The World's Best Books : A Key to the Treasures of Literature Part 24

VI. Has it been superseded by a later book, or has its truth pa.s.sed into the every-day life of the race? If so, I do not need to read it. Other things equal, the authors nearest to us in time and s.p.a.ce have the greatest claims on our attention. Especially is this true in science, in which each succeeding great book sucks the life out of all its predecessors. In poetry there is a principle that operates in the opposite direction; for what comes last is often but an imitation, that lacks the fire and force of the original. Nature is best painted, not from books, but from her own sweet face.

VII. What is the relation of the book to the completeness of my development? Will it fill a gap in the walls of my building? Other things equal, I had better read about something I know nothing of than about something I am familiar with; for the aim is to get a picture of the universe in my brain, and a full development of my whole nature. It is a good plan to read everything of something and something of everything. A too general reader seems vague and hazy, as if he were fed on fog; and a too special reader is narrow and hard, as if fed on needles.

VIII. Is the matter inviting my attention of permanent value? The profits of reading what is merely of the moment are not so great as those accruing from the reading of literature that is of all time. To hear the gossip of the street is not as valuable as to hear the lectures of Joseph Cook, or the sermons of Beecher and Brooks. On this principle, most of our time should be spent on cla.s.sics, and very little upon transient matter. There is a vast amount of energy wasted in this country in the reading of newspapers and periodicals. The newspaper is a wonderful thing. It brings the whole huge earth to me in a little brown wrapper every morning. The editor is a sort of travelling stage-manager, who sets up his booth on my desk every day, bringing with him the greatest performers from all the countries of the world, to play their parts before my eyes. Yonder is an immense ma.s.s-meeting; and that mite, brandishing his mandibles in an excited manner, is the great Mr.

So-and-So, explaining his position amid the tumultuous explosions of an appreciative mult.i.tude. That puffet of smoke and dust to the right is a revolution. There in the shadow of the wood comes an old man who lays down a scythe and gla.s.s while he shifts the scenes, and we see a bony hand reaching out to s.n.a.t.c.h back a player in the midst of his part, and even trying to clutch the showman himself. For three dollars a year I can buy a season ticket to this great Globe theatre, for which G.o.d writes the dramas, whose scene-shifter is Time, and whose curtain is rung down by Death.[1] But theatre-going, if kept up continuously, is very enervating. 'T is better far to read the hand-bills and placards at the door, and only when the play is great go in. Glance at the head-lines of the paper always; read the mighty pages seldom. The editors could save the nation millions of rich hours by a daily column of _brief but complete_ statements of the paper's contents, instead of those flaring head-lines that allure but do not satisfy, and only lead us on to read that Mr. Windbag nominated Mr. Darkhorse amid great applause, and that Mr. Darkhorse accepted in a three-column speech skilfully constructed so as to commit himself to nothing; or that Mr.

Bondholder's daughter was married, and that Mrs. So-and-So wore cream satin and point lace, with roses, etc.

[1] Adapted from Lowell.

=Intrinsic Merit=.--It must be noted that the tests of intrinsic merit are not precisely the same as the tests for the choice of books. The latter include the former and more. Intrinsic merit depends on the character impressed upon the book by its subject-matter and the author; but in determining the claims of a book upon the attention of the ordinary English reader, it is necessary not only to look at the book itself, but also to consider the needs and abilities of the reader. One may not be able to read the book that is intrinsically the best, because of the want of time or lack of sufficient mental development. Green's "Short History of England" and d.i.c.kens' "Child's History of England" may not be the greatest works in their department, but they may have the _greatest claims on the attention_ of one whose time or ability is limited. A chief need of every one is to know what others are thinking and feeling. To open up avenues of communication between mind and mind is one of the great objects of reading. Now it often happens that a book of no very high merit artistically considered--a book that can never take rank as a cla.s.sic--becomes very famous, and is for a time the subject of much comment and conversation. In such cases all who would remain in thorough sympathy with their fellows must give the book at least a hasty reading, or in some way gain a knowledge of its contents.

Intrinsically "Robert Elsmere" and "Looking Backward" may not be worthy of high rank (though I am by no means so sure of this as many of the critics seem to be); but their fame, joined as it is with high motive, ent.i.tles them to a reading.

It is always a good plan, however, to endeavor to ascertain the absolute or intrinsic merit of a book first, and afterward arrive at the relative value or claim upon the attention by making the correction required by the time and place, later publications in the same department, the peculiar needs and abilities of readers, etc.

In testing intrinsic worth we must consider--

Motive.

Magnitude.

Unity.

Universality.

Suggestiveness.

Expression.

=Motive=.--The purpose of the author and the emotional character of the subject matter are of great importance. A n.o.ble subject n.o.bly handled begets n.o.bility in the reader, and a spirit of meanness brought into a book by its subject or author also impresses itself upon those who come in contact with it. Kind, loving books make the world more tender-hearted; coa.r.s.e and l.u.s.tful books degrade mankind. The n.o.bility of the sentiment in and underlying a work is therefore a test of prime importance.

Whittier's "Voices of Freedom,"

Lowell's "Vision of Sir Launfal,"

Tennyson's "Locksley Hall,"

Warner's "A-Hunting of the Deer,"

Shakspeare's "Coriola.n.u.s,"

Macaulay's "Horatius" and "Virginia,"

aeschylus' "Prometheus,"

d.i.c.kens' "Christmas Carol,"

Sewell's "Black Beauty,"

Chaucer's "Griselda,"

Browning's "Ivan Ivanovitch,"

Arnold's "Forsaken Merman," and "The Light of Asia,"

are fine examples of high motive.

=Magnitude=.--The grander the subject, the deeper the impression upon us. In reading a book like "The Light of Asia," that reveals the heart of a great religion, or Guizot's "Civilization in Europe," that deals with the life of a continent, or Darwin's "Origin of Species," or Spencer's "Nebular Hypothesis," that grapples with problems as wide as the world and as deep as the starry s.p.a.ces,--in reading such books we receive into ourselves a larger part of the universe than when we devote ourselves to the history of the town we live in, or the account of the latest game of base ball.

=Unity=.--A book, picture, statue, play, or oratorio is an artistic unity when no part of it could be removed without injury to the whole effect. True art ma.s.ses many forces to a single central purpose. The more complex a book is in its substance (not its expression),--that is to say, the greater the variety of thoughts and feelings compressed within its lids,--the higher it will rank, if the parts are good in themselves and are so related as to produce one tremendous effect. But no intrusion of anything not essentially related to the supreme purpose can be tolerated. A good book is like a soldier who will not burden himself with anything that will not increase his fighting power, because, if he did, its weight would _diminish_ his fighting force. In the same way, if a book contains unnecessary matter, a portion of the attention that should be concentrated upon the real purpose of the volume, is absorbed by the superfluous pages, rendering the effect less powerful than it would otherwise be. Most of the examples of high motive named above, would be in place here, especially,--

Prometheus.

The Forsaken Merman.

The Light of Asia.

Other fine specimens of unity are,--

Holmes's "Nautilus."

Hood's "Bridge of Sighs."

Gray's "Elegy."

Hunt's "Abou Ben Adhem."

Longfellow's "Psalm of Life."

Whittier's "Barefoot Boy."

Sh.e.l.ley's "Ode to a Skylark."

Sh.e.l.ley's "Ode to the West Wind."

Byron's "Eve of Waterloo."

Bryant's "Thanatopsis."

Reed's "Drifting."

Drake's "Culprit Fay."

Irving's "Art of Bookmaking," etc. (in "Sketch Book").

Rives' "Story of Arnon."

Dante's "Divine Comedy."

Schiller's "Veiled Statue of Truth."

Goethe's "Erl King."

Humor alone has a right to violate unity even apparently; and although wit and humor produce their effects by displaying incongruities, yet underlying all high art, in this department as in others, there is always a deep unity,--a truth revealed and enforced by the destruction of its contradictories accomplished by the sallies of wit and humor.

=Universality=.--Other things equal, the more people interested in the subject the more important the book. A matter which affects a million people is of more consequence than one which affects only a single person. National affairs, and all matters of magnitude, of course possess this quality; but magnitude is not necessary to universality,--the thoughts, feelings, and actions of an unpretentious person in a little village may be types of what pa.s.ses in the life of every human being, and by their representativeness attain a more universal interest for mankind than the business and politics of a state.

The rules of tennis are not of so wide importance as an English grammar, nor is the latter so universal as Dante's "Inferno" or "The Meditations of Marcus Aurelius,"--these being among the books that in the highest degree possess the quality under discussion. Other fine examples are--

Goethe's "Faust."

Shakespeare's Plays and Sonnets.

Bunyan's "Pilgrim's Progress."

Arnold's "Light of Asia."

Bacon's and Emerson's Essays.

"Uncle Tom's Cabin."

Sewell's "Black Beauty."

Eliot's "Romola."

Curtis' "Prue and I."

Cooper's "Last of the Mohicans."

Tourgee's "Hot Plowshares."

Irving's "Sketch Book."

Plato, Spencer, etc.

In fact, all books that express love, longing, admiration, tenderness, sorrow, laughter, joy, victory over nature or man, or any other thought or feeling common to men, have the attribute of universality in greater or less degree.

=Suggestiveness=.--Every great work of art suggests far more than it expresses. This truth is ill.u.s.trated by paintings like Bierstadt's "Yosemite" or his "Drummer Boy," Millet's "Angelus," or Turner's "Slave Ship." Statues like the "Greek Slave" or "The Forced Prayer;" speeches like those of Phillips, Fox, Clay, Pitt, Bright, Webster, and Brooks; songs like "Home, Sweet Home," "My Country," "Douglas," "Annie Laurie;"

and books like

Emerson's Essays.

aeschylus' "Prometheus."

Goethe's "Faust" and "Wilhelm Meister."

Dante's "Divine Comedy."

"Hamlet" and many other of Shakspeare's Plays.

Curtis' "Prue and I."