THE HANDS.
"The skill of their hands still lingers."--_John Ruskin._[52]
In one of our Talks, speaking about the thoughts in our hearts, we
said that they crept from the heart into our arms and hands, into the
music we play, and off to those who hear us, causing in them the
thoughts by which they judge us. Thus we see, that as Janus stands
sentinel at the doorway of the year, so the hands stand between the
secret world of thought within and the questioning world of curiosity
without.
If we were not in such a hurry usually, we might stop to think that
every one, all over the world, is training the hands for some purpose.
And such a variety of purposes! One strives to get skill with tools,
another is a conjurer, another spends his life among beautiful and
delicate plants, another reads with his fingers.[53] In any one of
these or of the countless other ways that the hands may be used, no
one may truly be said to have skill until delicacy has been gained.
Even in a forcible use of the hands there must be the greatest
delicacy in the guidance. You can readily see that when the hands are
working at the command of the heart they must be ever ready to make
evident the meaning of the heart, and that is expressed in truthful
delicacy. Not only are all the people in the world training their
hands, but they are, as we have already said, training them in
countless different ways.
Have you ever stopped to think of another matter: that all things
about us, except the things that live, have been made by hands? And of
the things that live very many are cared for by the hands. These
thoughts will suggest something to us. Those things which are good and
beautiful suggest noble use of the hands; while those which are of no
service, harmful and destructive, show an ignoble use. But noble and
ignoble use of the hands is only another evidence of thought. Thought
that is pure in the heart guides the hands to beautiful ends. And if
the heart is impure in its thoughts, of course you know what follows.
I have always been impressed in reading the books of John Ruskin to
note how many times he speaks about the hands. Very truly, indeed,
does he recognize that back of all hand work there is heart-thought,
commanding, directing, actually building. It shows everywhere. The
building of a wall with the stones rightly placed demands _honor_. The
builder may be rude, but if his hands place the stones faithfully one
upon another, there is surely honor in his heart. If it were not so
his hands could not work faithfully.
If the work is finer, like that work in gold which many have learned
eagerly in former times, in Rome and Florence, still the spirit must
be the same. So we see, that be the work coarse or fine, it is in
either case prompted by the same kind of heart-thought.
Many times in these Talks I have spoken of Ruskin's words to you; for
two reasons: first, his words are always full of meaning, because he
was so full of thought when he wrote them; and second, I would have
you, from the first days, know something of him and elect him to your
friendship. Many times he will speak to you in short, rude words,
impatiently too, but never mind that, his heart is warm and full of
good.
Now from what was said a moment ago about the stone work and the gold
work we can understand these words:
"No distinction exists between artist and artisan, except that of
higher genius or better conduct."
Learn from this then, be the work of our hands what it may, its first
quality and the first things for which it shall be judged are its
honor, its faithfulness, and its sincerity.
Of themselves the hands are absolutely without power. They cannot
move, they cannot do good things nor bad things, they can do nothing
until we command them. And how shall this be done? Surely I can
understand it if you have wearied of this Talk a little. But I have
said all the things just for the sake of answering this question, so
that you should understand it. How do we command? not the hands alone
but all we do and say?
By our THOUGHTS.
Without them there is no power whatever. Until they have commanded,
the hands cannot make a motion; the feet must have direction ordered
to them, the tongue must be bidden to speak, and without the command
there is nothing.
Of course, all these Talks are about thoughts. But we shall need a
little time to speak of them particularly. And little by little it
will be clear to us all why the hands need to act thoughtfully. Now
the harm of the world is done by two forces,--by evil thought and by
thoughtlessness. Then it is no wonder that Ruskin speaks much about
the hands, for it is thought that gives them guidance. Can you wonder,
that when he says, "the idle and loud of tongue" he associates the
"_useless hand_."[54] These things go together, and together they come
either from evil thought or from lack of thought. The moment Ruskin
speaks of one who uses his hands with honor, his words glow. So he
speaks of the laborer, describing him as "silent, serviceable,
honorable, keeping faith, untouched by change, to his country and to
Heaven."
Thus, when we are earnestly asked to do something worthy with the
hands every day, we can understand why. I do not mean one worthy
thing, but some one particular worthy act, especially thought out by
us. To do that daily with forethought will purify the heart. It will
teach us to devote the hands to that which is worthy. Then another old
truth that every one knows will be clear to us: "As a man--or a child,
for that matter--thinketh in his heart, _so he is_."
Bit by bit the thoughts of this Talk will become clear to you. You
will feel more friendly toward them. Then you will really begin to
think about hands; your own hands and everybody's hands. You will
become truthful of hand, guiding your own thoughtfully; watching those
of others carefully. And you will find that in the smallest tasks of
your hands you can put forethought, while every use to which people
put their hands will teach you something if you observe carefully. It
may be folding a paper or picking up a pin, or anything else quite
common; that matters not, common things, like any others, can be done
rightly.
By this observation we shall see hands performing all sorts of odd
tricks. The fingers are drumming, twitching, twirling, closing,
opening, doing a multitude of motions which mean what? Nothing, do you
say? Oh! no, indeed; not _nothing_ but _something_. Fingers and hands
which perform all these unnecessary motions are not being commanded by
the thoughts, and are acting as a result of _no_ thought; that is, of
thoughtlessness. Every one does it do you say? No, that is not true.
Many do these things, but those who command their thoughts never allow
it. If we never moved the hands except in a task when we commanded
them, we should soon become hand-skilled. The useless movements I have
spoken of _un_skill the hand. They are undoing motions, and teach us
that we must govern ourselves if we would become anything. Do you know
how it is that people do great things? They command themselves. Having
determined to do something, they work and work and work to finish it
at any cost. That gives strength and character.
Having observed the hands and their duties, we can readily see the
kind of task they must do in music. It is just the same kind of task
as laying a wall of stone. Every motion must be done honorably.
Everything must be thought out in the mind and heart before the hands
are called upon to act. Wise people always go about their tasks this
way. Unwise people try the other way, of acting first and thinking it
out afterward, and, of course, they always fail. You can now
understand that a great pianist is one who has great thought with
which to command the hands. And to be sure they will obey his commands
at once, he has made them obey him continuously for years. This
teaching the hands to obey is called Practice.
The Italian artist, Giotto, once said:
"You may judge my masterhood of craft by seeing that I can draw a
circle unerringly."