his habits + have become our habits, until God Himself, + through days and nights and deeds and dreams, + has blended our souls together.</p> + </div> + <div id="section_1.6.4" class="section"> + <h4 class="section_title"><abbr class="section_number" title="four">IV</abbr><br/> + Entrance Examinations in Joy</h4> + + <p>If entrance examinations in joy were required + at our representative colleges very few + of the pupils who are prepared for college in + the ordinary way would be admitted. What is + more serious than this, the honour-pupils in + the colleges themselves at commencement time—those + who have submitted most fully to the + college requirements—would take a lower + stand in a final examination in joy, whether + of sense or spirit, than any others in the class. + Their education has not consisted in the acquiring + of a state of being, a condition of organs, a + capacity of tasting life, of creating and sharing + <a class="pagenum" id="page165" title="165"> </a>the joys and meanings in it. Their learning + has largely consisted in the fact that they have + learned at last to let their joys go. They have + become the most satisfactory of scholars, not + because of their power of knowing, but because + of their willingness to be powerless in knowing. + When they have been drilled to know without + joy, have become the day-labourers of learning, + they are given diplomas for cheerlessness, + and are sent forth into the world as teachers of + the young. Almost any morning, in almost + any town or city beneath the sun, you can see + them, Gentle Reader, with the children, spreading + their tired minds and their tired bodies + over all the fresh and buoyant knowledge of + the earth. Knowledge that has not been + throbbed in cannot be throbbed out. The + graduates of the colleges for women (in The + Association of Collegiate Alumnæ) have seriously + discussed the question whether the college + course in literature made them nearer or + farther from creating literature themselves. + The Editor of <cite>Harper’s Monthly</cite> has recorded + that “the spontaneity and freedom of subjective + construction” in certain American authors was + only made possible, probably, by their having + escaped an early academic training. The <cite>Century + Magazine</cite> has been so struck with the fact + that hardly a single writer of original power + before the public has been a regular college + graduate that it has offered special prizes and + inducements for any form of creative literature—poem, + <a class="pagenum" id="page166" title="166"> </a>story, or essay—that a college graduate + could write.</p> + + <p>If a teacher of literature desires to remove + his subject from the uncreative methods he + finds in use around him, he can only do so + successfully by persuading trustees and college + presidents that literature is an art and that it + can only be taught through the methods and + spirit and conditions that belong to art. If he + succeeds in persuading trustees and presidents, + he will probably find that faculties are not persuaded, + and that, in the typical Germanised + institution of learning at least, any work he + may choose to do in the spirit and method of + joy will be looked upon by the larger part of + his fellow teachers as superficial and pleasant. + Those who do not feel that it is superficial and + pleasant, who grant that working for a state + of being is the most profound and worthy and + strenuous work a teacher can do,—that it is + what education is for,—will feel that it is impracticable. + It is thus that it has come to pass + in the average institution of learning, that if + a teacher does not know what education is, he + regards education as superficial, and if he does + know what education is, he regards education + as impossible.</p> + + <p>It is not intended to be dogmatic, but it may + be worth while to state from the pupil’s point + of view and from memory what kind of teacher + a college student who is really interested in + literature would like to have.</p> + + <p><a class="pagenum" id="page167" title="167"> </a>Given a teacher of literature who has <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">carte + blanche</em> from the other teachers—the authorities + around him—and from the trustees—the + authorities over him,—what kind of a stand + will he find it best to take, if he proposes to + give his pupils an actual knowledge of literature?</p> + + <p>In the first place, he will stand on the general + principle that if a pupil is to have an actual + knowledge of literature as literature, he must + experience literature as an art.</p> + + <p>In the second place, if he is to teach literature + to his pupils as an art to be mastered, he + will begin his teaching as a master. Instead + of his pupils determining that they will elect + him, he will elect them. If there is to be any + candidating, he will see that the candidating + is properly placed; that the privilege at least of + the first-class music master, dancing master, + and teacher of painting—the choosing of his + own pupils—is accorded to him. Inasmuch as + the power and value of his class must always + depend upon him, he will not allow either the + size or the character of his classes to be determined + by a catalogue, or by the examinations + of other persons, or by the advertising facilities + of the college. If actual results are to be + achieved in his pupils, it can only be by his + governing the conditions of their work and by + keeping these conditions at all times in his own + hands.</p> + + <p>In the third place, he will see that his class + <a class="pagenum" id="page168" title="168"> </a>is so conducted that out of a hundred who desire + to belong to it the best ten only will be + able to.</p> + + <p>In the fourth place, he will himself not only + determine which are the best ten, but he will + make this determination on the one basis possible + for a teacher of art—the basis of mutual + attraction among the pupils. He will take his + stand on the spiritual principle that if classes + are to be vital classes, it is not enough that the + pupils should elect the teacher, but the teacher + and pupils must elect each other. The basis + of an art is the mutual attraction that exists + between things that belong together. The + basis for transmitting an art to other persons + is the natural attraction that exists between + persons that belong together. The more + mutual the attraction is,—complementary or + otherwise,—the more condensed and powerful + teaching can it be made the conductor of. + If a hundred candidates offer themselves, fifty + will be rejected because the attraction is not + mutual enough to insure swift and permanent + results. Out of fifty, forty will be rejected + probably for the sake of ten with whom the + mutual attraction is so great that great things + cannot help being accomplished by it.</p> + + <p>The thorough and contagious teacher of + literature will hold his power—the power of + conveying the current and mood of art to + others—as a public trust. He owes it to the + institution in which he is placed to refuse to + <a class="pagenum" id="page169" title="169"> </a>surround himself with non-conductors; and + inasmuch as his power—such as it is—is instinctive + power, it will be placed where it instinctively + counts the most. In proportion as + he loves his art and loves his kind and desires + to get them on speaking terms with each other, + he will devote himself to selected pupils, to + those with whom he will throw the least away. + His service to others will be to give to these + such real, inspired, and reproductive knowledge, + that it shall pass on from them to others + of its own inherent energy. From the narrower—that + is, the less spiritual—point of view, + it has seemed perhaps a selfish and aristocratic + thing for a teacher to make distinctions in persons + in the conduct of his work, but from the + point of view of the progress of the world, it is + heartless and sentimental to do otherwise; and + without exception all of the most successful + teachers in all of the arts have been successful + quite as much through a kind of dictatorial insight + in selecting the pupils they could teach, + as in selecting the things they could teach + them.</p> + + <p>In the fifth place, having determined to + choose his pupils himself, the selection will be + determined by processes of his own choosing. + These processes, whatever form or lack of form + they may take, will serve to convey to the + teacher the main knowledge he desires. They + will be an examination in the capacity of joy + in the pupil. Inasmuch as surplus joy in a + <a class="pagenum" id="page170" title="170"> </a>pupil is the most promising thing he can have, + the sole secret of any ability he may ever attain + of learning literature, the basis of all discipline, + it will be the first thing the teacher takes into + account. While it is obvious that an examination + in joy could not be conducted in any set + fashion, every great joy in the world has its + natural diviners and experts, and teachers of + literature who know its joy have plenty of + ways of divining this joy in others.</p> + + <p>In the sixth place, pupils will be dropped + and promoted by a teacher, in such a class as + has been described, according to the spirit + and force and creativeness of their daily work. + Promotion will be by elimination—that is, the + pupil will stay where he is and the class will + be made smaller for him. The superior natural + force of each pupil will have full sway in determining + his share of the teacher’s force. As + this force belongs most to those who waste it + least, if five tenths of the appreciation in a + class belongs to one pupil, five tenths of the + teacher belongs to him, and promotion is most + truly effected, not by giving the best pupils a + new teacher, but by giving them more of the + old one. A teacher’s work can only be successful + in proportion as it is accurately individual + and puts each pupil in the place he was + made to fit.</p> + + <p>In the seventh place, the select class will be + selected by the teacher as a baseball captain + selects his team: not as being the nine best + <a class="pagenum" id="page171" title="171"> </a>men, but as being the nine men who most call + each other out, and make the best play together. + If the teacher selects his class wisely, + the principle of his selection sometimes—from + the outside, at least—will seem no principle at + all. The class must have its fool, for instance, + and pupils must be selected for useful defects + as well as for virtues. Belonging to such a + class will not be allowed to have a stiff, definite, + water-metre meaning in it, with regard to the + capacity of a pupil. It will only be known + that he is placed in the class for some quality, + fault, or inspiration in him that can be brought + to bear on the state of being in the class in + such a way as to produce results, not only for + himself but for all concerned.</p> + </div> + <div id="section_1.6.5" class="section"> + <h4 class="section_title"><abbr class="section_number" title="five">V</abbr><br/> + Natural Selection in Theory</h4> + + <p>The conditions just stated as necessary for + the vital teaching of literature narrow themselves + down, for the most part, to the very + simple and common principle of life and art, + the principle of natural selection.</p> + + <p>As an item in current philosophy the principle + of natural selection meets with general + acceptance. It is one of those pleasant and + instructive doctrines which, when applied to existing + institutions, is opposed at once as a sensational, + visionary, and revolutionary doctrine.</p> + + <p><a class="pagenum" id="page172" title="172"> </a>There are two most powerful objections to + the doctrine of natural selection in education. + One of these is the scholastic objection and the + other is the religious one.</p> + + <p>The scholastic objection is that natural selection + in education is impracticable. It cannot + be made to operate mechanically, or for + large numbers, and it interferes with nearly + all of the educational machinery for hammering + heads in rows, which we have at command + at present. Even if the machinery could be + stopped and natural selection could be given + the place that belongs to it, all success in acting + on it would call for hand-made teachers; + and hand-made teachers are not being produced + when we have nothing but machines to + produce them with. The scholastic objection—that + natural selection in education is impracticable + under existing conditions—is obviously + well taken. As it cannot be answered, + it had best be taken, perhaps, as a recommendation.</p> + + <p>The religious objection to natural selection + in education is not that it is impracticable, but + that it is wicked. It rests its case on the defence + of the weak.</p> + + <p>But the question at issue is not whether the + weak shall be served and defended or whether + they shall not. We all would serve and defend + the weak. If a teacher feels that he can + serve his inferior pupils best by making his + superior pupils inferior too, it is probable that + <a class="pagenum" id="page173" title="173"> </a>he had better do it, and that he will know how + to do it, and that he will know how to do it + better than any one else. There are many + teachers, however, who have the instinctive + belief, and who act on it so far as they are + allowed to, that to take the stand that the inferior + pupil must be defended at the expense + of the superior pupil is to take a sentimental + stand. It is not a stand in favour of the inferior + pupil, but against him.</p> + + <p>The best way to respect an inferior pupil is + to keep him in place. The more he is kept in + place, the more his powers will be called upon. + If he is in the place above him, he may see + much that he would not see otherwise, much + at which he will wonder, perhaps; but he deserves + to be treated spiritually and thoroughly, + to be kept where he will be creative, where his + wondering will be to the point, both at once + and eventually.</p> + + <p>It is a law that holds as good in the life of a + teacher of literature as it does in the lives of + makers of literature. From the point of view + of the world at large, the author who can do + anything else has no right to write for the + average man. There are plenty of people who + cannot help writing for him. Let them do it. + It is their right and the world’s right that they + should be the ones to do it. It is the place that + belongs to them, and why should nearly every + man we have of the more seeing kind to-day + deliberately compete with men who cannot + <a class="pagenum" id="page174" title="174"> </a>compete with him? The man who abandons + the life that belongs to him,—the life that + would not exist in the world if he did not live + it and keep it existing in the world, and who + does it to help his inferiors, does not help his + inferiors. He becomes their rival. He crowds + them out of their lives. There could not possibly + be a more noble, or more exact and + spiritual law of progress than this—that every + man should take his place in human society + and do his work in it with his nearest spiritual + neighbours. These nearest spiritual neighbours + are a part of the economy of the universe. + They are now and always have been the natural + conductors over the face of the earth of all + actual power in it. It has been through the + grouping of the nearest spiritual neighbours + around the world that men have unfailingly + found the heaven-appointed, world-remoulding + teachers of every age.</p> + + <p>It does not sound very much like Thomas + Jefferson,—and it is to be admitted that there + are certain lines in our first great national + document which, read on the run at least, may + seem to deny it,—but the living spirit of + Thomas Jefferson does not teach that amputation + is progress, nor does true Democracy + admit either the patriotism or the religion of + a man who feels that his legs must be cut off + to run to the assistance of neighbours whose + legs are cut off. An educational Democracy + which expects a pupil to be less than himself + <a class="pagenum" id="page175" title="175"> </a>for the benefit of other pupils is a mock Democracy, + and it is the very essence of a Democracy + of the truer kind that it expects every + man in it to be more than himself. And if a + man’s religion is of the truer kind, it will not + be heard telling him that he owes it to God + and the Average Man to be less than himself.</p> + </div> + <div id="section_1.6.6" class="section"> + <h4 class="section_title"><abbr class="section_number" title="six">VI</abbr><br/> + Natural Selection in Practice</h4> + + <p>It is not going to be possible very much + longer to take it for granted that natural selection + is a somewhat absent-minded and heathen + habit that God has fallen into in the natural + world, and uses in his dealings with men, but + that it is not a good enough law for men to + use in their dealings with one another.</p> + + <p>The main thing that science has done in the + last fifty years, in spite of conventional religion + and so-called scholarship, has been to bring to + pass in men a respect for the natural world. + The next thing that is to be brought to pass—also + in spite of conventional religion and so-called + scholarship—is the self-respect of the + natural man and of the instincts of human + nature. The self-respect of the natural man, + when once he gains it, is a thing that is bound + to take care of itself, and take care of the man, + and take care of everything that is important + to the man.</p> + + <p><a class="pagenum" id="page176" title="176"> </a>Inasmuch as, in the long run at least, education, + even in times of its not being human, + interests humanity more than anything else, a + most important consequence of the self-respect + of the natural man is going to be an uprising, + all over the world, of teachers who believe + something. The most important consequence + of having teachers who believe something will + be a wholesale and uncompromising rearrangement + of nearly all our systems and methods of + education. Instead of being arranged to cow + the teacher with routine, to keep teachers from + being human beings, and to keep their pupils + from finding it out if they are human beings, + they will be arranged on the principle that the + whole object of knowledge is the being of a + human being, and the only way to know anything + worth knowing in the world is to begin + by knowing how to be a human being—and by + liking it.</p> + + <p>Not until our current education is based + throughout on expecting great things of human + nature instead of secretly despising it, can it + truly be called education. Expectancy is the + very essence of education. Actions not only + speak louder than words, they make words as + though they were not; and so long as our + teachers confine themselves to saying beautiful + and literary things about the instincts of the + human heart, and do not trust their own instincts + in their daily teaching, and the instincts + of their pupils, and do not make this trust the + <a class="pagenum" id="page177" title="177"> </a>foundation of all their work, the more they + educate the more they destroy. The destruction + is both ways, and whatever the subjects + are they may choose to know, murder and suicide + are the branches they teach.</p> + + <p>The chief characteristic of the teacher of the + future is going to be that he will dare to believe + in himself, and that he will divine some one + thing to believe in, in everybody else, and that, + trusting the laws of human nature, he will go + to work on this some one thing, and work out + from it to everything. Inasmuch as the chief + working principle of human nature is the principle + of natural selection, the entire method + of the teacher of the future will be based on + his faith in natural selection. All such teaching + as he attempts to do will be worked out + from the temperamental, involuntary, primitive + choices of his own being, both in persons and + in subject. His power with his classes will be + his power of divining the free and unconscious + and primitive choices of individual pupils in + persons and subjects.</p> + + <p>Half of the battle is already won. The + principle of natural selection between pupils + and subjects is recognised in the elective system, + but we have barely commenced to conceive + as yet the principle of natural selection + in its more important application—mutual attraction + between teacher and pupil—natural + selection in its deeper and more powerful and + spiritual sense: the kind of natural selection + <a class="pagenum" id="page178" title="178"> </a>that makes the teacher a worker in wonder, + and education the handiwork of God.</p> + + <p>In most of our great institutions we do not + believe in even the theory of this deeper natural + selection: and if we do believe in it, sitting in + endowed chairs under the Umbrella of Endowed + Ideas, how can we act on that belief? And if + we do, who will come out and act with us? If + it does not seem best for even the single teacher, + doing his teaching unattached and quite by + himself, to educate in the open,—to trust his + own soul and the souls of his pupils to the + nature of things, how much less shall the great + institution, with its crowds of teachers and its + rows of pupils and its Vested Funds be expected + to lay itself open—lay its teachers and pupils + and its Vested Funds open—to the nature of + things? We are suspicious of the nature of + things. God has concealed a lie in them. We + do not believe. Therefore we cannot teach.</p> + + <p>The conclusion is inevitable. As long as we + believe in natural selection between pupil and + subject, but do not believe in natural selection + between pupil and teacher, no great results in + education or in teaching a vital relation to + books or to anything else will be possible. As + long as natural selection between pupil and + teacher is secretly regarded as an irreligious + and selfish instinct, with which a teacher must + have nothing to do, instead of a divine ordinance, + a Heaven-appointed starting-point for + doing everything, the average routine teacher + <a class="pagenum" id="page179" title="179"> </a>in the conventional school and college will continue + to be the kind of teacher he is, and will + continue to belong to what seems to many, at + least, the sentimental and superstitious and + pessimistic profession he belongs to now. + Why should a teacher allow himself to teach + without inspiration in the one profession on + the earth where, between the love of God and + the love of the opening faces, inspiration—one + would say—could hardly be missed? Certainly, + if it was ever intended that artists + should be in the world it was intended that + teachers should be artists. And why should + we be artisans? If we cannot be artists, if we + are not allowed to make our work a self-expression, + were it not better to get one’s living + by the labour of one’s hands,—by digging in + the wonder of the ground? A stone-crusher, + as long as one works one’s will with it, makes + it say something, is nearer to nature than a + college. “I would rather do manual labour + with my hands than manual labour with my + soul,” the true artist is saying to-day, and a + great many thousand teachers are saying it, + and thousands more who would like to teach. + The moment that teaching ceases to be a trade + and becomes a profession again, these thousands + are going to crowd into it. Until the + artist-teachers have been attracted to teaching, + things can only continue as they are. Young + men and women who are capable of teaching + will continue to do all that they can not to get + <a class="pagenum" id="page180" title="180"> </a>into it; and young men and women who are + capable of teaching, and who are still trying to + teach, will continue to do all that they can to + get out of it. When the schools of America + have all been obliged, like the city of Brooklyn, + to advertise to secure even poor teachers, we + shall begin to see where we stand,—stop our + machinery a while and look at it.</p> + + <p>The only way out is the return to nature, and + to faith in the freedom of nature. Not until + the teacher of the young has dared to return + to nature, has won the emancipation of his own + instincts and the emancipation of the instincts + of his pupils, can we expect anything better + than we have now of either of them. Not until + the modern teacher has come to the point where + he deliberately works with his instincts, where + he looks upon himself as an artist working in + the subject that attracts him most, and in the + material that is attracted to him most, can we + expect to secure in our crowded conditions to-day + enough teaching to go around. The one + practical and economical way to make our + limited supply of passion and thought cover + the ground is to be spiritual and spontaneous + and thorough with what we have. The one + practical and economical way to do this is to + leave things free, to let the natural forces in + men’s lives find the places that belong to them, + develop the powers that belong to them, until + power in every man’s life shall be contagious + of power. In the meantime, having brought + <a class="pagenum" id="page181" title="181"> </a>out the true and vital energies of men as far as + we go, if we are obliged to be specialists in + knowledge we shall be specialists of the larger + sort. The powers of each man, being actual + and genuine powers, shall play into the powers + of other men. Each man that essays to live + shall create for us a splendour and beauty and + strength he was made to create from the beginning + of the world.</p> + + <p>To those who sit in the seat of the scornful + the somewhat lyrical idea of an examination in + joy as a basis of admission to the typical college + appeals as a fit subject of laughter. So it is. + Having admitted the laugh, the question is,—all + human life is questioning the college to-day,—which + way shall the laugh point?</p> + + <p>If the conditions of the typical college do not + allow for the working of the laws of nature, so + much the worse for the laws of nature, or so + much the worse for the college. In the meantime, + it is good to record that there are many + signs—thanks to these same laws of nature—that + a most powerful reaction is setting in, not + only in the colleges themselves, but in all the + forces of culture outside and around them. + The examination in joy—the test of natural selection—is + already employed by all celebrated + music masters the world over in the choosing + of pupils, and by all capable teachers of painting; + and the time is not far off when, so far as + courses in literature are concerned (if the + teaching of literature is attempted in crowded + <a class="pagenum" id="page182" title="182"> </a>institutions), the examination in joy will be the + determining factor with all the best teachers, + not only in the conduct of their classes, but in + the very structure of them. Structure is the + basis of conduct.</p> + </div> + <div id="section_1.6.7" class="section"> + <h4 class="section_title"><abbr class="section_number" title="seven">VII</abbr><br/> + The Emancipation of the Teacher</h4> + + <p>The custom of mowing lawns in cities, of + having every grass-blade in every door-yard + like every other grass-blade, is considered by + many persons as an artificial custom—a violation + of the law of nature. It is contended that + the free-swinging, wind-blown grasses of the + fields are more beautiful and that they give + more various and infinite delight in colour and + line and movement. If a piece of this same + field, however, could be carefully cut out and + moved and fitted to a city door-yard—bobolinks + and daisies and shadows and all, precisely as + they are—it would not be beautiful. Long + grass conforms to a law of nature where nature + has room, and short grass conforms to a law of + nature where nature has not room.</p> + + <p>When, for whatever reason, of whatever importance, + men and women choose to be so close + together, that it is not fitting they should have + freedom, and when they choose to have so + little room to live in that development is not + fitting lest it should inconvenience others, the + <a class="pagenum" id="page183" title="183"> </a>penalty follows. When grass-blades are + crowded between walls and fences, the more + they can be made to look alike the more pleasing + they are, and when an acre of ground finds + itself covered with a thousand people, or a + teacher of culture finds himself mobbed with + pupils, the law of nature is the same. Whenever + crowding of any kind takes place, whether + it be in grass, ideas, or human nature, the most + pleasing as well as the most convenient and + natural way of producing a beautiful effect is + with the Lawn Mower. The dead level is the + logic of crowded conditions. The city grades + down its hills for the convenience of reducing + its sewer problem. It makes its streets + into blocks for the convenience of knowing + where every home is, and how far it is, by a + glance at a page, and, in order that the human + beings in it (one set of innumerable nobodies + hurrying to another set of innumerable nobodies) + may never be made to turn out perchance + for an elm on a sidewalk, it cuts down + centuries of trees, and then, out of its modern + improvements, its map of life, its woods in + rows, its wheels on tracks, and its souls in + pigeonholes—out of its huge Checker-board + under the days and nights—it lifts its eyes to + the smoke in heaven, at last, and thanks God + it is civilised!</p> + + <p>The substantial fact in the case would seem + to be that every human being born into the + world has a right to be treated as a special + <a class="pagenum" id="page184" title="184"> </a>creation all by himself. Society can only be + said to be truly civilised in proportion as it + acts on this fact. It is because in the family + each being is treated as one out of six or seven, + and in the school as one out of six hundred, + that the family (with approximately good + parents) comes nearer to being a model school + than anything we have.</p> + + <p>If we deliberately prefer to live in crowds + for the larger part of our lives, we must expect + our lives to be cut and fitted accordingly. It + is an æsthetic as well as a practical law that + this should be so. The law of nature where + there is room for a man to be a man is not the + law of nature where there is not room for him + to be a man. If there is no playground for his + individual instincts except the street he must + give them up. Inasmuch as natural selection + in overcrowded conditions means selecting + things by taking them away from others, it + can be neither beautiful nor useful to practise + it.</p> + + <p>People who prefer to be educated in masses + must conform to the law of mass, which is inertia, + and to the law of the herd, which is the + Dog. As long as our prevailing idea of the + best elective is the one with the largest class, + and the prevailing idea of culture is the degree + from the most crowded college, all natural gifts, + whether in teachers or pupils, are under a + penalty. If we deliberately place ourselves + where everything is done by the gross, as a + <a class="pagenum" id="page185" title="185"> </a>matter of course and in the nature of things + the machine-made man, taught by the machine-made + teacher, in a teaching-machine, will continue + to be the typical scholar of the modern + world; and the gentleman-scholar—the man + who made himself, or who gave God a chance + to make him—will continue to be what he is + now in most of our large teaching communities—an + exception.</p> + + <p>Culture which has not the power to win the + emancipation of its teachers does not produce + emancipated and powerful pupils. The essence + of culture is selection, and the essence of selection + is natural selection, and teachers who + have not been educated with natural selection + cannot teach with it. Teachers who have + given up being individuals in the main activity + of their lives, who are not allowed to be individuals + in their teaching, do not train pupils to + be individuals. Their pupils, instead of being + organic human beings, are manufactured ones. + Literary drill in college consists in drilling + every man to be himself—in giving him the + freedom of himself. Probably it would be admitted + by most of us who are college graduates + that the teachers who loom up in our lives + are those whom we remember as emancipated + teachers—men who dared to be individuals in + their daily work, and who, every time they + touched us, helped us to be individuals.</p> + </div> + <div id="section_1.6.8" class="section"><a class="pagenum" id="page186" title="186"> </a> + <h4 class="section_title"><abbr class="section_number" title="eight">VIII</abbr><br/> + The Test of Culture</h4> + + <p>Looking at our great institutions of learning + in a general way, one might be inclined to feel + that literature cannot be taught in them, because + the classes are too large. When one + considers, however, the average class in literature, + as it actually is, and the things that are + being taught in it, it becomes obvious that the + larger such a class can be made, and the less the + pupil can be made to get out of it, the better.</p> + + <p>The best test of a man’s knowledge of the + Spanish language would be to put him in + a balloon and set him down in dark night + in the middle of Spain and leave him there + with his Spanish words. The best test of a + man’s knowledge of books is to see what he + can do without them on a desert island in the + sea. When the ship’s library over the blue + horizon dwindles at last in its cloud of smoke + and he is left without a shred of printed paper + by him, the supreme opportunity of education + will come to him. He will learn how vital and + beautiful, or boastful and empty, his education + is. If it is true education, the first step he + takes he will find a use for it. The first bird + that floats from its tree-top shall be a message + from London straight to his soul. If he has + truly known them, the spirits of all his books + will flock to him. If he has known Shakespeare, + <a class="pagenum" id="page187" title="187"> </a>the ghost of the great master will rise + from beneath its Stratford stone, and walk + oceans to be with him. If he knows Homer, + Homer is full of Odysseys trooping across the + seas. Shall he sit him down on the rocks, lift + his voice like a mere librarian, and, like a + book-raised, paper-pampered, ink-hungry babe + cry to the surf for a Greek dictionary? The + rhythm of the beach is Greece to him, and the + singing of the great Greek voice is on the tops + of waves around the world.</p> + + <p>A man’s culture is his knowledge become + himself. It is in the seeing of his eyes and the + hearing of his ears and the use of his hands. + Is there not always the altar of the heavens + and the earth? Laying down days and nights + of joy before it and of beauty and wonder and + peace, the scholar is always a scholar, <em lang="la" xml:lang="la">i. e.</em>, he + is always at home. To be cultured is to be so + splendidly wrought of body and soul as to get + the most joy out of the least and the fewest + things. Wherever he happens to be,—whatever + he happens to be without,—his culture is + his being master. He may be naked before + the universe, and it may be a pitiless universe + or a gracious one, but he is always master, + knowing how to live in it, knowing how to + hunger and die in it, or, like Stevenson, smiling + out of his poor, worn body to it. He is the + unconquerable man. Wherever he is in the + world, he cannot be old in the presence of + the pageant of Life. From behind the fading + <a class="pagenum" id="page188" title="188"> </a>of his face lie watches it, child after child, + spring after spring as it flies before him; he + will not grow old while it still passes by. + It carries delight across to him to the end. + He watches and sings with it to the end, down + to the edge of sleep.</p> + + <p>A bird’s shadow is enough to be happy with, + if a man is educated, or the flicker of light on a + leaf, and when really a song is being lived in + a man, all nature plays its accompaniment. + To possess one’s own senses, to know how to + conduct one’s self, is to be the conductor of + orchestras in the clouds and in the grass. The + trained man is not dependent on having the + thing itself. He borrows the boom of the sea + to live with, anywhere, and the gladness of + continents.</p> + + <p>Literary training consists in the acquiring of + a state of mind and body to feel the universe + with; in becoming an athlete toward beauty, a + giver of great lifts of joy to this poor, straining, + stumbling world with its immemorial burden + on its back, which, going round and round, + for the most part with its eyes shut, between + infinities, is the hope and sorrow of all of us + for the very reason that its eyes are shut.</p> + </div> + <div id="section_1.6.9" class="section"> + <h4 class="section_title"><abbr class="section_number" title="nine">IX</abbr><br/> + Summary</h4> + + <p>The proper conditions for literary drill in + college would seem to sum themselves up in + <a class="pagenum" id="page189" title="189"> </a>the general idea that literature is the spirit of + life. It can therefore only be taught through + the spirit.</p> + + <p><em>First.</em> It can only be taught through the + spirit by being taught as an art, through its + own nature and activity, reproductively—giving + the spirit body. Both the subject-matter + and the method in true literary drill can only + be based on the study of human experience. + The intense study of human experience in a + college course may be fairly said to involve + three things that must be daily made possible + to the pupil in college life. Everything that is + given him to do, and everything that happens + to him in college, should cultivate these three + things in the pupil: (1) Personality—an intense + first person singular, as a centre for + having experience; (2) Imagination—the natural + organ in the human soul for realising + what an experience is and for combining and + condensing it; (3) The habit of having time + and room, for re-experiencing an experience at + will in the imagination, until the experience + becomes so powerful and vivid, so fully realises + itself in the mind, that the owner of the mind + is an artist with his mind. When he puts the + experience of his mind down it becomes more + real to other men on paper than their own experiences + are to them in their own lives.</p> + + <p>It is hardly necessary to point out that whatever + our conventional courses in literature may + be doing, whether in college or anywhere else, + <a class="pagenum" id="page190" title="190"> </a>they are not bringing out this creative joy and + habit of creative joy in the pupils. Those who + are interested in literature-courses—such as we + have—for the most part do not believe in trying + to bring out the creative joy of each pupil. + Those who might believe in trying to do it + do not believe it can be done. They do not + believe it can be done because they do not + realise that in the case of each and every pupil—so + far as he goes—it is the only thing worth + doing. They fail to see from behind their + commentaries and from out of their footnotes, + the fact that the one object in studying literature + is joy, that the one way of studying and + knowing literature is joy, and that the one + way to attain joy is to draw out creative joy.</p> + + <p><em>Second.</em> And if literature is to be taught as + an art it must be taught as a way of life. As + long as literature and life continue to be conceived + and taught as being separate things, + there can be no wide and beautiful hope for + either of them. The organs of literature are + precisely the same organs and they are trained + on precisely the same principles as the organs + of life.</p> + + <p>Except an education in books can bring to + pass the right condition of these organs, a + state of being in the pupil, his knowledge of + no matter how long a list of masterpieces is + but a catalogue of the names of things for ever + left out of his life. It is little wonder, when + the drudgery has done its work and the sorry + <a class="pagenum" id="page191" title="191"> </a>show is over, and the victim of the System is + face to face with his empty soul at last, if in + his earlier years at least he seems overfond to + some of us of receiving medals, honours, and + valedictories for what he might have been and + of flourishing a Degree for what he has missed.</p> + + <div class="poem"> + <p>There was once a Master of Arts,</p> + <p>Who was “nuts” upon cranberry tarts:</p> + <p class="i2">When he’d eaten his fill</p> + <p class="i2">He was awfully ill,</p> + <p>But he was still a Master of Arts.</p> + </div> + + <p>The power and habit of studying and enjoying + human nature as it lives around us, is not + only a more human and alive occupation, but + it is a more literary one than becoming another + editor of Æschylus or going down to posterity + in footnotes as one of the most prominent bores + that Shakespeare ever had. If a teacher of + literature enjoys being the editor of Æschylus, + or if he is happier in appearing on a title-page + with a poet than he could possibly be in being + a poet, it is personally well enough, though it + may be a disaster to the rest of us and to + Æschylus. Men who can be said as a class to + care more about literature than they do about + life, who prefer the paper side of things to the + real one, are at liberty as private persons to be + editors and footnote hunters to the top of their + bent; but why should they call it “The Study + of Literature,” to teach their pupils to be footnote + hunters and editors? and how can they + <a class="pagenum" id="page192" title="192"> </a>possibly teach anything else? and do they + teach anything else? And if good teachers can + only teach what they have, what shall we expect + of poor ones?</p> + + <p>In the meantime the Manufacture of the + Cultured Mind is going ruthlessly on, and + thousands of young men and women who, left + alone with the masters of literature, might be + engaged in accumulating and multiplying inspiration, + are engaged in analysing—dividing + what inspiration they have; and, in the one + natural, creative period of their lives, their + time is entirely spent in learning how inspired + work was done, or how it might have been + done, or how it should have been done; in absorbing + everything about it except its spirit—the + power that did it—the power that makes + being told how to do it uncalled for, the power + that asks and answers its “Hows?” for itself. + The serene powerlessness of it all, without + courage or passion or conviction, without self-discovery + in it, or self-forgetfulness or beauty + in it, or for one moment the great contagion of + the great, is one of the saddest sights in this + modern day.</p> + + <p>In the meantime the most practical thing that + can be done with the matter of literary drill in + college is to turn the eye of the public on it. + Methods will change when ideals change, and + ideals will change when the public clearly sees + ideals, and when the public encourages colleges + that see them. The time is not far off when it + <a class="pagenum" id="page193" title="193"> </a>will be admitted by all concerned that the + true study of masterpieces consists, and always + must consist, in communing with the things + that masterpieces are about, in the learning + and applying of the principles of human nature, + in a passion for real persons, and in a daily + loving of the face of the universe.</p> + + <p>This idea may not be considered very practical. + It stands for a kind of education in which + it is difficult to exhibit in rows actual results. + We are not contending for an education that + looks practical. We are contending merely + for education that will be true and beautiful + and natural. It will be practical the way the + forces of nature are practical—whether any one + notices it or not.</p> + + <p>The following announcement can already be + seen on the bulletin boards of universities + around the world(—if looked for twice).</p> + + <p><strong class="special_emphasis">They are Coming!</strong> O Shades of Learning, + <strong class="special_emphasis">The Lovers of Joy, Imperious with + Joy, Unconquerable!</strong></p> + + <p>Their Sails are Flocking the East.</p> + + <p>The High Seas are Theirs.</p> + + <p>They shall command you, overwhelm you. + Book-lubbers, paper-plodders, shall be as + though they were not. The youth of the + earth shall be renewed in the morning, the + suns and the stars shall be unlocked, and + the evening shall go forth with joy. The + mountains shall be freed from the pick and + the shovel and the book, and lift themselves + <a class="pagenum" id="page194" title="194"> </a>to heaven. Flowers shall again outblossom + botanies, and gymnasts of music shall be laid + low, and Birds Through An Opera Glass shall + sing. Joy shall come to knowledge, and the + strength of Joy upon it. <strong class="special_emphasis">They are Coming</strong>, + O Ye Shades of Learning, a thousand thousand + strong. Their sails flock the Sea. The + smoke and the throb of their engines is the + promise of the east. The days of thirteen-thousand-ton, + three-horse-power education are + numbered.</p> + + </div> + <div id="section_1.6.10" class="section"> + <h4 class="section_title"><abbr class="section_number" title="ten">X</abbr><br/> + A Note</h4> + + <p>It is one of the danger signs of the times that + the men who have most closely observed our + modern life, in its social, industrial, artistic, + educational, and religious aspects seem to be + gradually coming to the point where they all + but take it for granted in considering all social, + industrial, and educational and political questions, + that the conditions of modern times are + such, and are going to be such that imagination + and personality might as well be dropped + as practical forces—forces that must be reckoned + with in the movement of human life. + Nearly all the old-time outlooks of the Soul, + as they stand in history, have been taken for + factory sites, bought up by syndicates, moral + and otherwise, and are being used for chimneys. + <a class="pagenum" id="page195" title="195"> </a>Nothing but smoke and steel and + wooden Things come out of them. Poets and + brokers are both telling us on every hand that + imagination is impossible and personality incredible + in modern life.</p> + + <p>Imagination and personality are the spirit + and the dust out of which all great nations and + all great religions are made.</p> + + <p>The attempt has been made in the foregoing + pages to point out that they are not dead. + The Altar smoulders.</p> + + <p>In pointing out how imagination and personality + can be wrought into one single branch + of a man’s education—his relation to books—principles + may have been suggested which can + be concretely applied by all of us, each in + our own department, to the education of the + whole man.</p> + </div> + </div> + <div id="chapter_1.7" class="chapter"><a class="pagenum" id="page196" title="196"> </a> + <div class="deco"> + <img src="images/style09.png" width="554" height="128" alt="" /> + </div> + <h3 class="chapter_title">The Seventh Interference:<br /> + Libraries. Wanted: An + Old-Fashioned Librarian</h3> + + <div id="section_1.7.1" class="section"> + <h4 class="section_title"><abbr class="section_number" title="one">I</abbr><br/> + viz.</h4> + <p class="first_paragraph"><span class="first_word">I never</span> shall quite forget the time when + the rumour was started in our town that + old Mr. <span class="keep_together">M——</span>, our librarian—a gentle, furtive, + silent man—a man who (with the single + exception of a long white beard) was all + screwed up and bent around with learning, + who was always slipping invisibly in and out + of his high shelves, and who looked as if his + whole life had been nothing but a kind of + long, perpetual salaam to books—had been + caught dancing one day with his wife.</p> + + <p>“Which only goes to show,” broke in The + <a class="pagenum" id="page197" title="197"> </a>M. P., “what a man of fixed literary habits—mere + book-habits—if he keeps on, is reduced + to.”</p> + + <p>But as I was about to remark, for a good + many weeks afterward—after the rumour was + started—one kept seeing people (I was one of + them) as they came into the library, looking + shyly at Mr. <span class="keep_together">M——</span>, as if they were looking at + him all over again. They looked at him as + if they had really never quite noticed him before. + He sat at his desk, quiet and busy, and + bent over, with his fine-pointed pen and his + labels, as usual, and his big leather-bound + catalogue of the universe.</p> + + <p>A few of us had had reason to suspect—at + least we had had hopes—that the pedantry in + Mr. <span class="keep_together">M——</span> was somewhat superimposed, that + he had possibilities, human and otherwise, but + none of us, it must be confessed, had been able + to surmise quite accurately just where they + would break out. We were filled with a gentle + spreading joy with the very thought of it, a + sense of having acquired a secret possession in + a librarian. The community at large, however, + as it walked into its library, looked at its + Acre of Books, and then looked at its librarian; + felt cheated. It was shocked. The community + had always been proud of its books, proud + of its Book Worm. It had always paid a big + salary to it. And the Worm had turned.</p> + + <p>I have only been back to the old town twice + since the day I left it, as a boy—about this + <a class="pagenum" id="page198" title="198"> </a>time. The first time I went he was there. I + came across him in his big, splendid new + library, his face like some live, but wrinkled + old parchment, twinkling and human though—looking + out from its Dust Heap. “It seems + to me,” I thought, as I stood in the doorway,—saw + him edging around an alcove in The + Syriac Department,—“that if one must have a + great dreary heaped-up pile of books in a town—anyway—the + spectacle of a man like this, + flitting around in it, doting on them, is what + one ought to have to go with it.” He always + seemed to me a kind of responsive every-way-at-once + little man, book-alive all through. + One never missed it with him. He had the + literary nerves of ten dead nations tingling + in him.</p> + + <p>The next time I was in town they said he + had resigned. They said he lived in the little + grey house around the corner from the great + new glaring stone library. No one ever saw + him except in one of his long, hesitating walks, + or sometimes, perhaps, by the little study window, + pouring himself over into a book there. + It was there that I saw him myself that last + morning—older and closer to the light turning + leaves—the same still, swift eagerness about + him.</p> + + <p>I stepped into the library next door and saw + the new librarian—an efficient person. He + seemed to know what time it was while we + stood and chatted together. That is the main + <a class="pagenum" id="page199" title="199"> </a>impression one had of him—that he would + always know what time it was. Put him anywhere. + One felt it.</p> + </div> + <div id="section_1.7.2" class="section"> + <h4 class="section_title"><abbr class="section_number" title="two">II</abbr><br/> + cf.</h4> + <p>Our new librarian troubles me a good deal. + I have not quite made out why. Perhaps it is + because he has a kind of chipper air with the + books. I am always coming across him in the + shelves, but I do not seem to get used to him. + Of course I pull myself together, bow and say + things, make it a point to assume he is literary, + go through the form of not letting him + know what I think as well as may be, but we + do not get on.</p> + + <p>And yet all the time down underneath I + know perfectly well that there is no real reason + why I should find fault with him. The only + thing that seems to be the matter with him is + that he keeps right on, every time I see him, + making me try to.</p> + + <p>I have had occasion to notice that, as a general + rule, when I find myself finding fault with + a man in this fashion—this vague, eager + fashion—the gist of it is that I merely want + him to be some one else. But in this case—well, + he is some one else. He is almost anybody + else. He might be a head salesman in a + department store, or a hotel clerk, or a train + <a class="pagenum" id="page200" title="200"> </a>dispatcher, or a broker, or a treasurer of something. + There are thousands of things he might + be—ought to be—except our librarian. He + has an odd, displaced look behind the great + desk. He looks as if he had gotten in by mistake + and was trying to make the most of it. + He has a business-like, worldly-minded, foreign + air about him—a kind of off-hand, pert, familiar + way with books. He does not know how + to bend over—like a librarian—and when one + comes on him in an alcove, the way one ought + to come on a librarian, with a great folio on + his knees, he is—well, there are those who + think, that have seen it, that he is positively + comic. I followed him around only the other + day for fifteen or twenty minutes, from one + alcove to another, and watched him taking + down books. He does not even know how to + take down a book. He takes all the books + down alike—the same pleasant, dapper, capable + manner, the same peek and clap for all of + them. He always seems to have the same indefatigable + unconsciousness about him, going + up and down his long aisles, no more idea of + what he is about or of what the books are + about; everything about him seems disconnected + with a library. I find I cannot get myself + to notice him as a librarian or comrade, or + book-mind. He does not seem to have noticed + himself in this capacity—exactly. So far as I + can get at his mind at all, he seems to have + decided that his mind (any librarian’s mind) is + <a class="pagenum" id="page201" title="201"> </a>a kind of pneumatic-tube, or carrier system—apparently—for + shoving immortals at people. + Any higher or more thorough use for a mind, + such as being a kind of spirit of the books for + people, making a kind of spiritual connection + with them down underneath, does not seem to + have occurred to him.</p> + + <p>Time was when librarians really had something + to do with books. They looked it. One + could almost tell a librarian on the street—tell + him at sight, if he had been one long enough. + One could feel a library in a man somehow. It + struck in. Librarians were allowed to be persons. + It was expected of them. They have + not always been what so many of them are + now—mere couplings, conveniences, connecting-rods, + literary-beltings. They were identified—wrought + in with books. They could not + be unmixed. They ate books; and, like the + little green caterpillars that eat green grass, + the colour showed through. A sort of general + brown, faded colour, a little undusted around + the edges, was the proper colour for librarians.</p> + + <p>It is true that people did not expect librarians + to look quite human—at least on the outside, + sometimes, and doubtless the whole matter was + carried too far. But it does seem to me it is + some comfort (if one has to have a librarian + in a library) to have one that goes with the + books—same colour, tone, feeling, spirit, and + everything—the kind of librarian that slips in + and out among books without being noticed + <a class="pagenum" id="page202" title="202"> </a>there, one way or the other, like the overtone + in a symphony.</p> + </div> + <div id="section_1.7.3" class="section"> + <h4 class="section_title"><abbr class="section_number" title="three">III</abbr><br/> + et al.</h4> + <p>But the trouble with our library is not merely + the new librarian, who permeates, penetrates, + and ramifies the whole library within and + without, percolating efficiency into its farthest + and loneliest alcoves. Our new librarian has + a corps of assistants. And even if you manage, + by slipping around a little, to get over to + where a book is, alone, and get settled down + with it, there is always some one who is, has + been, or will be looking over your shoulder.</p> + + <p>I dare say it’s a defect of temperament—this + having one’s shoulder looked over in libraries. + Other people do not seem to be troubled much, + and I suppose I ought to admit, while I am + about it, that having one’s shoulder looked + over in a library does not in the least depend + upon any one’s actually looking over it. That + is merely a matter of form. It is a little hard + to express it. What one feels—at least in our + library—is that one is in a kind of side-looking + place. One feels a kind of literary detective + system going silently on in and out all around + one, a polite, absent-minded-looking watchfulness.</p> + + <p>Now I am not for one moment flattering + <a class="pagenum" id="page203" title="203"> </a>myself that I can make my fault-finding with + our librarian’s assistants amount to much—fill + out a blank with it.</p> + + <p>No one can feel more strongly than I do my + failure to put my finger on the letter of our + librarian’s faults. I cannot even tell the difference + between the faults and the virtues of + our librarian’s assistants. Either by doing the + right thing with the wrong spirit, or the wrong + thing with the right spirit they do their faults + and virtues all up together. Their indefatigable + unobtrusiveness, their kindly, faithful + service I both dread and appreciate. I have + tried my utmost to notice and emphasise every + day the pleasant things about them, but I + always get tangled up. I have started out to + think with approval, for instance, of the hush,—the + hush that clothes them as a garment,—but + it has all ended in my merely wondering + where they got it and what they thought they + were doing with it. One would think that a + hush—a hush of almost any kind—could hardly + help—but I have said enough. I do not want + to seem censorious, but if ever there was a + visible, unctuous, tangible, actual thick silence, + a silence that can be proved, if ever there was a + silence that stood up and flourished and swung + its hat, that silence is in our library. The way + our librarian’s assistants go tiptoeing and reverberating + around the room—well—it’s one + of those things that follow a man always, follow + his inmost being all his life. It gets in + <a class="pagenum" id="page204" title="204"> </a>with the books—after a few years or so. One + can feel the tiptoeing going on in a book—one + of our library books—when one gets home with + it. It is the spirit of the place. Everything + that comes out of it is followed and tiptoed + around by our librarian’s assistants’ silence. + They are followed about by it themselves. The + thick little blonde one, with the high yellow + hair, lives in our ward. One feels a kind of + hush rimming her around, when one meets her + on the street.</p> + + <p>Now I do not wish to claim that librarians’ + assistants can possibly be blamed, in so many + words, either for this, or for any of the other + things that seem to make them (in our library, + at least) more prominent than the books. + Everything in a library seems to depend upon + something in it that cannot be put into words. + It seems to be a kind of spirit. If the spirit is + the wrong spirit, not all the librarians in the + world, not even the books themselves can do + anything about it.</p> + + <hr class="thoughtbreak" /> + + <p class="post_thoughtbreak">Postscript. I do hope that no one will suppose + from this chapter that I am finding fault + or think I am finding fault with our assistant + librarians. I am merely finding fault with them + (may Heaven forgive them!) because I cannot. + It doesn’t seem to make very much difference—their + doing certain things or not doing them. + They either do them or they don’t do them—whichever + it is—with the same spirit. They + <a class="pagenum" id="page205" title="205"> </a>are not really down in their hearts true to the + books. One can hardly help feeling vaguely, + persistently resentful over having them about + presiding over the past. One never catches + them—at least I never do—forgetting themselves. + One never comes on one loving a book. + They seem to be servants,—most of them,—book + chambermaids. They do not care anything + about a library as a library. They just + seem to be going around remembering rules + in it.</p> + </div> + <div id="section_1.7.4" class="section"> + <h4 class="section_title"><abbr class="section_number" title="four">IV</abbr><br/> + etc.</h4> + + <p>The P. G. S. of M. as good as said the other + day, when I had been trying as well as I could + to express something of this kind, that the real + trouble with the modern library was not with + the modern library, but with me. He thought + I tried to carry too many likes and dislikes + around with me, that I was too sensitive. He + seemed to think that I should learn to be callous + in places of public resort.</p> + + <p>I said I had no very violent dislikes to deal + with. The only thing I could think of that + was the matter with me in a library was that I + had a passion for books. I didn’t like climbing + over a barricade of catalogues to get to + books. I hated to feel partitioned off from + them, to stand and watch rows of people marking + things between me and books. I thought + <a class="pagenum" id="page206" title="206"> </a>that things had come to a pretty pass, if a man + could not so much as touch elbows with a poet + nowadays—with Plato, for instance—without + carrying a redoubt of terrible beautiful young + ladies. I said I thought a great many other + people felt the way I did. I admitted there + were other sides to it, but there were times, I + said, when it almost seemed to me that this + spontaneous uprising in our country—this + movement of the Book Lovers, for instance—was + simply a struggle on the part of the people + to get away from Mr. Carnegie’s libraries. + They are hemming literature and human + nature in, on every side, or they are going to + unless Mr. Carnegie can buy up occasional + old-fashioned librarians—some other kind than + are turned out in steel works—to put into + them. Libraries are getting to be huge Separators. + Books that have been put through + libraries are separated from themselves. They + are depersonalised—the human nature all taken + off. And yet when one thinks of it, with nine + people out of ten—the best people and the + worst both—the sense of having a personal relation + to a book, the sense of snuggling up + with one’s own little life to a book, is what + books are for.</p> + + <p>“To a man,” I said, “to whom books are + people, and the livest kind of people, brothers + of his own flesh, cronies of his life, the whole + business of getting a book in a library is full + of resentment and rebellion. He finds his + <a class="pagenum" id="page207" title="207"> </a>rights, or what he thinks are his rights, being + treated as privileges, his most sacred and confidential + relations, his relations with the great, + meddled with by strangers—pleasant enough + strangers, but still strangers. Perhaps he + wishes to see John Milton. He goes down town + to a great unhomelike-looking building, and + slides in at the door. He steps up to a wall, + and asks permission to see John Milton. He + waits in a kind of vague, unsatisfied fashion, + but he feels that machinery is being set in + motion. While it is being set in motion, he + sits down before the wall on one of the seats or + pews where a large audience of other comfortless + and lonely-looking people are. He feels + the great, heartless building gathering itself + together, going after John Milton for him, + while he sits and waits. One after the other + he hears human beings’ names being called out + in space, and one by one poor scared-looking + people who seem to be ashamed to go with + their names—most of them—step up before + the audience. He sees a book being swung + out to them, watches them slink gratefully + away, and finally his own name echoing about + among the Immortals, startles its way down + to him. Then he steps up to the wall again, + and John Milton at last, as on some huge + transcendental derrick belonging to the city of <span class="keep_together">——,</span> is + swung into his arms. He feels of the + outside gropingly—takes it home. If he can + get John Milton to come to life again after all + <a class="pagenum" id="page208" title="208"> </a>this, he communes with him. In two weeks + he takes him back. Then the derrick again.”</p> + + <p>The only kind of book that I ever feel close + to, in the average library, is a book on war. + Even if I go in, in a gentle, harmless, happy, + singing sort of way, thinking I want a volume + of pastoral poems, by the time I get it, I wish + it were something that could be loaded, or that + would go off. As for asking for a book and + reading it in cold blood right in the middle of + such a place, it will always be beyond me. I + have never found a book I could do it with + yet. However I struggle to follow the train + of thought in it, it ‘s a fuse. I find myself + breaking out, when I see all these far-away-looking + people coming up in rows to their faraway + books. “A library,” I say to myself, + “is a huge barbaric, mediæval institution, + where behind stone and glass a man’s dearest + friends in the world, the familiars of his life, + lie helpless in their cells. It is the Penitentiary + of Immortals. There are certain visiting + days when friends and relatives are allowed to + come, but it only—” At this point a gong + sounds and tells me to go home. “Are not + books bone of a man’s bone, and flesh of his + flesh? Oughtn’t they to be? Shall a man + ask permission to see his wife? Why should + I fill out a slip to a pretty girl, when I want to + be in Greece with Homer, or go to hell with + Dante? Why should I write on a piece of + paper, ‘I promise to return—infinity—by six + <a class="pagenum" id="page209" title="209"> </a>o’clock’? A library is a huge machine for + keeping the letter with books and violating + their spirit. The fact that the machinery is + filled with a mirage of pleasant faces does not + help. Pleasant faces make machinery worse—if + they are a part of it. They make one + expect something better.”</p> + + <p>The P. G. S. of M. wished me to understand + at this point that I was not made right, that I + was incapable, helpless in a library, that I did + not seem to know what to do unless I could + have a simple, natural, or country relation to + books.</p> + + <p>“It doesn’t follow,” he said, “because you + are bashful in a library, cannot get your mind + to work there, with other people around, that + the other people oughtn’t to be around. + There are a great many ways of using a + library, and the more people there are crowded + in with the books there, other things being + equal, the better. It’s what a library is for,” he + said, and a great deal more to the same effect.</p> + + <p>I listened a while and told him that I supposed + he was right. I supposed I had naturally + a kind of wild mind. I allowed that the + more a library in a general way took after a + piece of woods, the more I enjoyed it. I did + not attempt to deny that a library was made + for the people, but I did think there ought to + be places in libraries—all libraries—where wild + ones, like me, could go. There ought to be in + every library some uncultivated, uncatalogued, + <a class="pagenum" id="page210" title="210"> </a>unlibrarianed tract where a man with a skittish + or country mind will have a chance, where a + man who likes to be alone with books—with + books just as books—will be permitted to + browze, unnoticed, bars all down, and frisk + with his mind and roll himself, without turning + over all of a sudden only to find a librarian’s + assistant standing there wondering at him, + looking down to the bottom of his soul.</p> + + <p>I am not in the least denying that librarians + are well enough,—that is, might be well + enough,—but as things are going to-day, they + all seem to contribute, somehow, toward making + a library a conscious and stilted place. + They hold one up to the surface of things, with + books. They make impossible to a man those + freedoms of the spirit—those best times of all + in a library, when one feels free to find one’s + mood, when one gets hold of one’s divining-rod, + opens down into a book, discovers a new, + unconscious, subterranean self there.</p> + + <p>The P. G. S. of M. broke in at this point and + said this was all subjective folderol on my part—that + I had better drop it—a kind of habit I + had gotten into lately, of splitting the hairs of + my emotions—or something to that effect. He + went on at some length and took the general + ground before he was through, that absolutely + everything in modern libraries depended on + the librarians. Librarians—I should judge—in + a modern library were what books were for. + He said that the more intelligent people were + <a class="pagenum" id="page211" title="211"> </a>nowadays the more they enjoyed librarians—knew + how to use them—doted on them, etc., + <em lang="la" xml:lang="la">ad infinitum</em>.</p> + + <p>“The kind of people one sees at operas,” I + interrupted, “listening with librettos, the kind + of people who puff up mountains to see views + and extract geography from them, the people + one meets in the fields, nowadays, flower in + one hand, botany in the other, the kind of + people who have to have charts to enjoy stars + with—these are the people who want librarians + between them and their books. The more librarians + they can get standing in a row between + them and a masterpiece the more they feel + they are appreciating it, the more card catalogues, + gazetteers, dictionaries, derricks, and + other machinery they can have pulling and + hauling above their heads in a library the more + literary they feel in it. They feel culture—somehow—stirring + around them. They are + not exactly sure what culture is, but they feel + that a great deal of it—whatever it is—is being + poured over into them.”</p> + + <p>But I must begin to bring these wanderings + about libraries to a close. It can do no harm to + remark, perhaps, that I am not maintaining—do + not wish to maintain (I could not if I dared) + that the modern librarian with all his faults + is not useful at times. As a sort of pianola + or æolian attachment for a library, as a mechanical + contrivance for making a comparatively + ignorant man draw perfectly enormous + <a class="pagenum" id="page212" title="212"> </a>harmonies out of it (which he does not care + anything about), a modern librarian helps. + All that I am maintaining is, that I am not + this comparatively ignorant man. I am another + one. I am merely saying that the pianola way + of dealing with ignorance, in my own case, up + to the present at least, does not grow on me.</p> + </div> + <div id="section_1.7.5" class="section"> + <h4 class="section_title"><abbr class="section_number" title="five">V</abbr><br/> + O</h4> + + <p>I suppose that the Boston Public Library + would say—if it said anything—that I had a + mere Old Athenæum kind of a mind. I am + obliged to confess that I dote on the Old + Athenæum. It protects one’s optimism. One + is made to feel there—let right down in the + midst of civilisation, within a stone’s throw of + the State House—that it is barely possible to + keep civilisation off. One feels it rolling itself + along, heaping itself up out on Tremont Street + and the Common (the very trees cannot live in + it), but one is out of reach. When one has to + live in civilisation, as most of us do, nearly all + of one’s time every day in the week, it means + a great deal. I can hardly say how much it + means to me, in the daily struggle with it, to + be able to dodge behind the Athenæum, to be + able to go in and sit down there, if only for a + minute, to be behind glass, as it were, to hear + great, hungry Tremont Street chewing men + <a class="pagenum" id="page213" title="213"> </a>up, hundreds of trainloads at a time, into wood-pulp, + smoothing them out into nobody or + everybody; it makes one feel, while it is not + as it ought to be, as if, after all, there might + be some way out, as if some provision had been + made in this world, or might be made, for letting + human beings live on it.</p> + + <p>The general sense of unsensitiveness in a + modern library, of hurry and rush and efficiency, + above all, the kind of moral smugness + one feels there, the book-self-consciousness, + the unprotected, public-street feeling one has—all + these things are very grave and important + obstacles which our great librarians, with their + great systems—most of them—have yet to + reckon with. A little more mustiness, gentlemen, + please, silence, slowness, solitude with + books, as if they were woods, unattainableness + (and oh, will any one understand it?), a little + inconvenience, a little old-fashioned, happy + inconvenience; a chance to gloat and take + pains and love things with difficulties, a chance + to go around the corners of one’s knowledge, + to make modest discoveries all by one’s self. + It is no small thing to go about a library having + books happen to one, to feel one’s self + sitting down with a book—one’s own private + Providence—turning the pages of events.</p> + + <p>One cannot help feeling that if a part of the + money that is being spent carnegieing nowadays, + that is, in arranging for a great many + books and a great many people to pile up order + <a class="pagenum" id="page214" title="214"> </a>among a great many books, could be spent in + providing hundreds of thousands of small libraries, + or small places in large ones, where men + who would like to do it would feel safe to creep + in sometimes and open their souls—nobody + looking—it would be no more than fair.</p> + + <hr class="thoughtbreak" /> + + <p class="post_thoughtbreak">Postscript. One has to be so much of one’s + time helpless before a librarian in this world, + one has to put him on his honour as a gentleman + so much, to expose such vast, incredible + tracts of ignorance to him, that I know only too + well that I, of all men, cannot afford, in these + pages or anywhere else, to say anything that + will permanently offend librarians. I do hope I + have not. It is only through knowing so many + good ones that I know enough to criticise the + rest. If I am right, it is because I am their + spokesman. If I am wrong, I am not a well-informed + person, and I do not count anywhere + in particular on anything. The best way, I + suspect, for a librarian to deal with me is not + to try to classify me. I ought to be put out + of the way on this subject, tucked back into + any general pigeon-hole of odds and ends of + temperament. If I had not felt that I could + be cheerfully sorted out at the end of this + page, filed away by everybody,—almost anybody,—as + not making very much difference, I + would not have spoken so freely. There is not + a librarian who has read as far as this, in this + book, who, though he may have had moments + <a class="pagenum" id="page215" title="215"> </a>of being troubled in it, will not be able to dispose + of me with a kind of grateful, relieved + certainty. However that may be, I can only + beg you, Oh, librarians, and all ye kindly + learned ones, to be generous with me, wherever + you put me. I leave my poor, naked, shivering, + miscellaneous soul in your hands.</p> + </div> + <div class="deco"> + <img src="images/style10.png" width="391" height="255" alt="" /> + </div> + </div> + <!-- <a class="pagenum" id="page216" title="216"> </a>[Blank Page] --> +</div> +<div id="book_2" class="book"><a class="pagenum" id="page217" title="217"> </a> + <h2 class="book_title"><span class="book_number">Book II</span><br /> + Possibilities</h2> + + <!-- <a class="pagenum" id="page218" title="218"> </a>[Blank Page] --> + + <div id="section_2.1.1" class="section"><a class="pagenum" id="page219" title="219"> </a> + <div class="deco"> + <img src="images/style11.png" width="561" height="134" alt="" /> + </div> + <h4 class="section_title"><abbr class="section_number" title="one">I</abbr><br/> + The Issue</h4> + + <p class="first_paragraph">I dreamed I lived in a day when men + dared have visions. I lay in a great white + Silence as one who waited for something.</p> + + <p>And as I lay and waited, the Silence groped + toward me and I felt it gathering nearer and + nearer about me.</p> + + <p>Then it folded me to Itself.</p> + + <p>I made Time my bedside.</p> + + <p>And it seemed to me, when I had rested my + soul with years, and when I had found Space + and had stretched myself upon it, I awoke.</p> + + <p>I lay in a great white empty place, and the + whole world like solemn music came to me.</p> + + <p>And I looked, and behold in the shadow of + the earth, which came and went, I saw Human + Lives being tossed about. On the solemn + rhythmic music, back and forth, I saw them + lifted across Silence.</p> + + <p>And I said to my Spirit, “What is it they + are doing?”</p> + + <p><a class="pagenum" id="page220" title="220"> </a>“They are living,” the Spirit said.</p> + + <p>So they floated before me while The Great + Shadow came and went.</p> + + <p class="dotbreak">••••••••</p> + + <p>“O my Soul, hast thou forgotten thy days + in the world, when thou didst watch the processional + of it, when the faces—day-lighted, + night-lighted, faces—trooped before thee, and + thou didst look upon them and delight in + them? What didst thou see in the world?”</p> + + <p>“I saw Two Immeasurable Hands in it,” + said my Soul, “over every man. I saw that + the man did not see the Hands. I saw that + they reached out of infinity for him down + through the days and the nights. And + whether he slept or prayed or wrought, I saw + that they still reached out for him, and folded + themselves about him.”</p> + + <p>And I asked God what The Hands were.</p> + + <p>“The man calls them Heredity and Environment,” + God said.</p> + + <p>And God laughed.</p> + + <p>Words came from far for me and waited in + tumult within me. But my mouth was filled + with silence.</p> + + <p class="dotbreak">••••••••</p> + + <p>I know that I do not know the world, but + out of my little corner of time and space I have + watched in it,—watched men and truths struggling + in it, and in the struggle it has seemed + to me I have seen three kinds of men. I have + <a class="pagenum" id="page221" title="221"> </a>seen the man who feels that he is being made, + and the man who feels that he is making himself. + But I have seen also another kind of + man—the man who feels that the Universe is + at work on him, but (within limits) under his + own supervision.</p> + + <p>I have made a compact in my soul with this + man, for a new world. He is not willing to + be a mere manufactured man—one more being + turned out from The Factory of Circumstance—neither + does he think very much of the man + who makes himself—who could make himself. + If he were to try such a thing—try to make a + man himself, he would really rather try it, if + the truth must be told, on some one else.</p> + + <p>As near as he can define it, life seems to be + (to the normal or inspired man) a kind of alternate + grasping and being grasped. Sometimes + he feels his destiny tossed between the Two + Immeasurable Hands. Sometimes he feels + that they have paused—that the Immeasurable + Hands have been lent to him, that the toss of + destiny is made his own.</p> + + <p>He watches these two great forces playing + under heaven, before his eyes, with his immortal + life, every day. His soul takes these + powers of heaven, as the mariner takes the + winds of the sea. He tacks to destiny. He + takes the same attitude toward the laws of + heredity and environment that the Creator + took when He made them. He takes it for + granted that a God who made these laws as + <a class="pagenum" id="page222" title="222"> </a>conveniences for Himself, in running a Universe, + must have intended them for men as + conveniences in living in it. In proportion as + men have been like God they have treated + these laws as He does—as conveniences. + Thousands of men are doing it to-day. Men + did it for thousands of years before they knew + what the laws were, when they merely followed + their instincts with them. In a man’s + answer to the question, How can I make a + convenience of the law of heredity and environment?—education + before being born and education + after being born—will be found to lie + always the secret glory or the secret shame of + his life.</p> + </div> + <div id="section_2.1.2" class="section"> + <h4 class="section_title"><abbr class="section_number" title="two">II</abbr><br/> + The First Selection</h4> + + <p>If the souls of the unborn could go about + reconnoitering the earth a little before they + settled on it, selecting the parents they would + have, the places where it pleased them to be + born, nine out of ten of them (judging from + the way they conduct themselves in the flesh) + would spend nearly all their time in looking + for the best house and street to be born in, + the best things to be born to. Such a little + matter as selecting the right parents would be + left, probably, to the last moment, or they + would expect it to be thrown in.</p> + + <p>We are all of us more or less aware, especially + <a class="pagenum" id="page223" title="223"> </a>as we advance in life, that overlooking + the importance of parents is a mistake. + There have been times in the lives of some of + us when having parents at all seemed a mistake. + We can remember hours when we were + sure we had the wrong ones. After our first disappointment,—that + is, when we have learned + how unmanageable parents are,—we have our + time—most of us—of making comparisons, of + trying other people’s parents on. This cannot + be said to work very well, taken as a whole, + and it is generally admitted that people who + are most serious about it, who take unto themselves + fathers- and mothers-in-law seldom do + any better than at first. The conclusion of the + whole matter would seem to be: Since a man + cannot select his parents and his parents cannot + select him, he must select himself. + That is what books are for.</p> + </div> + <div id="section_2.1.3" class="section"> + <h4 class="section_title"><abbr class="section_number" title="three">III</abbr><br/> + Conveniences</h4> + + <p>It is the first importance of a true book that + a man can select his neighbours with it,—can + overcome space, riches, poverty, and time with + it,—and the grave, and break bread with the + dead. A book is a portable miracle. It + makes a man’s native place all over for him, + for a dollar and a quarter; and many a man in + this somewhat hard and despairing world has + <a class="pagenum" id="page224" title="224"> </a>been furnished with a new heaven and a new + earth for twenty-five cents. Out of a public + library he has felt reached down to him the + grasp of heroes. Hurrying home in the night, + perhaps, with his tiny life hid under stars, + but with a Book under his arm, he has felt a + Greeting against his breast and held it tight. + “Who art thou, my lad?” it said; “who art + thou?” And the saying was not forgotten. + If it is true that the spirits of the mighty dead + are abroad in the night they are turning the + leaves of books.</p> + + <p>There are other inspiring things in the + world, but there is nothing else that carries + itself among the sons of men like the book. + With such divine plenteousness—seeds of the + worlds in it—it goes about flocking on the + souls of men. There is something so broadcast, + so universal about the way of a book with + a man: boundless, subtle, ceaseless, irresistible, + following him and loving him, renewing him, + delighting in him and hoping for him—like a + god. It is as the way of Nature herself with + a man. One cannot always feel it, but somehow, + when I am really living a real day, I feel + as if some Great Book were around me—were + always around me. I feel myself all-enfolded, + penetrated, surrounded with it—the vast, + gentle force of it—sky and earth of it. It is as + if I saw it, sometimes, building new boundaries + for me, out there—softly, gently, on the edges + of the night—for me and for all human life.</p> + + <p><a class="pagenum" id="page225" title="225"> </a>Other inspiring things seem to be less steadfast + for us. They cannot always free themselves + and then come and free us. Music + cannot be depended upon. It sings sometimes + for and sometimes against us. Sometimes, + also, music is still—absolutely still, all the way + down from the stars to the grass. At best it is + for some people and for others not, and is addicted + to places. It is a part of the air—part + of the climate in Germany, but there is but + one country in the world made for listening in—where + any one, every one listens, the way + one breathes. The great pictures inspire, on + the whole, but few people—most of them with + tickets. Cathedrals cannot be unmoored, have + never been seen by the majority of men at + all, except in dreams and photographs. Most + mountains (for all practical purposes) are + private property. The sea (a look at the + middle of it) is controlled by two or three + syndicates. The sky—the last stronghold of + freedom—is rented out for the most part, + where most men live—in cities; and in New + York and London the people who can afford + it pay taxes for air, and grass is a dollar a + blade. Being born is the only really free thing—and + dying. Next to these in any just estimate + of the comparatively free raw material + that goes to the making of a human life comes + the printed book.</p> + + <p>A library, on the whole, is the purest and + most perfect form of power that exists, because + <a class="pagenum" id="page226" title="226"> </a>it is a lever on the nature of things. If a man + is born with the wrong neighbours it brings + the right ones flocking to him. It is the universe + to order. It makes the world like a + globe in a child’s hands. He turns up the + part where he chooses to live—now one way + and now another, that he may delight in it and + live in it. If he is a poet it is the meaning of + life to him that he can keep on turning it until + he has delighted and tasted and lived in all of it.</p> + + <p>The second importance of true books is that + they are not satisfied with the first. They are + not satisfied to be used to influence a man from + the outside—as a kind of house-furnishing for + his soul. A true book is never a mere contrivance + for arranging the right bit of sky for + a man to live his life under, or the right neighbours + for him to live his life with. It goes + deeper than this. A mere playing upon a + man’s environment does not seem to satisfy a + true book. It plays upon the latent infinity + in the man himself. The majority of men are + not merely conceived in sin and born in lies, + but they are the lies; and lies as well as truths + flow in their veins. Lies hold their souls back + thousands of years. When one considers the + actual facts about most men, the law of environment + seems a clumsy and superficial law + enough. If all that a book can do is to appeal + to the law of environment for a man, it does + not do very much. The very trees and stones + do better for him, and the little birds in their + <a class="pagenum" id="page227" title="227"> </a>nests. No possible amount of environment + crowded on their frail souls would ever make + it possible for most men to catch up—to overtake + enough truth before they die to make + their seventy years worth while. The majority + of men (one hardly dares to deny) can be seen, + sooner or later, drifting down to death either + bitterly or indifferently. The shadows of their + lives haunt us a little, then they vanish away + from us and from the sound of our voices. + Oh, God, from behind Thy high heaven—from + out of Thy infinite wealth of years, hast Thou + but the one same pittance of threescore and + ten for every man? Some of us are born with + the handicap of a thousand years woven in the + nerves of our bodies, the swiftness of our + minds, and the delights of our limbs. Others + of us are born with the thousand years binding + us down to blindness and hobbling, holding us + back to disease, but all with the same Imperious + Timepiece held above us, to run the same + race, to overtake the same truth—before the + iron curtain and the dark. Some of us—a few + men in every generation—have two or three + hundred years given to us outright the day we + are born. Then we are given seventy more. + Others of us have two hundred years taken + away from us the day we are born. Then we + are given seventy years to make them up in, + and it is called life.</p> + + <p>If we are to shut ourselves up with one law, + either the law of environment or the law of + <a class="pagenum" id="page228" title="228"> </a>heredity, it is obvious that the best a logical + man could do, would be to be ashamed of a + universe like this and creep out of it as soon as + he could. The great glory of a great book is, + that it will not let itself be limited to the law + of environment in dealing with a man. It + deals directly with the man himself. It appeals + to the law of heredity. It reaches down + into the infinite depth of his life. If a man + has started a life with parents he had better + not have (for all practical purposes), it furnishes + him with better ones. It picks and + chooses in behalf of his life out of his very + grandfathers, for him. It not only supplies + him with a new set of neighbours as often as + he wants them. It sees that he is born again + every morning on the wide earth and that he + has a new set of parents to be born to. It is + a part of the infinite and irrepressible hopefulness + of this mortal life that each man of us who + dwells on the earth is the child of an infinite + marriage. We are all equipped, even the + poorest of us, from the day we begin, with an + infinite number of fathers and an infinite number + of mothers—no telling, as we travel down + the years, which shall happen to us next. If + what we call heredity were a matter of a few + months,—a narrow, pitiful, two-parent affair,—if + the fate of a human being could be shut in + with what one man and one woman, playing + and working, eating and drinking, under + heaven, for a score of years or more, would + <a class="pagenum" id="page229" title="229"> </a>be likely to have to give him from out of their + very selves, heredity would certainly be a + whimsical, unjust, undignified law to come + into a world by, to don an immortal soul + with. A man who has had his life so recklessly + begun for him could hardly be blamed + for being reckless with it afterward. But it + is not true that the principle of heredity in a + human life can be confined to a single accident + in it. We are all infinite, and our + very accidents are infinite. In the very flesh + and bones of our bodies we are infinite—brought + from the furthest reaches of eternity + and the utmost bounds of created life to be + ourselves. If we were to do nothing else for + threescore years, it is not in our human breath + to recite our fathers’ names upon our lips. + Each of us is the child of an infinite mother, + and from her breast, veiled in a thousand years, + we draw life, glory, sorrow, sleep, and death. + The ones we call fathers and mothers are but + ambassadors to us—delegates from a million + graves—appointed for our birth. Every boy is + a summed-up multitude. The infinite crowd + of his fathers beckons for him. As in some + vast amphitheatre he lives his life, before the + innumerable audience of the dead—each from + its circle of centuries—calls to him, contends + for him, draws him to himself.</p> + + <p>Inasmuch as every man who is born in the + world is born with an infinite outfit for living + in it, it is the office of all books that are true and + <a class="pagenum" id="page230" title="230"> </a>beautiful books—true to the spirit of a man—that + they shall play upon the latent infinity in + him; that they shall help him to select his + largest self; that they shall help him to give, + as the years go on, the right accent to the right + fathers, in his life.</p> + + <p>Books are more close to the latent infinity in + a human being than anything else can be, because + the habit of the infinite is their habit. + As books are more independent of space and + time than all other known forces in the lives + of men, they seem to make all the men who + love them independent also. If a man has not + room for his life, he takes a book and makes + room for it. When the habit of books becomes + the habit of a man he unhands himself at will + from space and time; he finds the universe is + his universe. He finds ancestors and neighbours + alike flocking to him—doing his bidding. + God Himself says “Yes” to him and delights + in him. He has entered into conspiracy with + the nature of things. He does not feel that he + is being made. He does not feel that he is + making himself. The universe is at work on + him—under his own supervision.</p> + </div> + <div id="section_2.1.4" class="section"> + <h4 class="section_title"><abbr class="section_number" title="four">IV</abbr><br/> + The Charter of Possibility</h4> + + <p>In reading to select one’s parents and one’s + self, there seem to be two instincts involved. + <a class="pagenum" id="page231" title="231"> </a>These instincts may vary more or less according + to the book and the mood of the reader, but + the object of all live reading—of every live experience + with a book—is the satisfying of one + or both of them. A man whose reading means + something to him is either letting himself go + in a book or letting himself come in it. He is + either reading himself out or reading himself + in. It is as if every human life were a kind + of port on the edge of the universe, when + it reads,—possible selves outward-bound + and inward-bound trooping before It. Some + of these selves are exports and some are imports.</p> + + <p>If the principle of selection is conceived in a + large enough spirit, and is set in operation soon + enough, and is continued long enough, there is + not a child that can be born on the earth who + shall not be able to determine by the use of + books, in the course of the years, what manner + of man he shall be. He may not be able to + determine how soon he shall be that man, or + how much of that man shall be fulfilled in himself + before he dies, and how much of him shall + be left over to be fulfilled in his children, but + the fact remains that to an extraordinary degree, + through a live use of books, not only a + man’s education after he is born, but his education + before he is born, is placed in his hands. + It is the supreme office of books that they do + this; that they place the laws of heredity and + environment where a man with a determined + <a class="pagenum" id="page232" title="232"> </a>spirit can do something besides cringing to + them. Neither environment nor heredity—taken + by itself—can give a man a determined + spirit, but it is everything to know that, given + a few books and the determined spirit both, a + man can have any environment he wants for + living his life, and his own assorted ancestors + for living it. It is only by means of books + that a man can keep from living a partitioned-off + life in the world—can keep toned up to the + divine sense of possibility in it. We hear great + men every day, across space and time, halloaing + to one another in books, and across all + things, as we feel and read, is the call of our + possible selves. Even the impossible has been + achieved, books tell us, in history, again and + again. It has been achieved by several men. + This may not prove very much, but if it does + not prove anything else, it proves that the + possible, at least, is the privilege of the rest + of us. It has its greeting for every man. The + sense of the possible crowds around him, and + not merely in his books nor merely in his life, + but in the place where his life and books meet—in + his soul. However or wherever a man + may be placed, it is the great book that reminds + him Who he is. It reminds him who + his Neighbour is. It is his charter of possibility. + Having seen, he acts on what he sees, + and reads himself out and reads himself in + accordingly.</p> + </div> + <div id="section_2.1.5" class="section"><a class="pagenum" id="page233" title="233"> </a> + <h4 class="section_title"><abbr class="section_number" title="five">V</abbr><br/> + The Great Game</h4> + + <p>It would be hard to say which is the more + important, reading for exports or imports, + reading one’s self out or reading one’s self in, + but inasmuch as the importance of reading one’s + self out is more generally overlooked, it may + be well to dwell upon it. Most of the reading + theories of the best people to-day, judging + from the prohibitions of certain books, overlook + the importance altogether, in vital and normal + persons—especially the young,—of reading + one’s self out. It is only as some people keep + themselves read out, and read out regularly, + that they can be kept from bringing evil on the + rest of us. If Eve had had a novel, she would + have sat down under the Tree and read about + the fruit instead of eating it. If Adam had + had a morning paper, he would hardly have + listened to his wife’s suggestion. If the Evil + One had come up to Eve in the middle of <cite lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Les + Miserables</cite>, or one of Rossetti’s sonnets, no one + would ever have heard of him. The main misfortune + of Adam and Eve was that they had + no arts to come to the rescue of their religion. + If Eve could have painted the apple, she would + not have eaten it. She put it into her mouth + because she could not think of anything else + to do with it, and she had to do something. + She had the artistic temperament (inherited + <a class="pagenum" id="page234" title="234"> </a>from her mother Sleep, probably, or from being + born in a dream), and the temptation of the + artistic temperament is, that it gets itself expressed + or breaks something. She had tried + everything—flowers, birds, clouds, and her + shadow in the stream, but she found they were + all inexpressible. She could not express them. + She could not even express herself. Taking + walks in Paradise and talking with the one + man the place afforded was not a complete and + satisfying self-expression. Adam had his limitations—like + all men. There were things that + could not be said.</p> + + <p>Standing as we do on the present height of + history, with all the resources of sympathy in + the modern world, its countless arts drawing + the sexes together, going about understanding + people, communing with them, and expressing + them, making a community for every man, + even in his solitude, it is not hard to see that + the comparative failure of the first marriage + was a matter of course. The real trouble was + that Adam and Eve, standing in their brand-new + world, could not express themselves to + one another. As there was nothing else to + express them, they were bored. It is to Eve’s + credit that she was more bored than Adam + was, and that she resented it more; and while + a Fall, under the circumstances, was as painful + as it was inevitable, and a rather extreme + measure on Eve’s part, no one will deny that + it afforded relief on the main point. It seems + <a class="pagenum" id="page235" title="235"> </a>to be the universal instinct of all Eve’s sons + and daughters that have followed since, that an + expressive world is better than a dull one. + An expressive world is a world in which all + the men and women are getting themselves + expressed, either in their experiences or in + their arts—that is, in other people’s experiences.</p> + + <p>The play, the picture, and the poem and the + novel and the symphony have all been the outgrowth + of Eve’s infinity. She could not contain + herself. She either had more experience + than she could express, or she had more to + express than she could possibly put into experience.</p> + + <p>One of the worst things that we know about + the Japanese is that they have no imperative + mood in the language. To be able to say of a + nation that it has been able to live for thousands + of years without feeling the need of an + imperative, is one of the most terrible and + sweeping accusations that has ever been made + against a people on the earth. Swearing may + not be respectable, but it is a great deal more + respectable than never wanting to. Either a + man is dead in this world, or he is out looking + for words on it. There is a great place left + over in him, and as long as that place is left + over, it is one of the practical purposes of + books to make it of some use to him. Whether + the place is a good one or a bad one, something + must be done with it, and books must do it.</p> + + <p><a class="pagenum" id="page236" title="236"> </a>If there were wordlessness for five hundred + years, man would seek vast inarticulate words + for himself. Cathedrals would rise from the + ground undreamed as yet to say we worshipped. + Music would be the daily necessity of the + humblest life. Orchestras all around the world + would be created,—would float language + around the dumbness in it. Composers would + become the greatest, the most practical men + in all the nations. Viaducts would stretch + their mountains of stone across the valleys to + find a word that said we were strong. Out of + the stones of the hills, the mists of rivers, out + of electricity, even out of silence itself, we + would force expression. From the time a baby + first moves his limbs to when—an old man—he + struggles for his last breath, the one imperious + divine necessity of life is expression. Hence + the artist now and for ever—the ruler of history—whoever + makes it. And if he cannot + make it, he makes the makers of it. The + artist is the man who, failing to find neighbours + for himself, makes his neighbours with + his own hands. If a woman is childless, she + paints Madonnas. It is the inspiration, the + despair that rests over all life. If we cannot + express ourselves in things that are made, we + make things, and if we cannot express ourselves + in the things we make, we turn to + words, and if we cannot express ourselves in + words, we turn to other men’s words.</p> + + <p>The man who is satisfied with one life does + <a class="pagenum" id="page237" title="237"> </a>not exist. The suicide does not commit suicide + because he is tired of life, but because he wants + so many more lives that he cannot have. The + native of the tropics buys a book to the North + Pole. If we are poor, we grow rich on paper. + We roll in carriages through the highway of + letters. If we are rich, we revel in a printed + poverty. We cry our hearts out over our + starving paper-children and hold our shivering, + aching magazine hands over dying coals in + garrets we live in by subscription at three dollars + a year. The Bible is the book that has + influenced men most in the world because it + has expressed them the most. The moment + it ceases to be the most expressive book, it will + cease to be the most practical and effective one + in human life. There is more of us than we + can live. The touch of the infinite through + which our spirits wandered is still upon us. + The world cries to the poet: “Give me a new + word—a word—a word! I will have a word!” + It cries to the great man out of all its narrow + places: “Give me another life! I will have a + new life!” and every hero the world has + known is worn threadbare with worship, because + his life says for other men what their + lives have tried to say. Every masterful life + calls across the world a cry of liberty to pent-up + dreams, to the ache of faith in all of us, + “Here thou art my brother—this is thy heart + that I have lived.” A hero is immortalised + because his life is every man’s larger self. So + <a class="pagenum" id="page238" title="238"> </a>through the day-span of our years—a tale that + is never told—we wander on, the infinite heart + of each of us prisoned in blood and flesh and + the cry of us everywhere, throughout all being, + “Give me room!” It cries to the composer, + “Make a high wide place for me!” and + on the edge of the silence between life and + words, to music we come at last because it is + the supreme confidante of the human heart, + the confessional, the world-priest between the + actual self and the larger self of all of us. With + all the multiplying of arts and the piling up of + books that have come to us, the most important + experience that men have had in this world + since they began on it, is that they are infinite, + that they cannot be expressed on it. It is not + infrequently said that men must get themselves + expressed in living, but the fact remains that + no one has ever heard of a man as yet who + really did it, or who was small enough to do it. + There was One who seemed to express Himself + by living and by dying both, but if He had any + more than succeeded in beginning to express + Himself, no one would have believed that He + was the Son of God,—even that He was the + Son of Man. It was because He could not + crowd all that He was into thirty-three short + years and twelve disciples and one Garden of + Gethsemane and one Cross that we know who + He was.</p> + + <p>Riveted down to its little place with iron circumstance, + the actual self in every man depends + <a class="pagenum" id="page239" title="239"> </a>upon the larger possible self for the + something that makes the actual self worth + while. It is hard to be held down by circumstance, + but it would be harder to be contented + there, to live without those intimations of our + diviner birth that come to us in books—books + that weave some of the glory we have missed + in our actual lives, into the glory of our + thoughts. Even if life be to the uttermost the + doing of what are called practical things, it is + only by the occasional use of his imagination in + reading or otherwise, that the practical man + can hope to be in physical or mental condition + to do them. He needs a rest from his actual + self. A man cannot even be practical without + this imaginary or larger self. Unless he can + work off his unexpressed remnant, his limbs + are not free. Even down to the meanest of + us, we are incurably larger than anything we + can do.</p> + + <p>Reading a book is a game a man plays with + his own infinity.</p> + </div> + <div id="section_2.1.6" class="section"> + <h4 class="section_title"><abbr class="section_number" title="six">VI</abbr><br/> + Outward Bound</h4> + + <p>If there could only be arranged some mystical + place over the edge of human existence, where + we all could go and practise at living, have + full-dress rehearsals of our parts, before we are + hustled in front of the footlights in our very + <a class="pagenum" id="page240" title="240"> </a>swaddling clothes, how many people are there + who have reached what are fabulously called + years of discretion, who would not believe in + such a place, and who would not gladly go + back to it and spend most of the rest of their + lives there?</p> + + <p>This is one of the things that the world of + books is for. Most of us would hardly know + what to do without it, the world of books, if + only as a place to make mistakes and to feel + foolish in. It seems to be the one great unobserved + retreat, where all the sons of men + may go, may be seen flocking day and night, + to get the experiences they would not have, + to be ready for those they cannot help having. + It is the Rehearsal Room of History. + The gods watch it—this Place of Books—as we + who live go silent, trooping back and forth in + it—the ceaseless, heartless, awful, beautiful + pantomime of life.</p> + + <p>It seems to be the testimony of human nature, + after a somewhat immemorial experience, + that some things in us had better be expressed + by being lived, and that other things had better + be expressed—if possible—in some other way.</p> + + <p>There are a great many men, even amongst + the wisest and strongest of us, who benefit every + year of their lives by what might be called the + purgative function of literature,—men who, if + they did not have a chance at the right moment + to commit certain sins with their imaginary + selves, would commit them with their real + <a class="pagenum" id="page241" title="241"> </a>ones. Many a man of the larger and more + comprehensive type, hungering for the heart + of all experience, bound to have its spirit, if + not itself, has run the whole gamut of his possible + selves in books, until all the sins and all + the songs of men have coursed through his + being. He finds himself reading not only to + fill his lungs with ozone and his heart with + the strength of the gods, but to work off the + humour in his blood, to express his underself, + and get it out of the way. Women who never + cry their tears out—it is said—are desperate, + and men who never read their sins away are + dangerous. People who are tired of doing + wrong on paper do right. To be sick of one’s + sins in a book saves not only one’s self but + every one else a deal of trouble. A man has + not learned how to read until he reads with + his veins as well as his arteries.</p> + + <p>It would be useless to try to make out that + evil passions in literature accomplish any absolute + good, but they accomplish a relative + good which the world can by no means afford + to overlook. The amount of crime that is suggested + by reading can be more than offset by + the extraordinary amount of crime waiting in + the hearts of men, aimed at the world and + glanced off on paper.</p> + + <p>There are many indications that this purgative + function of literature is the main thing it + is for in our present modern life. Modern life + is so constituted that the majority of people + <a class="pagenum" id="page242" title="242"> </a>who live in it are expressing their real selves + more truly in their reading than they are in + their lives. When one stops to consider what + these lives are—most of them—there can be + but one conclusion about the reading of the + people who have to live them, and that is that + while sensational reading may be an evil, as + compared with the evil that has made it necessary, + it is an immeasurable blessing.</p> + + <p>The most important literary and artistic fact + of the nineteenth century is the subdivision of + labour—that is, the subdividing of every man’s + life and telling him he must only be alive in a + part of it. In proportion as an age takes sensations + out of men’s lives it is obliged to put + them into their literature. Men are used to + sensations on the earth as long as they stay on + it and they are bound to have them in one way + or another. An age which narrows the actual + lives of men, which so adjusts the labour of the + world that nearly every man in it not only + works with a machine, spiritual or otherwise, + but is a machine himself, and a small part of a + machine, must not find fault with its art for + being full of hysterics and excitement, or with + its newspapers for being sensational. Instead + of finding fault it has every reason to be grateful—to + thank a most merciful Heaven that the + men in the world are still alive enough in it to + be capable of feeling sensation in other men’s + lives, though they have ceased to be capable + of having sensations in their own, or of feeling + <a class="pagenum" id="page243" title="243"> </a>sensations if they had them. It was when the + herds of her people were buried in routine and + peace that Rome had bull-fights. New York, + with its hordes of drudges, ledger-slaves, machinists, + and clerks, has the New York <cite>World</cite>. + It lasts longer than a bull-fight and it can be + had every morning before a man starts off to + be a machine and every evening when he gets + back from being a machine—for one cent. On + Sunday a whole Colosseum fronts him and he is + glutted with gore from morning until night. + To a man who is a penholder by the week, or + a linotype machine, or a ratchet in a factory, a + fight is infinite peace. Obedience to the command + of Scripture, making the Sabbath a day + of rest, is entirely relative. Some of us are + rested by taking our under-interested lives to + a Sunday paper, and others are rested by taking + our over-interested lives to church. Men + read dime novels in proportion as their lives + are staid and mechanical. Men whose lives + are their own dime novels are bored by printed + ones. Men whose years are crowded with + crises, culminations, and events, who run the + most risks in business, are found with the + steadiest papers in their hands. The train-boy + knows that the people who buy the biggest + headlines are all on salaries and that danger + and blood and thunder are being read nowadays + by effeminately safe men, because it is the + only way they can be had.</p> + + <p>But it is not only the things that are left out + <a class="pagenum" id="page244" title="244"> </a>of men’s lives but the things they have too + much of, which find their remedy in books. + They are the levers with which the morbid is + controlled. <em lang="la" xml:lang="la">Similia similibus curantur</em> may be + a dangerous principle to be applied by everybody, + but thousands of men and women mulling + away on their lives and worrying themselves + with themselves, cutting a wide swath of misery + wherever they go, have suddenly stopped in a + book—have purged away jealousy and despair + and passion and nervous prostration in it. A + paper-person with melancholia is a better cure + for gloom than a live clown can be—who + merely goes about reminding people how sad + they are.</p> + + <p>A man is often heard to say that he has + tragedy enough in his own life not to want to + go to a play for more, but this much having + been said and truly said, he almost always goes + to the play—to see how true it is. The stage + is his huge confidante. Pitying one’s self is + a luxury, but it takes a great while, and one + can never do it enough. Being pitied by a + five-thousand-dollar house, and with incidental + music, all for a dollar and a half, is a sure and + quick way to cheer up. Being pitied by Victor + Hugo is a sure way also. Hardy can do people’s + pitying for them much better than they + can do it, and it’s soon over and done with. + It is noticeable that while the impressive books, + the books that are written to impress people, + have a fair and nominal patronage, it is the + <a class="pagenum" id="page245" title="245"> </a>expressive books, the books that let people + out, which have the enormous sales. This + seems to be true of the big-sale books whether + the people expressed in them are worth expressing + (to any one but themselves) or not. + The principle of getting one’s self expressed is + so largely in evidence that not only the best but + the worst of our books illustrate it. Our popular + books are carbuncles mostly. They are the + inevitable and irrepressible form of the instinct + of health in us, struggling with disease. On + the whole, it makes being an optimist in + modern life a little less of a tight-rope-walk. + If even the bad elements in current literature—which + are discouraging enough—are making + us better, what shall be said of the good?</p> + </div> + <div class="deco"> + <img src="images/style03.png" width="326" height="172" alt="" /> + </div> + <!-- <a class="pagenum" id="page246" title="246"> </a>[Blank Page] --> +</div> +<div id="book_3" class="book"><a class="pagenum" id="page247" title="247"> </a> + <h2 class="book_title"><span class="book_number">Book III</span><br /> + Details. The Confessions of an + Unscientific Mind</h2> + <!-- <a class="pagenum" id="page248" title="248"> </a>[Blank Page] --> + <div id="chapter_3.1" class="chapter"><a class="pagenum" id="page249" title="249"> </a> + <div class="deco"> + <img src="images/style12.png" width="550" height="127" alt="" /> + </div> + <h3 class="chapter_title">I—Unscientific</h3> + + <div id="section_3.1.1" class="section"> + <h4 class="section_title"><abbr class="section_number" title="one">I</abbr><br/> + On Being Intelligent in a Library</h4> + + <p class="first_paragraph"><span class="first_word">I have</span> a way every two or three days or + so, of an afternoon, of going down to our + library, sliding into the little gate by the + shelves, and taking a long empty walk there. + I have found that nothing quite takes the place + of it for me,—wandering up and down the aisles + of my ignorance, letting myself be loomed at, + staring doggedly back. I always feel when I + go out the great door as if I had won a victory. + I have at least faced the facts. I swing off to + my tramp on the hills where is the sense of + space, as if I had faced the bully of the world, + the whole assembled world, in his own den, + and he had given me a license to live.</p> + + <p>Of course it only lasts a little while. One + soon feels a library nowadays pulling on him. + <a class="pagenum" id="page250" title="250"> </a>One has to go back and do it all over again, but + for the time being it affords infinite relief. It + sets one in right relations to the universe, to + the original plan of things. One suspects that + if God had originally intended that men on this + planet should be crowded off by books on it, it + would not have been put off to the twentieth + century.</p> + + <p>I was saying something of this sort to The + Presiding Genius of the State of Massachusetts + the other day, and when I was through he said + promptly: “The way a man feels in a library + (if any one can get him to tell it) lets out more + about a man than anything else in the world.”</p> + + <p>It did not seem best to make a reply to this. + I didn’t think it would do either of us any + good.</p> + + <p>Finally, in spite of myself, I spoke up and + allowed that I felt as intelligent in a library as + anybody.</p> + + <p>He did not say anything.</p> + + <p>When I asked him what he thought being + intelligent in a library was, he took the general + ground that it consisted in always knowing + what one was about there, in knowing exactly + what one wanted.</p> + + <p>I replied that I did not think that that was a + very intelligent state of mind to be in, in a + library.</p> + + <p>Then I waited while he told me (fifteen minutes) + what an intelligent mind was anywhere + (nearly everywhere, it seemed to me). But I + <a class="pagenum" id="page251" title="251"> </a>did not wait in vain, and at last, when he had + come around to it, and had asked me what I + thought the feeling of intelligence consisted in, + in libraries, I said it consisted in being pulled + on by the books.</p> + + <p>I said quite a little after this, and of course + the general run of my argument was that I was + rather intelligent myself. The P. G. S. of M. + had little to say to this, and after he had said + how intelligent he was awhile, the conversation + was dropped.</p> + + <hr class="thoughtbreak" /> + + <p class="post_thoughtbreak">The question that concerns me is, What shall + a man do, how shall he act, when he finds himself + in the hush of a great library,—opens the + door upon it, stands and waits in the midst of + it, with his poor outstretched soul all by himself + before <span class="small_all_caps">IT</span>,—and feels the books pulling on + him? I always feel as if it were a sort of infinite + crossroads. The last thing I want to + know in a library is exactly what I want there. + I am tired of knowing what I want. I am always + knowing what I want. I can know what + I want almost anywhere. If there is a place + left on God’s earth where a modern man can + go and go regularly and not know what he + wants awhile, in Heaven’s name why not let + him? I am as fond as the next man, I think, + of knowing what I am about, but when I find + myself ushered into a great library I do not + know what I am about any sooner than I can + help. I shall know soon enough—God forgive + <a class="pagenum" id="page252" title="252"> </a>me! When it is given to a man to stand in the + Assembly Room of Nations, to feel the ages, + all the ages, gathering around him, flowing + past his life; to listen to the immortal stir of + Thought, to the doings of The Dead, why + should a man interrupt—interrupt a whole + world—to know what he is about? I stand at the + junction of all Time and Space. I am the three + tenses. I read the newspaper of the universe.</p> + + <p>It fades away after a little, I know. I go to + the card catalogue like a lamb to the slaughter, + poke my head into Knowledge—somewhere—and + am lost, but the light of it on the spirit + does not fade away. It leaves a glow there. + It plays on the pages afterward.</p> + + <p>There is a certain fine excitement about taking + a library in this fashion, a sense of spaciousness + of joy in it, which one is almost always + sure to miss in libraries—most libraries—by + staying in them. The only way one can get + any real good out of a modern library seems to + be by going away in the nick of time. If one + stays there is no help for it. One is soon standing + before the card catalogue, sorting one’s wits + out in it, filing them away, and the sense of + boundlessness both in one’s self and everybody + else—the thing a library is for—is fenced off + for ever.</p> + + <p>At least it seems fenced off for ever. One sees + the universe barred and patterned off with a + kind of grating before it. It is a card-catalogue + universe.</p> + + <p><a class="pagenum" id="page253" title="253"> </a>I can only speak for one, but I must say for + myself, that as compared with this feeling one + has in the door, this feeling of standing over a + library—mere reading in it, sitting down and + letting one’s self be tucked into a single book + in it—is a humiliating experience.</p> + </div> + <div id="section_3.1.2" class="section"> + <h4 class="section_title"><abbr class="section_number" title="two">II</abbr><br/> + How It Feels</h4> + + <p>I am not unaware that this will seem to some—this + empty doting on infinity, this standing + and staring at All-knowledge—a mere dizzying + exercise, whirling one’s head round and round in + Nothing, for Nothing. And I am not unaware + that it would be unbecoming in me or in any + other man to feel superior to a card catalogue.</p> + + <p>A card catalogue, of course, as a device for + making a kind of tunnel for one’s mind in a + library—for working one’s way through it—is + useful and necessary to all of us. Certainly, if + a man insists on having infinity in a convenient + form—infinity in a box—it would be hard to + find anything better to have it in than a card + catalogue.</p> + + <p>But there are times when one does not want + infinity in a box. He loses the best part of it + that way. He prefers it in its natural state. + All that I am contending for is, that when these + times come, the times when a man likes to feel + infinite knowledge crowding round him,—feel + <a class="pagenum" id="page254" title="254"> </a>it through the backs of unopened books, and + likes to stand still and think about it, worship + with the thought of it,—he ought to be allowed + to. It is true that there is no sign up against + it (against thinking in libraries). But there + might as well be. It amounts to the same + thing. No one is expected to. People are expected + to keep up an appearance, at least, of + doing something else there. I do not dare to + hope that the next time I am caught standing + and staring in a library, with a kind of blank, + happy look, I shall not be considered by all my + kind intellectually disreputable for it. I admit + that it does not look intelligent—this standing + by a door and taking in a sweep of books—this + reading a whole library at once. I can imagine + how it looks. It looks like listening to a + kind of cloth and paper chorus—foolish enough; + but if I go out of the door to the hills again, + refreshed for them and lifted up to them, with + the strength of the ages in my limbs, great + voices all around me, flocking my solitary walk—who + shall gainsay me?</p> + </div> + <div id="section_3.1.3" class="section"> + <h4 class="section_title"><abbr class="section_number" title="three">III</abbr><br/> + How a Specialist can Be an + Educated Man</h4> + + <p>It is a sad thing to go into a library nowadays + and watch the people there who are + merely making tunnels through it. Some libraries + <a class="pagenum" id="page255" title="255"> </a>are worse than others—seem to be made + for tunnels. College libraries, perhaps, are the + worst. One can almost—if one stands still + enough in them—hear what is going on. It is + getting to be practically impossible in a college + library to slink off to a side shelf by one’s self, + take down some gentle-hearted book one does + not need to read there and begin to listen in it, + without hearing some worthy person quietly, + persistently boring himself around the next + corner. It is getting worse every year. The + only way a readable library book can be read + nowadays is to take it away from the rest of + them. It must be taken where no other reading + is going on. The busy scene of a crowd of + people—mere specialists and others—gathered + around roofing their minds in is no fitting + place for a great book or a live book to be read—a + book that uncovers the universe.</p> + + <p>On the other hand, it were certainly a trying + universe if it were uncovered all the time, if + one had to be exposed to all of it and to all of + it at once, always; and there is no denying that + libraries were intended to roof men’s minds in + sometimes as well as to take the roofs of their + minds off. What seems to be necessary is to + find some middle course in reading between the + scientist’s habit of tunnelling under the dome + of knowledge and the poet’s habit of soaring + around in it. There ought to be some principle + of economy in knowledge which will allow + a man, if he wants to, or knows enough, to be a + <a class="pagenum" id="page256" title="256"> </a>poet and a scientist both. It is well enough for + a mere poet to take a library as a spectacle—a + kind of perpetual Lick Observatory to peek at + the universe with, if he likes, and if a man is a + mere scientist, there is no objection to his taking + a library as a kind of vast tunnel system, + or chart for burrowing. But the common educated + man—the man who is in the business of + being a human being, unless he knows some + middle course in a library, knows how to use + its Lick Observatory and its tunnel system + both—does not get very much out of it. If + there can be found some principle of economy + in knowledge, common to artists and scientists + alike, which will make it possible for a poet to + know something, and which will make it possible + for a scientist to know a very great deal + without being—to most people—a little underwitted, + it would very much simplify the problem + of being educated in modern times, and + there would be a general gratefulness.</p> + + <p>Far be it from me to seem to wish to claim + this general gratefulness for myself. I have no + world-reforming feeling about the matter. I + would be very grateful just here to be allowed + to tuck in a little idea—no chart to go with it—on + this general subject, which my mind + keeps coming back to, as it runs around + watching people.</p> + + <p>There seem to be but two ways of knowing. + One of them is by the spirit and the other is by + the letter. The most reasonable principle of + <a class="pagenum" id="page257" title="257"> </a>economy in knowledge would seem to be, that + in all reading that pertains to man’s specialty—his + business in knowledge—he should read by + the letter, knowing the facts by observing them + himself, and that in all other reading he should + read through the spirit of imagination—the + power of taking to one’s self facts that have + been observed by others. If a man wants + to be a specialist he must do his knowing + like a scientist; but if a scientist wants to be + a man he must be a poet; he must learn how + to read like a poet; he must educate in himself + the power of absorbing immeasurable knowledge, + the facts of which have been approved + and observed by others.</p> + + <p>The weak point in our modern education + seems to be that it has broken altogether with + the spirit or the imagination. Playing upon + the spirit or the imagination of a man is the + one method possible to employ in educating + him in everything except his specialty. It is + the one method possible to employ in making + even a powerful specialist of him; in relating + his specialty to other specialties; that is, in + making either him or his specialty worth while.</p> + + <p>Inasmuch as it has been decreed that every + man in modern life must be a specialist, the + fundamental problem that confronts modern + education is, How can a specialist be an educated + man? There would seem to be but one + way a specialist can be an educated man. The + only hope for a specialist lies in his being + <a class="pagenum" id="page258" title="258"> </a>allowed to have a soul (or whatever he chooses + to call it), a spirit or an imagination. If he + has This, whatever it is, in one way or another, + he will find his way to every book he needs. + He will read all the books there are in his + specialty. He will read all other books through + their backs.</p> + </div> + <div id="section_3.1.4" class="section"> + <h4 class="section_title"><abbr class="section_number" title="four">IV</abbr><br/> + On Reading Books through Their + Backs</h4> + + <p>As this is the only way the majority of books + can be read by anybody, one wonders why so + little has been said about it.</p> + + <p>Reading books through their backs is easily + the most important part of a man’s outfit, if he + wishes to be an educated man. It is not necessary + to prove this statement. The books themselves + prove it without even being opened. + The mere outside of a library—almost any + library—would seem to settle the point that if + a man proposes to be in any larger or deeper + sense a reader of books, the books must be read + through their backs.</p> + + <p>Even the man who is obliged to open books + in order to read them sooner or later admits + this. He finds the few books he opens in the + literal or unseeing way do not make him see + anything. They merely make him see that he + ought to have opened the others—that he must + <a class="pagenum" id="page259" title="259"> </a>open the others; that is, if he is to know anything. + The next thing he sees is that he must + open all the others to know anything. When + he comes to know this he may be said to have + reached what is called, by stretch of courtesy, + a state of mind. It is the scientific state of + mind. Any man who has watched his mind a + little knows what this means. It is the first + incipient symptom in a mind that science is + setting in.</p> + + <p>The only possible cure for it is reading books + through their backs. As this scientific state of + mind is the main obstacle nowadays in the way + of reading books through their backs, it is fitting, + perhaps, at this point that I should dwell + on it a little.</p> + + <p>I do not claim to be a scientist, and I have + never—even in my worst moments—hoped for + a scientific mind. I am afraid I know as well + as any one who has read as far as this, in this + book, that I cannot prove anything. The book + has at least proved that; but it does seem to me + that there are certain things that very much + need to be said about the scientific mind, in its + general relation to knowledge. I would give + the world to be somebody else for awhile and + say them—right here in the middle of my book. + But I know as well as any one, after all that + has passed, that if I say anything about the + scientific mind nobody will believe it. The best + I can do is to say how I feel about the scientific + mind. “And what has that to do with + <a class="pagenum" id="page260" title="260"> </a>it?” exclaims the whole world and all its + laboratories. What is really wanted in dealing + with this matter seems to be some person—some + grave, superficial person—who will take + the scientific mind up scientifically, shake it + and filter it, put it under the microscope, stare + at it with a telescope, stick the X-ray through + it, lay it on the operating table—show what is + the matter with it—even to itself. Anything + that is said about the scientific mind which is + not said in a big, bow-wow, scientific, impersonal, + out-of-the-universe sort of way will not + go very far.</p> + + <p>And yet, the things that need to be said + about the scientific mind—the things that need + to be done for it—need to be said and done so + very much, that it seems as if almost any one + might help. So I am going to keep on trying. + Let no one suppose, however, that because I + have turned around the corner into another + chapter, I am setting myself up as a sudden + and new authority on the scientific mind. I do + not tell how it feels to be scientific. I merely + tell how it looks as if it felt.</p> + + <p>I have never known a great scientist, and I + can only speak of the kind of scientist I have + generally met—the kind every one meets nowadays, + the average, bare scientist. He always + looks to me as if he had a grudge against the + universe—jealous of it or something. There + are so many things in it he cannot know and + that he has no use for unless he does. It + <a class="pagenum" id="page261" title="261"> </a>always seems to me (perhaps it seems so to + most of us in this world, who are running + around and enjoying things and guessing on + them) that the average scientist has a kind of + dreary and disgruntled look, a look of feeling + left out. Nearly all the universe goes to + waste with a scientist. He fixes himself so + that it has to. If a man cannot get the good of + a thing until he knows it and knows all of it, + he cannot expect to be happy in this universe. + There are no conveniences for his being happy + in it. It is the wrong size, to begin with. + Exact knowledge at its best, or even at its + worst, does not let a man into very many things + in a universe like this one. A large part of it + is left over with a scientist. It is the part that + is left over which makes him unhappy. + I am not claiming that a scientist, simply because + he is a scientist, is any unhappier or + needs to be any unhappier than other men are. + He does not need to be. It all comes of a kind + of brutal, sweeping, overriding prejudice he + has against guessing on anything.</p> + </div> + <div id="section_3.1.5" class="section"> + <h4 class="section_title"><abbr class="section_number" title="five">V</abbr><br/> + On Keeping Each Other in + Countenance</h4> + + <p>I do not suppose that my philosophising on + this subject—a sort of slow, peristaltic action + of my own mind—is of any particular value; + <a class="pagenum" id="page262" title="262"> </a>that it really makes any one feel any better except + myself.</p> + + <p>But it has just occurred to me that I may + have arisen, quite as well as not, without + knowing it, to the dignity of the commonplace.</p> + + <p>“The man who thinks he is playing a solo in + any human experience,” says this morning’s + paper, “only needs a little more experience to + know that he is a member of a chorus.” I + suspect myself of being a Typical Case. The + scientific mind has taken possession of all the + land. It has assumed the right of eminent domain + in it, and there must be other human beings + here and there, I am sure, standing aghast + at learning in our modern day, even as I am, + their whys and wherefores working within + them, trying to wonder their way out in this + matter.</p> + + <p>All that is necessary, as I take it, is for one + or the other of us to speak up in the world, + barely peep in it, make himself known wherever + he is, tell how he feels, and he will find + he is not alone. Then we will get together. + We will keep each other in countenance. We + will play with our minds if we want to. We + will take the liberty of knowing rows of things + we don’t know all about, and we will be as + happy as we like, and if we keep together we + will manage to have a fairly educated look besides. + I am very sure of this. But it is the + sort of thing a man cannot do alone. If he + tries to do it with any one else, any one that + <a class="pagenum" id="page263" title="263"> </a>happens along, he is soon come up with. It + cannot be done in that way. There is no one + to whom to turn. Almost every mind one + knows in this modern educated world is a suspicious, + unhappy, abject, helpless, scientific + mind.</p> + + <p>It is almost impossible to find a typical educated + mind, either in this country or in Europe + or anywhere, that is not a rolled-over mind, + jealous and crushed by knowledge day and + night, and yet staring at its ignorance everywhere. + The scientist is almost always a man + who takes his mind seriously, and he takes the + universe as seriously as he takes his mind. Instead + of glorying in a universe and being a little + proud of it for being such an immeasurable, + unspeakable, unknowable success, his whole + state of being is one of worry about it. The + universe seems to irritate him somehow. Has + he not spent years of hard labour in making + his mind over, in drilling it into not-thinking, + into not-inferring things, into not-knowing + anything he does not know all of? And yet + here he is and here is his whole life—does it not + consist in being baffled by germs and bacilli, + crowed over by atoms, trampled on by the + stars? It is getting so that there is but one + thing left that the modern, educated scientific + mind feels that it knows and that is the impossibility + of knowledge. Certainly if there is anything + in this wide world that can possibly be + in a more helpless, more pulp-like state than + <a class="pagenum" id="page264" title="264"> </a>the scientific mind in the presence of something + that cannot be known, something that can + only be used by being wondered at (which is + all most of the universe is for), it has yet to be + pointed out.</p> + + <p>He may be better off than he looks, and I + don’t doubt he quite looks down on me as,</p> + + <div class="poem"> + <p>A mere poet,</p> + <p>The Chanticleer of Things,</p> + <p>Who lives to flap his wings—</p> + <p>It’s all he knows,—</p> + <p>They’re never furled;</p> + <p>Who plants his feet</p> + <p>On the ridge-pole of the world</p> + <p>And crows.</p> + </div> + + <p>Still, I like it very well. I don’t know anything + better that can be done with the world, + and as I have said before I say again, my + friend and brother, the scientist, is either very + great or very small, or he is moderately, decently + unhappy. At least this is the way it + looks from the ridge-pole of the world.</p> + </div> + <div id="section_3.1.6" class="section"> + <h4 class="section_title"><abbr class="section_number" title="six">VI</abbr><br/> + The Romance of Science</h4> + + <p>Science is generally accredited with being + very matter-of-fact. But there has always been + one romance in science from the first,—its romantic + attitude toward itself. It would be hard + to find any greater romance in modern times. + <a class="pagenum" id="page265" title="265"> </a>The romance of science is the assumption that + man is a plain, pure-blooded, non-inferring, + mere-observing being and that in proportion as + his brain is educated he must not use it. “Deductive + reasoning has gone out with the nineteenth + century,” says The Strident Voice. + This is the one single inference that the scientific + method seems to have been able to make—the + inference that no inference has a right + to exist.</p> + + <p>So far as I can see, if there are going to be + inferences anyway, and one has to take one’s + choice in inferring, I would rather have a few + inferences on hand that I can live with every + day than to have this one huge, voracious inference + (the scientist’s) which swallows all the + others up. For that matter, when the scientist + has actually made it,—this one huge guess that + he hasn’t a right to guess,—what good does it + do him? He never lives up to it, and all the + time he has his poor, miserable theory hanging + about him, dogging him day and night. Does + he not keep on guessing in spite of himself? + Does he not live plumped up against mystery + every hour of his life, crowded on by ignorance, + forced to guess if only to eat? Is he not + browbeaten into taking things for granted + whichever way he turns? He becomes a doleful, + sceptical, contradictory, anxious, disagreeable, + disapproving person as a matter of course.</p> + + <p>One would think, in the abstract, that a certain + serenity would go with exact knowledge; + <a class="pagenum" id="page266" title="266"> </a>and it would, if a man were willing to put up + with a reasonable amount of exact knowledge, + eke it out with his brains, some of it; but when + he wants all the exact knowledge there is, and + nothing else but exact knowledge, and is not + willing to mix his brains with it, it is different. + When a man puts his whole being into a vise + of exact knowledge, he finds that he has about + as perfect a convenience for being miserable + as could possibly be devised. He soon becomes + incapable of noticing things or of enjoying + things in the world for themselves. With one or + two exceptions, I have never known a scientist + to whom his knowing a thing, or not knowing + it, did not seem the only important thing about it. + Of course when a man’s mind gets into this + dolefully cramped, exact condition, a universe + like this is not what it ought to be for him. He + lives too unprotected a life. His whole attitude + toward the universe becomes one of wishing + things would keep off of him in it—things he + does not know. Are there not enough things + he does not know even in his specialty? And + as for this eternal being reminded of the others, + this slovenly habit of “general information” + that interesting people have—this guessing, inferring, + and generalising—what is it all for? + What does it all come to? If a man is after + knowledge, let him have knowledge, knowledge + that is knowledge, let him find a fact, + anything for a fact, get God into a corner, hug + one fact and live with it and die with it.</p> + + <p><a class="pagenum" id="page267" title="267"> </a>When a man once gets into this shut-in attitude + it is of little use to put a word in, with + him, for the daily habit of taking the roof off + one’s mind, letting the universe play upon it + instead of trying to bore a hole in it somewhere. + “What does it avail after all, after it + is all over, after a long life, even if the hole is + bored,” I say to him, “to stand by one’s little + hole and cry, ‘Behold, oh, human race, this + Gimlet Hole which I have bored in infinite + space! Let it be forever named for me.’” + And in the meantime the poor fellow gets no + joy out of living. He does not even get credit + for his not-living, seventy years of it. He + fences off his little place to know a little of nothing + in, becomes a specialist, a foot note to + infinite space, and is never noticed afterwards + (and quite reasonably) by any one—not even + by himself.</p> + </div> + <div id="section_3.1.7" class="section"> + <h4 class="section_title"><abbr class="section_number" title="seven">VII</abbr><br/> + Monads</h4> + + <p>I am not saying that this is the way a scientist—a + mere scientist, one who has the fixed + habit of not reading books through their backs—really + feels. It is the way he ought to feel. + As often as not he feels quite comfortable. One + sees one every little while (the mere scientist) + dropping the entire universe with a dull thud + and looking happy after it.</p> + + <p>But the best ones are different. Even those + <a class="pagenum" id="page268" title="268"> </a>who are not quite the best are different. It is + really a very rare scientist who joggles contentedly + down without qualms, or without delays, + to a hole in space. There is always a capability, + an apparently left-over capability in him. + What seems to happen is, that when the average + human being makes up his mind to it, insists + on being a scientist, the Lord keeps a + remnant of happiness in him—a gnawing on + the inside of him which will not let him rest.</p> + + <p>This remnant of happiness in him, his soul, + or inferring organ, or whatever it may be, + makes him suspect that the scientific method + as a complete method is a false, superficial, + and dangerous method, threatening the very + existence of all knowledge that is worth knowing + on the earth. He begins to suspect that + a mere scientist, a man who cannot even make + his mind work both ways, backwards or forwards, + as he likes (the simplest, most rudimentary + motion of a mind), inductively or + deductively, is bound to have something left + out of all of his knowledge. He sees that the + all-or-nothing assumption in knowledge, to say + nothing of not applying to the arts, in which it + is always sterile, does not even apply to the + physical sciences—to the mist, dust, fire, and + water out of which the earth and the scientist + are made.</p> + + <p>For men who are living their lives as we are + living ours, in the shimmer of a globule in + space, it is not enough that we should lift our + <a class="pagenum" id="page269" title="269"> </a>faces to the sky and blunder and guess at a + God there, because there is so much room between + the stars, and murmur faintly, “Spiritual + things are spiritually discerned.” By the infinite + bones of our bodies, by the seeds of the + million years that flow in our veins, <em>material</em> + things are spiritually discerned. There is not + science enough nor scientific method enough in + the schools of all Christendom for a man to + listen intelligently to his own breathing with, + or to know his own thumb-nail. Is not his own + heart thundering the infinite through him—beating + the eternal against his sides—even + while he speaks? And does he not know it + while he speaks?</p> + + <p>By the time a man’s a Junior or a Senior + nowadays, if he feels the eternal beating + against his sides he thinks it must be something + else. He thinks he ought to. It is a + mere inference. At all events he has little + use for it unless he knows just how eternal + it is. I am speaking too strongly? I suppose + I am. I am thinking of my four special + boys—boys I have been doing my living in, + the last few years. I cannot help speaking a + little strongly. Two of them—two as fine, + flash-minded, deep-lit, wide-hearted fellows as + one would like to see, are down at <span class="keep_together">W——</span>, being + cured of inferring in a four years’ course at + the <span class="keep_together">W——</span> Scientific School. Another one, + who always seemed to me to have real + genius in him, who might have had a period in + <a class="pagenum" id="page270" title="270"> </a>literature named after him, almost, if he’d + stop studying literature, is taking a graduate + course at <span class="keep_together">M——</span>, learning that it cannot be + proved that Shakespeare wrote Shakespeare. + He has already become one of these spotlessly + accurate persons one expects nowadays. + (I hardly dare to hope he will even read this + book of mine, with all his affection for me, + after the first few pages or so, lest he should + fall into a low or wondering state of mind.) + My fourth boy, who was the most promising + of all, whose mind reached out the farthest, + who was always touching new possibilities, + a fresh, warm-blooded, bright-eyed fellow, is + down under a manhole studying God in the + <span class="keep_together">N——</span> Theological Seminary.</p> + + <p>This may not be exactly a literal statement, + nor a very scientific way to criticise the scientific + method, but when one has had to sit + and see four of the finest minds he ever knew + snuffed out by it,—whatever else may be said + for science, scientific language is not satisfying. + What is going to happen to us next, in our + little town, I hardly dare to know. I only + know that three relentlessly inductive, dull, + brittle, <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">blasé</em>, and springless youths from <span class="keep_together">S——</span> + University have just come down and taken + possession of our High School. They seem to + be throwing, as near as I can judge, a spell + of the impossibility of knowledge over the boys + we have left.</p> + + <p>I admit that I am in an unreasonable state of + <a class="pagenum" id="page271" title="271"> </a>mind.<a href="#footnote_3" id="fnm3" title="Fact." class="fnmarker">3</a> I think a great many people are. At + least I hope so. There is no excuse for not being + a little unreasonable. Sometimes it almost + seems, when one looks at the condition of + most college boys’ minds, as if our colleges + were becoming the moral and spiritual and intellectual + dead-centres of modern life.</p> + + <p>I will not yield to any man in admiration + for Science—holy and speechless Science; + holier than any religion has ever been yet; + what religions are made of and are going to be + made of, nor am I dating my mind three + hundred years back and trying to pick a + quarrel with Lord Bacon. I am merely wondering + whether, if science is to be taught at + all, it had not better be taught, in each branch + of it, by men who are teaching a subject they + have conceived with their minds instead of a + subject which has been merely unloaded on + them, piled up on top of their minds, and which + their minds do not know anything about.</p> + + <p>No one seems to have stopped to notice what + the spectacle of science as taught in college is + getting to be—the spectacle of one set of + minds which has been crunched by knowledge + crunching another set. Have you never been + to One, oh Gentle Reader, and watched It, + watched It when It was working, one of these + great Endowed Fact-machines, wound up by + the dead, going round and round, thousands + and thousands of youths in it being rolled out + <a class="pagenum" id="page272" title="272"> </a>and chilled through and educated in it, having + their souls smoothed out of them? Hundreds + of human minds, small and sure and hard, + working away on thousands of other human + minds, making them small and sure and hard. + Matter—infinite matter everywhere—taught + by More Matter,—taught the way Matter + would teach if it knew how—without generalising, + without putting facts together to make + truths out of them.</p> + + <p>It would seem, looking at it theoretically, + that Science, of all things in this world, the stuff + that dreams are made of; the one boundless + subject of the earth, face to face and breath to + breath with the Creator every minute of its life, + would be taught with a divine touch in it, with + the appeal to the imagination and the soul, to + the world-building instinct in a man, the thing + in him that puts universes together, the thing + in him that fills the whole dome of space and all + the crevices of being with the whisper of God.</p> + + <p>But it is not so. Science is great, and great + scientists are great as a matter of course; but + the sciences in the meantime are being taught + in our colleges—in many of them, most of + them—by men whose minds are mere registering + machines. The facts are put in at one end + (one click per fact) and come out facts at the + other. The sciences are being taught more + and more every year by moral and spiritual + stutterers, men with non-inferring minds, men + who live in a perfect deadlock of knowledge, + <a class="pagenum" id="page273" title="273"> </a>men who cannot generalise about a fly’s wing, + bashful, empty, limp, and hopeless and doddering + before the commonplacest, sanest, and + simplest generalisations of human life. In The + Great Free Show, in our common human peep + at it, who has not seen them, staggering to + know what the very children, playing with + dolls and rocking-horses, can take for granted? + Minds which seem absolutely incapable of + striking out, of taking a good, manly stride on + anything, mincing in religion, effeminate in + enthusiasm—please forgive me, Gentle Reader, + I know I ought not to carry on in this fashion, + but have I not spent years in my soul + (sometimes it seems hundreds of years) in + being humble—in being abject before this + kind of mind? It is only a day almost since + I have found it out, broken away from it, got + hold of the sky to hoot at it with. I am free + now. I am not going to be humble longer, before + it. I have spent years dully wondering before + this mind; wondering what was the matter + with me that I could not love it, that I could + not go where it loved to go, and come when + it said “Come” to me. I have spent years in + dust and ashes before it, struggling with myself, + trying to make myself small enough to follow + this kind of a mind around, and now the + scales are fallen from my eyes. When I follow + An Inductive Scientific Mind now, or try to + follow it through its convolutions of matter-of-fact, + its involutions of logic, its wriggling + <a class="pagenum" id="page274" title="274"> </a>through axioms, I smile a new smile and my + heart laughs within me. If I miss the point, + I am not in a panic, and if, at the end of the + seventeenth platitude that did not need to be + proved, I find I do not know where I am, I + thank God.</p> + + <p>I know that I am partly unreasonable, and + I know that in my chosen station on the + ridge-pole of the world it is useless to criticise + those who do not even believe, probably, that + worlds have ridge-poles. It is a bit hard to + get their attention—and I hope the reader will + overlook it if one seems to speak rather loud—from + ridge-poles. Oh, ye children of The Literal! + ye most serene Highnesses, ye archangels + of Accuracy, the Voices of life all challenge + you—the world around! What are ye, after + all, but pilers-up of matter, truth-stutterers, + truth-spellers, sunk in protoplasm to the tops + of your souls? What is it that you are going + to do with us? How many generations of + youths do you want? When will souls be allowed + again? When will they be allowed in + college?</p> + + <p>Well, well, I say to my soul, what does it all + come to? Why all this ado about it one way or + the other? Is it not a great, fresh, eager, + boundless world? Does it not roll up out of + Darkness with new children on it, night after + night? What does it matter, I say to my soul-a + generation or so—from the ridge-pole of the + world? The great Sun comes round again. It + <a class="pagenum" id="page275" title="275"> </a>travels over the tops of seas and mountains. + Microbes in their dewdrops, seeds in their + winds, stars in their courses, worms in their + apples, answer it, and the hordes of the ants + in their ant-hills run before it. And what does + it matter after all, under the great Dome, a + few hordes of factmongers more or less, glimmering + and wonderless, crawlers on the bottom + of the sea of time, lovers of the ooze of knowledge, + feeling with slow, myopic mouths at + Infinite Truth?</p> + + <p>But when I see my four faces—the faces of + my four special boys, when I hear the college + bells ringing to them, it matters a great deal. + My soul will not wait. What is the ridge-pole + of the world? The distance of a ridge-pole + does not count. The extent of a universe + does not seem to make very much difference. + The next ten generations do not help very + much on this one. I go forth in my soul. I + take hold of the first scientist I meet—my + whole mind pummelling him. “What is it?” + I say, “what is it you are doing with us and + with the lives of our children? What is it + you are doing with yourself? Truth is not a + Thing. Did you think it? Truth is not even + a Heap of Things. It is a Light. How dare + you mock at inferring? How dare you to + think to escape the infinite? You cannot + escape the infinite even by making yourself + small enough. It is written that thou shalt be + infinitely small if thou art not infinitely large. + <a class="pagenum" id="page276" title="276"> </a>Not to infer is to contradict the very nature of + facts. Not to infer is not to live. It is to cease + to be a fact one’s self. What is education if + one does not infer? Vacuums rolling around + in vacuums. Atoms cross-examining atoms. + And you say you will not guess? Do you need + to be cudgelled with a whole universe to begin + to learn to guess? What is all your science—your + boasted science, after all, but more raw + material to make more guesses with? Is not + the whole Future Tense an inference? Is not + History—that which has actually happened—a + mystery? You yourself are a mere probability, + and God is a generalisation. What does it + profit a man to discover The Inductive Method + and to lose his own soul? What is The Inductive + Method? Do you think that all these + scientists who have locked their souls up and a + large part of their bodies, in The Inductive + Method, if they had waited to be born by The + Inductive Method, would ever have heard of + it? Being born is one inference and dying is + another. Man leaves a wake of infinity after + him wherever he goes, and of course it’s where + he doesn’t go. It’s all infinity—one way or + the other.”</p> + + <hr class="thoughtbreak" /> + + <p class="post_thoughtbreak">And it came to pass in my dream as I lay on + my bed in the night, I thought I saw Man my + brother blinking under the dome of space, infinite + monad that he is: I saw him with a glass + in one hand and a Slide of Infinity in the other, + <a class="pagenum" id="page277" title="277"> </a>and, in my dream, out of His high heaven God + leaned down to me and said to me, “What is + THAT?”</p> + + <p>And as I looked I laughed and prayed in my + heart, I scarce knew which, and “Oh, Most + Excellent Deity! Who would think it!” I + cried. “I do not know, but I think—<em>I think</em>—it + is a man, thinking he is studying a GERM—one + tiny particle of inimitable Immensity ogling + another!”</p> + + <p>And a very pretty sight it is, too, oh Brother + Monads—if we do not take it seriously.</p> + + <p>And what we really need next, oh comrades, + scientists—each under our separate stones—is + the Laugh Out of Heaven which shall come + down and save us—laugh the roofs of our + stones off. Then we shall stretch our souls + with inferences. We shall lie in the great sun + and warm ourselves.</p> + </div> + <div id="section_3.1.8" class="section"> + <h4 class="section_title"><abbr class="section_number" title="eight">VIII</abbr><br/> + Multiplication Tables</h4> + + <p>It would seem to be the main trouble with + the scientific mind of the second rank that it + overlooks the nature of knowledge in the thirst + for exact knowledge. In an infinite world the + better part of the knowledge a man needs to + have does not need to be exact.</p> + + <p>These things being as they are, it would seem + that the art of reading books through their + <a class="pagenum" id="page278" title="278"> </a>backs is an equally necessary art to a great + scientist and to a great poet. If it is necessary + to great scientists and to great poets it is all the + more necessary to small ones, and to the rest of + us. It is the only way, indeed, in which an immortal + human being of any kind can get what + he deserves to have to live his life with—a + whole cross-section of the universe. A gentleman + and a scholar will take nothing less.</p> + + <p>If a man is to get his cross-section of the universe, + his natural share in it, he can only get it + by living in the qualities of things instead of + the quantities; by avoiding duplicate facts, + duplicate persons, and principles; by using the + multiplication table in knowledge (inference) + instead of adding everything up, by taking all + things in this world (except his specialty) + through their spirits and essences, and, in general, + by reading books through their backs.</p> + + <p>The problem of cultivating these powers in + a man, when reduced to its simplest terms, is + reduced to the problem of cultivating his imagination + or organ of not needing to be told + things.</p> + + <p>However much a man may know about wise + reading and about the principles of economy in + knowledge, in an infinite world the measure of + his knowledge is bound to be determined, in + the long run, by the capacity of his organ of + not needing to be told things—of reading + books through their backs.</p> + </div> + </div> + <div id="chapter_3.2" class="chapter"><a class="pagenum" id="page279" title="279"> </a> + <div class="deco"> + <img src="images/style04.png" width="553" height="124" alt="" /> + </div> + + <h3 class="chapter_title">II—On Reading for Principles</h3> + + <div id="section_3.2.1" class="section"> + <h4 class="section_title"><abbr class="section_number" title="one">I</abbr><br/> + On Changing One’s Conscience</h4> + + <p class="first_paragraph"><span class="first_word">We</span> were sitting by my fireplace—several + of our club. I had just been reading + out loud a little thing of my own. I have forgotten + the title. It was something about Books + that Other People ought to Read, I think. + I stopped rather suddenly, rather more suddenly + than anybody had hoped. At least nobody + had thought what he ought to say about + it. And I saw that the company, after a sort + of general, vague air of having exclaimed properly, + was settling back into the usual helpless + silence one expects—after the appearance of an + idea at clubs.</p> + + <p>“Why doesn’t somebody say something?” + I said.</p> + + <p><a class="pagenum" id="page280" title="280"> </a>P. G. S. of M.: “We are thinking.”</p> + + <p>“Oh,” I said. I tried to feel grateful. But + everybody kept waiting.</p> + + <p>I was a good deal embarrassed and was getting + reckless and was about to make the very + serious mistake, in a club, of seeing if I could + not rescue one idea by going out after it with + another, when The Mysterious Person (who is + the only man in our club whose mind ever + really comes over and plays in my yard) in the + goodness of his heart spoke up. “I have not + heard anything in a long time,” he began (the + club looked at him rather anxiously), “which + has done—which has made me feel—less + ashamed of myself than this paper. <span class="keep_together">I——”</span></p> + + <p>It seemed to me that this was not exactly a + fortunate remark. I said I didn’t doubt I + could do a lot of good that way, probably, if I + wanted to—going around the country making + people less ashamed of themselves.</p> + + <p>“But I don’t mean that I feel really ashamed + of myself about books I have not read,” said + The Mysterious Person. “What I mean is, + that I have a kind of slinking feeling that I + ought to—a feeling of being ashamed for not + being ashamed.”</p> + + <p>I told The M. P. that I thought New England + was full of people; just like him—people + with a lot of left-over consciences.</p> + + <p>The P. G. S. of M. wanted to know what I + meant by that.</p> + + <p>I said I thought there were thousands of + <a class="pagenum" id="page281" title="281"> </a>people—one sees them everywhere in Massachusetts—fairly + intelligent people, people + who are capable of changing their minds + about things, but who can’t change their + consciences. Their consciences seem to keep + hanging on to them, in the same set way—somehow—with + or without their minds. + “Some people’s consciences don’t seem to notice + much, so far as I can see, whether they + have minds connected with them or not.” + “Don’t you know what it is,” I appealed to + the P. G. S. of M., “to get everything all fixed + up with your mind and your reason and your + soul; that certain things that look wrong are + all right,—the very things of all others that you + ought to do and keep on doing,—and then have + your conscience keep right on the same as it + always did—tatting them up against you?”</p> + + <p>The P. G. S. of M. said something about not + spending very much time thinking about his + conscience.</p> + + <p>I said I didn’t believe in it, but I thought + that if a man had one, it was apt to trouble him + a little off and on—especially if the one he had + was one of these left-over ones. “If you had + one of these consciences—I mean the kind of + conscience that pretends to belong to you, and + acts as if it belonged to some one else,” I said + “one of these dead-frog-leg, reflex-action + consciences, working and twitching away on + you day and night, the way I have, you’d + <em>have</em> to think about it sometimes. You’d get + <a class="pagenum" id="page282" title="282"> </a>so ashamed of it. You’d feel trifled with so. + <span class="keep_together">You’d——”</span></p> + + <p>The P. G. S. of M. said something about not + being very much surprised—over my case. He + said that people who changed their minds as + often as I did couldn’t reasonably expect consciences + spry enough.</p> + + <p>His general theory seemed to be that I had + a conscience once and wore it out.</p> + + <p>“It’s getting to be so with everybody nowadays,” + he said. “Nobody is settled. Everything + is blown about. We do not respect + tradition either in ourselves or in the life about + us. No one listens to the Voice of Experience.”</p> + + <p>“There she blows!” I said. I knew it was + coming sooner or later. I added that one of + the great inconveniences of life, it seemed to + me, was the Intolerance of Experienced People.</p> + </div> + <div id="section_3.2.2" class="section"> + <h4 class="section_title"><abbr class="section_number" title="two">II</abbr><br/> + On the Intolerance of Experienced + People</h4> + + + <p>It is generally assumed by persons who have + taken the pains to put themselves in this very + disagreeable class, that people in general—all + other people—are as inexperienced—as they + look. If a man speaks on a subject at all in + their presence, they assume he speaks autobiographically. + These people are getting thicker + <a class="pagenum" id="page283" title="283"> </a>every year. One can’t go anywhere without + finding them standing around with a kind of + “How-do-you-know?” and “Did-it-happen-to-you?” + air every time a man says something + he knows by—well—by seeing it—perfectly + plain seeing it. One doesn’t need to stand up + to one’s neck in experience, in a perfect muck + of experience, in order to know things, in order + to know they are there. People who are experienced + within an inch of their lives, submerged + in experience, until all you can see of them is + a tired look, are always calling out to the man + who sees a thing as he is going by—sees it, I + mean, with his mind; sees it without having + to put his feet in it—they are always calling + out to him to come back and be with them, and + know life, as they call it, and duck under to + Experience. Now, to say nothing of living + with such persons, it is almost impossible to + talk with them. It isn’t safe even to philosophise + when they are around. If a man ventures + the assertion in their presence that what + a woman loves in a lover is complete subjugation + they argue that either he is a fool and is + asserting what he has not experienced, or he is + still more of one and has experienced it. The + idea that a man may have several principles + around him that he has not used yet does not + occur to them. The average amateur mother, + when she belongs to this type, becomes a perfect + bigot toward a maiden aunt who advances, + perhaps, some harmless little Froebel idea. She + <a class="pagenum" id="page284" title="284"> </a>swears by the shibboleth of experience, and + every new baby she has makes her more disagreeable + to people who have not had babies. + The only way to get acquainted with her is to + have a baby. She assumes that a motherless + woman has a motherless mind. The idea that + a rich and bountiful womanhood, which is saving + its motherhood up, which is free from the + absorption and the haste, keenly observant and + sympathetic, may come to a kind of motherly + insight, distinctly the result of not being experienced, + does not occur to her. The art of + getting the result—the spirit of experience, + without paying all the cost of the experience + itself—needs a good word spoken for it nowadays. + Some one has yet to point out the value + and power of what might be called The Maiden-Aunt + Attitude toward Life. The world has + had thousands of experienced young mothers + for thousands of years—experienced out of + their wits—piled up with experiences they + don’t know anything about; but, in the meantime, + the most important contribution to the + bringing-up of children in the world that has + ever been known—the kindergarten—was + thought of in the first place by a man who was + never a mother, and has been developed entirely + in the years that have followed since by + maiden aunts.</p> + + <p>The spiritual power and manifoldness and + largeness which is the most informing quality + of a really cultivated man comes from a certain + <a class="pagenum" id="page285" title="285"> </a>refinement in him, a gift of knowing by tasting. + He seems to have touched the spirits of + a thousand experiences we know he never has + had, and they seem to have left the souls of + sorrows and joys in him. He lives in a kind + of beautiful magnetic fellowship with all real + life in the world. This is only possible by a + sort of unconscious economy in the man’s nature, + a gift of not having to experience things.</p> + + <p>Avoiding experience is one of the great creative + arts of life. We shall have enough before + we die. It is forced upon us. We cannot even + select it, most of it. But, in so far as we can + select it,—in one’s reading, for instance,—it + behooves a man to avoid experience. He at + least wants to avoid experience enough to have + time to stop and think about the experience he + has; to be sure he is getting as much out of his + experience as it is worth.</p> + </div> + <div id="section_3.2.3" class="section"> + <h4 class="section_title"><abbr class="section_number" title="three">III</abbr><br/> + On Having One’s Experience Done + Out</h4> + + <p>“But how can one avoid an experience?”</p> + + <p>By heading it off with a principle. Principles + are a lot of other people’s experiences, in + a convenient form a man can carry around with + him, to keep off his own experiences with.</p> + + <p>No other rule for economising knowledge + can quite take the place, it seems to me, of + <a class="pagenum" id="page286" title="286"> </a>reading for principles. It economises for a + man both ways at once. It not only makes it + possible for a man to have the whole human + race working out his life for him, instead of + having to do it all himself, but it makes it possible + for him to read anything he likes, to get + something out of almost anything he does not + like, which he is obliged to read. If a man has + a habit of reading for principles, for the law + behind everything, he cannot miss it. He + cannot help learning things, even from people + who don’t know them.</p> + + <p>The other evening when The P. G. S. of M. + came into my study, he saw the morning paper + lying unopened on the settle by the fireplace.</p> + + <p>“Haven’t you read this yet?” he said.</p> + + <p>“No, not to-day.”</p> + + <p>“Where are you, anyway? Why not?”</p> + + <p>I said I hadn’t felt up to it yet, didn’t feel + profound enough—something to that effect.</p> + + <p>The P. G. S. of M. thinks a newspaper + should be read in ten minutes. He looked over + at me with a sort of slow, pitying, Boston-Public-Library + expression he has sometimes.</p> + + <p>I behaved as well as I could—took no notice + for a minute.</p> + + <p>“The fact is, I have changed,” I said, + “about papers and some things. I have times + of thinking I’m improved considerably,” I + added recklessly.</p> + + <p>Still the same pained Boston-Public-Library + expression—only turned on a little harder.</p> + + <p><a class="pagenum" id="page287" title="287"> </a>“Seems to me,” I said, “when a man can’t + feel superior to other people in this world, he + might at least be allowed the privilege of feeling + superior to himself once in a while—spells + of it.”</p> + + <p>He intimated that the trouble with me was + that I wanted both. I admitted that I had + cravings for both. I said I thought I’d be a + little easier to get along with, if they were + more satisfied.</p> + + <p>He intimated that I was easier to get along + with than I ought to be, or than I seemed to + think I was. He did not put it in so many + words. The P. G. S. of M. never says anything + that can be got hold of and answered. + Finally I determined to answer him whether + he had said anything or not.</p> + + <p>“Well,” I said, “I may feel superior to + other people sometimes. I may even feel superior + to myself, but I haven’t got to the + point where I feel superior to a newspaper—to + a whole world at once. I don’t try to read it in + ten minutes. I don’t try to make a whole day + of a whole world, a foot-note to my oatmeal + mush! I don’t treat the whole human race, + trooping past my breakfast, as a parenthesis in + my own mind. I don’t try to read a great, + serious, boundless thing like a daily newspaper, + unfolded out of starlight, gleaner of a + thousand sunsets around a world, and talk at + the same time. I don’t say, ‘There’s nothing + in it,’ interrupt a planet to chew my food, + <a class="pagenum" id="page288" title="288"> </a>throw a planet on the floor and look for my + hat…. Nations lunging through space + to say good-morning to me, continents flashed + around my thoughts, seas for the boundaries of + my day’s delight … the great God shining + over all! And may He preserve me from + ever reading a newspaper in ten minutes!”</p> + + <p>I have spent as much time as any one, I + think, in my day, first and last, in feeling superior + to newspapers. I can remember when + I used to enjoy it very much—the feeling, I + mean. I have spent whole half-days at it, + going up and down columns, thinking they + were not good enough for me.</p> + + <p>Now when I take up a morning paper, half-dread, + half-delight, I take it up softly. My + whole being trembles in the balance before it. + The whole procession of my soul, shabby, loveless, + provincial, tawdry, is passed in review + before it. It is the grandstand of the world. + The vast and awful Roll-Call of the things I + ought to be—the things I ought to love—in the + great world voice sweeps over me. It reaches + its way through all my thoughts, through the + minutes of my days. “Where is thy soul? + Oh, where is thy soul?” the morning paper, + up and down its columns, calls to me. There + are days that I ache with the echo of it. + There are days when I dare not read it until + the night. Then the voice that is in it grows + gentle with the darkness, it may be, and is + stilled with sleep.</p> + </div> + <div id="section_3.2.4" class="section"><a class="pagenum" id="page289" title="289"> </a> + <h4 class="section_title"><abbr class="section_number" title="four">IV</abbr><br/> + On Reading a Newspaper in + Ten Minutes</h4> + + <p>I am not saying it does not take a very intelligent + man to read a newspaper in ten minutes—squeeze + a planet at breakfast and drop it. I + think it does. But I am inclined to think that + the intelligent man who reads a newspaper in + ten minutes is exactly the same kind of intelligent + man who could spend a week reading it + if he wanted to, and not waste a minute. And + he might want to. He simply reads a newspaper + as he likes. He is not confined to one + way. He does not read it in ten minutes because + he has a mere ten-minute mind, but because + he merely has the ten minutes. Rapid + reading and slow reading are both based, with + such a man, on appreciation of the paper—and + not upon a narrow, literary, Boston-Public-Library + feeling of being superior to it.</p> + + <p>The value of reading-matter, like other matter, + depends on what a man does with it. All + that one needs in order not to waste time in + general reading is a large, complete set of principles + to stow things away in. Nothing really + needs to be wasted. If one knows where everything + belongs in one’s mind—or tries to,—if + one takes the trouble to put it there, reading a + newspaper is one of the most colossal, tremendous, + and boundless acts that can be performed + <a class="pagenum" id="page290" title="290"> </a>by any one in the whole course of a human + life.</p> + + <p>If there’s any place where a man needs to + have all his wits about him, to put things into,—if + there’s any place where the next three + inches can demand as much of a man as a newspaper, + where is it? The moment he opens it + he lays his soul open and exposes himself to + all sides of the world in a second,—to several + thousand years of a world at once.</p> + + <p>A book is a comparatively safe, unintelligent + place for a mind to be in. There are at least + four walls to it—a few scantlings over one, protecting + one from all space. A man has at least + some remotest idea of where he is, of what may + drop on him, in a book. It may tax his capacity + of stowing things away. But he always + has notice—almost always. It sees that he has + time and room. It has more conveniences for + fixing things. The author is always there + besides, a kind of valet to anybody, to help + people along pleasantly, to anticipate their + wants. It’s what an author is for. One expects + it.</p> + + <p>But a man finds it is different in a morning + paper, rolled out of dreams and sleep into it,—empty, + helpless before a day, all the telegraph + machines of the world thumping all the night, + clicked into one’s thoughts before one thinks—no + man really has room in him to read a + morning paper. No man’s soul is athletic or + swift enough…. Nations in a sentence. + <a class="pagenum" id="page291" title="291"> </a>… Thousands of years in a minute, philosophies, + religions, legislatures, paleozoics, + church socials, side by side; stars and gossip, + fools, heroes, comets—infinity on parade, and + over the precipice of the next paragraph, head-long—who + knows what!</p> + + <p>Reading a morning paper is one of the supreme + acts of presence of mind in a human life.</p> + </div> + <div id="section_3.2.5" class="section"> + <h4 class="section_title"><abbr class="section_number" title="five">V</abbr><br/> + General Information</h4> + + <p>“But what is going to become of us?” some + one says, “if a man has to go through ‘the + supreme act of presence of mind in a whole + human life,’ every morning—and every morning + before he goes to business? It takes as + much presence of mind as most men have, + mornings, barely to get up.”</p> + + <p>Well, of course, I admit, if a man’s going + to read a newspaper to toe the line of all his + convictions; if he insists on taking the newspaper + as a kind of this-morning’s junction of + all knowledge, he will have to expect to be a + rather anxious person. One could hardly get + one paper really read through in this way in + one’s whole life. If a man is always going + to read the news of the globe in such a serious, + sensitive, suggestive, improving, Atlas-like + fashion, it would be better he had never + learned to read at all. At all events, if it’s + <a class="pagenum" id="page292" title="292"> </a>a plain question between a man’s devouring + his paper or letting his paper devour him, of + course the only way to do is to begin the day + by reading something else, or by reading it in + ten minutes and forgetting it in ten more. One + would certainly rather be headlong—a mere + heedless, superficial globe-trotter with one’s + mind, than not to have any mind—to be wiped + out at one’s breakfast table, to be soaked up + into infinity every morning, to be drawn off, + evaporated into all knowledge, to begin one’s + day scattered around the edges of all the world. + One would do almost anything to avoid this. + And it is what always happens if one reads for + principles pell-mell.</p> + + <p>All that I am claiming for reading for principles + is, that if one reads for principles, one + really cannot miss it in reading. There is always + something there, and a man who treats a + newspaper as if it were not good enough for + him falls short of himself.</p> + + <p>The same is true of desultory reading so-called, + of the habit of general information, and + of the habit of going about noticing things—noticing + things over one’s shoulder.</p> + + <p>I am inclined to think that desultory reading + is as good if not better for a man than any + other reading he can do, if he organises it—has + habitual principles and swift channels of + thought to pour it into. I do not think it is at + all unlikely from such peeps as we common + mortals get into the minds of men of genius, + <a class="pagenum" id="page293" title="293"> </a>that their desultory reading (in the fine strenuous + sense) has been the making of them. The + intensely suggestive habit of thought, the prehensile + power in a mind, the power of grasping + wide-apart facts and impressions, of putting + them into prompt handfuls, where anything + can be done with them that one likes, could + not possibly be cultivated to better advantage + than by the practice of masterful and regular + desultory reading.</p> + + <p>Certainly the one compelling trait in a work + of genius, whether in music, painting, or literature, + the trait of untraceableness, the semi-miraculous + look, the feeling things give us + sometimes, in a great work of art, of being at + once impossible together, and inevitable together,—has + its most natural background in + what would seem at first probably, to most + minds, incidental or accidental habits of observation.</p> + + <p>One always knows a work of art of the second + rank by the fact that one can place one’s + hand on big blocks of material in it almost + everywhere, material which has been taken + bodily and moved over from certain places. + And one always knows a work of art of the + first rank by the fact that it is absolutely defiant + and elusive. There is a sense of infinity—a + gathered-from-everywhere sense in it—of + things which belong and have always belonged + side by side and exactly where they are put, + but which no one had put there.</p> + + <p><a class="pagenum" id="page294" title="294"> </a>It would be hard to think of any intellectual + or spiritual habit more likely to give a man a + bi-sexual or at least a cross-fertilising mind, + than the habit of masterful, wilful, elemental, + desultory reading. The amount of desultory + reading a mind can do, and do triumphantly, + may be said to be perhaps the supreme test of + the actual energy of the mind, of the vital heat + in it, of its melting-down power, its power of + melting everything through, and blending everything + in, to the great central essence of life.</p> + + <p>No more adequate plan, or, as the architects + call it, no better elevation for a man could possibly + be found than a daily newspaper of the + higher type. For scope, points of view, topics, + directions of interest, catholicity, many-sidedness, + world-wideness, for all the raw material + a large and powerful man must needs be made + out of, nothing could possibly excel a daily + newspaper. Plenty of smaller artists have been + made in the world and will be made again in + it—hothouse or parlour artists—men whose + work has very little floor-space in it, one- or + two-story men, and there is no denying that + they have their place, but there never has been + yet, and there never will be, I venture to say, + a noble or colossal artist or artist of the first + rank who shall not have as many stories in + him as a daily newspaper. The immortal is + the universal in a man looming up. If the + modern critic who is looking about in this world + of ours for the great artist would look where + <a class="pagenum" id="page295" title="295"> </a>the small ones are afraid to go, he would stand + a fair chance of finding what he is looking for. + If one were to look about for a general plan, a + rough draft or sketch of the mind of an Immortal, + he will find that mind spread out before + him in the interests and passions, the giant + sorrows and delights of his morning paper.</p> + + <p>I am not coming out in this chapter to defend + morning papers. One might as well pop up in + one’s place on this globe, wherever one is on it, + and say a good word for sunrises. What immediately + interests me in this connection is the + point that if a man reads for principles in this + world he will have time and take time to be + interested in a great many things in it. The + point seems to be that there is nothing too + great or too small for a human brain to carry + away with it, if it will have a place to put it. + All one has to do, to get the good of a man, a + newspaper, a book, or any other action, a paragraph, + or even the blowing of a wind, is to + lift it over to its principle, see it and delight in + it as a part of the whole, of the eternal, and of + the running gear of things. Reading for principles + may make a man seem very slow at first—several + years slower than other people—but + as every principle he reads with makes it possible + to avoid at least one experience, and, at + the smallest calculation, a hundred books, he + soon catches up. It would be hard to find a + better device for reading books through their + backs, for travelling with one’s mind, than the + <a class="pagenum" id="page296" title="296"> </a>habit of reading for principles. A principle is + a sort of universal car-coupling. One can be + joined to any train of thought in all Christendom + with it, and rolled in luxury around the + world in the private car of one’s own mind.</p> + + <p>But it is not so much as a luxury as a convenience + that reading for principles appeals to + a vigorous mind. It is the short-cut to knowledge. + The man who is once started in reading + for principles is not long in distancing the + rest of us, because all the reading that he does + goes into growth,—is saved up in a few handy, + prompt generalisations. His whole being becomes + alert and supple. He has the under-hold + in dealing with nature, grips hold the law + of the thing and rules it. He is capable of far + reaches where others go step by step. In + every age of the world of thought he goes + about giant-like, lifting worlds with a laugh, + doing with the very playing of his mind work + which crowds of other minds toiling on their + crowds of facts could not accomplish. He is + only able to do this by being a master of principles. + He has made himself a man who can + handle a principle, a sum-total of a thousand + facts as easily as other men, men with bare + scientific minds, can handle one of the facts. + He thinks like a god—not a very difficult thing + to do. Any man can do it after thirty or forty + years, if he gives himself the chance, if he reads + for principles, keeps his imagination—the way + Emerson did, for instance—sound and alive + <a class="pagenum" id="page297" title="297"> </a>all through. He does not need to deny that + the bare scientific method, the hugging of the + outside of a thing, the being deliberately superficial + and literal—the needing to know all of + the facts, is a useful and necessary method at + times; but outside of his specialty he takes the + ground that the scientific method is not the + normal method through which a man acquires + his knowledge, but a secondary and useful + method for verifying the knowledge he has. + He acquires knowledge through the constant + exercise of his mind with principles. He is full + of subtle experiences he never had. He appears + to other minds, perhaps, to go to the truth + with a flash, but he probably does not. He + does not have to go to the truth. He has the + truth on the premises right where he can get + at it, in its most convenient, most compact and + spiritual form. To write or think or act he has + but to strike down through the impressions, + the experiences,—the saved-up experiences,—of + his life, and draw up their principles.</p> + + <p>A great deal has been said from time to time + among the good of late about the passing of + the sermon as a practical working force. A + great deal has been said among the literary + about the passing of the essay. Much has been + said also about the passing of poetry and the + passing of religion in our modern life. It + would not be hard to prove that what has been + called, under the pressure of the moment, the + passing of religion and poetry, and of the + <a class="pagenum" id="page298" title="298"> </a>sermon and the essay, could fairly be traced to + the temporary failure of education, the disappearance + in the modern mind of the power of + reading for principles. The very farm-hands + of New England were readers for principles + once—men who looked back of things—philosophers. + Philosophers grew like the grass on + a thousand hills. Everybody was a philosopher + a generation ago. The temporary obscuration + of religion and poetry and the sermon and the + essay at the present time is largely due to the + fact that generalisation has been trained out of + our typical modern minds. We are mobbed + with facts. We are observers of the letter of + things rather than of the principles and spirits + of things. The letter has been heaped upon us. + Poetry and religion and the essay and the sermon + are all alike, in that they are addressed to + what can be taken for granted in men—to sum-totals + of experience—the power of seeing sum-totals. + They are addressed to generalising + minds. The essayist of the highest rank induces + conviction by playing upon the power of + generalisation, by arousing the associations + and experiences that have formed the principles + of his reader’s mind. He makes his appeal + to the philosophic imagination.</p> + + <p>It is true that a man may not be infallible in + depending upon his imagination or principle-gathering + organ for acquiring knowledge, and + in the nature of things it is subject to correction + and verification, but as a positive, practical, + <a class="pagenum" id="page299" title="299"> </a>economical working organ in a world as large + as this, an imagination answers the purpose as + well as anything. To a finite man who finds + himself in an infinite world it is the one possible + practicable outfit for living in it.</p> + + <p>Reading for principles is its most natural + gymnasium.</p> + </div> + <div id="section_3.2.6" class="section"> + <h4 class="section_title"><abbr class="section_number" title="six">VI</abbr><br/> + <span class="keep_together">But——</span></h4> + + <p>I had finished writing these chapters on the + philosophic mind, and was just reading them + over, thinking how true they were, and how + valuable they were for me, and how I must act + on them, when I heard a soft “Pooh!” from + somewhere way down in the depths of my being. + When I had stopped and thought, I saw + it was my Soul trying to get my attention. “I + do not want you always reading for principles,” + said my Soul stoutly, “reading for a philosophic + mind. I do not want a philosophic + mind on the premises.”</p> + + <p>“Very well,” I said.</p> + + <p>“You do not want one yourself,” my Soul + said, “you would be bored to death with one—with + a mind that’s always reading for principles!”</p> + + <p>“I’m not so sure,” I said.</p> + + <p>“You always are with other people’s.”</p> + + <p>“Well, there’s Meakins,” I admitted.</p> + + <p><a class="pagenum" id="page300" title="300"> </a>“You wouldn’t want a Meakins kind of a + mind, would you?” (Meakins is always reading + for principles.)</p> + + <p>I refused to answer at once. I knew I didn’t + want Meakins’s, but I wanted to know why. + Then I fell to thinking. Hence this chapter.</p> + + <p>Meakins has changed, I said to myself. The + trouble with him isn’t that he reads for principles, + but he is getting so he cannot read for + anything else. What a man really wants, it + seems to me, is the use of a philosophic mind. + He wants one where he can get at it, where he + can have all the benefit of it without having to + live with it. It’s quite another matter when a + man gives his mind up, his own everyday mind—the + one he lives with—lets it be coldly, deliberately + philosophised through and through. + It’s a kind of disease.</p> + + <p>When Meakins visits me now, the morning + after he is gone I take a piece of paper and + sum his visit up in a row of propositions. + When he came before five years ago—his visit + was summed up in a great desire in me, a lift, + a vow to the universe. He had the same ideas, + but they all glowed out into a man. They + came to me as a man and for a man—a free, + emancipated, emancipating, world-loving, + world-making man—a man out in the open, + making all the world his comrade. His appeal + was personal.</p> + + <p>Visiting with him now is like sitting down + with a stick or pointer over you and being compelled + <a class="pagenum" id="page301" title="301"> </a>to study a map. He doesn’t care anything + about me except as one more piece of + paper to stamp his map on. And he doesn’t + care anything about the world he has the map + of, except that it is the world that goes with + his map. When a man gets into the habit of + always reading for principles back of things—back + of real, live, particular things—he becomes + inhuman. He forgets the things. + Meakins bores people, because he is becoming + inhuman. He treats human beings over and + over again unconsciously, when he meets them, + as mere generalisations on legs. His mind + seems a great sea of abstractions—just a few + real things floating palely around in it for illustrations. + When I try to rebuke him for being + a mere philosopher or man without hands, he + is “setting his universe in order,” he says—making + his surveys. He may be living in his + philosophic mind now, breaking out his intellectual + roads but he is going to travel on them + later, he explains.</p> + + <p>In the meantime I notice one thing about + the philosophic mind. It not only does not do + things. It cannot even be talked with. It is + not interested in things in particular. There + is something garrulously, pedagogically unreal + about it,—at least there is about Meakins’s. + You cannot so much as mention a real or particular + thing to Meakins but he brings out a + row of fifteen or twenty principles that go + with it, which his mind has peeked around and + <a class="pagenum" id="page302" title="302"> </a>found behind it. By the time he has floated + out about fifteen of them—of these principles + back of a thing—you begin to wonder if the + thing was there for the principles to be back of. + You hope it wasn’t.</p> + + <p>As fond as I am of him, I cannot get at him + nowadays in a conversation. He is always just + around back of something. He is a ghost. I + come home praying Heaven, every time I see + him, not to let me evaporate. He talks about + the future of humanity by the week, but I + find he doesn’t notice humanity in particular. + You cannot interest him in talking to + him about himself, or even in letting him do + his own talking about himself. He is a mere + detail to himself. You are another detail. + What you are and what he is are both mere + footnotes to a philosophy. All history is a footnote + to it—or at best a marginal illustration. + There is no such thing as communing with + Meakins unless you use (as I do) a torpedo or + battering-ram as a starter. If you let him have + his way he sits in his chair and in his deep, + beautiful voice addresses a row of remarks to + The Future in General—the only thing big + enough or worth while to talk to. He sits + perfectly motionless (except the whites of his + eyes) and talks deeply and tenderly and instructively + to the Next Few Hundred Years—to + posterity, to babes not yet in their mothers’ + wombs, while his dearest friends sit by.</p> + + <p>If ever there was a man who could take a + <a class="pagenum" id="page303" title="303"> </a>whole roomful of warm, vital people, sitting + right next to him, pulsing and glowing in their + joys and their sins, and with one single heroic + motion of an imperious hand drop them softly + and lovingly over into Fatuity and Oblivion in + five minutes and leave them out of the world + before their own eyes, it is Theophilus Meakins. + I try sometimes—but I cannot really do + it.</p> + + <p>He does not really commune with things or + with persons at all. He gets what he wants + out of them. You feel him putting people, + when he meets them, through his philosophy. + He makes them over while they wait, into extracts. + A man may keep on afterward living + and growing, throbbing and being, but he does + not exist to Meakins except in his bottle. A + man cannot help feeling with Meakins afterward + the way milk feels probably, if it could + only express it, when it’s been put through + one of these separators, had the cream taken + off of it. Half the world is skim-milk to him. + But what does it matter to Meakins? He has + them in his philosophy. He does the same + way with things as with people. He puts in + all nature as a parenthesis, and a rather condescending, + explanatory one at that, a symbol, a + kind of beckoning, an index-finger to God. + He never notices a tree for itself. A great elm + would have to call out to him, fairly shout at + him, right under its arms: “Oh, Theophilus + Meakins, author of <cite>The Habit of Eternity</cite>, + <a class="pagenum" id="page304" title="304"> </a>author of <cite>The Evolution of the Ego</cite> look + at ME, I also am alive, even as thou art. + Canst thou not stop one moment and be glad + with <em>me</em>? Have I not a thousand leaves glistening + and glorying in the great sun? Have + I not a million roots feeling for the stored-up + light in the ground, reaching up God to me + out of the dark? Have I not”—“It is one of + the principles of the flux of society,” breaks in + Theophilus Meakins, “as illustrated in all the + processes of the natural world—the sap of this + tree,” said he, “for instance,” brushing the elm-tree + off into space, “that the future of mankind + depends and always must depend <span class="keep_together">upon——”</span></p> + + <p>“The flux of society be <span class="keep_together">——,”</span> said I in holy + wrath. I stopped him suddenly, the elm-tree + still holding its great arms above us. “Do + you suppose that God,” I said, “is in any such + small business as to make an elm-tree like this—like + THIS (look at it, man!), and put it on + the earth, have it waving around on it, just to + illustrate one of your sermons? Now, my dear + fellow, I’m not going to have you lounging + around in your mind with an elm-tree like this + any longer. I want you to come right over to + it,” said I, taking hold of him, “and sit down + on one of its roots, and lean up against its + trunk and learn something, live with it a minute—get + blessed by it. The flux of society can + wait,” I said.</p> + + <p>Meakins is always tractable enough, when + shouted at, or pounded on a little. We sat + <a class="pagenum" id="page305" title="305"> </a>down under the tree for quite a while, perfectly + still. I can’t say what it did for Meakins. But + it helped me—just barely leaning against the + trunk of it helped me, under the circumstances, + a great deal.</p> + + <p>No one will believe it, I suppose, but we + hadn’t gotten any more than fifteen feet away + from the shadow of that tree when “The + principles of the flux of society,” said he, + <span class="keep_together">“demand——”</span></p> + + <p>“Now, my dear fellow,” I said, “there are + a lot more elm-trees we really ought to take in, + on this walk. <span class="keep_together">We——”</span></p> + + <p>“I SAY!” said Meakins, his great voice + roaring on my little polite, opposing sentence + like surf over a pebble, “that the <span class="keep_together">principles——”</span></p> + + <p>Then I grew wroth. I always do when + Meakins treats what I say just as a pebble to + get more roar out of, on the great bleak shore + of his thoughts. “No one says anything!” I + cried; “if any one says anything—if you say + another word, my dear fellow, on this walk, I + will sing <cite>Old Hundred</cite> as loud as I can all the + way home.”</p> + + <p>He promised to be good—after a half-mile or + so. I caught him looking at me, harking back + to an old, wonderfully sweet, gentle, human, + understanding smile he has—or used to have + before he was a philosopher.</p> + + <p>Then he quietly mentioned a real thing and + we talked about real things for four miles.</p> + + <p><a class="pagenum" id="page306" title="306"> </a>I remember we sat under the stars that night + after the world was folded up, and asleep, and + I think we really felt the stars as we sat there—not + as a roof for theories of the world, but we + felt them as stars—shared the night with them, + lit our hearts at them. Then we silently, happily, + at last, both of us, like awkward, wondering + boys, went to bed.</p> + + </div> + <div class="deco"> + <img src="images/style13.png" width="486" height="248" alt="" /> + </div> + </div> + <div id="chapter_3.3" class="chapter"><a class="pagenum" id="page307" title="307"> </a> + <div class="deco"> + <img src="images/style06.png" width="559" height="125" alt="" /> + </div> + <h3 class="chapter_title">III—Reading Down Through</h3> + <div id="section_3.3.1" class="section"> + <h4 class="section_title"><abbr class="section_number" title="one">I</abbr><br/> + Inside</h4> + + <p class="first_paragraph"><span class="first_word">It</span> is always the same way. I no sooner get + a good, pleasant, interesting, working idea, + like this “Reading for Principles,” arranged + and moved over, and set up in my mind, than + some insinuating, persistent, concrete human + being comes along, works his way in to illustrate + it, and spoils it. Here is Meakins, for + instance. I have been thinking on the other + side of my thought every time I have thought + of him. I have no more sympathy than any + one with a man who spends all his time going + round and round in his reading and everything + else, swallowing a world up in principles. + “Why should a good, live, sensible man,” I + <a class="pagenum" id="page308" title="308"> </a>feel like saying, “go about in a world like this + stowing his truths into principles, where, half + the time, he cannot get at them himself, and + no one else would want to?” Going about + swallowing one’s experience up in principles is + very well so far as it goes. But it is far better + to go about swallowing up one’s principles into + one’s self.</p> + + <p>A man who has lived and read into himself + for many years does not need to read very + many books. He has the gist of nine out of + ten new books that are published. He knows, + or as good as knows, what is in them, by taking + a long, slow look at his own heart. So + does everybody else.</p> + + </div> + <div id="section_3.3.2" class="section"> + <h4 class="section_title"><abbr class="section_number" title="two">II</abbr><br/> + On Being Lonely with a Book</h4> + + <p>The P. G. S. of M. said that as far as he + could make out, judging from the way I talked, + my main ambition in the world seemed to be to + write a book that would throw all publishers + and libraries out of employment. “And what + will your book amount to, when you get it + done?” he said. “If it’s convincing—the + way it ought to be—it will merely convince + people they oughtn’t to have read it.”</p> + + <p>“And that’s been done before,” I said. + “Almost any book could do it.” I ventured + to add that I thought people grew intelligent + <a class="pagenum" id="page309" title="309"> </a>enough in one of my books—even in the first + two or three chapters, not to read the rest of it. + I said all I hoped to accomplish was to get people + to treat other men’s books in the same way + that they treated mine—treat everything that + way—take things for granted, get the spirit of + a thing, then go out and gloat on it, do something + with it, live with it—anything but this + going on page after page using the spirit of a + thing all up, reading with it.</p> + + <p>“Reading down through in a book seems a + great deal more important to me than merely + reading the book through.”</p> + + <p>I expected that The P. G. S. of M. would ask + me what I meant by reading down through, + but he didn’t. He was still at large, worrying + about the world. “I have no patience + with it—your idea,” he broke out. “It’s all + in the air. It’s impractical enough, anyway, + just as an idea, and it’s all the more impractical + when it’s carried out. So far as I can see, + at the rate you’re carrying on,” said The P. G. + S. of M., “what with improving the world and + all with your book, there isn’t going to be + anything but You and your Book left.”</p> + + <p>“Might be worse,” I said. “What one + wants in a book after the first three or four + chapters, or in a world either, it seems to me, + is not its facts merely, nor its principles, but + one’s self—one’s real relation of one’s real + self, I mean, to some real fact. If worst came + to worst and I had to be left all alone, I’d + <a class="pagenum" id="page310" title="310"> </a>rather be alone with myself, I think, than with + anybody. It’s a deal better than being lonely + the way we all are nowadays—with such a lot + of other people crowding round, that one has + to be lonely with, and books and newspapers + and things besides. One has to be lonely so + much in civilisation, there are so many things + and persons that insist on one’s coming over + and being lonely with them, that being lonely + in a perfectly plain way, all by one’s self—the + very thought of it seems to me, comparatively + speaking, a relief. It’s not what it ought to + be, but it’s something.”</p> + + <p>I feel the same way about being lonely with + a book. I find that the only way to keep from + being lonely in a book—that is, to keep from + being crowded on to the outside of it, after the + first three or four chapters—is to read the first + three or four chapters all over again—read + them down through. I have to get hold of my + principles in them, and then I have to work + over my personal relation to them. When I + make sure of that, when I make sure of my + personal relation to the author, and to his + ideas, and there is a fairly acquainted feeling + with both of us, then I can go on reading for + all I am worth—or all he is worth anyway, + whichever breaks down first—and no more said + about it. Everything means something to + everybody when one reads down through. The + only way an author and reader can keep from + wasting each other’s time, it seems to me, at + <a class="pagenum" id="page311" title="311"> </a>least from having spells of wasting it, is to + begin by reading down through.</p> + + </div> + <div id="section_3.3.3" class="section"> + <h4 class="section_title"><abbr class="section_number" title="three">III</abbr><br/> + Keeping Other Minds Off</h4> + + <p>What I really mean by reading down through + in a book, I suppose, is reading down through + in it to myself. I dare say this does not seem + worthy. It is quite possible, too, that there is + no real defence for it—I mean for my being so + much interested in myself in the middle of + other people’s books. My theory about it is + that the most important thing in this world for + a man’s life is his being original in it. Being + original consists, I take it, not in being different, + but in being honest—really having something + in one’s own inner experience which one + has anyway, and which one knows one has, + and which one has all for one’s own, whether + any one else has ever had it or not. Being + original consists in making over everything + one sees and reads, into one’s self.</p> + + <p>Making over what one reads into one’s self + may be said to be the only way to have a really + safe place for knowledge. If a man takes his + knowledge and works it all over into what he + is, sense and spirit, it may cost more at first, + but it is more economical in the long run, because + none of it can possibly be lost. And it + can all be used on the place.</p> + + <p><a class="pagenum" id="page312" title="312"> </a>I do not know how it is with others nowadays, + but I find that this feeling of originality + in an experience, in my own case, is exceedingly + hard to keep. It has to be struggled for.</p> + + <p>Of course, one has a theory in a general way + that one does not want an original mind if he + has to get it by keeping other people’s minds + off, and yet there is a certain sense in which if + he does not do it at certain times—have regular + periods of keeping other people’s minds off, + he would lose for life the power of ever finding + his own under them. Most men one knows + nowadays, if they were to spend all the rest of + their lives peeling other men’s minds off, would + not get down to their own before they died. It + seems to be supposed that what a mind is for—at + least in civilisation—is to have other men’s + minds on top of it.</p> + + <p>It is the same way in books—at least I find + it so myself when I get to reading in a book, + reading so fast I cannot stop in it. Nearly all + books, especially the good ones, have a way of + overtaking a man—riding his originality down. + It seems to be assumed that if a man ever did + get down to his own mind by accident, whether + in a book or anywhere else, he would not know + what to do with it.</p> + + <p>And this is not an unreasonable assumption. + Even the man who gets down to his mind regularly + hardly knows what to do with it part of + the time. But it makes having a mind interesting. + There’s a kind of pleasant, lusty feeling + <a class="pagenum" id="page313" title="313"> </a>in it—a feeling of reality and honesty that + makes having a mind—even merely one’s own + mind—seem almost respectable.</p> + + </div> + <div id="section_3.3.4" class="section"> + <h4 class="section_title"><abbr class="section_number" title="four">IV</abbr><br/> + Reading Backwards</h4> + + <p>Sir Joshua Reynolds gives the precedence to + the Outside, to authority instead of originality, + in the early stages of education, because when + he went to Italy he met the greatest experience + of his life. He found that much of his originality + was wrong.</p> + + <p>If Sir Joshua Reynolds had gone to Italy + earlier he would never have been heard of except + as a copyist, lecturer, or colour-commentator. + The real value of Sir Joshua Reynolds’s + “Discourses on Art” is the man in spite of the + lecturer. What the man stands for is,—Be + original. Get headway of personal experience, + some power of self-teaching. Then when you + have something to work on, organs that act + and react on what is presented to them, confront + your Italy—whatever it may be—and the + Past, and give yourself over to it. The result + is paradox and power, a receptive, creative + man, an obeying and commanding, but self-centred + and self-poised man, world-open, subject + to the whole world and yet who has a + whole world subject to him, either by turns or + at will.</p> + + <p><a class="pagenum" id="page314" title="314"> </a>What Sir Joshua conveys to his pupils is not + his art, but his mere humility about his art—<em lang="la" xml:lang="la">i. e.</em>, + his most belated experience, his finishing + touch, as an artist.</p> + + <p>The result is that having accidentally received + an ideal education, having begun his + education properly, with self-command, he + completed his career with a kind of Reynoldsocracy—a + complacent, teachery, levelling-down + command of others. While Sir Joshua + Reynolds was an artist, he became one because + he did not follow his own advice. The fact + that he would have followed it if he had had + a chance shows what his art shows, namely, + that he did not intend to be any more original + than he could help. It is interesting, however, + that having acquired the blemish of originality + in early youth, he never could get rid of enough + of it before he died, not to be tolerated among + the immortals.</p> + + <p>His career is in many ways the most striking + possible illustration of what can be brought to + pass when a human being without genius is + by accident brought up with the same principles + and order of education and training that + men of genius have—education by one’s self; + education by others, under the direction of + one’s self. Sir Joshua Reynolds would have + been incapable of education by others under + direction of himself, if he had not been kept ignorant + and creative and English, long enough + to get a good start with himself before he went + <a class="pagenum" id="page315" title="315"> </a>down to Italy to run a race with Five Hundred + Years. In his naive, almost desperate shame + over the plight of being almost a genius, he + overlooks this, but his fame is based upon it. + He devoted his old age to trying to train young + men into artists by teaching them to despise + their youth in their youth, because, when he + was an old man, he despised his.</p> + + <p>What seems to be necessary is to strike a + balance, in one’s reading.</p> + + <p>It’s all well enough; indeed, there’s nothing + better than having one’s originality ridden + down. One wants it ridden down half the + time. The trouble comes in making provision + for catching up, for getting one’s breath after + it. I have found, for instance, that it has become + absolutely necessary so far as I am concerned, + if I am to keep my little mind’s start + in the world, to begin the day by not reading + the newspaper in the morning. Unless I can + get headway—some thought or act or cry or + joy of my own—something that is definitely in + my own direction first, there seems to be no + hope for me all day long. Most people, I + know, would not agree to this. They like to + take a swig of all-space, a glance at everybody + while the world goes round, before they settle + down to their own little motor on it. They + like to feel that the world is all right before + they go ahead. So would I, but I have tried + it again—and again. The world is too much + for me in the morning. My own little motor + <a class="pagenum" id="page316" title="316"> </a>comes to a complete stop. I simply want to + watch the Big One going round and round. I + cannot seem to stop somehow—begin puttering + once more with my Little One. If I begin at + all, I have to begin at once. In my heart I + feel the Big One over me all the while, circling + over me, blessing me. But I keep from noticing. + I know no other way, and drive on. The + world is getting to be—has to be—to me a + purely afternoon or evening affair. I have a + world of my own for morning use. I hold to + it, one way or the other, with a cheerful smile + or like grim death, until the clock says twelve + and the sun turns the corner, and the book + drops. It does not seem to make very much + difference what kind of a world I am in, or + what is going on in it, so that it is all my own, + and the only way I know to do, is to say or + read or write or use the things first in it which + make it my own the most. The one thing I + want in the morning is to let my soul light its + own light, appropriate some one thing, glow it + through with itself. When I have satisfied the + hunger for making a bit of the great world over + into my world, I am ready for the world as a + world—streets and newspapers of it,—silent + and looking, in it, until sleep falls.</p> + + <p>It is because men lie down under it, allow + themselves to be rolled over by it, that the + modern newspaper, against its will, has become + the great distracting machine of modern times. + As I live and look about me, everywhere I find + <a class="pagenum" id="page317" title="317"> </a>a great running to and fro of editors across the + still earth. Every editor has his herd, is a + kind of bell-wether, has a great paper herd + flocking at his heels. “Is not the world + here?” I say, “and am I not here to look at + it? Can I really see a world better by joining + a Cook’s Excursion on it, sweeping round the + earth in a column, seeing everything in a column, + looking over the shoulder of a crowd?” + Sometimes it seems as if the whole modern, + reading, book-and-paper outfit were simply a + huge, crunching Mass-Machine—a machine for + arranging every man’s mind from the outside.</p> + + <p>Originality may be said to depend upon a + balance of two things, the power of being interested + in other people’s minds and the power + of being more interested in one’s own. In its + last analysis, it is the power a man’s mind has + of minding its own business, which, even in + another man’s book, makes the book real and + absorbing to him. It is the least compliment + one can pay a book. The only honest way to + commune with a real man either in a book or + out of it is to do one’s own share of talking. + Both the book and the man say better things + when talked back to. In reading a great book + one finds it allows for this. In reading a poor + one the only way to make it worth while, to + find anything in it, is to put it there. The + most self-respecting course when one finds + one’s self in the middle of a poor book is to + turn right around in it, and write it one’s self. + <a class="pagenum" id="page318" title="318"> </a>As has been said by Hoffentotter (in the fourteenth + chapter of his great masterpiece): “If + you find that you cannot go on, gentle reader, + in the reading of this book, pray read it backwards.”</p> + + <p>The original man, the man who insists on + keeping the power in a mind of minding its + own business, is much more humble than he + looks. All he feels is, that his mind has been + made more convenient to him than to anybody + else and that if anyone is going to use it, he + must. It is not a matter of assuming that one’s + own mind is superior. A very poor mind, on + the premises, put right in with one’s own body, + carefully fitted to it, to one’s very nerves and + senses, is worth all the other minds in the + world. It may be conceit to believe this, and + it may be self-preservation. But, in any case, + keeping up an interest in one’s own mind is + excusable. Even the humblest man must admit + that the first, the most economical, the + most humble, the most necessary thing for a + man to do in reading in this world (if he can + do it) is to keep up an interest in his own mind.</p> + </div> + </div> + <div id="chapter_3.4" class="chapter"><a class="pagenum" id="page319" title="319"> </a> + <div class="deco"> + <img src="images/style07.png" width="551" height="123" alt="" /> + </div> + + <h3 class="chapter_title">IV—Reading for Facts</h3> + <div id="section_3.4.1" class="section"> + <h4 class="section_title"><abbr class="section_number" title="one">I</abbr><br/> + Calling the Meeting to Order</h4> + + <p class="first_paragraph"><span class="first_word">Reading</span> for persons makes a man a poet + or artist, makes him dramatic with his + mind—puts the world-stage into him.</p> + + <p>Reading for principles makes a man a philosopher. + Reading for facts makes a <span class="keep_together">man——</span></p> + + <p>“It doesn’t make a man,” spoke up the + Mysterious Person.</p> + + <p>“Oh, yes,” I said, “if he reads a few of + them—if he takes time to do something with + them—he can make a man out of them, if he + wants to, as well as anything else.”</p> + + <p>The great trouble with scientific people and + others who are always reading for facts is that + they forget what facts are for. They use their + minds as museums. They are like Ole Bill + <a class="pagenum" id="page320" title="320"> </a>Spear. They take you up into their garret + and point to a bushel-basketful of something + and then to another bushel-basket half-full of + some more. Then they say in deep tones and + with solemn faces: “This is the largest collection + of burnt matches in the world.”</p> + + <p>It’s what reading for facts brings a man to, + generally—fact for fact’s sake. He lunges + along for facts wherever he goes. He cannot + stop. All an outsider can do in such cases, + with nine out of ten scientific or collecting + minds, is to watch them sadly in a dull, trance-like, + helpless inertia of facts, sliding on to + Ignorance.</p> + + <p>What seems to be most wanted in reading for + facts in a world as large as this is some reasonable + principle of economy. The great problem + of reading for facts—travelling with one’s + mind—is the baggage problem. To have every + fact that one needs and to throw away every + fact that one can get along without, is the + secret of having a comfortable and practicable, + live, happy mind in modern knowledge—a + mind that gets somewhere—that gets the + hearts of things.</p> + + <p>The best way to arrange this seems to be to + have a sentinel in one’s mind in reading.</p> + + <p>Every man finds in his intellectual life, + sooner or later, that there are certain orders + and kinds of facts that have a way of coming + to him of their own accord and without being + asked. He is half amused sometimes and half + <a class="pagenum" id="page321" title="321"> </a>annoyed by them. He has no particular use + for them. He dotes on them some, perhaps, + pets them a little—tells them to go away, but + they keep coming back. Apropos of nothing, + in the way of everything, they keep hanging + about while he attends to the regular business + of his brain, and say: “Why don’t you do + something with Me?”</p> + + <p>What I would like to be permitted to do in + this chapter is to say a good word for these + involuntary, helpless, wistful facts that keep + tagging a man’s mind around. I know that I + am exposing myself in standing up for them to + the accusation that I have a mere irrelevant, + sideways, intellectually unbusinesslike sort of + a mind. I can see my championship even + now being gently but firmly set one side. + “It’s all of a piece—this pleasant, yielding + way with ideas,” people say. “It goes with + the slovenly, lazy, useless, polite state of mind + always, and the general ball-bearing view of + life.”</p> + + <p>It seems to me that if a man has a few involuntary, + instinctive facts about him, facts that + fasten themselves on to his thoughts whether + he wants them there or not, facts that keep on + working for him of their own accord, down + under the floor of his mind, passing things up, + running invisible errands for him, making + short-cuts for him—it seems to me that if a + man has a few facts like this in him, facts that + serve him like the great involuntary servants of + <a class="pagenum" id="page322" title="322"> </a>Nature, whether they are noticed or not, he + ought to find it worth his while to do something + in return, conduct his life with reference + to them. They ought to have the main chance + at him. It seems reasonable also that his reading + should be conducted with reference to + them.</p> + + <p>It is no mere literary prejudice, and it seems + to be a truth for the scientist as well as for the + poet, that the great involuntary facts in a man’s + life, the facts he does not select, the facts that + select him, the facts that say to him, “Come + thou and live with us, make a human life out + of us that men may know us,” are the facts of + all others which ought to have their way sooner + or later in the great struggling mass-meeting + of his mind. I have read equally in vain the + lives of the great scientists and the lives of the + great artists and makers, if they are not all + alike in this, that certain great facts have been + yielded to, have been made the presiding officers, + the organisers of their minds. In so far + as they have been great, no facts have been + suppressed and all facts have been represented; + but I doubt if there has ever been a life of a + powerful mind yet in which a few great facts + and a great man were not seen mutually attracted + to each other, day and night,—getting + themselves made over into each other, mutually + mastering the world.</p> + + <p>Certainly, if there is one token rather than + another of the great scientist or poet in distinction + <a class="pagenum" id="page323" title="323"> </a>from the small scientist or poet, it is the + courage with which he yields himself, makes + his whole being sensitive and free before his + instinctive facts, gives himself fearless up to + them, allows them to be the organisers of his + mind.</p> + + <p>It seems to be the only possible way in reading + for facts that the mind of a man can come + to anything; namely, by always having a + chairman (and a few alternates appointed for + life) to call the meeting to order.</p> + </div> + <div id="section_3.4.2" class="section"> + <h4 class="section_title"><abbr class="section_number" title="two">II</abbr><br/> + Symbolic Facts</h4> + + <p>If the meeting is to accomplish anything before + it adjourns <em lang="la" xml:lang="la">sine die</em>, everything depends + upon the gavel in it, upon there being some + power in it that makes some facts sit down and + others stand up, but which sees that all facts + are represented.</p> + + <p>In general, the more facts a particular fact + can be said to be a delegate for, the more a + particular fact can be said to represent other + facts, the more of the floor it should have. + The power of reading for facts depends upon a + man’s power to recognise symbolic or sum-total + or senatorial facts and keep all other facts, the + general mob or common run of facts, from interrupting. + The amount of knowledge a man + is going to be able to master in the world + <a class="pagenum" id="page324" title="324"> </a>depends upon the number of facts he knows + how to avoid.</p> + + <p>This is where our common scientific training—the + manufacturing of small scientists in + the bulk—breaks down. The first thing that + is done with a young man nowadays, if he is + to be made into a scientist, is to take away any + last vestige of power his mind may have of + avoiding facts. Everyone has seen it, and yet + we know perfectly well when we stop to think + about it that when in the course of his being + educated a man’s ability to avoid facts is taken + away from him, it soon ceases to make very + much difference whether he is educated or not. + He becomes a mere memory let loose in the + universe—goes about remembering everything, + hit or miss. I never see one of these memory-machines + going about mowing things down + remembering them, but that it gives me a kind + of sad, sudden feeling of being intelligent. I + cannot quite describe the feeling. I am part + sorry and part glad and part ashamed of being + glad. It depends upon what one thinks of, + one’s own narrow escape or the other man, or + the way of the world. All one can do is to + thank God, silently, in some safe place in one’s + thoughts, that after all there is a great deal + of the human race—always is—in every generation + who by mere circumstance cannot be educated—bowled + over by their memories. Even + at the worst only a few hundred persons can be + made over into <em lang="la" xml:lang="la">reductio-ad-absurdum</em> Stanley + <a class="pagenum" id="page325" title="325"> </a>Halls (that is, study science under pupils of + the pupils of Stanley Hall) and the chances + are even now, as bad as things are and are getting + to be, that for several hundred years yet, + Man, the Big Brother of creation, will insist on + preserving his special distinction in it, the + thing that has lifted him above the other animals—his + inimitable faculty for forgetting things.</p> + </div> + <div id="section_3.4.3" class="section"> + <h4 class="section_title"><abbr class="section_number" title="three">III</abbr><br/> + Duplicates: A Principle of Economy</h4> + + <p>I do not suppose that anybody would submit + to my being admitted—I was black-balled before + I was born—to the brotherhood of scientists. + And yet it seems to me that there is a + certain sense in which I am as scientific as + anyone. It seems to me, for instance, that it + is a fairly scientific thing to do—a fairly matter-of-fact + thing—to consider the actual nature + of facts and to act on it. When one considers + the actual nature of facts, the first thing one + notices is that there are too many of them. + The second thing one notices about facts is + that they are not so many as they look. They + are mostly duplicates. The small scientist + never thinks of this because he never looks at + more than one class of facts, never allows himself + to fall into any general, interesting, fact-comparing + habit. The small poet never thinks + <a class="pagenum" id="page326" title="326"> </a>of it because he never looks at facts at all. It + is thus that it has come to pass that the most + ordinary human being, just living along, the + man who has the habit of general information, + is the intellectual superior of the mere scientists + about him or the mere poets. He is superior + to the mere poet because he is interested in + knowing facts, and he is superior to the minor + scientist because he does not want to know all + of them, or at least if he does, he never has + time to try to, and so keeps on knowing something.</p> + + <p>When one considers the actual nature of + facts, it is obvious that the only possible model + for a scientist of the first class or a poet of the + first class in this world, is the average man. + The only way to be an extraordinary man, + master of more of the universe than any one + else, is to keep out of the two great pits God + has made in it, in which The Educated are + thrown away—the science-pit and the poet-pit. + The area and power and value of a man’s knowledge + depend upon his having such a boundless + interest in facts that he will avoid all facts he + knows already and go on to new ones. The + rapidity of a man’s education depends upon his + power to scent a duplicate fact afar off and to + keep from stopping and puttering with it. Is + not one fact out of a thousand about a truth as + good as the other nine hundred and ninety-nine + to enjoy it with? If there were not any more + truths or if there were not so many more things + <a class="pagenum" id="page327" title="327"> </a>to enjoy in this world than one had time for, + it would be different. It would be superficial, + I admit, not to climb down into a well and collect + some more of the same facts about it, or + not to crawl under a stone somewhere and + know what we know already—a little harder. + But as it is—well, it does seem to me that + when a man has collected one good, representative + fact about a thing, or at most two, it is + about time to move on and enjoy some of the + others. There is not a man living dull enough, + it seems to me, to make it worth while to do + any other way. There is not a man living who + can afford, in a world made as this one is, to + know any more facts than he can help. Are + not facts plenty enough in the world? Are + they not scattered everywhere? And there are + not men enough to go around. Let us take + our one fact apiece and be off, and be men with + it. There is always one fact about everything + which is the spirit of all the rest, the fact a + man was intended to know and to go on his + way rejoicing with. It may be superficial + withal and merely spiritual, but if there is anything + worth while in this world to me, it is not + to miss any part of being a man in it that any + other man has had. I do not want to know + what every man knows, but I do want to get + the best of what he knows and live every day + with it. Oh, to take all knowledge for one’s + province, to have rights with all facts, to be + naive and unashamed before the universe, to + <a class="pagenum" id="page328" title="328"> </a>go forth fearlessly to know God in it, to make + the round of creation before one dies, to share + all that has been shared, to be all that is, to go + about in space saying halloa to one’s soul in it, + in the stars and in the flowers and in children’s + faces, is not this to have lived,—that there + should be nothing left out in a man’s life that + all the world has had?</p> + </div> + <div class="deco"> + <img src="images/style05.png" width="409" height="200" alt="" /> + </div> + </div> + <div id="chapter_3.5" class="chapter"><a class="pagenum" id="page329" title="329"> </a> + <div class="deco"> + <img src="images/style01.png" width="561" height="128" alt="" /> + </div> + <h3 class="chapter_title">V—Reading for Results</h3> + + <div id="section_3.5.1" class="section"> + <h4 class="section_title"><abbr class="section_number" title="one">I</abbr><br/> + The Blank Paper Frame of Mind</h4> + + <p class="first_paragraph"><span class="first_word">The</span> P. G. S. of M. read a paper in our club + the other day which he called “Reading + for Results.” It was followed by a somewhat + warm discussion, in the course of which so + many things were said that were not so that + the entire club (before any one knew it) had + waked up and learned something.</p> + + <p>The P. G. S. of M. took the general ground + that most of the men one knows nowadays had + never learned to read. They read wastefully. + Our common schools and colleges, he thought, + ought to teach a young man to read with a + purpose. “When an educated young man + takes up a book,” he said, “he should feel + that he has some business in it, and attend to + it.”</p> + + <p><a class="pagenum" id="page330" title="330"> </a>I said I thought young men nowadays read + with purposes too much. Purposes were all + they had to read with. “When a man feels + that he needs a purpose in front of him, to go + through a book with, when he goes about in a + book looking over the edge of a purpose at + everything, the chances are that he is missing + nine tenths of what the book has to give.”</p> + + <p>The P. G. S. of M. thought that one tenth + was enough. He didn’t read a book to get + nine tenths of an author. He read it to get + the one tenth he wanted—to find out which it + was.</p> + + <p>I asked him which tenth of Shakespeare he + wanted. He said that sometimes he wanted + one tenth and sometimes another.</p> + + <p>“That is just it,” I said. “Everybody + does. It is at the bottom and has been at the + bottom of the whole Shakespeare nuisance for + three hundred years. Every literary man we + have or have had seems to feel obliged somehow + to read Shakespeare in tenths. Generally + he thinks he ought to publish his tenth—make + a streak across Shakespeare with his soul—before + he feels literary or satisfied or feels that + he has a place in the world. One hardly knows + a man who calls himself really literary, who + reads Shakespeare nowadays except with a + purpose, with some little side-show of his own + mind. It is true that there are still some people—not + very many perhaps—but we all know + some people who can be said to understand + <a class="pagenum" id="page331" title="331"> </a>Shakespeare, who never get so low in their + minds as to have to read him with a purpose; + but they are not prominent.</p> + + <p>“And yet there is hardly any man who would + deny that at best his reading with a purpose + is almost always his more anæmic, official, + unresourceful, reading. It is like putting a + small tool to a book and whittling on it, instead + of putting one’s whole self to it. One + might as well try to read most of Shakespeare’s + plays with a screw-driver or with a wrench as + with a purpose. There is no purpose large + enough, that one is likely to find, to connect + with them. Shakespeare himself could not + have found one when he wrote them in any + small or ordinary sense. The one possible + purpose in producing a work of art—in any + age—is to praise the universe with it, love + something with it, talk back to life with it, + and the man who attempts to read what Shakespeare + writes with any smaller or less general, + less overflowing purpose than Shakespeare had + in writing it should be advised to do his reading + with some smaller, more carefully fitted + author,—one nearer to his size. Of course if + one wants to be a mere authority on Shakespeare + or a mere author there is no denying + that one can do it, and do it very well, by reading + him with some purpose—some purpose that + is too small to have ever been thought of before; + but if one wants to understand him, get + the wild native flavour and power of him, he + <a class="pagenum" id="page332" title="332"> </a>must be read in a larger, more vital and open + and resourceful spirit—as a kind of spiritual + adventure. Half the joy of a great man, like + any other great event, is that one can well afford—at + least for once—to let one’s purposes go.</p> + + <p>“To feel one’s self lifted out, carried along, + if only for a little time, into some vast stream of + consciousness, to feel great spaces around one’s + human life, to float out into the universe, to + bathe in it, to taste it with every pore of one’s + body and all one’s soul—this is the one supreme + thing that the reading of a man like William + Shakespeare is for. To interrupt the stream + with dams, to make it turn wheels,—intellectual + wheels (mostly pin-wheels and theories) or any + wheels whatever,—is to cut one’s self off from + the last chance of knowing the real Shakespeare + at all. A man knows Shakespeare in proportion + as he gives himself, in proportion as he + lets Shakespeare make a Shakespeare of him, a + little while. As long as he is reading in the + Shakespeare universe his one business in it is + to live in it. He may do no mighty work + there,—pile up a commentary or throw on a + footnote,—but he will be a mighty work himself + if he let William Shakespeare work on + him some. Before he knows it the universe + that Shakespeare lived in becomes his universe. + He feels the might of that universe + being gathered over to him, descending upon + him being breathed into him day and night—to + belong to him always.</p> + + <p><a class="pagenum" id="page333" title="333"> </a>“The power and effect of a book which is a + real work of art seems always to consist in the + way it has of giving the nature of things a + chance at a man, of keeping things open to the + sun and air of thought. To those who cannot + help being interested, it is a sad sight to stand + by with the typical modern man—especially a + student—and watch him go blundering about + in a great book, cooping it up with purposes.”</p> + + <p>The P. G. S. of M. remarked somewhere at + about this point that it seemed to him that it + made a great difference who an author or reader + was. He suggested that my theory of reading + with a not-purpose worked rather better with + Shakespeare than with the <cite>Encyclopedia Britannica</cite> + or the Hon. Carroll D. Wright, Commissioner + of Statistics, or Ella Wheeler Wilcox.</p> + + <p>I admitted that in reading dictionaries, statistics, + or mere poets or mere scientists it was + necessary to have a purpose to fall back upon + to justify one’s self. And there was no denying + that reading for results was a necessary and + natural thing. The trouble seemed to be, that + very few people could be depended on to pick + out the right results. Most people cannot be + depended upon to pick out even the right directions + in reading a great book. It has to be + left to the author. It could be categorically + proved that the best results in this world, either + in books or in life, had never been attained by + men who always insisted on doing their own + steering. The special purpose of a great book + <a class="pagenum" id="page334" title="334"> </a>is that a man can stop steering in it, that one + can give one’s self up to the undertow, to the + cross-current in it. One feels one’s self swept + out into the great struggling human stream + that flows under life. One comes to truths and + delights at last that no man, though he had a + thousand lives, could steer to. Most of us are + not clear-headed or far-sighted enough to pick + out purposes or results in reading. We are + always forgetting how great we are. We do + not pick out results—and could not if we tried—that + are big enough.</p> + </div> + <div id="section_3.5.2" class="section"> + <h4 class="section_title"><abbr class="section_number" title="two">II</abbr><br/> + The Usefully Unfinished</h4> + + <p>The P. G. S. of M. remarked that he thought + there was such a thing as having purposes in + reading that were too big. It seemed to him + that a man who spent nearly all his strength + when he was reading a book, in trying to use it + to swallow a universe with, must find it monotonous. + He said he had tried reading a great + book without any purpose whatever except its + tangents or suggestions, and he claimed that + when he read a great book in that way—the + average great book—the monotone of innumerable + possibility wore on him. He wanted + to feel that a book was coming to something, + and if he couldn’t feel in reading it that the + book was coming to something he wanted to + <a class="pagenum" id="page335" title="335"> </a>feel at least that he was. He did not say it in + so many words, but he admitted he did not + care very much in reading for what I had + spoken of as a “stream of consciousness.” He + wanted a nozzle on it.</p> + + <p>I asked him at this point how he felt in reading + certain classics. I brought out quite a nice + little list of them, but I couldn’t track him + down to a single feeling he had thought of—had + had to think of, all by himself, on a classic. + I found he had all the proper feelings about + them and a lot of well-regulated qualifications + besides. He was on his guard. Finally I + asked him if he had read (I am not going to + get into trouble by naming it) a certain contemporary + novel under discussion.</p> + + <p>He said he had read it. “Great deal of + power in it,” he said. “But it doesn’t come + to anything. I do not see any possible artistic + sense,” he said, “in ending a novel like that. + It doesn’t bring one anywhere.”</p> + + <p>“Neither does one of Keats’s poems,” I said, + “or Beethoven’s <cite>Ninth Symphony</cite>. The odour + of a rose doesn’t come to anything—bring one + anywhere. It would be hard to tell what one + really gets out of the taste of roast beef. The + sound of the surf on the Atlantic doesn’t come + to anything, but hundreds of people travel a + long way and live in one-windowed rooms and + rock in somebody else’s bedroom rocker, to + hear it, year after year. Millions of dollars are + spent in Europe to look at pictures, but if a + <a class="pagenum" id="page336" title="336"> </a>man can tell what it is he gets out of a picture + in so many words there is something very + wrong with the picture.”</p> + + <p>The P. G. S. of M. gave an impatient wave + of his hand. (To be strictly accurate, he gave + it in the middle of the last paragraph, just before + we came to the Atlantic. The rest is Congressional + Record.) And after he had given + the impatient wave of his hand he looked hurt. + I accordingly drew him out. He was still + brooding on that novel. He didn’t approve of + the heroine.</p> + + <p>“What was the matter?” I said; “dying in + the last chapter?” (It is one of those novels + in which the heroine takes the liberty of dying, + in a mere paragraph, at the end, and in what + always has seemed and always will, to some + people, a rather unsatisfactory and unfinished + manner.)</p> + + <p>“The moral and spiritual issues of a book + ought to be—well, things are all mixed up. + She dies indefinitely.”</p> + + <p>“Most women do,” I said. I asked him + how many funerals of women—wives and + mothers—he had been to in the course of his + life where he could sit down and really think + that they had died to the point—the way they + do in novels. I didn’t see why people should + be required by critics and other authorities, to + die to the point in a book more than anywhere + else. It is this shallow, reckless way that + readers have of wanting to have everything + <a class="pagenum" id="page337" title="337"> </a>pleasant and appropriate when people die in + novels which makes writing a novel nowadays + as much as a man’s reputation is worth.</p> + + <p>The P. G. S. of M. explained that it wasn’t + exactly the way she died but it was the way + everything was left—left to the imagination.</p> + + <p>I said I was sorry for any human being who + had lived in a world like this who didn’t leave + a good deal to the imagination when he died. + The dullest, most uninteresting man that any + one can ever know becomes interesting in his + death. One walks softly down the years of his + life, peering through them. One cannot help + loving him a little—stealthily. One goes out + a little way with him on his long journey—feels + bound in with him at last—actually bound + in with him (it is like a promise) for ever. The + more one knows about people’s lives in this + world, the more indefinitely, the more irrelevantly,—sometimes + almost comically, or as a + kind of an aside, or a bit of repartee,—they end + them. Suddenly, sometimes while we laugh + or look, they turn upon us, fling their souls + upon the invisible, and are gone. It is like a + last wistful haunting pleasantry—death is—from + some of us, a kind of bravado in it—as + one would say, “Oh, well, dying is really after + all—having been allowed one look at a world + like this—a small matter.”</p> + + <p>It is true that most people in most novels, + never having been born, do not really need to + die—that is, if they are logical,—and they + <a class="pagenum" id="page338" title="338"> </a>might as well die to the point or as the reader + likes as in any other way, but if there is one + sign rather than another that a novel belongs + to the first class, it is that the novelist claims + all the privileges of the stage of the world in it. + He refuses to write a little parlour of a book + and he sees that his people die the way they + live, leaving as much left over to the imagination + as they know how.</p> + + <p>That there are many reasons for the habit of + reading for results, as it is called, goes without + saying. It also goes without saying—that is, + no one is saying very much about it—that the + habit of reading for results, such as it is, has + taken such a grim hold on the modern American + mind that the greatest result of all in reading, + the result in a book that cannot be spoken + in it, or even out of it, is being unanimously + missed.</p> + + <p>The fact seems to need to be emphasised that + the novel which gives itself to one to be + breathed and lived, the novel which leaves a + man with something that he must finish himself, + with something he must do and be, is the + one which “gets a man somewhere” most of + all. It is the one which ends the most definitely + and practically.</p> + + <p>When a novel, instead of being hewn out, + finished, and decorated by the author,—added + as one more monument or tomb of itself in a + man’s memory,—becomes a growing, living + daily thing to him, the wondering, unfinished + <a class="pagenum" id="page339" title="339"> </a>events of it, and the unfinished people of it, + flocking out to him, interpreting for him the + still unfinished events and all the dear unfinished + people that jostle in his own life,—it + is a great novel.</p> + + <p>It seems to need to be recalled that the one + possible object of a human being’s life in a + novel (as out of it) is to be loved. This is + definite enough. It is the novel in which the + heroine looks finished that does not come to + anything. I always feel a little grieved and + frustrated—as if human nature had been blasphemed + a little in my presence—if a novel finishes + its people or thinks it can. It is a small + novel which finishes love—and lays it away; + which makes me love say one brave woman or + mother in a book, and close her away for ever. + The greater novel makes me love one woman + in a book in such a way that I go about + through all the world seeking for her—knowing + and loving a thousand women through + her. I feel the secret of their faces—through + her—flickering by me on the street. This + intangible result, this eternal flash of a life + upon life is all that reading is for. It is practical + because it is eternal and cannot be wasted + and because it is for ever to the point.</p> + + <p>Life is greater than art and art is great only + in so far as it proves that life is greater than + art, interprets and intensifies life and the power + to taste life—makes us live wider and deeper + and farther in our seventy years.</p> + </div> + <div id="section_3.5.3" class="section"> + <a class="pagenum" id="page340" title="340"> </a> + <h4 class="section_title"><abbr class="section_number" title="three">III</abbr><br/> + Athletics</h4> + + <p>“The world is full,” Ellery Charming used to + say, “of fools who get a-going and never stop. + Set them off on another tack, and they are + half-cured.” There are grave reasons to believe + that, if an archangel were to come to this + earth and select a profession on it, instead of + taking up some splendid, serious, dignified calling + he would devote himself to a comparatively + small and humble-looking career—that of jogging + people’s minds. This might not seem at + first sight to be a sufficiently large thing for + an archangel to do, but if it were to be done at + all (those who have tried it think) it would + take an archangel to do it.</p> + + <p>The only possible practical or businesslike + substitute one can think of in modern life for + an archangel would have to be an Institution + of some kind. Some huge, pleasant Mutual + Association for Jogging People’s Minds might + do a little something perhaps, but it would not + be very thorough. The people who need it + most, half or three-quarters of them, the treadmill-conscientious, + dear, rutty, people of this + world, would not be touched by it. What is + really wanted, if anything is really to be done + in the way of jogging, is a new day in the + week.</p> + + <p>I have always thought that there ought to + <a class="pagenum" id="page341" title="341"> </a>be a day, one day in the week, to do wrong in—not + very wrong, but wrong enough to answer + the purpose—a perfectly irresponsible, delectable, + inconsequent day—a sabbath of whims. + There ought to be a sort of sabbath for things + that never get done because they are too good + or not good enough. Letters that ought to be + postponed until others are written, letters to + friends that never dun, books that don’t bear + on anything, books that no one has asked one + to read, calls on unexpecting people, bills that + might just as well wait, tinkering around the + house on the wrong things, the right ones, perfectly + helpless, standing by. Sitting with one’s + feet a little too high (if possible on one’s working + desk), being a little foolish and liking it—making + poor puns, enjoying one’s bad grammar—a + day, in short, in which, whatever a + man is, he rests from himself and play marbles + with his soul.</p> + + <p>Most people nowadays—at least the intellectual, + so-called, and the learned above all + others—are so far gone under the reading-for-results + theory that they have become mere + work-worshippers in books, worshippers of + work which would not need to be performed at + all—most of it—by men with healthy natural + or fully exercised spiritual organs. One very + seldom catches a man in the act nowadays of + doing any old-fashioned or important reading. + The old idea of reading for athletics instead of + scientifics has almost no provision made for it + <a class="pagenum" id="page342" title="342"> </a>in the modern intellectual man’s life. He + does not seem to know what it is to take his + rest like a gentleman. He lunges between all-science + and all-vaudeville, and plays in his + way, it is true, but he never plays with his + mind. He never takes playing with a mind + seriously, as one of the great standard joys and + powers and equipments of human life. He + does not seem to love his mind enough to play + with it. Above all, he does not see that playing + with a mind (on great subjects, at least) is + the only possible way to make it work. He + entirely overlooks the fact, in his little round + of reading for results, that the main thing a + book is in a man’s hands for is the man—that + it is there to lift him over into a state of + being, a power of action. A man who really + reads a book and reads it well, reads it for + moral muscle, spiritual skill, for far-sightedness, + for catholicity—above all for a kind of + limberness and suppleness, a swift sure strength + through his whole being. He faces the world + with a new face when he has truly read a true + book, and as a bridegroom coming out of his + chamber, he rejoices as a strong man to run a + race.</p> + + <p>As between reading to heighten one’s senses, + one’s suggestibility, power of knowing and + combining facts, the <em lang="la" xml:lang="la">multum-in-parvo</em> method + in reading, and the <em lang="la" xml:lang="la">parvum-in-multo</em> method, + a dogged, accumulating, impotent, callous + reading for results, it is not hard to say which, + <a class="pagenum" id="page343" title="343"> </a>in the equipment of the modern scientist, is + being overlooked.</p> + + <p>It is doubtless true, the common saying of + the man of genius in every age, that “everything + is grist to his mill,” but it would not be + if he could not grind it fine enough. And he + is only able to grind it fine enough because he + makes his reading bring him power as well as + grist. Having provided for energy, stored-up + energy for grinding, he guards and preserves + that energy as the most important and culminating + thing in his intellectual life. He insists + on making provision for it. He makes ready + solitude for it, blankness, reverie, sleep, silence. + He cultivates the general habit not only of rejecting + things, but of keeping out of their way + when necessary, so as not to have to reject + them, and he knows the passion in all times + and all places for grinding grist finer instead + of gathering more grist. These are going to + be the traits of all the mighty reading, the + reading that achieves, in the twentieth century. + The saying of the man of genius that + everything is grist to his mill merely means + that he reads a book athletically, with a magnificent + play of power across it, with an heroic + imagination or power of putting together. He + turns everything that comes to him over into + its place and force and meaning in everything + else. He reads slowly and organically where + others read with their eyes. He knows what + it is to tingle with a book, to blush and turn + <a class="pagenum" id="page344" title="344"> </a>pale with it, to read his feet cold. He reads + all over, with his nerves and senses, with his + mind and heart. He reads through the whole + tract of his digestive and assimilative nature. + To borrow the Hebrew figure, he reads with + his bowels. Instead of reading to maintain a + theory, or a row of facts, he reads to sustain a + certain state of being. The man who has the + knack, as some people seem to think it, of + making everything he reads and sees beautiful + or vigorous and practical, does not need + to try to do it. He does it because he has + a habit of putting himself in a certain state + of being and cannot help doing it. He does + not need to spend a great deal of time in reading + for results. He produces his own results. + The less athletic reader, the smaller poet or + scientist, confines himself to reading for results, + for ready-made beauty and ready-made facts, + because he is not in condition to do anything + else. The greater poet or scientist is an energy, + a transfigurer, a transmuter of everything into + beauty and truth. Everything having passed + through the heat and light of his own being + is fused and seen where it belongs, where God + placed it when He made it, in some relation to + everything else.</p> + + <p>I fear that I may have come, in bearing + down on this point, to another of the of-course + places in this book. It is not just to assume + that because people are not living with a truth + that they need to be told it. It is of little use, + <a class="pagenum" id="page345" title="345"> </a>when a man has used his truth all up boring + people with it, to try to get them (what is left + of the truth and the people) to do anything + about it. But if I may be allowed one page + more I would like to say in the present epidemic + of educating for results, just what a + practical education may be said to be.</p> + + <p>The indications are that the more a man + spends, makes himself able to spend, a large + part of his time, as Whitman did, in standing + still and looking around and loving things, the + more practical he is. Even if a man’s life were + to serve as a mere guide-board to the universe, + it would supply to all who know him the main + thing the universe seems to be without. But + a man who, like Walt Whitman, is more than + a guide-board to the universe, who deliberately + takes time to live in the whole of it, who becomes + a part of the universe to all who live + always, who makes the universe human to us—companionable,—such + a man may not be able + to fix a latch on a kitchen door, but I can only + say for one that if there is a man who can lift + a universe bodily, and set it down in my front + yard where I can feel it helping me do my + work all day and guarding my sleep at night, + that man is practical. Who can say he does + not “come to anything”? To have heard it + rumoured that such a man has lived, can live, + is a result—the most practical result of all to + most of the workers of the world. A bare fact + about such a man is a gospel. Why work for + <a class="pagenum" id="page346" title="346"> </a>nothing (that is, with no result) in a universe + where you can play for nothing—and by playing + earn everything?</p> + + <p>Such a man is not only practical, serving + those who know him by merely being, but he + serves all men always. They will not let him + go. He becomes a part of the structure of the + world. The generations keep flocking to him + the way they flock to the great sane silent + ministries of the sky and of the earth. Their + being drawn to them is their being drawn to + him. The strength of clouds is in him, and + the spirit of falling water, and he knoweth the + way of the wind. When a man can be said by + the way he lives his life to have made himself + the companion of his unborn brothers and of + God; when he can be said to have made himself, + not a mere scientist, but a younger brother, + a real companion of air, water, fire, mist, and + of the great gentle ground beneath his feet—he + has secured a result.</p> + + </div> + <div class="deco"> + <img src="images/style03.png" width="326" height="172" alt="" /> + </div> + </div> + <div id="chapter_3.6" class="chapter"><a class="pagenum" id="page347" title="347"> </a> + <div class="deco"> + <img src="images/style08.png" width="530" height="126" alt="" /> + </div> + <h3 class="chapter_title">VI—Reading for Feelings</h3> + <div id="section_3.6.1" class="section"> + <h4 class="section_title"><abbr class="section_number" title="one">I</abbr><br/> + The Passion of Truth</h4> + + <p class="first_paragraph"><span class="first_word">Reading</span> resolves itself sooner or later + into two elements in the reader’s mind:</p> + + <p>1. Tables of facts. (a) Rows of raw fact; + (b) Principles, spiritual or sum-total facts.</p> + <p>2. Feelings about the facts.</p> + + <p>But the Man with the Scientific Method, + who lives just around the corner from me, tells + me that reading for feelings is quite out of the + question for a scientific mind. It is foreign to + the nature of knowledge to want knowledge + for the feelings that go with it. Feelings get + in the way.</p> + + <p>I find it impossible not to admit that there + is a certain force in this, but I notice that when + the average small scientist, the man around + the corner, for instance, says to me what he is + <a class="pagenum" id="page348" title="348"> </a>always saying, “Science requires the elimination + of feelings,”—says it to me in his usual + chilled-through, ophidian, infallible way,—I + never believe it, or at least I believe it very + softly and do not let him know it. But when + a large scientist, a man like Charles Darwin, + makes a statement like this, I believe it as hard, + I notice, as if I had made it all up myself. + The statement that science requires the elimination + of the feelings is true or not true, it + seems to me, according to the size of the feelings. + Considering what most men’s feelings + are, a man like Darwin feels that they had + better be eliminated. If a man’s feelings are + small feelings, they are in the way in science, + as a matter of course. If he has large noble + ones, feelings that match the things that God + has made, feelings that are free and daring, + beautiful enough to belong with things that a + God has made, he will have no trouble with + them. It is the feelings in a great scientist + which have always fired him into being a man + of genius in his science, instead of a mere tool, + or scoop, or human dredge of truth. All the + great scientists show this firing-process down + underneath, in their work. The idea that it + is necessary for a scientific man to give up his + human ideal, that it is necessary for him to be + officially brutal, in his relation to nature, to + become a professional nobody in order to get + at truth, to make himself over into matter in + order to understand matter, has not had a + <a class="pagenum" id="page349" title="349"> </a>single great scientific achievement or conception + to its credit. All great insight or genius + in science is a passion of itself, a passion of + worshipping real things. Science is a passion + not only in its origin, but in its motive power + and in its end. The real truth seems to be + that the scientist of the greater sort is great, + not by having no emotions, but by having disinterested + emotions, by being large enough to + have emotions on both sides and all sides, all + held in subjection to the final emotion of truth. + Having a disinterested, fair attitude in truth is + not a matter of having no passions, but of having + passions enough to go around. The temporary + idea that a scientist cannot be scientific + and emotional at once is based upon the experience + of men who have never had emotions + enough. Men whose emotions are slow and + weak, who have one-sided or wavering emotions, + find them inconvenient as a matter of + course. The men who, like Charles Darwin or + some larger Browning, have the passion of disinterestedness + are those who are fitted to lead + the human race, who are going to lead it along + the paths of space and the footsteps of the + worlds into the Great Presence.</p> + + <p>The greatest astronomer or chemist is the + man who glows with the joy of wrestling with + God, of putting strength to strength.</p> + + <p>To the geologist who goes groping about in + stones, his whole life is a kind of mind-reading + of the ground, a passion for getting underneath, + <a class="pagenum" id="page350" title="350"> </a>for communing flesh to flesh with a planet. + What he feels when he breaks a bit of rock is + the whole round earth—the wonder of it—the + great cinder floating through space. He would + all but risk his life or sell his soul for a bit of + lava. He is studying the phrenology of a star. + All the other stars watch him. The feeling + of being in a kind of eternal, invisible, infinite + enterprise, of carrying out a world, of tracking + a God, takes possession of him. He may not + admit there is a God, in so many words, but + his geology admits it. He devotes his whole + life to appreciating a God, and the God takes + the deed for the word, appreciates his appreciation, + whether he does or not. If he says that + he does not believe in a God, he merely means + that he does not believe in Calvin’s God, or in + the present dapper, familiar little God or the + hero of the sermon last Sunday. All he means + by not believing in a God is that his God has + not been represented yet. In the meantime + he and his geology go sternly, implacably on + for thousands of years, while churches come + and go. So does his God. His geology is his + own ineradicable worship. His religion, his + passion for the all, for communing through the + part with the Whole, is merely called by the + name of geology. In so far as a man’s geology + is real to him, if he is after anything but a degree + in it, or a thesis or a salary, his geology + is an infinite passion taking possession of him, + soul and body, carrying him along with it, + <a class="pagenum" id="page351" title="351"> </a>sweeping him out with it into the great workroom, + the flame and the glow of the world-shop + of God.</p> + + <p>It would not seem necessary to say it if it + were not so stoutly denied, but living as we do, + most of us, with a great flock of little scientists + around us, pecking on the infinite most of + them, each with his own little private strut, or + blasphemy, bragging of a world without a + God, it does seem as if it were going to be the + great strategic event of the twentieth century, + for all men, to get the sciences and the humanities + together once more, if only in our + own thoughts, to make ourselves believe as we + must believe, after all, that it is humanity in a + scientist, and not a kind of professional inhumanity + in him, which makes him a scientist in + the great sense—a seer of matter. The great + scientist is a man who communes with matter, + not around his human spirit, but through it.</p> + + <p>The small scientist, violating nature inside + himself to understand it outside himself, misses + the point.</p> + + <p>At all events if a man who has locked himself + out of his own soul goes around the world and + cannot find God’s in it, he does not prove anything. + The man who finds a God proves quite + as much. And he has his God besides.</p> + </div> + <div id="section_3.6.2" class="section"> + <a class="pagenum" id="page352" title="352"> </a> + <h4 class="section_title"><abbr class="section_number" title="two">II</abbr><br/> + Topical Point of View</h4> + + <p>If it is true that reading resolves itself sooner + or later into two elements in the reader’s mind, + tables of facts and feelings about the facts, that + is, rows of raw fact, and spiritualised or related + facts, several things follow. The most important + of them is one’s definition of education. + The man who can get the greatest amount of + feeling out of the smallest number and the + greatest variety of facts is the greatest and + most educated man—comes nearest to living an + infinite life. The purpose of education in + books would seem to be to make every man as + near to this great or semi-infinite man as he + can be made.</p> + + <p>If men were capable of becoming infinite by + sitting in a library long enough, the education-problem + would soon take care of itself. There + is no front or side door to the infinite. It is all + doors. And if the mere taking time enough + would do it, one could read one’s way into the + infinite as easily as if it were anything else. + One can hardly miss it. One could begin anywhere. + There would be nothing to do but to + proceed at once to read all the facts and have + all the feelings about the facts and enjoy them + forever. The main difficulty one comes to, + in being infinite, is that there is not time, but + inasmuch as great men or semi-infinite men + <a class="pagenum" id="page353" title="353"> </a>have all had to contend with this same difficulty + quite as much as the rest of us, it would + seem that in getting as many of the infinite + facts, and having as many infinite feelings + about the facts, as they do, great men must + employ some principle of economy or selection, + that common, that is, artificial men, are apt to + overlook.</p> + + <p>There seem to be two main principles of + economy open to great men and to all of us, in + the acquiring of knowledge. One of these, as + has been suggested, may be called the scientist’s + principle of economy, and the other the + poet’s or artist’s. The main difference between + the scientific and the artistic method of + selection seems to be that the scientist does his + selecting all at once and when he selects his + career, and the artist makes selecting the entire + business of every moment of his life. The + scientist of the average sort begins by partitioning + the universe off into topics. Having selected + his topic and walled himself in with it, + he develops it by walling the rest of the universe + out. The poet (who is almost always a + specialist also, a special kind of poet), having + selected his specialty, develops it by letting all + the universe in. He spends his time in making + his life a cross section of the universe. The + spirit of the whole of it, something of everything + in it, is represented in everything he does. + Whatever his specialty may be in poetry, + painting, or literature, he produces an eternal + <a class="pagenum" id="page354" title="354"> </a>result by massing the infinite and eternal into + the result. He succeeds by bringing the universe + to a point, by accumulating out of all + things—himself. It is the tendency of the + scientist to produce results by dividing the + universe and by subdividing himself. Unless + he is a very great scientist he accepts it as the + logic of his method that he should do this. + His individual results are small results and he + makes himself professedly small to get them.</p> + + <p>All questions with regard to the reading + habit narrow themselves down at last: “Is + the Book to be divided for the Man, or is the + Man to be divided for the Book? Shall a man + so read as to lose his soul in a subject, or shall + he so read that the subject Loses itself in him—becomes + a part of him?” The main fact about + our present education is that it is the man + who is getting lost. And not only is every + man getting lost to himself, but all men are + eagerly engaged in getting lost to each other. + The dead level of intelligence, being a dead + level in a literal sense, is a spiritless level—a + mere grading down and grading up of appearances. + In all that pertains to real knowledge + of the things that people appear to know, + greater heights and depths of difference in + human lives are revealed to-day than in almost + any age of the world. What with our steam-engines + (machines for our hands and feet) and + our sciences (machines for our souls) we have + arrived at such an extraordinary division of + <a class="pagenum" id="page355" title="355"> </a>labour, both of body and mind, that people of + the same classes are farther apart than they + used to be in different classes. Lawyers, for + instance, are as different from one another as + they used to be from ministers and doctors. + Every new skill we come to and every new + subdivision of skill marks the world off into + pigeon-holes of existence, into huge, hopeless, + separate divisions of humanity. We live in + different elements, monsters of the sea wondering + at the air, air-monsters peering curiously + down into the sea, sailors on surfaces, trollers + over other people’s worlds. We commune + with each other with lines and hooks. Some + of us on the rim of the earth spend all our days + quarrelling over bits of the crust of it. Some + of us burrow and live in the ground, and are + as workers in mines. The sound of our voices + to one another is as though they were not. + They are as the sound of picks groping in + rocks.</p> + + <p>The reason that we are not able to produce + or even to read a great literature is that a + great book can never be written, in spirit at + least, except to a whole human race. The + final question with regard to every book that + comes to a publisher to-day is what mine shall + it be written in, which public shall it burrow + for? A book that belongs to a whole human + race, which cannot be classified or damned + into smallness, would only be left by itself on + the top of the ground in the sunlight. The + <a class="pagenum" id="page356" title="356"> </a>next great book that comes will have to take a + long trip, a kind of drummer’s route around + life, from mind to mind, and now in one + place and now another be let down through + shafts to us. There is no whole human race. + A book with even forty-man power in it goes + begging for readers. The reader with more + than one-, two-, or three-man power of reading + scarcely exists. We shall know our great + book when it comes by the fact that crowds of + kinds of men will flock to the paragraphs in it, + each kind to its own kind of paragraph. It + will hardly be said to reach us, the book with + forty-man power in it, until it has been broken + up into fortieths of itself. When it has been + written over again—broken off into forty books + by forty men, none of them on speaking terms + with each other—it shall be recognised in some + dim way that it must have been a great book.</p> + + <p>It is the first law of culture, in the highest + sense, that it always begins and ends with the + fact that a man is a man. Teaching the fact + to a man that he can be a greater man is the + shortest and most practical way of teaching + him other facts. It is only by being a greater + man, by raising his state of being to the <i>n</i><sup>th</sup> + power, that he can be made to see the other + facts. The main attribute of the education of + the future, in so far as it obtains to-day, is that + it strikes both ways. It strikes in and makes + a man mean something, and having made the + man—the main fact—mean something, it + <a class="pagenum" id="page357" title="357"> </a>strikes out through the man and makes all + other facts mean something. It makes new + facts, and old facts as good as new. It makes + new worlds. All attempts to make a whole + world without a single whole man anywhere to + begin one out of are vain attempts. We are + going to have great men again some time, but + the science that attempts to build a civilisation + in this twentieth century by subdividing such + men as we already have mocks at itself. The + devil is not a specialist and never will be. He + is merely getting everybody else to be, as fast + as he can.</p> + + <p>It is safe to say in this present hour of subdivided + men and sub-selected careers that any + young man who shall deliberately set out at + the beginning of his life to be interested, at + any expense and at all hazards, in everything, + in twenty or thirty years will have the field + entirely to himself. It is true that he will + have to run, what every more vital man has + had to run, the supreme risk, the risk of being + either a fool or a seer, a fool if he scatters himself + into everything, a seer if he masses everything + into himself. But when he succeeds at + last he will find that for all practical purposes, + as things are going to-day, he will have a + monopoly of the universe, of the greatest force + there is in it, the combining and melting and + fusing force that brings all men and all ideas + together, making the race one—a force which + is the chief characteristic of every great period + <a class="pagenum" id="page358" title="358"> </a>and of every great character that history has + known.</p> + + <p>It is obvious that whatever may be its + dangers, the topical or scientific point of view + in knowledge is one that the human race is not + going to get along without, if it is to be master + of the House it lives in. It is also obvious + that the human or artistic, the man-point of + view in knowledge is one that it is not going + to get along without, if the House is to continue + to have Men in it.</p> + + <p>The question remains, the topical point of + view and the artistic point of view both being + necessary, how shall a man contrive in the + present crowding of the world to read with + both? Is there any principle in reading that + fuses them both? And if there is, what is it?</p> + </div> + <div class="deco"> + <img src="images/style03.png" width="326" height="172" alt="" /> + </div> + </div> + <div id="chapter_3.7" class="chapter"><a class="pagenum" id="page359" title="359"> </a> + + <div class="deco"> + <img src="images/style09.png" width="554" height="128" alt="" /> + </div> + + <h3 class="chapter_title">VII—Reading the World + Together</h3> + + <div id="section_3.7.1" class="section"> + <h4 class="section_title"><abbr class="section_number" title="one">I</abbr><br/> + Focusing</h4> + + <p class="first_paragraph"><span class="first_word">There</span> are only a few square inches—of + cells and things, no one quite knows + what—on a human face, but a man can see + more of the world in those few inches, and + understand more of the meaning of the world + in them, put the world together better there, + than in any other few inches that God has + made. Even one or two faces do it, for a + man, for most of us, when we have seen them + through and through. Not a face anywhere—no + one has ever seen one that was not a + mirror of a whole world, a poor and twisted one + perhaps, but a great one. The man that goes + with it may not know it, may not have much + <a class="pagenum" id="page360" title="360"> </a>to do with it. While he is waiting to die, God + writes on him; but however it is, every man’s + face (I cannot help feeling it when I really look + at it) is helplessly great. It is one man’s portrait + of the universe as he has found it—his + portrait of a Whole. I have caught myself + looking at crowds of faces as if they were rows + of worlds. Is not everything I can know or + guess or cry or sing written on faces? An + audience is a kind of universe by itself. I + could pray to one—when once the soul is + hushed before it. If there were any necessity + to select one place rather than another, any + particular place to address a God in, I think I + would choose an audience. Praying for it instead + of to it is a mere matter of form. I cannot + find a face in it that does not lead to a God, + that does not gather a God in for me out of all + space, that is not one of His assembling places. + Many and many a time when heads were being + bowed have I caught a face in a congregation + and prayed to it and with it. Every man’s face + is a kind of prayer he carries around with him. + One can hardly help joining in it. It is + sacrament to look at his face, if only to take + sides in it, join with the God-self in it and + help against the others. Whoever or Whatever + He is, up there across all heaven, He is a + God to me because He can be infinitely small + or infinitely great as He likes. I will not have + a God that can be shut up into any horizon or + shut out of any face. When I have stood before + <a class="pagenum" id="page361" title="361"> </a>audiences, have really realised faces, felt + the still and awful thronging of them through + my soul, it has seemed to me as if some great + miracle were happening. It’s as if—but who + shall say it?—Have you never stood, Gentle + Reader, alone at night on the frail rim of the + earth—spread your heart out wide upon the + dark, and let it lie there,—let it be flocked on + by stars? It is like that when Something is + lifted and one sees faces. Faces are worlds to + me. However hard I try, I cannot get a man, + somehow, any smaller than a world. He is a + world to himself, and God helping me, when I + deal with him, he shall be a world to me. The + dignity of a world rests upon him. His face + is a sum-total of the universe. It is made by + the passing of the infinite through his body. + It is the mark of all things that are, upon his + flesh.</p> + + <p>What I like to believe is, that if there is an + organic principle of unity like this in a little + human life, if there is some way of summing + up a universe in a man’s face, there must be + some way of summing it up, of putting it together + in his education. It is this summing a + universe up for one’s self, and putting it together + for one’s self, and for one’s own use, + which makes an education in a universe worth + while.</p> + + <p>In other words, with a symbol as convenient, + as near to him as his own face, a man need not + go far in seeking for a principle of unity in + <a class="pagenum" id="page362" title="362"> </a>focusing education. A man’s face makes it seem not + unreasonable to claim that the principle of + unity in all education is the man, that the + single human soul is created to be its own + dome of all knowledge. A man’s education + may be said to be properly laid out in proportion + as it is laid out the way he lays out his + countenance. The method or process by which + a man’s countenance is laid out is a kind of + daily organic process of world-swallowing. + What a man undertakes in living is the making + over of all phenomena, outer sights and + sounds into his own inner ones, the passing of + all outside knowledge through himself. In + proportion as he is being educated he is making + all things that are, into his own flesh and + spirit.</p> + + <p>When one looks at it in this way it is not + too much to say that every man is a world. + He makes the tiny platform of his soul in infinite + space, a stage for worlds to come to, to + play their parts on. His soul is a little All-show, + a kind of dainty pantomime of the universe.</p> + + <hr class="thoughtbreak" /> + + <p class="post_thoughtbreak">It seemed that I stood and watched a world + awake, the great night still upbearing me + above the flood of the day. I watched it + strangely, as a changed being, the godlikeness + and the might of sleep, the spell of the + All upon me. I became as one who saw the + earth as it is, in a high noon of its real self. + <a class="pagenum" id="page363" title="363"> </a>Hung in its mist of worlds, wrapped in its own + breath, I saw it—a queer little ball of cooled-off + fire, it seemed, still and swift plunging + through space. And when I looked close in + my heart, I saw cunning little men on it, nations + and things running around on it. And + when I looked still nearer, looked at the + lighted side of it, I saw that each little man + was not what I thought—a dot or fleck on + the universe. And I saw that he was a reflection, + a serious, wondrous miniature of all the + rest. It all seemed strange to me at first—to + a man who lives, as I do, in a rather weary, + laborious, painstaking age—that this should + be so. As I looked at the little man I wondered + if it really could be so. Then, as I + looked, the great light flowed all around the + little man, and the little man reflected the + great light.</p> + + <p>But he did not seem to know it.</p> + + <p>I felt like calling out to him—to one of them—telling + him out loud to himself, wrapped + away as he was, in his haste and dumbness, + not knowing, and in the funny little noise of + cities in the great still light. And so while + the godlikeness and the might of sleep was + upon me, I watched him, longed for him, + wanted him for myself. I thought of my great + cold, stretched-out wisdom. How empty and + bare it was, this staring at stars one by one, + this taking notes on creation, this slow painful + tour of space, when after all right down there + <a class="pagenum" id="page364" title="364"> </a>in this little man, I said “Is not all I can know, + or hope to know stowed away and written + up?” And when I thought of this—the blur of + sleep still upon me—I could hardly help reaching + down for him, half-patronising him, half-worshipping + him, taking him up to myself, + where I could keep him by me, keep him to + consult, watch for the sun, face for the infinite.—“Dear + little fellow!” I said, “my own + queer little fellow! my own little Kosmos, + pocket-size!”</p> + + <p>I thought how convenient it would be if I + could take one in my hand, do my seeing + through it, focus my universe with it. And + when the strange mood left me and I came to, + I remembered or thought I remembered that I + was one of Those myself. “Why not be your + own little Kosmos-glass?” I said.</p> + + <p>I have been trying it now for some time. It + is hard to regulate the focus of course, and it + is not always what it ought to be. It has to + be allowed for some. I do not claim much for + it. But it’s better, such as it is, than a sheer + bit of Nothing, I think, to look at a universe + with.</p> + + </div> + <div id="section_3.7.2" class="section"> + <h4 class="section_title"><abbr class="section_number" title="two">II</abbr><br/> + The Human Unit</h4> + + <p>It matters little that the worlds that are + made in this way are very different in detail or + emphasis, that some of them are much smaller + <a class="pagenum" id="page365" title="365"> </a>and more twisted than others. The great + point, so far as education is concerned, is for + all teachers to realise that every man is a + whole world, that it is possible and natural for + every man to be a whole world. His very body + is, and there must be some way for him to have + a whole world in his mind. A being who finds + a way of living a world into his face can find a + way of reading a world together. If a man is + going to have unity, read his world together, + possess all-in-oneness in knowledge, he will + have to have it the way he has it in his face.</p> + + <p>It is superficial to assume, as scientists are + apt to do, that in a world where there are infinite + things to know, a man’s knowledge must + have unity or can have unity, in and of itself. + The moment that all the different knowledges + of a man are passed over or allowed to be passed + over into his personal qualities, into the muscles + and traits and organs and natural expressions + of the man, they have unity and force and order + and meaning as a matter of course. Infinite + opposites of knowledge, recluses and separates + of knowledge are gathered and can be seen + gathered every day in almost any man, in the + glance of his eye, in the turn of his lip, or in + the blow of his fist.</p> + + <p>It is not the method of science as science, + and it is not in any sense put forward as the + proper method for a man to use in his mere + specialty, but it does seem to be true that if a + man wants to know things which he does not + <a class="pagenum" id="page366" title="366"> </a>intend to know all of, the best and most scientific + way for him to know such things is to + reach out to them and know them through + their human or personal relations. I can only + speak for myself, but I have found for one that + the easiest and most thorough, practical way + for me to get the benefit of things I do not + know, is to know a man who does. If he is + an educated man, a man who really knows, + who has made what he knows over into himself, + I find if I know him that I get it all—the gist + of it. The spirit of his knowledge, its attitude + toward life, is all in the man, and if I really + know the man, absorb his nature, drink deep + at his soul, I know what he knows—it seems + to me—and what I know besides. It is true + that I cannot express it precisely. He would + have to give the lecture or diagram of it, but I + know it—know what it comes to in life, his life + and my life. I can be seen going around living + with it afterwards, any day. His knowledge + is summed up in him, his whole world is read + together in him, belongs to him, and he belongs + to me. To know a man is to know what he + knows in its best form—the things that have + made the man possible.</p> + + <p>A great portrait painter, it has always seemed + to me, is a kind of god in his way—knows + everything his sitters know. He knows what + every man’s knowledge has done with the man—the + best part of it—and makes it speak. I + have never yet found myself looking at great + <a class="pagenum" id="page367" title="367"> </a>walls of faces (one painter’s faces), found myself + walking up and down in Sargent’s soul, + without thinking what a great inhabited, + trooped-through man he was—all knowledges + flocking to him, showing their faces to him, + from the ends of the earth, emptying their + secrets silently out to his brush. If a man like + Sargent has for one of his sitters a great astronomer, + an astronomer who is really great, + who knows and absorbs stars, Sargent absorbs + the man, and as a last result the stars in the + man, and the man in Sargent, and the man’s + stars in Sargent, all look out of the canvas.</p> + + <p>It is the spirit that sums up and unifies + knowledge. It is a fact to be reckoned with, + in education, that knowledge can be summed + up, and that the best summing up of it is a + human face.</p> + </div> + <div id="section_3.7.3" class="section"> + <h4 class="section_title"><abbr class="section_number" title="three">III</abbr><br/> + The Higher Cannibalism</h4> + + <p>It is not unnatural to claim, therefore, that + the most immediate and important short-cut in + knowledge that the comprehensive or educated + man can take comes to him through his human + and personal relations. There is no better way + of getting at the spirits of facts, of tracing out + valuable and practical laws or generalisations, + than the habit of trying things on to people in + one’s mind.</p> + + <p><a class="pagenum" id="page368" title="368"> </a>I have always thought that if I ever got discouraged + and had to be an editor, I would do + this more practically. As it is, I merely do it + with books. I find no more satisfactory way + of reading most books—the way one has to—through + their backs, than reading the few + books that one does read, through persons and + for persons and with persons. It is a great + waste of time to read a book alone. One needs + room for rows of one’s friends in a book. One + book read through the eyes of ten people has + more reading matter in it than ten books read + in a common, lazy, lonesome fashion. One + likes to do it, not only because one finds one’s + self enjoying a book ten times over, getting ten + people’s worth out of it, but because it makes + a kind of sitting-room of one’s mind, puts a + fire-place in it, and one watches the ten people + enjoying one another.</p> + + <p>It may be for better and it may be for + worse, but I have come to the point where, if I + really care about a book, the last thing I want + to do with it is to sit down in a chair and read + it by myself. If I were ever to get so low in + my mind as to try to give advice to a real live + author (any author but a dead one), it would + be, “Let there be room for all of us, O Author, + in your book. If I am to read a live, happy, + human book, give me a bench.”</p> + + <p>I have noticed that getting at truth on most + subjects is a dramatic process rather than an + argumentative one. One gets at truth either + <a class="pagenum" id="page369" title="369"> </a>in a book or in a conversation not so much by + logic as by having different people speak. If + what is wanted is a really comprehensive view + of a subject, two or three rather different men + placed in a row and talking about it, saying + what they think about it in a perfectly plain + way, without argument, will do more for it + than two or three hundred syllogisms. A man + seems to be the natural or wild form of the + syllogism, which this world has tacitly agreed + to adopt. Even when he is a very poor one he + works better with most people than the other + kind. If a man takes a few other men (very + different ones), uses them as glasses to see a + truth through, it will make him as wise in a + few minutes, with that truth, as a whole human + race.</p> + + <p>Knowledge which comes to a man with any + particular sweep or scope is, in the very nature + of things, dramatic.</p> + + <hr class="thoughtbreak" /> + + <p class="post_thoughtbreak">[I fear, Gentle Reader, I am nearing a conviction. + I feel a certain constraint coming + over me. I always do, when I am nearing + a conviction. I never can be sure how my + soul will take it upon itself to act when I am + making the attempt I am making now, to state + what is to me an intensely personal belief, in a + general, convincing, or impersonal way. The + embarrassing part of a conviction is that it is + so. And when a man attempts to state a + thing as it is, to speak for God or everybody,—well, + <a class="pagenum" id="page370" title="370"> </a>it would not be respectable not to be + embarrassed a little—speaking for God. I + know perfectly well, sitting here at my desk, + this minute, with this conviction up in my + pen, that it is merely a little thing of my own, + that I ought to go on from this point cool and + straight with it. But it is a conviction, and if + you find me, Gentle Reader, in the very next + page, swivelling off and speaking for God, I can + only beg that both He and you will forgive me. + I solemnly assure you herewith, that, however + it may look, I am merely speaking for myself. + I have thought of having a rubber stamp for + this book, a stamp with <span class="small_all_caps">IT SEEMS TO ME</span> on it. + A good many of these pages need going over + with it afterwards. I do not suppose there is + a man living—either I or any other dogmatist—who + would not enjoy more speaking for himself + (if anybody would notice it) than speaking for + God. I have a hope that if I can only hold + myself to it on this subject I shall do much + better in speaking for myself, and may speak + accidentally for God besides. I leave it for + others to say, but it is hard not to point a little—in + a few places.]</p> + + <p>But here is the conviction. As I was going + to say, knowledge which comes to a man with + any particular sweep or scope is in the very + nature of things dramatic. If the minds of + two men expressing opinions in the dark could + be flashed on a canvas, if there could be such + a thing as a composite photograph of an opinion—a + <a class="pagenum" id="page371" title="371"> </a>biograph of it,—it would prove to be, with + nine men out of ten, a dissolving view of faces. + The unspoken sides of thought are all dramatic. + The palest generalisation a man can express, + if it could be first stretched out into its origins, + and then in its origins could be crowded up + and focused, would be found to be a long unconscious + procession of human beings—a murmur + of countless voices. All our knowledge + is conceived at first, taken up and organised in + actual men, flashed through the delights of + souls and the music of voices upon our brains. + If it is true even in the business of the street + that the greatest efficiency is reached by dealers + who mix with the knowledge of their subject + a keen appreciation and mastery of men, it is + still more true of the business of the mind that + the greatest, most natural and comprehensive + results are reached through the dramatic or + human insights.</p> + + <p>All our knowledge is dead drama. Wisdom + is always some old play faded out, blurred + into abstractions. A principle is a wonderful + disguised biograph. The power of Carlyle’s + <cite>French Revolution</cite> is that it is a great spiritual + play, a series of pictures and faces.</p> + + <p>It was the French Revolution all happening + over again to Carlyle, and it was another + French Revolution to every one of his readers. + It was dynamic, an induced current from Paris + via Craigenputtock, because it was dramatic—great + abstractions, playing magnificently over + <a class="pagenum" id="page372" title="372"> </a>great concretes. Every man in Carlyle’s history + is a philosophy, and every abstraction in + it a man’s face, a beckoning to us. He always + seems to me a kind of colossus of a man stalking + across the dark, way out in The Past, using + men as search-lights. He could not help doing + his thinking in persons, and everything he + touches is terribly and beautifully alive. It + was because he saw things in persons, that is, + in great, rapid, organised sum-totals of experience + and feeling, that he was able to make so + much of so little as a historian, and what is + quite as important (at least in history), so little + of so much.</p> + + <p>The true criticism of Carlyle as a historian + is not a criticism of his method, that he + went about in events and eras doing his + seeing and thinking with persons, but that + there were certain sorts of persons that Carlyle, + with his mere lighted-up-brute imagination, + could never see with. They were opaque + to him. Every time he lifted one of them up + to see ten years with, or a bevy of events or + whatever it might be, he merely made blots or + sputters with them, on his page. But it was + his method that made it a great page, wider + and deeper and more splendid than any of the + others, and the blots were always obvious blots, + did no harm there—no historical harm—almost + any one could see them, and if they could not, + were there not always plenty of little chilled-through + historians, pattering around after him, + <a class="pagenum" id="page373" title="373"> </a>tracking them out? But the great point of + Carlyle’s method was that he kept his perspective + with it. Never flattened out like + other historians, by tables of statistics, unbewildered + by the blur of nobodies, he was able + to have a live, glorious giant’s way of writing, + a godlike method of handling great handfuls + of events in one hand, of unrolling great + stretches of history with a look, of seeing + things and making things seen, in huge, broad, + focussed, vivid human wholes. It was a historical + method of treating great masses, which + Thomas Carlyle and Shakespeare and Homer + and the Old Testament all have in common.</p> + + <p>The fact that it fails in the letter and with + hordes of literal persons, that it has great gaps + of temperament left over in it, is of lesser + weight. The letter passes by (thank Heaven!) + in the great girths of time and space. In all + lasting or real history, only the spirit has a + right to live. Temperaments in histories even + at the worst are easily allowed for, filled out + with temperaments of other historians—that is, + they ought to be and are going to be if we ever + have real historians any more, historians great + enough and alive enough to have temperaments, + and with temperaments great enough + to write history the way God does—that can be + read.</p> + + <p>History can only be truly written by men + who have concepts of history, and “Every + concept,” says Hegel, “must be universal, + <a class="pagenum" id="page374" title="374"> </a>concrete, and particular, or else it cannot be + a concept.” That is, it must be dramatic.</p> + + <p>And what is true of a great natural man or + man of genius like Carlyle is equally true of + all other natural persons whether men of genius + or not. A stenographic report of all the + thoughts of almost any man’s brain for a day + would prove to almost any scientist how spiritually + organised, personally conducted a human + being’s brain is bound to be, almost in spite + of itself—even when it has been educated, artificially + numbed and philosophised. A man + may not know the look of the inside of his + mind well enough to formulate or recognise it, + but nearly every man’s thinking is done, as a + matter of course, either in people, or to people, + or for people, or out of people. It is the way + he grows, the way the world is woven through + his being, the way of having life more abundantly.</p> + + <p>It is not at all an exaggeration to say that if + Shakespeare had not created his characters + they would have created him. One need not + wonder so very much that Shakespeare grew so + masterfully in his later plays and as the years + went on. Such a troop of people as flocked + through Shakespeare’s soul would have made + a Shakespeare (allowing more time for it) out + of almost anybody.</p> + + <p>The essential wonder of Shakespeare, the + greatness which has made men try to make a + dozen specialists out of him, is not so very + <a class="pagenum" id="page375" title="375"> </a>wonderful when one considers that he was a + dramatist. A dramatist cannot help growing + great. At least he has the outfit for it if he + wants to. One hardly wants to be caught giving + a world recipe,—a prescription for being a + great man; but it does look sometimes as if the + habit of reading for persons, of being a sort of + spiritual cannibal, or man-eater, of going about + through all the world absorbing personalities + the way other men absorb facts, would gradually + store up personality in a man, and make him + great—almost inconveniently great, at times, + and in spite of himself. The probabilities seem + to be that it was because Shakespeare instinctively + picked out persons in the general scheme + of knowledge more than facts; it was because + persons seemed to him, on the whole in every + age, to be the main facts the age was for, summed + the most facts up; it was because they made + him see the most facts, helped him to feel and + act on facts, made facts experiences to him, + that William Shakespeare became so supreme + and masterful with facts and men both.</p> + + <p>To learn how to be <em lang="la" xml:lang="la">pro tem</em>. all kinds of men, + about all things, to enjoy their joys in the + things, is the greatest and the livest way of + learning the things.</p> + + <p>To learn to be a Committee of the Temperaments + all by one’s self (which is what Shakespeare + did) is at once the method and the end + of education—outside of one’s specialty.</p> + + <p>There could be no better method of doing + <a class="pagenum" id="page376" title="376"> </a>this (no method open to everybody) than the + method,—outside of one’s specialty,—of reading + for persons and with persons. It makes all + one’s life a series of spiritual revelations. It + is like having regular habits of being born + again, of having new experiences at will. It + mobilises all love and passion and delight in the + world and sends it flowing past one’s door.</p> + + <p>In this day of immeasurable exercises, why + does not some one put in a word for the good + old-fashioned exercise of being born again? It + is an exercise which few men seem to believe + in, not even once in a lifetime, but it is easily + the best all-around drill for living, and even + for reading, that can be arranged. And it is + not a very difficult exercise if one knows how, + does it regularly enough. It is not at all necessary + to go off to another world to believe in reincarnations, + if one practises on them every + day. Women have always seemed to be more + generally in the way of being born again than + men, but they have less scope and sometimes + there is a certain feverish smallness about it, + and when men once get started (like Robert + Browning in distinction from Mrs. Browning) + they make the method of being born again + seem a great triumphant one. They seem to + have a larger repertoire to be born to, and + they go through it more rapidly and justly. + At the same time it is true that nearly all women + are more or less familiar with the exercise + of being born again—living <em lang="la" xml:lang="la">pro tem</em>. and at + <a class="pagenum" id="page377" title="377"> </a>will—in others, and only a few men do it—merely + the greatest ones, statesmen, diplomats, + editors, poets, great financiers, and other + prophets—all men who live by seeing more + than others have time for. They are found to + do their seeing rather easily on the whole. + They do it by the perfectly normal exercise of + being born into other men, looking out of their + eyes a minute, whenever they like. All great + power in its first stage is essentially dramatic, + a man-judging, man-illuminating power, the + power of guessing what other people are going + to think and do.</p> + + <p>When the world points out to the young man, + as it is very fond of doing, that he must learn + from experience, what it really means is, that + he must learn from his dramatic drill in human + life, his contact with real persons, his slow, + compulsory scrupulous going the rounds of his + heart, putting himself in the place of real + persons.</p> + + <p>Probably every man who lives, in proportion + as he covets power or knowledge, would like to + be (at will at least) a kind of focused everybody. + It is true that in his earlier stages, and + in his lesser moods afterward, he would probably + seem to most people a somewhat teetering + person, diffused, chaotic, or contradictory. It + could hardly be helped—with the raw materials + of a great man all scattered around in him, + great unaccounted-for insights, idle-looking + powers all as yet unfused. But a man in the + <a class="pagenum" id="page378" title="378"> </a>long run (and longer the better) is always + worth while, no matter how he looks in the + making, and it certainly does seem reasonable, + however bad it may look, that this is the way + he is made, that in proportion as he does his + knowing spiritually and powerfully, he will + have to do it dramatically. It sometimes + seems as if knowing, in the best sense, were a + kind of rotary-person process, a being everybody + in a row, a state of living symposium. + The interpenetrating, blending-in, digesting + period comes in due course, the time of settling + down into himself, and behold the man is + made, a unified, concentrated, individual, universal + man—a focused everybody.</p> + + <p>This is not quite being a god perhaps, but it + is as near to it, on the whole, as a man can + conveniently get.</p> + </div> + <div id="section_3.7.4" class="section"> + <h4 class="section_title"><abbr class="section_number" title="four">IV</abbr><br/> + Spiritual Thrift</h4> + + <p>But perhaps one of the most interesting + things about doing up one’s knowing in persons + is that it is not only the most alive, but + the most economical knowledge that can be obtained. + On the whole, eleven or twelve people + do very well to know the world with, if one + can get a complete set, if they are different + enough, and one knows them down through. + The rest of the people that one sees about, from + <a class="pagenum" id="page379" title="379"> </a>the point of view of stretching one’s comprehension, + one’s essential sympathy or knowledge, + do not count very much. They are + duplicates—to be respected and to be loved, of + course, but to be kept in the cellar of actual + consciousness. There is no other way to do. + Everybody was not intended to be used by + everybody. It is because we think that they + were, mostly, that we have come to our present, + modern, heartlessly-cordial fashion of knowing + people—knowing people by parlourfuls—whole + parlourfuls at a time. “Is thy servant a + whale?” said my not unsociable soul to me. + “Is one to be fed with one’s kind as if they + were animalculæ, as if they had to be taken in + the bulk if one were really to get something?” + It is heartless and shallow enough. Who is + not weary of it? No one knows anybody nowadays. + He merely knows everybody. He + falls before The Reception Room. A reception + room is a place where we set people up in rows + like pickets on a fence to know them. Then + like the small boy with a stick, one tap per + picket, we run along knowing people. No one + comes in touch with any one. It is getting so + that there is hardly any possible way left in + our modern life for knowing people except + by marrying them. One cannot even be sure + of that, when one thinks how married people + are being driven about by books and by other + people. Society is a crowd of crowds mutually + destroying each other and literature is a crowd + <a class="pagenum" id="page380" title="380"> </a>of books all shutting each other up, and the + law seems to be either selection or annihilation, + whether in reading or living. The only way + to love everybody in this world seems to be to + pick out a few in it, delegates of everybody, + and use these few to read with, and to love and + understand the world with, and to keep close + to it, all one’s days.</p> + + <p>The higher form one’s facts are put in in this + world the fewer one needs. To know twelve + extremely different souls utterly, to be able to + borrow them at will, turn them on all knowledge, + bring them to bear at a moment’s notice + on anything one likes, is to be an educated, + masterful man in the most literal possible sense. + Except in mere matters of physical fact, things + which are small enough to be put in encyclopedias + and looked up there, a man with twelve + deeply loved or deeply pitied souls woven into + the texture of his being can flash down into + almost any knowledge that he needs, or go out + around almost any ignorance that is in his way, + through all the earth. The shortest way for + an immortal soul to read a book is to know + and absorb enough other immortal souls, and + get them to help. Any system of education + which like our present prevailing one is so + vulgar, so unpsychological, as to overlook the + soul as the organ and method of knowledge, + which fails to see that the knowledge of human + souls is itself the method of acquiring all other + knowledge and of combining and utilising it, + <a class="pagenum" id="page381" title="381"> </a>makes narrow and trivial and impotent scholars + as a matter of course.</p> + + <p>Knowledge of human nature and of one’s + self is the nervous system of knowledge, the + flash and culmination, the final thoroughness + of all the knowledge that is worth knowing + and of all ways of knowing it.</p> + + <p>It is all a theory, I suppose. I cannot prove + anything with it. I dare say it is true that + neither I nor any one else can get, by reading in + this way, what I like to think I am getting, + slowly, a cross-section of the universe. But it + is something to get as time goes on a cross-section + of all the human life that is being lived in + it. It is something to take each knowledge that + comes, strike all the keys of one’s friends on it—clear + the keyboard of space on it. When one + really does this, nothing can happen to one + which does not or cannot happen to one in the + way one likes. Events and topics in this world + are determined to a large degree by circumstances—dandelions, + stars, politics, bob-whites, + acids, Kant, and domestic science—but personalities, + a man’s means of seeing things, are determined + only by the limits of his imagination. + One’s knowledge of pictures, or of Kant, of bob-whites + or acids, cannot be applied to every conceivable + occasion, but nothing can happen in + all the world that one cannot see or feel or delight + in, or suffer in, through Charles Lamb’s + soul if one has really acquired it. One can be a + Charles Lamb almost anywhere toward almost + <a class="pagenum" id="page382" title="382"> </a>anything that happens along, or a Robert + Burns or a Socrates or a Heine, or an Amiel + or a Dickens or Hugo or any one, or one can + hush one’s soul one eternal moment and be the + Son of God. To know a few men, to turn them + into one’s books, to turn them into one another, + into one’s self, to study history with their + hearts, to know all men that live with them, + to put them all together and guess at God with + them—it seems to me that knowledge that is + as convenient and penetrating, as easily turned + on and off, as much like a light as this, is well + worth having. It would be like taking away + a whole world, if it were taken away from me—the + little row of people I do my reading with. + And some of them are supposed to be dead—hundreds + of years.</p> + + <hr class="thoughtbreak" /> + + <p class="post_thoughtbreak">But the dramatic principle in education + strikes both ways. While it is true that one + does not need a very large outfit of people to + do one’s knowing with, if one has the habit of + thinking in persons, it is still more true that + one does not need a large outfit of books.</p> + + <p>As I sit in my library facing the fire I fancy + I hear, sometimes, my books eating each other + up. One by one through the years they have + disappeared from me—only portraits or titles + are left. The more beautiful book absorbs the + less and the greater folds itself around the + small. I seldom take down a book that was an + enthusiasm once without discovering that the + <a class="pagenum" id="page383" title="383"> </a>heart of it has fled away, has stealthily moved + over, while I dreamed, to some other book. + Lowell and Whittier are footnotes scattered + about in several volumes, now. J. G. Holland + (Sainte-Beuve of my youth!) is digested by Matthew + Arnold and Matthew Arnold by Walter + Pater and Walter Pater by Walt Whitman. + Montaigne and Plato have moved over into + Emerson, and Emerson has been distilled slowly + into—forty years. Holmes has dissolved into + Charles Lamb and Thomas Browne. A big + volume of Rossetti (whom I oddly knew first) + is lost in a little volume of Keats, and as I sit + and wait Ruskin and Carlyle are going fast + into a battered copy on my desk—of the Old + Testament. Once let the dramatic principle + get well started in a man’s knowledge and it + seems to keep on sending him up new currents + the way his heart does, whether he notices it + or not. If a man will leave his books and his + people to themselves, if he will let them do + with him and with one another what they want + to do, they all work while he sleeps. If the + spirit of knowledge, the dramatic principle in + it, is left free, knowledge all but comes to a + man of itself, cannot help coming, like the + dew on the grass. With enough reading for + persons one need not buy very many books. + One allows for unconscious cerebration in + books. Books not only have a way of being + read through their backs, but of reading one + another.</p> + </div> + <div id="section_3.7.5" class="section"> + <a class="pagenum" id="page384" title="384"> </a> + <h4 class="section_title"><abbr class="section_number" title="five">V</abbr><br/> + The City, the Church, and the College</h4> + + <p>The greatest event of the nineteenth century + was that somewhere in it, at some immense + and hidden moment in it, human knowledge + passed silently over from the emphasis of Persons + to the emphasis of Things.</p> + + <p>I have walked up and down Broadway when + the whole street was like a prayer to me—miles + of it—a long dull cry to its little strip of + heaven. I have been on the Elevated—the + huge shuttle of the great city—hour by hour, + had my soul woven into New York on it, back + and forth, up and down, until it was hardly a + soul at all, a mere ganglion, a quivering, + pressed-in nerve of second-story windows, skies + of clotheslines, pale faces, mist and rumble + and dust. “Perhaps I have a soul,” I say. + “Perhaps I have not. Has any one a soul?” + When I look at the men I say to myself, “Now + I will look at the women,” and when I look at + the women I say, “Now I will look at the + men.” Then I look at shoes. Men are cheap + in New York. Every little man I see stewing + along the street, when I look into his face in + my long, slow country way, as if a hill belonged + with him or a scrap of sky or something, or as if + he really counted, looks at me as one would say, + “I? I am a millionth of New York—and you?”</p> + + <p><a class="pagenum" id="page385" title="385"> </a>I am not even that. The city gathers itself + together in a great roar about me, puts its + hands to its mouth and bellows in my country + ears, “Men are cheap enough, dear boy, + didn’t you know that? See those dots on + Brooklyn Bridge?”</p> + + <p>I go on with my walk. I stop and look up + at the great blocks. “Who are you?” the + great blocks say. I take another step. I am + one more shuffle on the street. “Men are + cheap. Look at <em>us</em>—” a thousand show windows + say. Are there not square miles of + human countenance drifting up Broadway + any day? “And where are they going?” I + asked my soul. “To oblivion?”—“They are + going from Things,” said my soul, “to + Things”; and <em lang="la" xml:lang="la">sotto voce</em>, “From one set of + Things they know they do not want, to another + set of Things they do not know they do + not want.”</p> + + <p>One need not wonder very long that nearly + every man one knows in New York is at best + a mere cheered-up and plucky pessimist. Of + course one has to go down and see one’s + favourite New Yorker, one needs to and wants + to, and one needs to get wrought in with him + too, but when one gets home, who is there who + does not have to get free from his favourite + New Yorker, shake himself off from him, save + his soul a little longer? “Men are cheap,” + it keeps saying over and over to one,—a + New York soul does. It keeps coming back—whispering + <a class="pagenum" id="page386" title="386"> </a>through all the aisles of thought. + New York spreads itself like a vast concrete philosophy + over every man’s spirit. It reeks with + cheapness, human cheapness. How could it + be otherwise with a New York man? I never + come home from New York, wander through + the city with my heart, afterward, look down + upon it, see Broadway with this little man on + it, fretting up and down between his twenty-story + blocks, in his little trough of din under + the wide heaven, loomed at by iron and glass, + browbeaten by stone, smothered by smoke, but + that he all but seems to me, this little Broadway + man, to be slipping off the planet, to + barely belong to the planet. I feel like clutching + at him, helping him to hold on, pitying + him. Then I remember how it really is (if + there is any pitying to be done),—this crowded-over, + crowded-off, matter-cringing, callous-looking + man, pities me.</p> + + <p>When I was coming home from New York + the last time, had reached a safe distance behind + my engine, out in the fields, I found myself + listening all over again to the roar (saved + up in me) of the great city. I tried to make + it out, tried to analyse what it was that the + voice of the great city said to me. “The voice + of the city is the Voice of Things,” my soul + said to me. “And the Man?” I said, “where + does the Man come in? Are not the Things + for the Man?” Then the roar of the great + city rose up about me, like a flood, swallowed + <a class="pagenum" id="page387" title="387"> </a>my senses in itself, numbed and overbore me, + swooned my soul in itself, and said: “<strong class="special_emphasis">No, + the things are not for the man. The + man is for the things.</strong>”</p> + + <p>This is what the great city said. And while + I still listened, the roar broke over me once + more with its <span class="small_all_caps">NO! NO! NO!</span> its million voices + in it, its million souls in it. All doubts and + fears and hates and cries, all deadnesses flowed + around me, took possession of me.</p> + + <p>Then I remembered the iron and wood faces + of the men, great processions of them, I had + seen there, the strange, protected-looking, + boxed-in faces of the women, faces in crates, + I had seen, and I understood. “New York,” + I said, “is a huge war, a great battle numbered + off in streets and houses, every man against + every man, every man a shut-in, self-defended + man. It is a huge lamp-lighted, sun-lighted, + ceaseless struggle, day unto day.”</p> + + <p>“But New York is not the world. Try the + whole world,” said my soul to me. “Perhaps + you can do better. Are there not churches, + men-making, men-gathering places, oases for + strength and rest in it?”</p> + + <p>Then I went to all the churches in the land + at once, of a still Sabbath morning, steeples in + the fields and hills, and steeples in cities. The + sound of splendid organs praying for the poor + emptied people, the long, still, innumerable + sound of countless collections being taken, + the drone and seesaw of sermons, countless + <a class="pagenum" id="page388" title="388"> </a>sermons! (Ah, these poor helpless Sundays!) + Paper-philosophy and axioms. Chimes of + bells to call the people to paper-philosophy and + axioms! “Canst thou not,” said I to my soul, + “guide me to a Man, to a door that leads to a + Man—a world-lover or prophet?” Then I fled + (I always do after a course of churches) to the + hills from whence cometh strength. David + tried to believe this. I do sometimes, but + hills are great, still, coldly companionable, + rather heartless fellows. I know in my heart + that all the hills on earth, with all their halos + on them, their cities of leaves, and circles of + life, would not take the place to me, in mystery, + closeness, illimitableness, and wonder—of one + man.</p> + + <p>And when I turn from the world of affairs + and churches, to the world of scholarship, I + cannot say that I find relief. Even scholarship, + scholarship itself, is under a stone most + of it, prone and pale and like all the rest, under + The Emphasis of Things. Scholarship is getting + to be a mere huge New York, infinite + rows and streets of things, taught by rows of + men who have made themselves over into + things, to another row of men who are trying + to make themselves over into things. I visit + one after the other of our great colleges, with + their forlorn, lonesome little chapels, cosy-corners + for God and for the humanities, their + vast Thing-libraries, men like dots in them, + their great long, reached-out laboratories, stables + <a class="pagenum" id="page389" title="389"> </a>for truth, and I am obliged to confess in spirit + that even the colleges, in all ages the strongholds + of the human past, and the human future, + the citadels of manhood, are getting to be great + man-blind centres, shambles of souls, places + for turning every man out from himself, every + man away from other men, making a Thing of + him—or at best a Columbus for a new kind of fly, + or valet to a worm, or tag or label on Matter.</p> + + <p>When one considers that it is a literal, scientific, + demonstrable fact that there is not a single + evil that can be named in modern life, social, + religious, political, or industrial, which is not + based on the narrowness and blindness of + classes of men toward one another, it is very + hard to sit by and watch the modern college almost + everywhere, with its silent, deadly Thing-emphasis + upon it, educating every man it can + reach, into not knowing other men, into not + knowing even himself.</p> + </div> + <div id="section_3.7.6" class="section"> + <h4 class="section_title"><abbr class="section_number" title="six">VI</abbr><br/> + The Outsiders</h4> + + <p>One cannot but look with deep pleasure at + first, and with much relief, upon these healthy + objective modern men of ours. The only way + out, for spiritual hardihood, after the world-sick + Middle Ages, was a Columbus, a vast splendid + train of Things after him, of men who emphasised + Things,—who could emphasise Things. + <a class="pagenum" id="page390" title="390"> </a>It is a great spectacle and a memorable one—the + one we are in to-day, the spectacle of the + wonder that men are doing with Things, but + when one begins to see that it is all being + turned around, that it is really a spectacle of + what Things are doing with men, one wakes + with a start. One wonders if there could be + such a thing as having all the personalities of + a whole generation lost. One looks suspiciously + and wistfully at the children one sees + in the schools. One wonders if they are going + to be allowed, like their fathers and mothers, + to have personalities to lose. I have all but + caught myself kidnapping children as I have + watched them flocking in the street. I have + wanted to scurry them off to the country, a + few of them, almost anywhere—for a few + years. I have thought I would try to find a + college to hide them in, some back-county, + protected college, a college which still has the + emphasis of Persons as well as the emphasis of + Things upon it. Then I would wait and see + what would come of it. I would at least have + a little bevy of great men perhaps, saved out + for a generation, enough to keep the world + supplied with samples—to keep up the bare + idea of the great man, a kind of isthmus to the + future.</p> + + <p>The test of civilisation is what it produces—its + man, if only because he produces all else. + If we have all made up our minds to allow the + specialist to set the pace for us, either to be + <a class="pagenum" id="page391" title="391"> </a>specialists ourselves or vulgarly to compete + with specialists, for the right of living, or getting + a living, there is going to be a crash + sometime. Then a sense of emptiness after the + crash which will call us to our senses. The + specialist’s view of the world logically narrows + itself down to a race of nonentities for nothings. + And even if a thing is a thing, it is a nothing + to a nonentity. And if it is the one business + of the specialist to obtain results, and we are + all browbeaten into being specialists, but one + result is going to be possible. It is obvious + that the man who is willing to sacrifice the + most is going to have the most success in the + race, crowd out and humiliate or annihilate + the others. If this is to be the world, it is + only men who are ready to die for nothing in + order to create nothing who will be able to + secure enough of nothing to rule it. One + wonders how long ruling such a world will be + worth while, a world which has accepted as + the order of the day success by suicide, the + spending of manhood on things which only by + being men we can enjoy—the method of forging + boilers and getting deaf to buy violins, of + having elevated railways for dead men, wireless + telegraphs for clods, gigantic printing-presses + for men who have forgotten how to read. + “Let us all, by all means, make all things + for the world.” So we set ourselves to our + task cheerfully, the task of attaining results for + people at large by killing people in particular + <a class="pagenum" id="page392" title="392"> </a>off. We are getting to be already, even in + the arts, men with one sense. We have classes + even in colour. Schools of painters are founded + by men because they have one seventh of a + sense of sight. Schools of musicians divide + themselves off into fractions of the sense of + sound, and on every hand men with a hundred + and forty-three million cells in their brains, + become noted (nobodies) because they only + use a hundred and forty-three. “What is the + use of attaining results,” one asks, “of making + such a perfectly finished world, when there + is not a man in it who would pay any attention + to it as a world?” If the planet were really being + improved by us, if the stars shone better + by our committing suicide to know their names, + it might be worth while for us all to die, perhaps, + to make racks of ourselves, frames for + souls (one whole generation of us), in one + single, heroic, concerted attempt to perfect a + universe like this, the use and mastery of it. + But what would it all come to? Would we + not still be left in the way on it, we and our + children, lumbering it up, soiling and disgracing + it, making a machine of it? There would + be no one to appreciate it. Our children would + inherit the curse from us, would be more like + us than we are. If any one is to appreciate this + world, we must appreciate it and pass the old + secret on.</p> + + <p>No one seems to believe in appreciating—appreciating + more than one thing, at least. + <a class="pagenum" id="page393" title="393"> </a>The practical disappearance in any vital form + of the lecture-lyceum, the sermon, the essay, + and the poem, the annihilation of the imagination + or organ of comprehension, the disappearance + of personality, the abolition of the editorial, + the temporary decline of religion, of + genius, of the artistic temperament, can all be + summed up and symbolised in a single trait of + modern life, its separated men, interested in + separate things. We are getting to be lovers + of contentedly separate things, little things in + their little places all by themselves. The modern + reader is a skimmer, a starer at pictures, + like a child, while he reads, never thinking a + whole thought, a lover of peeks and paragraphs, + as a matter of course. Except in his money-making, + or perhaps in the upper levels of + science, the typical modern man is all paragraphs, + not only in the way he reads, but + in the way he lives and thinks. Outside of + his specialty he is not interested in anything + more than one paragraph’s worth. He is as + helpless as a bit of protoplasm before the sight + of a great many very different things being + honestly put together. Putting things together + tires him. He has no imagination, + because he has the daily habit of contentedly + seeing a great many things which he never puts + together. He is neither artistic nor original nor + far-sighted nor powerful, because he has a paragraph + way of thinking, a scrap-bag of a soul, + because he cannot concentrate separate things, + <a class="pagenum" id="page394" title="394"> </a>cannot put things together. He has no personality + because he cannot put himself together.</p> + + <p>It is significant that in the days when personalities + were common and when very powerful, + interesting personalities could be looked + up, several to the mile, on almost any road + in the land, it was not uncommon to see a + business letter-head like this:</p> + + <div class="letterhead"> + <p>General Merchandise,</p> + <p>Dry Goods, Notions, Hats,</p> + <p>Shoes, Groceries, Hardware, Coffins</p> + <p>and Caskets, Livery and</p> + <p>Feed Stable.</p> + <p>Physician and Surgeon.</p> + <p>Justice of the Peace, Licensed to Marry.</p> + </div> + + <p>If, as it looks just at present, the nation is + going to believe in arbitration as the general + modern method of adjustment, that is, in the + all-siding up of a subject, the next thing it will + be obliged to believe in will be some kind of an + institution of learning which will produce arbitrators, + men who have two or three perfectly + good, human sides to their minds, who have + been allowed to keep minds with three dimensions. + The probabilities are that if the mind + of Socrates, or any other great man, could have + an X-ray put on it, and could be thrown on a + canvas, it would come out as a hexagon, or an + almost-circle, with lines very like spokes on + the inside bringing all things to a centre.</p> + + <p>It is not necessary to deny, in the present + <a class="pagenum" id="page395" title="395"> </a>emphasis of Things, that we are making and + inspiring all Things except ourselves in a way + that would make the Things glad. The trouble + is that Things are getting too glad. They are + turning around and making us. Nearly every + man in college is being made over, mind and + body, into a sort of machine. When the college + has finished him, and put him on the + market, and one wonders what he is for, one + learns he is to do some very little part, of some + very little thing, and nothing else. The local + paper announces with pride that in the new + factory we have for the manufacture of shoes + it takes one hundred and sixty-three machines + to make one shoe—one man to each machine. + I ask myself, “If it takes one hundred and + sixty-three machines to make one shoe, how + many machines does it take to make one + man?”</p> + + <p>The Infinite Face of The Street goes by me + night and day. To and fro, its innumerable + eyes, always the sound of footsteps in my ears, + out of all these—jostling our shoulders, hidden + from our souls, there waits an All-man, a great + man, I know, as always great men wait, whose + soul shall be the signal to the latent hero in us + all, who, standing forth from the machines of + learning and the machines of worship, that + spread their noise and network through all the + living of our lives, shall start again the old + sublime adventure of keeping a Man upon the + earth. He shall rouse the glowing crusaders, + <a class="pagenum" id="page396" title="396"> </a>the darers of every land, who through the + proud and dreary temples of the wise shall go, + with the cry from Nazareth on their lips, + “Woe unto you ye men of learning, ye have + taken away the key of knowledge, ye have entered + not in yourselves and them that were entering + in, ye have hindered,” and the mighty + message of the one great scholar of his day + who knew a God: “Whether there be prophecies + they shall fail, whether there be tongues + they shall cease, whether there be knowledge + it shall vanish away. Though I speak with + the tongues of men and of angels, and have + not love, I am become as sounding brass and + tinkling cymbal,…”</p> + + <p>I do not forget of Him, whose “<span class="small_all_caps">I, IF I BE + LIFTED UP</span>” is the hail of this modern world, + that there were men of letters in those far-off + days, when once He walked with us, who, + sounding their brass and tinkling their cymbals, + asked the essentially ignorant question + of all outsiders of knowledge in every age—“How + knoweth this man letters, never having + learned?”</p> + + <div class="poem"> + <p>As I lay on my bed in the night</p> + <p>They came</p> + <p>Pale with sleep—</p> + <p>The faces of all the living</p> + <p>As though they were dead;</p> + <p>“What is Power?” they cried,</p> + <p>Souls that were lost from their masters while they slept—</p> + <p>Trooping through my dream,</p> + <p>“What is Power?”</p> + <p><a class="pagenum" id="page397" title="397"> </a>Now these nineteen hundred years since the Boy</p> + <p>In the temple with The Doctors</p> + <p>Still the wind of faces flying</p> + <p>Through the spaces of my dream,</p> + <p>“<strong class="special_emphasis">What is Power?</strong>” they cried.</p> + </div> + + </div> + <div id="section_3.7.7" class="section"> + <h4 class="section_title"><abbr class="section_number" title="seven">VII</abbr><br/> + Reading the World Together</h4> + + <p>It is not necessary to decry science, but it + should be cried on the housetops of education, + the world around in this twentieth century, + that science is in a rut of dealing solely with + things and that the pronoun of science is It. + While it is obvious that neuter knowledge + should have its place in any real scheme of + life, it is also obvious that most of us, making + locomotives, playing with mist, fire and water + and lightning, and the great game with matter, + should be allowed to have sex enough to + be men and women a large part of the time, the + privilege of being persons, perchance gods, surmounting + this matter we know so much about, + rather than becoming like it.</p> + + <p>The next great move of education—the one + which is to be expected—is that the educated + man of the twentieth century is going to be + educated by selecting out of all the bare knowledges + the warm and human elements in them. + He is going to work these over into a relation + to himself and when he has worked them over + <a class="pagenum" id="page398" title="398"> </a>into relation to himself, he is going to work + them over through himself into every one else + and read the world together.</p> + + <p>It is because the general habit of reading for + persons, acquiring one’s knowledge naturally + and vitally and in its relation to life, has been + temporarily swept one side in modern education + that we are obliged to face the divorced + condition of the educated world to-day. There + seem to be, for the most part, but two kinds + of men living in it, living on opposite sides of + the same truths glaring at each other. On + the one hand the anæmically spiritual, broad, + big, pallid men, and on the other the funny, + infinitesimal, provincial, matter cornered, matter-of-fact + ones.</p> + + <p>However useless it may seem to be there is + but one way out. Some man is going to come + to us, must come to us, who will have it in him + to challenge these forces, do battle with them, + fight with fog on one hand and desert on the + other. There never will be one world in education + until we have one man who can emphasise + persons and things together, and do it + every day, side by side, in his own mind. + When there is one man who is an all-man, an + epitome of a world, there shall be more all-men. + He cannot help attracting them, drawing them + out, creating them. With enough men who + have a whole world in their hearts, we shall + soon have a whole world.</p> + + <p>Whether it is true or not that the universe is + <a class="pagenum" id="page399" title="399"> </a>most swiftly known, most naturally enjoyed as + related to one Creator or Person, as the self-expression + of one Being who loved all these + things enough to gather them together, it is + generally admitted that the natural man seems + to have been created to enjoy a universe as related + to himself. His most natural and powerful + way of enjoying it is to enjoy it in its + relation to persons. A Person may not have + created it, but it seems for the time being at + least, and so far as persons are concerned, to + have been created for persons. To know the + persons and the things together, and particularly + the things in relation to the persons, is the + swiftest and simplest way of knowing the + things. Persons are the nervous system of all + knowledge. So far as man is concerned all + truth is a sub-topic under his own soul, and the + universe is the tool of his own life. Reading + for different topics in it gives him a superficial + knowledge of the men who write about them. + Reading to know the men gives him a superficial + knowledge, in the technical sense, of the + things they write about. Let him stand up + and take his choice like a man between being + superficial in the letter and superficial in the + spirit. Outside of his specialty, however, being + superficial in the letter will lead him to the + most knowledge. Man is the greatest topic. + All other knowledge is a sub-topic under a + Man, and the stars themselves are as footnotes + to the thoughts of his heart.</p> + + <p><a class="pagenum" id="page400" title="400"> </a>“Things are not only related to other + things,” the soul of the man says, “they are + related to me.” This relation of things to me + is a mutual affair, partly theirs and partly + mine, and I am going to do my knowing, act + on my own knowledge, as if I were of some + importance in it. Shall I reckon with alkalis + and acids and not reckon with myself? I say, + “O great Nature, O infinite Things, by the + charter of my soul (and whether I have a soul + or not), I am not only going to know things, + but things shall know <em>me</em>. I stamp myself + upon them. I shall receive from them and + love them and belong to them, but they shall + be my things because they are things, and they + shall be to me, what I make them.” “The + sun is thy plaything,” my soul says to me, + “O, mighty Child, the stars thy companions. + Stand up! Come out in the day! laugh the + great winds to thy side. The sea, if thou wilt + have it so, is thy frog-pond and thou shalt play + with the lightnings in thy breast.”</p> + + <p>“Aye, aye,” I cry, “I know it! The + youth of the world seizes my whole being. I + hurrah like a child through all knowledge. I + have taken all heaven for my nursery. The + world is my rocking-horse. Things are not + only for things, and my body in the end for + things, but now I <em>live</em>, I <em>live</em>, and things + are for me!” “Aye, aye, and they shall be + to thee,” said my soul, “what thou biddest + them.”</p> + + <p><a class="pagenum" id="page401" title="401"> </a>And now I go forth quietly. “Do you not + see, O mountains, that you must reckon with + me? I am the younger brother of the stars. + I have faced nations in my heart. Great + bullying, hulking, half-dead centuries I have + faced. I have made them speak to me, and + have dared against them. If there is history, + I also am history. If there are facts, I also + am a fact. If there are laws, it is one of the + laws that I am one of the laws.”</p> + + <p>All knowledge, I have said in my heart, instead + of being a kind of vast overseer-and-slave + system for a man to lock himself up in, and + throw away his key in, becomes free, fluent, + daring, and glorious the moment it is conceived + through persons and for persons and with persons. + Knowledge is not knowledge until it is + conceived in relation to persons; that is, in + relation to all the facts. Persons are facts + also and on the whole the main facts, the + facts which for seventy years, at least, or until + the planet is too cooled off, all other facts are + for. The world belongs to persons, is related + to persons, and all the knowledge thereof, and + by heaven, and by my soul’s delight, all the + persons the knowledge is related to shall belong + to me, and the knowledge that is related + to them shall belong to me, the whole human + round of it. The spirit and rhythm and song + of their knowledge, the thing in it that is real + to them, that sings out their lives to them, shall + sing to me.</p> + </div> + </div> + <!-- <a class="pagenum" id="page402" title="402"> </a>[Blank Page] --> +</div> +<div id="book_4" class="book"><a class="pagenum" id="page403" title="403"> </a> + <h2 class="book_title"><span class="book_number">Book IV</span><br /> + What to Do Next</h2> + <div class="poem epigram"> + <p>“I am he who tauntingly compels men, women, nations,</p> + <p>Crying, ‘Leap from your seats and contend for your lives!’”</p> + </div> + <!-- <a class="pagenum" id="page404" title="404"> </a>[Blank Page] --> + <div id="section_4.1.1" class="section"> + <a class="pagenum" id="page405" title="405"> </a> + <div class="deco"> + <img src="images/style11.png" width="561" height="134" alt="" /> + </div> + <h4 class="section_title"><abbr class="section_number" title="one">I</abbr><br/> + See Next Chapter</h4> + + <p class="first_paragraph"><span class="first_word">It</span> is good to rise early in the morning, when + the world is still respectable and nobody + has used it yet, and sit and look at it, try to + realise it. One sees things very differently. + It is a kind of yawn of all being. One feels + one’s soul lying out, all relaxed, on it, and + resting on real things. It stretches itself on + the bare bones of the earth and knows. On a + hundred silent hills it lies and suns itself.</p> + + <p>And as I lay in the morning, soul and body + reaching out to the real things and resting on + them, I thought I heard One Part of me, down + underneath, half in the light and half in the + dark, laughing softly at the Other. “What is + this book of yours?” it said coldly, “with its + proffered scheme of education, its millenniums + and things? What do you think this theory, + this heaven-spanning theory of reading of + yours, really is, which you have held up objectively, + almost authoritatively, to be looked + <a class="pagenum" id="page406" title="406"> </a>at as truth? Do you think it is anything after + all but a kind of pallid, unreal, water-colour + exhibition, a row of blurs of faintly coloured + portraits of yourself, spread on space? Do + you not see how unfair it is—this spinning out + of one’s own little dark, tired inside, a theory + for a wide heaven and earth, this straddling + with one temperament a star?”</p> + + <p>Then I made myself sit down and compose + what I feared would be a strictly honest title-page + for this book. Instead of:</p> + + <div class="sample_title"> + <p class="larger">THE LOST ART OF READING</p> + + <p>A STUDY<br /> + OF<br /> + EDUCATION<br /> + BY<br /> + ETC.</p> + </div> + + <p class="continued_paragraph">I wrote it:</p> + + + <div class="sample_title"> + <p class="larger">HOW TO BE MORE LIKE ME</p> + + <p>A SHY<br /> + AT<br /> + EDUCATION<br /> + BY<br /> + ETC.</p> + </div> + + <p>And when I had looked boldly (almost + scientifically) at this title-page, let it mock me + a little, had laughed and sighed over it, as I + ought, there came a great hush from I know + not where. I remembered it was the title, + <a class="pagenum" id="page407" title="407"> </a>after all, for better or worse, in some sort or + another, of every book I had craved and delighted + in, in the whole world. Then suddenly + I found myself before this book, praying to it, + and before every struggling desiring-book of + every man, of other men, where it has prayed + before, and I dared to look my title in the face. + I have not denied—I do not need to deny—that + what I have uncovered here is merely my + own soul’s glimmer—my interpretation—at this + mighty, passing show of a world, and it comes + to you, Oh Gentle Reader, not as I am, but as I + would like to be. Out of chaos it struggles to + you, and defeat—can you not see it?—and if but + the benediction of what I, or you, or any man + would like to be will come and rest on it, it is + enough. Take it first and last, it is written in + every man’s soul, be his theory whatsoever it + may of this great wondering world—wave + after wave of it, shuddering and glorying over + him—it is written after all that he does not + know that anything is, can be, or has been in + this world until he possesses it, or misses possessing + it himself—feels it slipping from him. + It is in what a man is, has, or might have, that + he must track out his promise for a world. His + life is his prayer for the ages as long as he lives, + and what he is, and what he is trying to be, + sings and prays for him, says masses for his + soul under the stars, and in the presence of all + peoples, when he is dead. By this truth, I + and my book with you, Gentle Reader, must + <a class="pagenum" id="page408" title="408"> </a>stand or fall. Even now as I bend over the + click of my typewriter, the years rise dim and + flow over me out of the east, … generations + of brothers, out of the mist of heaven and + out of the dust of the earth, trooping across + the world, and wondering at it, come and go, + and out of all these there shall not be one, no + not one, Gentle Reader, but shall be touched + and loved by you, by me. In light out of + shadow or in the shadow out of the light, our + souls fleck them, fleck them with the invisible, + blessing them and cursing them. We shall be + the voices of the night and day to them, shall + live a shadow of life with them, and be the + sounds in their ears; did any man think that + what we are, and what we are trying to be, is + ours, is private, is for ourselves? Boundlessly, + helplessly scattered on the world, upon the + faces of our fellows, our souls mock to us or + sing to us forever.</p> + + <p>So if I have opened my windows to you, say + not it is because I have dared. It is because I + have not dared. I have said I will protect + my soul with the street. I will have my vow + written on my forehead. I will throw open + my window to the passer-by. Fling it in! I + beg you, oh world, whatever it is, be it prayer + or hope or jest. It is mine. I have vowed + to live with it, to live out of it—so long as + I feel your footsteps under my casement, and + know that your watch is upon my days, and + that you hold me to myself. I have taken for + <a class="pagenum" id="page409" title="409"> </a>my challenge or for my comrade, I know not + which, a whole world.</p> + + <p>And what shall a man give in exchange for + a whole world?</p> + + <p>And my soul said “He shall not save nor + keep back himself.”</p> + + <p>Who is the Fool—that I should be always + taking all this trouble for him,—tiptoeing up + and down the world with my little cover over + my secret for him? To defy a Fool, I have + said, speak your whole truth. Then God + locks him out. To hide a secret, have enough + of it. Hide it outdoors. Why should a man + take anything less than a world to hide in? + If a soul is really a soul, why should it not fall + back for its reserve on its own infinity? God + does. Even daisies do it. It is too big a + world to be always bothering about one’s secret + in it. “Who has time for it?” I have said. + “Give it out. Move right on living. Get + another.” The only way for a man in this + twentieth century to hide his soul is by letting + it reach out of sight. Not by locks, nor by + stiflings, nor by mean little economizings of + the heart does a man earn a world for a comrade. + Let the laughers laugh. On the great + still street in space where souls are,—who + cares?</p> + </div> + <div id="section_4.1.2" class="section"> + <a class="pagenum" id="page410" title="410"> </a> + <h4 class="section_title"><abbr class="section_number" title="two">II</abbr><br/> + Diagnosis</h4> + + <p>Compelled as I am, as most of us are, to witness + the unhappy spectacle, in every city of the + land, of a great mass of unfortunate and mutilated + persons whirled round and round in rows, + in huge reading-machines, being crunched and + educated, it is very hard not to rush thoughtlessly + in to the rescue sometimes, even if one + has nothing better than such a pitiful, helpless + thing as good advice.</p> + + <p>I am afraid it does not look very wise to do + it. Civilisation is such a vast, hypnotising, + polarising spectacle, has the stage so fully to + itself, everybody’s eyes glued on it, it is hard + to get up and say what one thinks in it. One + cannot find anything equally objective to say + it with. One feels as if calling attention to + one’s self, to the little, private, shabby theatre + of one’s own mind. It is as if in a great theatre + (on a back seat in it) one were to get up and + stand in his chair and get the audience to + turn round, and say, “Ladies and gentlemen. + That is not the stage, with the foot-lights over + there. This is the stage, here where I am. + Now watch me twirl my thumbs.”</p> + + <p>But the great spectacle of the universal + reading-machine is too much for me. Before + I know it I try to get the audience to turn + around.</p> + + <p><a class="pagenum" id="page411" title="411"> </a>The spectacle of even a single lad, in his + more impressionable and possible years, reading + a book whether he has anything to do with + it or not, in spite of the author and in spite of + himself, when one considers how many books + he might read which really belong to him, is + enough to make a mere reformer or outlaw or + parent-interferer of any man who is compelled + to witness it.</p> + + <p>But it seems that the only way to interfere + with one of these great reading-machines is to + stop the machine. One would say theoretically + that it would not take very much to stop it—a + mere broken thread of thought would do it, if + the machine had any provision for thoughts. + As it is, one can only stand outside, watch it + through the window, and do what all outsiders + are obliged to do, shout into the din a little + good advice. If this good advice were to be + summed up in a principle or prepared for a + text-book it would be something like this:</p> + + <p>The whole theory of our prevailing education + is a kind of unanimous, colossal, “I can’t,” + “You can’t”; chorus, “We all of us together + can’t.” The working principle of public-school + education, all the way from its biggest + superintendents or overseers down to its littlest + tow-heads in the primary rooms, is a huge, + overbearing, overwhelming system of not expecting + anything of anybody. Everything is + arranged throughout with reference to not-expecting, + and the more perfectly a system works + <a class="pagenum" id="page412" title="412"> </a>without expecting, or needing to expect, the + more successful it is represented to be. The + public does not expect anything of the politicians. + The politicians do not expect anything + of the superintendents. The superintendents + do not expect anything of the teachers, and + the teachers do not expect anything of the + pupils, and the pupils do not expect anything + of themselves. That is to say, the whole educational + world is upside down,—so perfectly + and regularly and faultlessly upside down that + it is almost hopeful. All one needs to do is to + turn it accurately and carefully over at every + point and it will work wonderfully.</p> + + <p>To turn it upside down, have teachers that + believe something.</p> + + </div> + <div id="section_4.1.3" class="section"> + <h4 class="section_title"><abbr class="section_number" title="three">III</abbr><br/> + Eclipse</h4> + + <p>When it was decreed in the course of the + nineteenth century that the educational world + should pass over from the emphasis of persons + to the emphasis of things, it was decreed that a + generation that could not emphasise persons + in its knowledge could not know persons. A + generation which knows things and does not + know persons naturally believes in things more + than it believes in persons.</p> + + <p>Even an educator who is as forward-looking + and open to human nature as President Charles + <a class="pagenum" id="page413" title="413"> </a>F. Thwing, with all his emphasis of knowing + persons and believing in persons as a basis for + educational work, seems to some of us to give + an essentially unbelieving and pessimistic + classification of human nature for the use of + teachers.</p> + + <p>“Early education,” says President Thwing, + “occupies itself with description (geometry, + space, arithmetic, time, science, the world of + nature). Later education with comparison + and relations.” If one asks, “Why not both + together? Why learn facts at one time and + their relations at another? Is it not the most + vital possible way to learn facts to learn them + in their relations?”—the answer that would be + generally made reveals that most teachers are + pessimists, that they have very small faith in + what can be expected of the youngest pupils. + The theory is that interpretative minds must + not be expected of them. Some of us find it + very hard to believe as little as this, in any + child. Most children have such an incorrigible + tendency for putting things together that they + even put them together wrong rather than not + put them together at all. Under existing educational + conditions a child is more of a philosopher + at six than he is at twenty-six.</p> + + <p>The third stage of education for which Dr. + Thwing partitions off the human mind is the + “stage in which a pupil becomes capable of + original research, a discoverer of facts and relations” + himself. In theory this means that + <a class="pagenum" id="page414" title="414"> </a>when a man is thirty years old and all possible + habits of originality have been trained out of + him, he should be allowed to be original. In + practice it means removing a man’s brain for + thirty years and then telling him he can think. + There never has been a live boy in a school as + yet that would allow himself to be educated in + this way if he could help it. All the daily + habits of his mind resent it. It is a pessimistic, + postponing way of educating him. It + does not believe in him enough. It may be true + of men in the bulk, men by the five thousand, + that their intellectual processes happen along in + this conveniently scientific fashion, at least as + regards emphasis, but when it is applied to any + individual mind, at any particular time, in + actual education, it is found that it is not true, + that it is pessimistic. God is not so monotonous + and the universe is not graded as accurately + as a public school, and things are much + more delightfully mixed up. If a great university + were to give itself whole-heartedly and + pointedly to one single individual student, it + would find it both convenient and pleasant and + natural and necessary to let him follow these + three stages all at once, in one stage with one + set of things, and in another stage with another.</p> + + <p>Everyone admits that the first thing a genius + does with such a convenient, three-part system, + or chart for a soul, is to knock it endwise. + He does it because he can. Others would if + they could. He insists from his earliest days + <a class="pagenum" id="page415" title="415"> </a>on doing all three parts, everything, one set + of things after the other—description, comparison, + creation, and original research sometimes + all at once. He learns even words all ways at + once. All of these processes are applied to each + thing that a genius learns in his life, not the + three parts of his life. One might as well say + to a child, “Now, dear little lad, your life is + going to be made up of eating, sleeping, and + living. You must get your eating all done up + now, these first ten years, and then you can + get your sleeping done up, and then you can + take a spell at living—or putting things together.”</p> + + <p>The first axiom of true pedagogics is that + nothing can be taught except the outside or + letter of a thing. The second axiom is that + there is nothing gained in teaching a pupil the + outside of a thing if he has not the inside—the + spirit or relations of it. Teachers do not + dare to believe this. They think it is true + only of men of genius. They admit that men + of genius can be educated through the inside + or by calling out the spirit, by drawing out + their powers of originality from the first, but + they argue that with common pupils this process + should not be allowed. They are not + worthy of it. That is to say, the more ordinary + men are and the more they need brains, the + less they shall be allowed to have them.</p> + + <p>Inasmuch, then, as the inside cannot be + taught and there is no object in teaching the + <a class="pagenum" id="page416" title="416"> </a>outside, the question remains how to get the + right inside at work producing the right outside. + This is a purely spiritual question and + brings us to the third axiom. Every human + being born into the world is entitled to a special + study and a special answer all to himself. If, + as President Thwing very truly says, “The + higher education as well as the lower is to be + organised about the unit of the individual student,” + what follows? The organisation must + be such as to make it possible for every teacher + to study and serve each individual student as a + special being by himself. In other words, if + this last statement of Dr. Thwing’s is to be + acted on, it makes havoc with his first. It requires + a somewhat new and practically revolutionary + organisation in education. It will + be an organisation which takes for its basic + principle something like this:</p> + + <p><em lang="la" xml:lang="la">Viz.</em>: The very essence of an average pupil + is that he needs to be studied more, not less, + than any one else in order to find his master-key, + the master-passion to open his soul with. + The essence of a genius is that almost any one + of a dozen passions can be made the motive + power of his learning. His soul is opening + somewhere all the time.</p> + + <p>The less individuality a student has, the + more he is like other students, the more he + should be kept away from other students until + what little individuality he has has been + brought out. It is not only equally true of the + <a class="pagenum" id="page417" title="417"> </a>ordinary man as well as of the man of genius + that he must educate himself, but it is more + true. Other people’s knowledge can be poured + into and poured over a genius innocently + enough. It rolls off him like water on a duck’s + back. Even if it gets in, he organically protects + himself. The genius of the ordinary man + needs special protection made for it. As our + educational institutions are arranged at present, + the more commonplace our students are + the more we herd them together to make them + more commonplace. That is, we do not believe + in them enough. We believe that they + are commonplace through and through, and + that nothing can be done about it. We admit, + after a little intellectual struggle, that a genius + (who is bound to be an individual anyway) + should be treated as one, but a common boy, + whose individuality can only be brought out by + his being very vigorously and constantly reminded + of it, and exercised in it, is dropped + altogether as an individual, is put into a herd + of other common boys, and his last remaining + chance of being anybody is irrevocably cut off. + We do not believe in him as an individual. + He is a fraction of a roomful. He is a 67th or + 734th of something. Some one has said that the + problem of education is getting to be, How can + we give, in our huge learning-machines, our exceptional + students more of a chance? I state a + greater problem: How can we give our common + students a chance to be exceptional ones?</p> + + <p><a class="pagenum" id="page418" title="418"> </a>The problem can only be solved by teachers + who believe something, who believe that there + is some common ground, some spiritual law of + junction, between the man of genius, the natural + or free man, and the cramped, <em lang="la" xml:lang="la">i. e.</em>, artificial, + ordinary one. It would be hard to name + any more important proposition for current + education to act on than this, that the natural + man in this world is the man of genius. + The Church has had to learn that religion does + not consist in being unnatural. The schools + are next to learn that the man of genius is + not unnatural. He is what nature intended + every man to be, at the point where his genius + lies. The way out in education, the only believing, + virile, man’s way out, would seem to + be to begin with the man of genius as a principle + and work out the application of the + principle to more ordinary men—men of slowed-down + genius. We are going to use the same + methods—faster or slower—for both. A child’s + greater genius lies in his having a more lively + sense of relation with more things than other + children. Teachers are going to believe that + if the right thing can be done about it, this + sense of a live relation to knowledge can be + uncovered in every human soul, that there + is a certain sense in which every man is his + own genius. “By education,” said Helvetius, + “you can make bears dance, but never create + a man of genius.” The first thing for a + teacher who believes this to do, is not to teach.</p> + </div> + <div id="section_4.1.4" class="section"> + <a class="pagenum" id="page419" title="419"> </a> + <h4 class="section_title"><abbr class="section_number" title="four">IV</abbr><br/> + Apocalypse</h4> + + + <p>There is a spirit in this book, struggling + down underneath it, which neither I nor any + other man shall ever express. It needs a nation + to express it, a nation fearless to know + itself, a great, joyous, trustful, expectant nation. + The centuries break away. I almost + see it now, lifting itself in its plains and hills + and fields and cities, in its smoke and cloud-land, + as on some huge altar, to supreme destiny, + a nation freed before heaven by the mighty, + daily, childlike joy of its own life. I see it as + a nation full of personalities, full of self-contained, + normally self-centred, self-delighted, + self-poised men—men of genius, men who balance + off with a world, men who are capable of + being at will magnificently self-conscious or + unconscious, self-possessed and self-forgetful—balanced + men, comrades and equals of a world, + neither its slaves nor its masters.</p> + + <p>I have said I will not have a faith that I + have to get to with a trap-door. I have said + that inspiration is for everybody. I have had + inspiration myself and I will not clang down a + door above my soul and believe that God has + given to me or to any one else what only a few + can have. I do not want anything, I will not + have anything that any one cannot have. If + there is one thing rather than another that + <a class="pagenum" id="page420" title="420"> </a>inspiration is for, it is that when I have it I + know that any man can have it. It is necessary + to my selfishness that he shall have it. If + a great wonder of a world like this is given to + a man, and he is told to live on it and it is not + furnished with men to live with, with men that + go with it, what is it all for? If one could + have one’s choice in being damned there would + be no way that would be quite so quick and + effective as having inspirations that were so + little inspired as to make one suppose they + were merely for one’s self or for a few others. + The only way to save one’s soul or to keep a + corner for God in it is to believe that He is a + kind of God who has put inspiration in every + man. All that has to be done with it, is to get + him to stop smothering it.</p> + + <p>Inspiration, instead of being an act of going + to work in a minute, living a few hundred + years at once, an act of making up and creating + a new and wonderful soul for one’s self, consists + in the act of lifting off the lid from the + one one has. The mere fact that the man exists + who has had both experiences, not having + inspiration and having it, gives a basis for + knowledge of what inspiration is. A man who + has never had anything except inspiration cannot + tell us what it is, and a man who has never + had it cannot tell us what it is; but a man who + has had both of these experiences (which is + the case with most of us) constitutes a cross-section + of the subject, a symbol of hope for + <a class="pagenum" id="page421" title="421"> </a>every one. All who have had not-inspirations + and inspirations both know that the origin + and control and habit of inspiration, are all of + such a character as to suggest that it is the + common property of all men. All that is + necessary is to have true educators or promoters, + men who furnish the conditions in which + the common property can be got at.</p> + + <p>The only difference between men of genius—men + of genius who know it—and other men—men + of genius who don’t know it—is that the + men of genius who know it have discovered + themselves, have such a headlong habit of self-joy + in them, have tasted their self-joys so + deeply, that they are bound to get at them + whether the conditions are favourable or not. + The great fact about the ordinary man’s genius, + which the educational world has next to reckon + with, is that there are not so many places to + uncover it. The ordinary man at first, or until + he gets the appetite started, is more particular + about the conditions.</p> + + <p>It is because a man of genius is more thorough + with the genius he has, more spiritual + and wilful with it than other men, that he + grows great. A man’s genius is always at bottom + religious, at the point where it is genius, + a worshipping toward something, a worshipping + toward something until he gets it, a supreme + covetousness for God, for being a God. + It is a faith in him, a sense of identity and sharing + with what seems to be above and outside, + <a class="pagenum" id="page422" title="422"> </a>a sense of his own latent infinity. I have said + that all that real teaching is for, is to say to + a man, in countless ways, a countless “You + can.” And I have said that all real learning + is for is to say “I can.” When we have + enough great “I can’s,” there will be a great + society or nation, a glorious “We can” rising + to heaven. This is the ideal that hovers over + all real teaching and makes it deathless,—fertile + for ever.</p> + + <p>If the world could be stopped short for ten + years in its dull, sullen round of not believing + in itself, if it could be allowed to have, all of + it, all over, even for three days, the great + solemn joy of letting itself go, it would not be + caught falling back very soon, I think, into + its stupor of cowardice. It would not be the + same world for three hundred years. All that + it is going to require to get all people to feel + that they are inspired is some one who is strong + enough to lift a few people off of themselves—get + the idea started. Every man is so busy + nowadays keeping himself, as he thinks, properly + smothered, that he has not the slightest + idea of what is really inside him, or of what + the thing that is really inside him would do with + him, if he would give it a chance. Any man + who has had the experience of not having inspiration + and the experience of having it both + knows that it is the sense of striking down + through, of having the lid of one’s smaller + consciousness lifted off. In the long run his + <a class="pagenum" id="page423" title="423"> </a>inspiration can be had or not as he wills. He + knows that it is the supreme reasonableness in + him, the primeval, underlying naturalness in + him, rising to its rights. What he feels when + he is inspired is that the larger laws, the laws + above the other laws, have taken hold of him. + He knows that the one law of inspiration is + that a man shall have the freedom of himself. + Most problems and worries are based on defective, + uninvoked functions. Some organ, + vision, taste, or feeling or instinct is not allowed + its vent, its chance to qualify. Something + needs lifting away. The common experience + of sleeping things off, or walking or working + them off, is the daily symbol of inspiration. + More often than not a worry or trouble is + moved entirely out of one’s path by the simplest + possible device, an intelligent or instinctive + change of conditions.</p> + + <p>The fundamental heresy of modern education + is that it does not believe this—does not + believe in making deliberate arrangements for + the originality of the average man. It does + not see that the extraordinary man is simply + the ordinary man keyed-up, writ large or moving + more rapidly. What the average man is + now, the great men were once. When we begin + to understand that a man of genius is not + supernatural, that he is simply more natural + than the rest of us, that all the things that are + true for him are true for us, except that they + are true more slowly, the educational world + <a class="pagenum" id="page424" title="424"> </a>will be a new world. The very essence of the + creative power of a man of genius over other + men, is that he believes in them more than + they do. He writes, paints, or sings as if all + other men were men of genius, and he keeps + on doing it until they are. All modern human + nature is annexed genius. The whole world + is a great gallery of things, that men of genius + have seen, until they make other men see them + too, and prove that other men can see them. + What one man sees with travail or by being + born again, whole generations see at last without + trying, and when they are born the first + time. The great cosmic process is going on + in the human spirit. Ages flow down from + the stars upon it. No one man shall guess, + now or ever, what a man is, what a man shall + be. But it is to be noticed that when the world + gets its greatest man—the One who guesses + most, generations are born and die to know + Him, all with awe and gentleness in their + hearts. One after the other as they wheel up to + the Great Sun to live,—they call Him the Son + of God because He thought everybody was.</p> + + <p>The main difference between a great man + and a little one is a matter of time. If the little + man could keep his organs going, could keep + on experiencing, acting, and reacting on things + for four thousand years, he would have no + difficulty in being as great as some men are in + their threescore and ten. All genius is inherited + time and space. The imagination, + <a class="pagenum" id="page425" title="425"> </a>which is the psychological substitute for time + and space, is a fundamental element in all + great power, because, being able to reach + results without pacing off the processes, it + makes it possible for a man to crowd more + experience in, and be great in a shorter + time.</p> + + <p>The idea of educating the little man in the + same way as the great man, from the inside, + or by drawing out his originality, meets with + many objections. It is objected that inasmuch + as no little men could be made into + great men in the time allotted, there would be + no object in trying to do it, and no result to + show for it in the world, except row after row + of spoiled little men, drearily waiting to die. + The answer to this is the simple assertion that + if a quart-cup is full it is the utmost a quart-cup + can expect. A hogshead can do no more. + So far as the man himself is concerned, if he + has five sound, real senses in him, all of them + acting and reacting on real things, if he is alive, + i. e., sincere through and through, he is educated. + True education must always consist, + not in how much a man has, but in the way + he feels about what he has. The kingdom + of heaven is on the inside of his five senses.</p> + + </div> + <div id="section_4.1.5" class="section"> + <a class="pagenum" id="page426" title="426"> </a> + <h4 class="section_title"><abbr class="section_number" title="five">V</abbr><br/> + Every Man his Own Genius</h4> + + <p>I do not mean by the man of genius in this + connection the great man of genius, who takes + hold of his ancestors to live, rakes centuries + into his life, burns up the phosphorus of ten + generations in fifty years, and with giant + masterpieces takes leave of the world at last, + bringing his family to a full stop in a blaze of + glory, and a spindling child or so. I am merely + contending for the principle that the extraordinary + or inspired man is the normal man (at the + point where he is inspired) and that the ordinary + or uninspired boy can be made like him, + must be educated like him, led out through + his self-delight to truth, that, if anything, the + ordinary or uninspired boy needs to be educated + like a genius more than a genius does.</p> + + <p>I know of a country house which reminds + me of the kind of mind I would like to have. + In the first place, it is a house that grew. It + could not possibly have been thought of all at + once. In the second place, it grew itself. + Half inspiration and half common-sense, with + its mistakes and its delights all in it, gloriously, + frankly, it blundered into being, seven + generations tumbled on its floors, filled it + with laughter and love and tears. One felt + that every life that had come to it had written + itself on its walls, that the old house had + <a class="pagenum" id="page427" title="427"> </a>broken out in a new place for it, full of new + little joys everywhere, and jogs and bays and + afterthoughts and forethoughts, old roofs and + young ones chumming together, and old chimneys + (three to start with and four new ones + that came when they got ready). Everything + about it touched the heart and said something. + I have never managed to see it yet, whether in + sunlight, cloud-light, or starlight, or the light + of its own lamps, but that it stood and spoke. + It is a house that has genius. The genius of + the earth and the sky around it are all in it, + of motherhood, of old age, and of little children. + It grew out of a spirit, a loving, eager, putting-together, + a making of relations between things + that were apart,—the portrait of a family. It is + a very beautiful, eloquent house, and hundreds + of nights on the white road have I passed it by, + in my lonely walk, and stopped and listened to + it, standing there in its lights, like a kind of + low singing in the trees, and when I have come + home, later, on the white road, and the lights + were all put out, I still feel it speaking there, + faint against heaven, with all its sleep, its + young and old sleep, its memories and hopes + of birth and death, lifting itself in the night, a + prayer of generations.</p> + + <p>Many people do not care for it very much. + They would wonder that I should like a mind + like it. It is a wandering-around kind of a + house, has thirty outside doors. If one + doesn’t like it, it is easy to get out (which is + <a class="pagenum" id="page428" title="428"> </a>just what I like in a mind). Stairways almost + anywhere, only one or two places in the whole + building where there is not a piazza, and every + inch of piazza has steps down to the grass and + there are no walks. A great central fireplace, + big as a room, little groups of rooms that keep + coming on one like surprises, and little groups + of houses around outside that have sprung up + out of the ground themselves. A flower garden + that thought of itself and looks as if it took + care of itself (but doesn’t). Everything exuberant + and hospitable and free on every side + and full of play,—a high stillness and seriousness + over all.</p> + + <p>I cannot quite say what it is, but most + country houses look to me as if they had forgotten + they were really outdoors, in a great, + wide, free, happy place, where winds and suns + run things, where not even God says nay, and + everything lives by its inner law, in the presence + of the others, exults in its own joy and + plays with God. Most country homes forget + this. They look like little isles of glare and + showing off, and human joylessness, dotting + the earth. People’s minds in the houses are + like the houses: they reek with propriety. + That is, they are all abnormal, foreign to the + spirit, to the passion of self-delight, of life, of + genius. Most of them are fairly hostile to genius + or look at it with a lorgnette.</p> + + <p>I like to think that if the principles and + habits of freedom that result in genius were to + <a class="pagenum" id="page429" title="429"> </a>be gauged and adjusted toward bringing out + the genius of ordinary men, they would result + in the following:</p> + + <p>Recipe to make a great man (or a live small + one): Let him be made like a great work of + art. In general, follow the rule in Genesis i.</p> + + <p>1. Chaos.</p> + + <p>2. Enough Chaos; that is, enough kinds of + Chaos. Pouring all the several parts of Chaos + upon the other parts of Chaos.</p> + + <p>3. Watch to see what emerges and what it is + in the Chaos that most belongs to all the rest, + what is the Unifying Principle.</p> + + <p>4. Fertilise the Chaos. Let it be impregnated + with desire, will, purpose, personality.</p> + + <p>5. When the Unifying Principle is discovered, + refrain from trying to force everything + to attach itself to it. Let things attach + themselves in their way as they are sure to do + in due time and grow upon it. Let the mind + be trusted. Let it not be always ordered + around, thrust into, or meddled with. The + making of a man, like the making of a work of + art, consists in giving the nature of things a + chance, keeping them open to the sun and air + and the springs of thought. The first person + who ever said to man, “You press the button + and I will do the rest,” was God.</p> + + <p>The emphasis of art in our modern education, + of the knack or science or how of things, + is to be followed next by the emphasis of the + art that conceals art, genius, the norm and + <a class="pagenum" id="page430" title="430"> </a>climax of human ability. Any finishing-school + girl can out-sonnet Keats. The study of appearances, + the passion for the outside has run + its course. The next thing in education is + going to be honesty, fearless naturalness, upheaval, + the freedom of self, self-expectancy, + all-expectancy, and the passion for possessing + real things. The personalities, persons with + genius, persons with free-working, uncramped + minds, are all there, ready and waiting, both + in teachers and pupils, all growing <em lang="la" xml:lang="la">sub rosa</em>, + and the main thing that is left to do is to lift + the great roof of machinery off and let them + come up. The days are already upon us when + education shall be taken out of the hands of + anæmic, abstracted men—men who go into + everything theory-end first. There is already + a new atmosphere in the educated world. The + thing that shall be taught shall be the love of + swinging out, of swinging up to the light and + the air. Let every man live, the world says + next, a little less with his outside, with his + mere brain or logic-stitching machine. Let + him swear by his instincts more, and live with + his medulla oblongata.</p> + + </div> + <div id="section_4.1.6" class="section"> + <h4 class="section_title"><abbr class="section_number" title="six">VI</abbr><br/> + An Inclined Plane</h4> + + <p>“This is a very pleasant and profitable ideal + you have printed in this book, but teachers and + <a class="pagenum" id="page431" title="431"> </a>pupils and institutions being what they are, it + is not practical and nothing can be done about + it,” it is objected.</p> + + <h5>RESPECTFULLY SUBMITTED</h5> + + <p>1. There is nothing so practical as an ideal, + for if through his personality and imagination + a man can be made to see an ideal, the ideal + does itself; that is, it takes hold of him and inspires + him to do it and to find means for doing + it. This is what has been aimed at in this + book.</p> + + <p>2. The first and most practical thing to do + with an ideal is to believe it.</p> + + <p>3. The next most practical thing is to act + as if one believed it. This makes other people + believe it. To act as if one believed an + ideal is to be literal with it, to assume that it + can be made real, that something—some next + thing—can be done with it.</p> + + <p>4. It is only people who believe an ideal who + can make it practical. Educators who think + that an ideal is true and who do not think it is + practical do not think it is true, do not really + know it. The process of knowing an ideal, of + realising it with the mind, is the process of + knowing that it can be made real. This is + what makes it an ideal, that it is capable of becoming + real, and if a man does not realise an + ideal, cannot make it real in his mind, it is not + accurate for him to say that it is not practical. + It is accurate for him to say that it is not practical + <a class="pagenum" id="page432" title="432"> </a>to him. The ideal presented in this book + is not presented as practical except to teachers + who believe it.</p> + + <p>5. Every man has been given in this world, + if he is allowed to get at them, two powers to + make a man out of. These powers are Vision + and Action. (1) Seeing, and (2) Being or + Doing what one sees. What a man sees with, + is quite generally called his imagination. + What he does with what he sees, is called his + character or personality. If it is true, as has + been maintained in the whole trend of this + book, that the most important means of education + are imagination and personality, the power + of seeing things and the power of living as if + one saw them, imagination and personality + must be accepted as the forces to teach with, + and the things that must be taught. The persons + who have imagination and personality in + modern life must do the teaching.</p> + + <p>6. Parents and others who believe in imagination + and personality as the supreme energies + of human knowledge and the means of education, + and who have children they wish taught + in this way, are going to make connections + with such teachers and call on them to do it.</p> + + <p>7. Inasmuch as the best way to make an + ideal that rests on persons practical is to find + the persons, the next thing for persons who + believe in an ideal to do is to find each other + out. All persons, particularly teachers and + parents, in their various communities and in + <a class="pagenum" id="page433" title="433"> </a>the nation, who believe that the ideal is practical + in education should be social with their + ideal, group themselves together, make themselves + known and felt.</p> + + <p>8. Some of us are going to act through the + schools we have. We are going to make room + in our present over-managed, morbidly organised + institutions, with ordered-around teachers, + for teachers who cannot be ordered around, + who are accustomed to use their imaginations + and personalities to teach with, instead of + superintendents. We are going to have superintendents + who will desire such teachers. The + reason that our over-organised and over-superintended + schools and colleges cannot get the + teachers they want, to carry out their ideals, + is a natural one enough. The moment ideal + teachers are secured it is found that they have + ideals of their own and that they will not teach + without them. When vital and free teachers + are attracted to the schools and allowed fair + conditions there, they will soon crowd others + out. The moment we arrange to give good + teachers a chance good teachers will be had.</p> + + <p>9. Others will find it best to act in another + way. Instead of reforming schools from the + inside, they are going to attack the problem + from the outside, start new schools which shall + stand for live principles and outlive the others. + As good teachers can arrange better conditions + for themselves to teach in their own schools, + wherever practicable this would seem to be the + <a class="pagenum" id="page434" title="434"> </a>better way. They are going to organise colleges + of their own. They are going to organise + unorganised colleges (for such they would + be called at first), assemblings of inspired + teachers, men grouping men about them each + after his kind.</p> + + <p>Every one can begin somewhere. Teachers + who are outside can begin outside and teachers + who are within can begin within. Certainly + if every teacher who believes something will + believe deeply, will free himself, let himself + out with his belief, act on it, the day is not + long hence when the great host of ordered-around + teachers with their ordered-around + pupils will be a memory. Copying and appearing + to know will cease. Self-delight and + genius will again be the habit of the minds of + men and the days of our present poor, pale, + fuddling, unbelieving, Simon-says-thumbs-up + education will be numbered.</p> + + <hr class="thoughtbreak" /> + + <p class="post_thoughtbreak">Sometimes it seems as if this globe, this huge + cyclorama of nations whirling in sunlight + through stars, were a mere empty, mumbled + repetition, a going round and round of the + same stupendous stupidities and the same heroisms + in human life. One is always feeling as if + everything, arts, architecture, cables, colleges, + nations, had all almost literally happened before, + in the ages dark to us, gone the same round of + beginning, struggling, and ending. Then the + globe was wiped clean and began again.</p> + + <p><a class="pagenum" id="page435" title="435"> </a>One of the great advantages in emphasising + individuals,—the main idea of this book,—in + picking out particular men as forces, centres + of energy in society, as the basis for one’s programme + for human nature, is the sense it gives + that things really can begin again—begin anywhere—where + a man is. One single human + being, deeply believed in, glows up a world, + casts a kind of speculative value, a divine wager + over all the rest. I confess that most men I have + seen seem to me phantasmagorically walking + the earth, their lives haunting them, hanging + intangibly about them—indefinitely postponed. + But one does not need, in order to have a true + joyous working-theory of life, to believe verbatim, + every moment, in the mass of men—as + men. One needs to believe in them very + much—as possible men—larvæ of great men, + and if, in the meantime, one can have (what + is quite practicable) one sample to a square + mile of what the mass of men in that mile + might be, or are going to be, one comes to a + considerable degree of enthusiasm, a working + and sharing enthusiasm for all the rest.</p> + </div> + <div id="section_4.1.7" class="section"> + <h4 class="section_title"><abbr class="section_number" title="seven">VII</abbr><br/> + Allons</h4> + + <p>I thought when I began to make my little + visit in civilisation—this book—that perhaps I + ought to have a motto to visit a civilisation + <a class="pagenum" id="page436" title="436"> </a>with. So the motto I selected (a good one for + all reformers, viewers of institutions and things) + was, “Do not shoot the organist. He is doing + the best he can.” I fear I have not lived up + to it. I am an optimist. I cannot believe he + is doing the best he can. Before I know it, I get + to hoping and scolding. I do not even believe + he is enjoying it. Most of the people in civilisation + are not enjoying it. They are like people + one sees on tally-hos. They are not really + enjoying what they are doing. They enjoy + thinking that other people think they are enjoying + it.</p> + + <p>The great characteristic enthusiasm of modern + society, of civilisation, the fad of showing + off, of exhibiting a life instead of living it, very + largely comes, it is not too much to say, from + the lack of normal egoism, of self-joy in civilised + human beings. It has come over us like a kind + of moral anæmia. People cannot get interested + enough in anything to be interested in it by + themselves. Hence no great art—merely the + art which is a trick or knack of appearance. + We lack great art because we do not believe in + great living.</p> + + <p>The emphasis which would seem to be most + to the point in civilisation is that people must + enjoy something, something of their very own, + even if it is only their sins, if they can do no + better, and they are their own. It would be + a beginning. They could work out from that. + They would get the idea. Some one has said + <a class="pagenum" id="page437" title="437"> </a>that people repent of their sins because they + didn’t enjoy them as much as they expected + to. Well, then, let them enjoy their repentance. + The great point is, in this world, that + men must get hold of reality somewhere, somehow, + get the feel, the bare feel of living before + they try dying. Most of us seem to think we + ought to do them both up together. It is to + be admitted that people might not do really + better things for their own joy, than for other + people’s, but they would do them better. It + is not the object of this book to reform people. + Reformers are sinners enjoying their own sins, + who try to keep other people from enjoying + theirs. The object of this book is to inspire + people to enjoy anything, to find a principle + that underlies right and wrong both. Let + people enjoy their sins, we say, if they really + know how to enjoy. The more they get the idea + of enjoying anything, the more vitally and sincerely + they will run their course—turn around + and enjoy something truer and more lasting. + What we all feel, what every man feels is, that + he has a personal need of daring and happy + people around him, people that are selfish + enough to be alive and worth while, people + that have the habit and conviction of joy, + whose joys whether they are wrong or right + are real joys to them, not shadows or shows of + joys, joys that melt away when no one is + looking.</p> + + <p>The main difficulty in the present juncture + <a class="pagenum" id="page438" title="438"> </a>of the world in writing on the Lost Art of + Reading is that all the other arts are lost, the + great self-delights. As they have all been lost + together, it has been necessary to go after them + together, to seek some way of securing conditions + for the artist, the enjoyer and prophet of + human life, in our modern time. At the bottom + of all great art, it is necessary to believe, + there has been great, believing, free, beautiful + living. This is not saying that inconsistency, + contradiction, and insincerity have not played + their part, but it is the benediction, the great + Amen of the world, to say this,—that if there + has been great constructive work there has been + great radiant, unconquerable, constructive living + behind it. There is but one way to recover + the lost art of reading. It is to recover the lost + art of living. The day we begin to take the + liberty of living our own lives there will be artists + and seers everywhere. We will all be artists + and seers, and great arts, great books, and + great readers of books will flock to us.</p> + + <hr class="thoughtbreak" /> + + <p class="post_thoughtbreak">Well, here we are, Gentle Reader. We are + rounding the corner of the last paragraph. + Time stretches out before us. On the great + highroad we stand together in the dawn—I + with my little book in hand, you, perhaps, + with yours. The white road reaches away before + us, behind us. There are cross-roads. + There are parallels, too. Sometimes when + there falls a clearness on the air, they are + <a class="pagenum" id="page439" title="439"> </a>nearer than I thought. I hear crowds trudging + on them in the dark, singing faintly. I + hear them cheering in the dark.</p> + + <p>But this is my way, right here. See the hill + there? That is my next one. The sun in a + minute. You are going my way, comrade?… + You are not going my way? So be + it. God be with you. The top o’ the morning + to you. I pass on.</p> + </div> + <div class="deco"> + <img src="images/style14.png" width="474" height="234" alt="" /> + </div> + <!-- <a class="pagenum" id="page440" title="440"> </a>[Blank Page] --> +</div> +<div id="footnotes"> + <h2>Footnotes</h2> + <ol> + <li id="footnote_1">A Typical Case: “The brain was cut away neatly + and dressed. A healthy yearling calf was tied down, + her skull cut away, and a lobe of brain removed and + fitted into the cavity in L’s head. The wound was + dressed and trephined, and the results awaited. The + calf’s head was fixed up with half a brain in it. Both + the man and the calf have progressed satisfactorily, + and the man is nearly as well as before the operation.”—Daily + Paper. <a href="#fnm1" title="Return to marker 1" class="returnFN">Return</a></li> + <li id="footnote_2">Recently discovered manuscript. <a href="#fnm2" title="Return to marker 2" class="returnFN">Return</a></li> + <li id="footnote_3">Fact. <a href="#fnm3" title="Return to marker 3" class="returnFN">Return</a></li> + </ol> +</div> +<div id="adverts"> + <div id="advert_1"> + <p class="ad_title">Our European Neighbours</p> + <p class="ad_author">Edited by WILLIAM HARBUTT DAWSON</p> + <p class="ad_book_detail">12°. Illustrated. Each, net $1.20</p> + <p class="ad_book_detail">By Mail <span style="padding-left:8.5em;">1.30</span></p> + + <p class="ad_book_title">I—FRENCH LIFE IN TOWN AND COUNTRY</p> + <p class="ad_book_author">By <span class="special_name">Hannah Lynch</span>.</p> + <p>“Miss Lynch’s pages are thoroughly interesting and suggestive. Her + style, too, is not common. It is marked by vivacity without any + drawback of looseness, and resembles a stream that runs strongly and + evenly between walls. It is at once distinguished and useful…. Her + five-page description (not dramatization) of the grasping Paris + landlady is a capital piece of work…. Such well-finished portraits + are frequent in Miss Lynch’s book, which is small, inexpensive, and of + a real excellence.”—<cite>The London Academy</cite>.</p> + <p>“Miss Lynch’s book is particularly notable. It is the first of a + series describing the home and social life of various European + peoples—a series long needed and sure to receive a warm welcome. Her + style is frank, vivacious, entertaining, captivating, just the kind + for a book which is not at all statistical, political, or + controversial. A special excellence of her book, reminding one of Mr. + Whiteing’s, lies in her continual contrast of the English and the + French, and she thus sums up her praises: ‘The English are admirable: + the French are lovable.’”—<cite>The Outlook</cite>.</p> + + <p class="ad_book_title">II—GERMAN LIFE IN TOWN AND COUNTRY</p> + <p class="ad_book_author">By <span class="special_name">W. H. Dawson</span>, author of “Germany and the + Germans,” etc.</p> + <p>“The book is as full of correct, impartial, well-digested, and + well-presented information as an egg is of meat. One can only + recommend it heartily and without reserve to all who wish to gain an + insight into German life. It worthily presents a great nation, now the + greatest and strongest in Europe.”—<cite>Commercial Advertiser</cite>.</p> + + <p class="ad_book_title">III—RUSSIAN LIFE IN TOWN AND COUNTRY</p> + <p class="ad_book_author">By <span class="special_name">Francis H. E. Palmer</span>, sometime Secretary to H. H. Prince + Droutskop-Loubetsky (Equerry to H. M. the Emperor of Russia).</p> + <p>“We would recommend this above all other works of its character to + those seeking a clear general understanding of Russian life, + character, and conditions, but who have not the leisure or inclination + to read more voluminous tomes … It cannot be too highly recommended, + for it conveys practically all that well-informed people should know + of ‘Our European Neighbours.’”—<cite>Mail and Express</cite>.</p> + + <p class="ad_book_title">IV—DUTCH LIFE IN TOWN AND COUNTRY</p> + <p class="ad_book_author">By <span class="special_name">P. M. Hough</span>, B.A.</p> + <p>Not alone for its historic past is Holland interesting, but also for + the paradox which it presents to-day. It is difficult to reconcile the + old-world methods seen all over the country with the advanced ideas + expressed in conversation, in books, and in newspapers. Mr. Hough’s + long residence in the country has enabled him to present a trustworthy + picture of Dutch social life and customs in the seven provinces,—the + inhabitants of which, while diverse in race, dialect, and religion, + are one in their love of liberty and patriotic devotion.</p> + <p>“Holland is always interesting, in any line of study. In this work its + charm is carefully preserved. The sturdy toil of the people, their + quaint characteristics, their conservative retention of old dress and + customs, their quiet abstention from taking part in the great affairs + of the world are clearly reflected in this faithful mirror. The + illustrations are of a high grade of photographic + reproductions.”—<cite>Washington Post</cite>.</p> + + <p class="ad_book_title">V.—SWISS LIFE IN TOWN AND COUNTRY</p> + <p class="ad_book_author">By <span class="special_name">Alfred T. Story</span>, author of the “Building of the British Empire,” + etc.</p> + <p>“We do not know a single compact book on the same subject in which + Swiss character in all its variety finds so sympathetic and yet + thorough treatment; the reason of this being that the author has + enjoyed privileges of unusual intimacy with all classes, which + prevented his lumping the people as a whole without distinction of + racial and cantonal feeling.”—<cite>Nation</cite>.</p> + <p>“There is no phase of the lives of these sturdy republicans, whether + social or political, which Mr. Story does not touch upon; and an + abundance of illustrations drawn from unhackneyed subjects adds to the + value of the book.”—<cite>Chicago Dial</cite>.</p> + + <p class="ad_book_title">VI.—SPANISH LIFE IN TOWN AND COUNTRY</p> + <p class="ad_book_author">By <span class="special_name">L. Higgin</span>.</p> + <p>The new volume in the fascinating series entitled “Our European + Neighbours” ought to be of special interest to Americans, as it + describes faithfully, and at the same time in a picturesque style, the + social life of a people who have been much maligned by the casual + globe-trotter. Spain has sunk from the proud position which she held + during the Middle Ages, but much of the force and energy which charged + the old-time Spaniard still remains, and there is to-day a determined + upward movement out of the abyss into which despotism and bigotry had + plunged her.</p> + + <p class="ad_book_title">VII.—ITALIAN LIFE IN TOWN AND COUNTRY</p> + <p class="ad_book_author">By <span class="special_name">Luigi Villari</span>.</p> + <p>The author, who is a son of Professor Villari of London, takes the + point of view required by this series, <em lang="la" xml:lang="la">i. e.</em>, he looks on Italy with + the eyes of an Englishman, and yet he has all the advantage of Italian + blood to aid him in his sympathy with every detail of his subject.</p> + <p>“A most interesting and instructive volume, which presents an intimate + view of the social habits and manner of thought of the people of which + it treats.”—<cite>Buffalo Express</cite>.</p> + <p>“A book full of information, comprehensive and accurate. Its numerous + attractive illustrations add to its interest and value. We are glad to + welcome such an addition to an excellent series.”—<cite>Syracuse Herald</cite>.</p> + + <p class="ad_publisher">G. P. PUTNAM’S SONS</p> + <p class="ad_cities">New York and London</p> + + </div> + <div id="advert_2"> + <p class="ad_title">By R. DE MAULDE LA CLAVIÈRE</p> + + <p class="ad_book_title">WOMEN OF THE RENAISSANCE</p> + + <p class="ad_book_details">A Study of Feminism. Translated by George Herbert Ely. 8°. With + portrait. <em>net</em>, $3.50</p> + + <p>“We have only admiration to bestow upon this most intricate and + masterly analysis of the great feminine revolution of the sixteenth + century … There are chapters that we find ourselves wishing + everybody might read; the admirable essay, for instance, on the + ‘Embroidery of Life,’ and that other chapter discussing the influence + of Platonism….”—<cite>Athenæum, London</cite>.</p> + + <p>“Everything is so brightly, so captivatingly important in this volume, + the search into the past has been so well rewarded, the conclusions + are so shrewd and clever, the subject is so limitless, yet curiously + limited, that as history or as psychology it should gain a large + public.”—<cite>Bookman</cite>.</p> + + <p class="ad_book_title">THE ART OF LIFE</p> + + <p class="ad_book_details">Translated by George Herbert Ely. 8°. (By mail, $1.85) <em>net</em>, $1.75</p> + + <p>There is no one to whom Buffon’s phrase, <em lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Le style c’est l’homme + même</em>, may be more justly applied than to M. de Maulde. His work is + absolutely himself; it derives from his original personality and his + wide and sure learning an historical value and a literary charm almost + unique. He is a wit with the curiosity and patience of the scholar, + and a scholar with the temperament of the artist. The sparkle and + humour of his conversation are crystallised in his letters, the + charming expression of a large and generous nature.</p> + + <p class="ad_publisher">G. P. PUTNAM’S SONS</p> + <p class="ad_cities"><span style="float:left;">New York</span> <span style="float:right;">London</span></p> + + </div> +</div> +<div id="the_end"> </div> + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's The Lost Art of Reading, by Gerald Stanley Lee + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LOST ART OF READING *** + +***** This file should be named 26312-h.htm or 26312-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/6/3/1/26312/ + +Produced by Barbara Tozier, Bill Tozier and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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