that young people of both sexes should not indulge in reading "minor
poetry." "Let them keep to the great poets, made of granite," was her
graphic phrase. A woman of singularly self-controlled nature has
confessed that the only time in her whole life that she experienced an
unwholesome moral and emotional disturbance, after reading a book, was
when, at about twenty-two years of age, she read Emily Bronte's
_Wuthering Heights_. She dared not finish it: and when, some time
later, a copy was presented to her, she caused it to be exchanged for
another book, not wishing it even to be in the house with her. Years
afterwards, she read it again, quite unmoved. It may be added that her
first reading was made in the course of a systematic study of English
literature, which had already led her through the works of Chaucer and
Fielding. She has herself asked: "Is it possible that the strong and
unpleasant effect was produced because the book was the production of
another young woman, perhaps of somewhat 'sympathetic' temperament?"
Taken as a whole, probably most fiction and all highly emotional work
of any sort should be indulged in sparingly by those in the
danger-zone of life, or by any under special mental or moral stress.
History, philosophy (with sustained chains of reasoning) and
biographies (best, autobiographies) of active and strenuous lives,
should be resorted to by those temporarily doomed to spells of
suspense and involuntary inaction. Invalids should be encouraged to
read Plutarch's _Lives_ rather than the _Memorials_ of other
sufferers, however saintly!
It may be broadly stated that, during the tragic episodes which seem
to occur in all lives, the most wholesome reading is to be found in
the books of the great World-Religions--the Bible, and the teachings
of Buddha, Confucius and Mahomet. The Bible is of course a library in
itself, and many of its books are suited to very widely different
circumstances and temperaments. The Psalms, the Gospels, the Epistle
of St James, and parts of those great poems known as the "prophetical
books" and the more personal and less doctrinal portions of Paul's
epistles are perhaps of widest application. From the words of Buddha,
Confucius and Mahomet there are many admirable selections--and one
remembers a wonderful compilation of more than thirty years ago,
called _The Sacred Anthology_, and wonders if it be out of print. It
does not follow that these works should not be studied at other times
than "tragic episodes." If this were more often the case, perhaps
there would be fewer "tragic episodes"!
Next to these come such wonderful books of spiritual experience as A
Kempis's _Imitation of Christ_, the _Pilgrim's Progress_, the _Devout
Life_ of Francis of Sales and others which will occur to the memory.
Allusion to the _Pilgrim's Progress_ brings us to the remark that no
books are more truly wholesome than some that can be enjoyed by those
of all ages, and of very varied types of "culture": in which the
children can delight, and which refresh the aged and weary. Like
Nature herself, they have hedgerows where the little ones can gather
flowers, little witting of the farther horizons of earth and sky
lifted up for the eyes of the elders. Let the children read the
_Pilgrim's Progress_ simply as "a story," its eternal verities will
sink into their souls to reappear when they too are in _Vanity Fair_
or in bitter conflict with _Apollyon_.
For the same reason, the Book of Proverbs should be commended to
youthful study. Under wise supervision--or rather, in mutual study--it
becomes at once a series of vivid pictures of primitive Eastern
life--for all allusions should be explained, where possible,
pictorially--while at the same time the memory will be insensibly
stored with shrewd common sense and knowledge of the world, to be
turned to, and drawn upon, as needed.
And then, while the children revel in the fun and the fancy of Hans
Andersen's _Fairy Tales_, let the sorrowful or sore or wounded heart
turn to them for solace, soothing or healing. Hans Andersen enjoys a
very special "popularity" and yet some, who have learned to love and
value him, doubt whether justice has yet been done to his work.
Because it is matchless for the young, it may be easily forgotten that
it can be so, only by some quality which makes it matchless for all
others. Perhaps some of his most popular stories are not his most
wonderful, but have simply caught the popular fancy, because of some
artist's illustration, or some personal application to the writer's
own history, as in the case of his _Ugly Duckling_. How many--or
rather, how few!--can readily recall the pathos and wit of his
_Portuguese Duck_ or the deep philosophy of his _Girl Who Trod on a
Loaf_?
It is told of Hans Andersen, a gentle soul in a homely exterior, which
attracted the snubs and neglect which "patient merit of the unworthy
takes," on some such occasion was once heard to murmur: "And yet I am
the greatest man now in the world!" It was very naive of him to say
so, even in a whisper, probably wrung from him only in self-defence,
but perhaps he might have thought it, in solemn silence--and--not been
so very wrong! It may have been part of the very transparency of his
inspired genius that he could not keep the secret to himself!
There is at least one reader who declares that she finds the seeds of
all vital philosophy--ancient or modern--in his stories. How much he
derived from those who went before him, it is not for us to say, but
this disciple, herself a devoted student and admirer of the world's
latest teacher, Leo Tolstoy, yet puts Hans Andersen above him, as
having attained in practically all his work what Tolstoy attained only
occasionally--_i.e._ Tolstoy's own ideal of what Art should be and do.
In such a paper as this little can be done beyond indicating on the
broadest lines the kind of reading which tends to preserve or to
restore mental health. Away with your "problem" novels and "realistic"
poems stated in the filthy material of moral gutters! Hans Andersen
will take some birds, some flowers, some toys, and will state the same
problems, and get the same eternal solutions, without making the
inquirer run any risk of meanwhile catching moral malaria. Isaiah will
help us to build "castles" for the human race and for our own future,
but he will take care that we shall remember that righteousness and
unceasing vigilance and unflagging repair must go into the laying of
foundations and the upholding of walls. David, even in his "cursing
psalms," will exemplify for you the power of hate and vengeance in
your own heart, and as he holds it up before you, you will see how
small a thing it is, how mean, how ludicrous!
As a man eats and drinks, so is his body: if he is a gross feeder, his
body will be gross and sensual; if his food lacks nourishment, he will
pine and fade. So it is with our minds and our morals. With whatever
original "spiritual body" we may start, it needs spiritual sustenance,
spiritual discipline, spiritual sufficiency and spiritual abstinence.
Too often we ill-use it, as bodies are ill-used, goading its weakness
with fiery excitement, or gorging its greed with sickly sentiment, or
emasculating it by empty frivolity.
All who desire spiritual health must find out what books best promote
it in themselves: and sometimes they are found, like wholesome herbs,
in very lowly places. One good rule is never to recommend what we have
not seen proved in ourselves, or on others.
ISABELLA FYVIE MAYO.
THE SWAN-SONG OF SEPTEMBER.
This fine sonnet is from _Lyric Leaves_, poems by S. Gertrude
Ford. 2s. 6d. net (postage 2d.). (C.W. Daniel, Ltd., 3 Tudor
Street, London, E.C.)
Sing out thy swan-song with full throat, September,
From a full heart, with golden notes and clear!
No rose will wreathe thee; yet the harebell's here,
And still thy crown of heath the hills remember.
Bright burns thy fire, e'en to its latest ember,
The sunset fire that lights thee to thy bier,
Flaming and failing not, albeit so near
Dun-robed October waits, and grey November.
And though, at sight of thee, a chill change passes
Through wood and wold, on leaves and flowers and grasses,
Thy beauty wanes not; thou hast ne'er grown old;
Death-crowned as Cleopatra, lovely lying
Even to the end; magnificently dying
In pomp of purple and in glare of gold.
S. GERTRUDE FORD.
THE QUEST FOR BEAUTY.
If you have travelled at all frequently on certain of the London
"tube" railways you may occasionally have noticed, facing you in the
carriage, a small framed poster which for beauty and imaginative power
has, I should think, never been surpassed in advertising art. If the
first sight of it did not make you catch your breath you will not, I
am afraid, be interested in this article.
The poster represents a rich landscape, in which noble tree-forms show
sombre against a tumultuous sky--the latter an architectural mass of
pale cloud, spanned by a vivid rainbow. Across the lower part of the
picture is a scroll, on which are written, in musical notation, two
bars from Chopin's Twentieth Prelude. At the top are the words,
_Studies in Harmony_: it is an advertisement of Somebody & Co.'s
wall-papers.
In both colour and design this poster is very beautiful. It would be
scarcely less so without the rainbow; but "the dazzling prism of the
sky" not only intensifies the subtle harmony of colour throughout the
picture: it turns the poster into a symbol. And the artist might well
have stopped there; only, you see, he had an inspiration. When he
wrote across the picture those eight descending chords from the
immortal _Largo_ he made of the poster--a poem.
I do not know anything about the artist who conceived this
advertisement of wall-papers. I do not even know his name. But I
believe him to be the herald of an invasion.
The invasion of life by beauty.
Do you think it a degradation of art that it should be enlisted by the
makers of wall-papers? Are there not too many ugly and discordant
posters? Do you consider trade and manufacture so sordid that they are
beneath the ministrations of beauty? It doesn't matter a new penny
whether you answer such questions with a nod or a no: the invasion has
begun. It is irresistible. Beauty is stooping--stooping to conquer.
Your ardent social reformer is too often obsessed with one idea.
Across his mental firmament he sees only one blazing word: INJUSTICE.
And, fine fellow though he often is, he is inclined to be impatient
with any talk of art or beauty. "How can beauty grow in these vile
cities?" he cries. "What is the use of your music, your statuary, your
fine pictures, your poetry, to the starving and the oppressed?" And he
does not see that his passionate desire for justice is at root the
quest for beauty, for fullness and harmony of life. His stormy sky
shows no rainbow: yet it is there. And so is the stately music, the
transmutation of colour into sound. And if his eyes could be opened to
one and his ears to the other, there would be more power to his elbow.
For beauty is inspiration and courage--
"My heart leaps up when I behold
A rainbow in the sky...."
And there is more than that in it. The cultivation of a sense of
beauty, of harmony, makes reformers less harsh in their judgments,
broadens their sympathies and helps to save them from becoming mere
doctrinaires. If you have any love for the beautiful you simply cannot
be happy about most Utopias, though they be Justice itself in civic
form; and, when our "scientific" Fabian has demonstrated to you how to
organise the national life in all its parts into one vast smoothly
working State mechanism you will shudder, and then laugh. And then,
without any rudeness, you will say: "Hang mechanism and a minimum
wage! Live men and women want living crafts, liberty and a maximum
beauty!"
And really, I am coming to see that there are a great many
health-culture enthusiasts (not to mention food reformers) who see no
rainbow in the sky and hear no music in the wind; and even if they
did, ten to one they would see no connection between the two. I verily
believe there are some poor souls who have studied food questions so
closely that they cannot see the sun for proteid nor the sea for
salts. In all meekness, and knowing the frailty of the human mind (I
have written dozens of articles on diet!), I would prescribe for them
a course of artistic wall-paper advertisements, combined with the
letters of Robert Louis Stevenson. He, poor fellow, had to battle
against disease all his short life; but he managed to end one of his
letters something like this (I quote from memory): "_Sursum Corda_!
Heave ahead! Art and blue heaven! April and God's larks! A stately
music.... Enter God."
A somewhat ecstatic utterance. A trifle too exclamatory. Perhaps. You
and I don't end our letters like that. (Or do you?) More likely we say
something about the weather down here being miserably cold (or damp,
or dull, or changeable, or hot) and brave out the lie with "yours
truly." But O for one little spark from the fire that shone in the
soul of R.L.S. Better to die young with a broken heart, if it were a
heart as brave and gay as his, than beat Methuselah by means of a
mincing, calculating, cold-blooded attention to irritating self-made
little rules.
Oh yes, I know well the value of little rules. And I know also that
Nature offers us only two alternatives--obedience or death (either
sudden or slow). But then Nature is something more than Mistress and
Lawgiver. She is Beauty. And in that aspect, as in all other aspects,
Nature is unescapable. We turn our backs on her only to find her
awaiting us at the next turn in the road. Looking at the matter all
round, I don't think we can come to any other conclusion than that
Nature (or whatever you like to call It, Her or Him) is aiming at
beauty all the time. So that we who are literally, if not
figuratively, the children of Nature, had best do likewise.
Some mystic or other has said that man's search for God is God's
search for man. If he was right--and I think he was--it follows that
man's quest for beauty is Beauty invading life; and that the only
healthy life worth the having is that which begins with "Lift up your
hearts!" and issues in "a stately music. Enter God."
EDGAR J. SAXON.
* * * * *
_SEMPER FIDELIS._
Do two things worth doing, every day.
Be scrupulously polite and kind, rather than witty or entertaining.
Cherish cleanliness, sobriety, frugality and contentment.
Cultivate sweetness of disposition and tranquillity of mind.
Think before speaking, and so reduce your causes of regret.
Seek peace and be peaceable for _lis litem generat_.
Begin at home, let home always find you faithfully on duty.
Care carefully for those whom Providence has entrusted to your care.
And the reward of the faithful will abundantly yours,
And your heaven will go with you wherever you go.
"A.R."
MORE HOLIDAY APHORISMS.
Two's company, three's fun.
* * * * *
Levity is the bane of wit.
* * * * *
Braggers mustn't be losers.
* * * * *
Never put on to-day what you can't put on to-morrow.
* * * * *
It's an ill mind that finds no one any good.
* * * * *
It's no use crying over spilt milk: you're better without it.
* * * * *
Look before you sleep.
* * * * *
Never put an excursion ticket in the mouth.
* * * * *
Long hair never made true poets.
* * * * *
Obesity always carries weight.
* * * * *
Look after your manners and your friends will look after themselves.
* * * * *
Cranks of a feather fight together.
* * * * *
All is not toil that blisters.
* * * * *
_To Sea Anglers_:
A live catch is no better than a dead fish.
* * * * *
Better a place in the sun than a plaice on a hook.
PETER PIPER.
HEALTHY HOMEMAKING.
XXI. HIRED HELP (_continued_).
What is the homemaker of limited means, who must have some help, to do
under present conditions? Well, meantime, there is only the young
"general" for her, either the "daily girl" or one who "lives in." Of
the two I prefer the "daily girl," when she can be obtained. And the
younger she can be obtained, other things equal, the better. She will
have fewer bad habits to overcome. Some housewives object to the daily
girl on the score that she may bring dirt or infection from her home,
and also because she can seldom arrive early enough to help get
breakfast. But a little management overnight can reduce the labour of
breakfast getting to a minimum, and if the "outings" of the girl who
lives in are as frequent as they ought to be the risk of her carrying
infection, etc., will always apply.
The "daily girl" has definitely fixed hours of work and the same
chance of enjoying a measure of home life, of keeping her friends and
individual interests, as the typist or factory worker whose lot the
domestic servant so often envies; while her employers are not faced
with the alternatives of condemning a young fellow-creature to a
solitary existence or forcing an unreal companionship which is equally
irksome on both sides. It is true that the wages of the "daily girl"
do not equal, in actual money, those of the factory worker, neither
does she obtain the Saturday half-holiday or the whole of Sunday free.
But to set against this she receives her entire board and, with a
kindly mistress, is not tied down to staying her full time on days
when she is "forward" with her work.
The life of the young "daily girl," if her employer is a conscientious
woman, need not be hard nor unpleasant; very little harder and no more
unpleasant than the lot of the young "lady" who is paying from L60 to
L80 per annum to learn cookery, laundry and housework at a school of
domestic economy. Properly conducted, the relations between employer
and employee, "mistress" and "servant," are those of mutual aid. Such
relations _may_ be, and too often _are_, those of an inefficient
little drudge for a "mistress" almost equally ignorant and
inefficient. But when the employer is an intelligent woman with a
sense of justice (I prefer a sense of justice to sentimental theories
about sisterhood--people do not always treat their sisters justly) the
weekly money payment and food will be but a small part of the girl's
wage. In addition she will receive a training that will equip her for
the "higher" branches of domestic service, or for homemaking on her
own account. Not every girl has the sense to appreciate this when she
gets it, nor the intelligence to profit by it; while it is certainly
rather trying to the employer when the girl is "all agog" to "better
herself" as soon as she has gained a bare smattering of how to do
certain things properly. But all this is "the fortune of war." Some
girls never cease to be grateful to their first teachers and leave
them reluctantly, while other girls never realise that they have
anything to be grateful for. When gratitude and affection come they
are pleasant to receive. But the motive power of the really
conscientious woman is not the expectation of gratitude or affection.
A word to the unconventional homemaker. The young "general" is a bird
of passage. Age and experience bring with them the necessity of
earning more, and if her first employer cannot periodically raise the
girl's wages the latter must in time seek better paid employment,
probably with a mistress who is not unconventional. It is unkind,
therefore, to refrain from teaching the girl how she will be expected
to do things in the ordinary conventional house. I do not mean that
the employer ought to slavishly run her home on conventional lines for
the instruction of her "help." But it is kinder, for instance, to help
a girl regard a cap and apron with good-humoured indifference, or as
on a par with a nurse's uniform, rather than as "a badge of
servitude." It is kinder, too, to show her that it is not only
"servants" who are expected to address their employers as "Sir" and
"Ma'am," but that well-mannered young people in all conditions of life
can be found who use this form of address to persons older than
themselves. I do not suggest for one moment that any attempt should be
made to delude a girl into the belief that she will not be expected,
in conventional households, to behave with equal deference to persons
younger than herself. Such deception would be unpardonable. But it is
anything but kind to allow a young girl to drift into careless and
familiar habits of speech bound to lead to dismissal for "impudence"
in her next "place." There is a type of person, for example, who seems
to believe that, in order to show that he is "as good as anybody
else," it is necessary to be rude and familiar. But good manners are
not necessarily associated with servility. And it is no kindness to
help to unfit a girl for getting her living in the world as it is.
It may seem that, in this article, I am more concerned for the "hired
help" than the homemaker for whom I am ostensibly writing. But the
points I have touched on are just those about which I know many
thoughtful women are puzzled. I cannot solve their individual problems
for them, of course, I can only just barely indicate some of the
thoughts that have come to me on a subject that is so intimately bound
up with the whole of our present unsatisfactory social and economic
conditions that it cannot be adequately discussed in a little tract
upon domestic economy.
FLORENCE DANIEL.
THE CARE OF CUPBOARDS.
There are three methods in general use of caring for cupboards. Some
housewives prefer their cupboard shelves of bare wood, to be well
scrubbed with soap and water at the periodical "turn-out." Others
cover all shelves with white American cloth, which only needs wiping
over with a wet house-flannel; while still others prefer to dispense
with the necessity for wetting the shelves and line them with white
kitchen paper, or even clean newspaper, which is periodically renewed.
Of the three methods I prefer the last, with the addition of a good
scrubbing at the spring clean. The weekly or fortnightly scrubbing is
apt to result in permanently damp cupboards, unless they can be left
empty to dry for a longer time than is usually convenient. The use of
American cloth is perhaps the easiest, most labour-saving method, but
the cloth soon gets superficially marked and worn long before its real
usefulness is impaired, so that the cupboard shelves never look quite
so neat as after scrubbing or relining with white paper.
The larder should be thoroughly "turned out" once a week. Once a
fortnight is enough for the store-cupboard and for china cupboards in
daily use. While cupboards in which superfluous china and other
non-perishable goods are stored, and that are seldom opened, need not
be touched oftener than once or twice a year.
In very small houses one cupboard often must house both china and
groceries, thus combining the offices of storeroom and china cupboard.
The larder, strictly speaking, is for the food consumed daily. But
when larder and store-cupboard have to be combined, the groceries may
be packed away on the upper shelves, which can be tidied once a
fortnight; but the shelves doing duty for the larder proper should
never be left for longer than a week.
Nothing betrays the careless housewife like an ill-smelling larder.
All food should be examined daily and kept well covered. Hot food
should be allowed to cool before storing in the larder. In the summer
time special precautions must be taken against flies, all receptacles
for food which are minus well-fitting lids being covered with
wire-gauze covers or clean butter muslin. If the shelves are lined
with paper, care should be taken at the weekly change to examine the
wood for stains caused by spilt food that has penetrated through the
paper. These should not be just left and covered over, but well washed
off. With ordinary carefulness, however, they need not occur.
F.D.
BOOK REVIEWS.
_The New Suggestion Treatment._ By J. Stenson Hooker, M.D. Cloth 1s.
net (postage 1+1/2d.) C.W. Daniel, Ltd., 3 Tudor Street, E.C.
This book is a striking example of the new synthetic movement in the
medical profession. It is an exposition for the general reader of
certain basic principles of mental treatment and of the author's
methods of applying these; it is also, in reality, an appeal to
doctors generally to put aside prejudice and examine the immense
potentialities of rational "suggestion" healing methods.
After examining the main features and disadvantages of mere hypnotic
treatment and passing under review present-day "mental science," the
author explains wherein his method of mental treatment both avoids the
dangers of hypnotism and reinforces ordinary self-suggestion.
Throughout there is the frank recognition that few forms of dis-ease
are curable by one means alone; on the other hand, it is contended
that most disorders, both mental and physical, are remarkably amenable
to a rightly directed course of the new suggestion treatment,
supplemented by other natural means.