The C. L. S. C. as a Substitute for the Public Library.
Reading in a desultory manner, without system, plan, or purpose, as is
the habit of many people who patronize public libraries, is productive
of but little benefit. One may go through many volumes, and acquire
much information, but it will be in a crude, unsystematic state, and
can not be utilized in many practical ways. In public libraries the
people are almost wholly devoted to reading works of fiction. This is
the testimony of librarians. Its truthfulness may also be seen by any
one who will casually examine the books of any library open to the
public. Works of fiction bear the marks of almost constant perusal,
while the standard works of history, science, philosophy and literature
show signs of but little use and remain uncalled for upon the shelves
for weeks at a time. The constant reading of fiction is deleterious in
the extreme, as it not only gives the individual addicted to it false
and distorted views of life, but it is also sure to render the mind
unfit for the consideration of all serious and weighty subjects, and
begets a distaste for solid reading of any and every kind.
In many respects the C. L. S. C. is a great improvement on the
reading-room or the public library, and may prove, in a good degree,
a valuable substitute for both. There can be little doubt but that
the time spent in reading the course prescribed for its members will
be productive of much better results than if given up to reading in
a hap-hazard manner. The increased advantages to be obtained may be
briefly summed up as follows:
In the first place, the books prescribed in the C. L. S. C. course
of study have been selected after the most careful consideration by
persons well qualified for the task. A number of the works have been
prepared expressly for the use of the C. L. S. C., and are models of
compactness, brevity and style. The course of study is not confined
to any one department of literature, but comprises works of history,
and science, philosophy and poetry, and a wide range of literature and
topics of general interest. Works of fiction are reduced to a minimum,
and those admitted to the course are unobjectionable both in character
and matter.
Second—The course of reading is pursued in a methodical and orderly
manner. A portion of each day is to be set apart for the required
reading, and though the allotted time is brief, it is sufficient
to secure habits of systematic study. A regular plan is insisted
upon. Each work is to be read in the order assigned to it and
written examinations are conducted on the portions read. Thus the
evils resulting from careless and desultory methods of reading
are counteracted and wholesome and systematic habits of study are
inculcated.
Third—The solitary reader often finds his task monotonous and tiresome,
and at times his perusal of books is unproductive because his faculties
are not aroused to their highest state of action. But in the C. L.
S. C. such a condition of things is largely avoided. A number of
persons in common pursue the same course of reading, with frequent
meetings for conversation concerning the books and topics under
consideration. By this means they are afforded frequent opportunities
for mutual interchange of ideas on the subjects to which their minds
are simultaneously directed and they are thus stimulated to greater
mental activity, and their work is freed from all tedium and weariness.
While the C. L. S. C. has many benefits to offer to people in cities
and large towns, even though they may possess the advantages of
reading-rooms, libraries and lecture courses, it is of especial profit
to those who dwell in small towns and in the rural districts. In but
few of such communities are libraries of any kind to be found, and
means for self-culture are often meagre in the extreme. The C. L. S. C.
offers a course of reading adapted to their wants. It is extensive and
yet not costly, and may be pursued by the busiest men and women if they
are only economical of time.
Let any one who sighs for the advantages to be derived from
reading-rooms, enter upon the studies prescribed for the C. L. S. C.,
and at the end of his four years’ course, compare notes with any one
who has spent his leisure in that kind of reading that is common in
public libraries, and he will find he has made great gain.
“Dr. Grimshawe’s Secret.”
Nathaniel Hawthorne was, without doubt, the most powerful writer in the
field of romance which our country has produced. His fame was of slow
growth, but as the years have passed it has been continually swelling
and widening, and his name is certain to long hold a foremost place
in American literature. He lived long enough to see some recognition
of his genius, but since his death, in 1864, he has been read and
praised as he never was in his life. Various editions of his works
have been published, and whatever products of his pen, not published
in his life-time, from time to time have come to light, have been put
into print and have been eagerly read. Undoubtedly much, if not all,
of the posthumous Hawthorne literature would never have been given
to the public if his own wishes had been carried out. His shy and
sensitive nature is well known. It could not have been grateful to him
to have his personality brought before the world as it has been since
his death. It was his request that his life should not be written, but
already there are no less than four Hawthorne biographies, and two
more are in preparation. And who doubts that if he could have foreseen
the publication of the notes, fragments, and studies for stories which
were written simply as memoranda, suggestions and helps to be used in
the preparation of his works, he would have taken good care that they
should not be left behind him? No writer ever elaborated his works with
greater care. Each story which he himself gave to the world is perfect
in style, and a finished work of art. And to have such crude and hasty
work made into books, as much published with his name since his death
is, is almost enough to cause this exquisite literary artist to turn in
his grave.
Soon after Hawthorne’s death the opening chapters of “The Dolliver
Romance,”—a story which he left unfinished—were published. Later came
the publication of his “American Note Books,” “English Note Books,” and
“French and Italian Note Books.” In 1872 the story “Septimius Felton,
or the Elixir of Life,” which had been found among his manuscripts, was
edited by his daughter and published. It seems quite clear that it was
Hawthorne’s intention to merge this story in “The Dolliver Romance,”
and that, if he had lived to complete the latter work, no “Septimius
Felton” would ever have seen the light. But this was not the last of
the fragmentary work of this author which the world was to see. Not
long since it was announced that another work from Hawthorne’s pen had
been found, and would be published. We now have it—“Dr. Grimshawe’s
Secret.” Recently, also, _The Atlantic Monthly_ and _The Century_ have
given us, under the titles, “The Ancestral Footstep,” and “A Look Into
Hawthorne’s Workshop,” certain Hawthorne fragments in which this story
is sketched. And the question now for the critics to decide is whether
in “Dr. Grimshawe’s Secret” we have the fulfillment of the studies in
these fragments, or whether this published story is itself but a sketch
and study, to be fulfilled with the others in a romance which was
long germinating in the great author’s mind, but which death came too
soon for him to execute. Certainly “Dr. Grimshawe’s Secret” Hawthorne
himself would never have published as it is. It is no finished work
of his own. There has been incredulity on the part of some as to his
having written any part of it. But it is in part his work, clearly
enough; and how much of it is his and how much the editor’s—who is
his son, Julian Hawthorne—readers must conjecture for themselves.
When asked to take this as substantially a complete work of Nathaniel
Hawthorne’s, we decline. Evidently it is not so. His hand of power
is seen in it at times, but it is very unequal, and as a whole it is
unsatisfactory.
We have not the space to give an analysis of the book. It will be
widely read. Of the lovers of Hawthorne the name is legion, and nothing
to which his name is attached is likely to be passed by unnoticed. But
that it can add nothing to his fame goes without saying. Indeed, if it
could be believed that it is really Hawthorne’s work, that he wrote
it as a whole, to publish substantially as it is, it might have the
opposite effect. But it will doubtless be very generally regarded as
one among the many posthumous Hawthorne fragments. A much more powerful
story than “Dr. Grimshawe’s Secret,” as we have it, was struggling in
the brain of this rare literary genius, and in the course of time would
have come forth had not death stepped in with the inevitable summons.
For this unwritten romance, what we have been reading in the magazines,
and what we have in this recent book, were but the studies. These
various Hawthorne fragments are interesting, as showing his methods of
work, but again we say he would not have wished them published.
The Joseph Cook Lectureship.
The seventh annual course of the Boston Monday Lectureship by Rev.
Joseph Cook is once more in progress. The whole number delivered by
the lecturer from this platform has reached, up to this date, the
remarkable count of one hundred and fifty-four. Add to these the
preludes, each of which is a lecture in itself, upon the most vital
and interesting questions of the times, and we have an aggregate of
twice the original number. It is with unabated interest and delight
that the vast audience of readers of these lectures resumes their
perusal. It is, perhaps, not too much to say that no platform or
pulpit has so vast or so intelligent an auditory. Before and during
Mr. Cook’s recent absence he was subjected to the rigid, and sometimes
personal, criticism of the free-thinking and rationalistic critics, but
he returns to find his old audience already in their pews waiting to
receive the riches of thought and criticism which he has gathered and
matured during his sojourn abroad.
These lectures by Mr. Cook are reassuring in many ways, in nothing,
perhaps, more than in the evidence they furnish of the interest which
the masses feel in orthodox Christianity. If the croakers, who moan and
groan at the prospect of an expiring faith in the Gospel of Christ,
will take the trouble to compare the numbers and character of the
readers of these lectures with the same of those who read the scoffing
and infidel publications of the day, they will feel better. And besides
those who read and ponder for themselves, and profit by the thoughts
and facts announced from this platform, there are many pulpits to which
they are a sort of tonic, stimulating to greater faith and reliance, in
public teaching, on the old truths and methods of the Gospel.
Mr. Cook’s lectures give evidence of indefatigable industry aided
by marvelous powers of memory. Though scarcely reached the prime of
life as measured by years, he has traversed the field of thought
and investigation as few men in a whole lifetime have done, and has
brought with him the facts and conclusions which he has found, all
classified and subject to his command. An omnivorous reader, he is the
largest living library in the world, and thoroughly indexed almost to
the page and line. All these conditions of fitness and qualification
for the work are supplemented by the genius and qualities of the
orator. As such, Mr. Cook is entitled to the foremost rank. Magnetism,
rhetoric, voice, physique, strength, striking metaphor, apt and classic
illustration, all in a high degree are possessed by this colossus of
the platform.
Many of our readers have had the pleasure of seeing and hearing him at
Chautauqua. They will be glad to know that he will stand again in the
Amphitheater the coming summer.
Gustave Doré.
This celebrated French artist died at his home in Paris January 23.
His illness was very brief, and his death entirely unexpected. He was
cut down in the midst of his years, having just passed his fiftieth
birthday. His life was one of remarkable industry. No busier pencil
than his was ever stopped by the hand of death.
He was born at Strasburg, January 6, 1833, and came to Paris while very
young, where he received his education. He began his work as an artist
in boyhood, furnishing designs at first for cheap illustrated books and
papers. When he was about fifteen years of age, some of his pen and
ink sketches and paintings were put on exhibition at the Salon. Not
long after he had gained a reputation and did not want for abundance of
remunerative employment.
Doré was designer, painter, etcher, and sculptor, all. It is said that
he made nearly 50,000 different designs during his life; and some one
has estimated that all his works of different kinds, placed in line,
would reach from Paris to Lyons.
It was as a designer that he was most successful and popular. His
illustrations of “The Wandering Jew”—first published in 1856—made
him famous the world over. It is the judgment of critics that these
illustrations he never excelled. He began at his best, it has been
remarked. Some of his first important works were equal to any he ever
executed. Among other books which he illustrated, may be mentioned,
Rabelais, Montaigne’s “Journal,” Taine’s “_Voyage aux Pyrenees_,”
Dante’s works, Chateaubriand’s “Atala,” “Don Quixote,” “Paradise Lost,”
the Bible, Tennyson’s “Idyls of the King,” La Fontaine’s “Fables,”
and Coleridge’s “Ancient Mariner.” For some time before his death
he was engaged in illustrating Shakspere, and it is understood that
Harper and Brothers will shortly issue an edition of Poe’s “Raven,”
with illustrations of his designing. Among Doré’s many paintings, his
“Christ leaving the Prætorium”—which measures thirty feet by twenty—and
“Entrance of Christ into Jerusalem”—also a colossal picture—are perhaps
the most celebrated. Of the latter it has been said that over it “the
critics smiled and Christians wept.” Other of his well-known pictures
are “The Triumph of Christianity,” “The Neophyte,” “The Gambling Hall
at Baden-Baden,” and “The Rebel Angels Cast Down.”
Doré was the most popular of modern designers. His illustrations,
original, weird, grotesque, have gone all over the world. They are
found in every library. The people enjoyed his work, and publishers
eagerly sought it. He believed in himself, labored hard for wealth and
fame, and was very successful. Like many artists, he struggled with
poverty at the first, but the time came when all luxury was his to
command and his name was a household word in every land. It mattered
little to him what the work was upon which he employed his powers,
if it only brought returns in money and applause. We see him at one
time illustrating the filthy “_Contes Drolatiques_” and at another
the Holy Bible. But a true estimate of this man of splendid gifts and
wonderful versatility does not put him in the rank of great artists.
Perhaps, if in quantity his work had been less, in quality it would
have been better. He succeeded in the beginning, and that may have been
unfortunate. He was always very well satisfied with his work, and he
failed to improve upon himself. Those who study him in his works see
possibilities in him which were never realized. He produced nothing
great in art which will live as a monument to his genius. A great
painting was what he always intended to execute, but he died with the
purpose unfulfilled. The contrast between Millet and Doré has been
remarked. The former was devoted to art from motives high and noble,
while the other’s devotion was for the sake of what he could make art
pay him in money and fame. He gained his ends, but it was in his power
to do better, and his career after all was not a success.
Personally Doré was frank and simple, and at times—with his intimate
friends—full of geniality. He had no affectation, and was as ready as
a child to speak his mind about himself or others. He was sensitive to
criticism, but the opinion of others never changed his own good opinion
of himself. He was a man of moods. He said of himself that sometimes
he was mastered by a demon. He had fits of melancholy and gloom which
nothing could banish. But at other times no one was more delightful as
a companion. He never married, but lived at his mother’s house in the
Rue St. Dominique, St. Germain. Here he had a small studio, but in the
Rue Bayard he had another larger one which perhaps was the finest in
Paris. Among his many accomplishments was that of music. He sang well,
and played on a number of musical instruments. He was not a society
man, and spent but little time away from home. His passion was for
work, and with this thirty-five years of his life were well filled.
Early and late he labored, and with astonishing rapidity. But his last
picture is painted, his last design made; and the things unseen and
eternal, in picturing which his pencil was sometimes employed, have now
become to him things seen and known.