d 
 
BOOKS AND READING; 
 
 08, 
 
 "WHAT BOOKS SHALL I READ 
 
 \ 
 
 HOW SHALL I BEAD THEM? 
 
 NOAH PORTEE, D.D., LL.D., 
 
 j>ROPESSOR IN Yale College. 
 
 FOURTH EDITION, WITH AN INDEX. 
 
 — and books we know 
 Are a stibstantial world, both pure and good 
 Round these, with tendrils strong as flesh and bL 
 Our pastime and our happiness will grow 
 
 NEW YORK: 
 SCRIBNER, ARMSTRONG & CO., 
 
 654 BROADWAY. 
 
 1873. 
 
N 
 
 ^ 
 
 Entered according to Act of Oongress, in tha year 1870. by 
 
 CHARLES SCRIBNBR & 00. 
 *a the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at W&shingtoa. 
 
 7 AS. B. RODGER S CO.^ 
 
 Electbotypers, 
 
 62 ft 54 N. Sixth St., Philadelphia. 
 
THIS VOLUME 
 
 18 INSCRIBED BY THE AUTHOB 
 
 TO HIS HONORED FRIEND, 
 
 MISS MARY LUCAS HILLHOUSE, 
 
 WHOSE LONG AND USEFUL LIFE 
 
 HAS BEEN ENTHUSIASTICALLY DEVOTED 
 
 TO BOOKS AND READING; 
 
 AND NONE THE LESS WISELY AND EFFICIENTLT, 
 
 TO THE MANY GOOD OBJECTS 
 
 WHICH HAVE ENLISTED 
 
 HER WOMANLY SYMPATHIES 
 
 AND HER SAGACIOUS BENEVOLENCE. 
 
 76^7 
 
I 
 
PEEFAOE. 
 
 The papers contained in this volume have 
 grown out of a lecture which was written several 
 years ago. and has been often repeated. The 
 lecture was originally designed to meet the wants 
 of younger and older persons who might be in a 
 condition to be profited by a few practical sugges- 
 tions, enforced by illustrations from well-known 
 authors. The papers have been expanded with 
 a similar intent. The didactic form and manner 
 of the lecture has been designedly retained as al- 
 lowing greater condensation and directness, and as 
 more appropriate to the position of a teacher and 
 counsellor. Useful suggestions have not been 
 omitted even though to many they might seem 
 common-place. The illustrations have usually 
 been derived from authors who might be sup- 
 posed to be familiar to the reader. The wants of 
 those beginning to read have been especially con- 
 sidered^ while those who are more or less fami- 
 
 V 
 
VI PREFACE. 
 
 liar with books and practised in reading have not 
 been wholly overlooked. 
 
 A sufficiently extended account of the aims of 
 the author and of the plan of this series of papers 
 is given in the First Chapter. In executing the 
 plan proposed, the author has been led to discuss 
 somewhat more at length than he had intended, 
 the prominent characteristics of different classes 
 of Books and the conditions of success in different 
 descriptions of Reading. He hopes that the effect 
 of these discussions may lead to more comprehen- 
 sive and elevated estimates of authors and of lite- 
 rature on the part of those who read themselves or 
 who direct the reading of others, and that in this 
 and other ways, the volume may stimulate to a 
 wise selection of Books and to enlightened and 
 successful methods of Reading. 
 
 October, 1870. 
 
 P. 8. — The work has been so favorably received, that spe- 
 cial efforts have been made to perfect it before issuing a new 
 edition. Many of the errors and oversights have been cor- 
 rected. A copious Index has been prepared which, besides 
 containing references to all the topics which are discussed, 
 and to most of the authors and works which are in any way 
 referred to, will answer all the ends of a classified list of 
 bookm so far as such a list is needed or can be usefully em- 
 ployed by the persons for whom this volume was written. 
 
 Ap^U, 1871. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 Page. 
 
 INTRODUCTOBT. . . . • • 1 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 WHAT IS A BOOK? AND WHAT IS IT TO HEAD? . 18 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 HOW TO READ— ATTENTION IN READING. , . 28 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 HOW TO READ WITH INTEREST AND EFFECT. , 37 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 THE RELATIONS OF THE READER TO HIS AUTHOR. . 48 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 THE INFLUENCE OF BOOKS AND READING ON THE OPINIONS 
 
 AND PRINCIPLES. . , " . . , 62 
 
 CHAPTER VII. ^ 
 
 THE MORAL INFLUENCE OF BOOKS AND READING.~THE READ- 
 ING OF FICTION. ~ . . . . , 72 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 IMAGINATIVE LITERATURE : ITS REPRESENTAl'IONS OF MORAL 
 
 EVIL. . ..... 8X 
 
 CHAPTER IX. ^ 
 
 THE RELIGIOUS CHARACTER AND INFLUENCE OF BOOKS AND 
 
 READl!fG. ...... 101 
 
 • . vii 
 
Vlll CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 Page. 
 A CHRISTIAN LITEEATUEE: HOW COKCEIVED AND DEFINED. Ill 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 HISTORY AND HISTORICAL READING. . . . 125 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 HOW TO READ HISTORY. ... . . 143 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 A COURSE OF HISTORICAL READING. . . 166 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 BIOGRAPHY AND BIOGRAPHICAL READING. • • 195 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 NOVELS AND NOVEL READING. . ' . , 218 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 POETRY AND POETS. ... . 240 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 THE CRITICISM AND HISTORY OF LITERATURE. . 265 
 
 CHAPTER XVin. 
 
 THE CRITICISM OF ENGLISH LITERATURE. • . 285 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 BOOKS OF SCIENCE AND DUTY. ... 303 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 RELIGIOUS BOOKS AND SUNDAY READING. . , 822 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 NEWSPAPERS AND PERIODICALS. . , , 341 
 
 CHAPTER XXn. 
 
 THE LIBRARY.* '. . . . , , 860 
 
BOOKS AND READma: 
 
 OR, 
 
 WHAT BOOKS SHALL I READ, AJSTD HOW" 
 SHALL I READ THEM? 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 INTRODUCTORY. 
 
 Were a South-sea Islander to be suddenly taken up 
 from his savage home and set down in one of the great 
 cities of Europe, — ^among the many strange objects which 
 he would see, one of the most incomprehensible would be 
 a publio library. 
 
 A cathedral he would at once understand. Its vast area 
 would suggest a counterpart in the inclosure which from 
 his childhood onward he had known and feared as a place 
 of worship. Its clustered pillars and lofty arches would 
 bring to mind a well-remembered grove of old and stately 
 trees, "with sounding walks between;'' the dreaded dwell- 
 ing of some cruel deity, or the fit arena for some "abhorred 
 rite." The altar, the priests, the reverent worshipers, 
 would speak to his mmd their own meaning. 
 
 A military parade he might comprehend without an in- 
 terpreter's aid. The measured tread of gathered legions 
 would, indeed, differ not a little from the wild rush of his 
 own barbarous clan ; the inspiring call of trumpet and horn. 
 
2 Books and Reading, [Chap, l 
 
 of fife and drum, blending with all those nameless instru- 
 ments which make the music of war so splendid and so 
 spirit-stirring, would be unlike the horrid, dissonant noises, 
 with which the savage sounds out his bloody errand; but 
 the object and purpose of the show would be seen at a 
 glance, and would wake up all the warrior in his bosom. 
 
 A festive gathering of lords and ladies gay would be 
 quite an intelligible aifair, and the more closely he should 
 look into the particulars of the transaction, the more nu- 
 merous, it is possible, might be the points of resemblance 
 between the barbaric and the fashionable assembly. 
 
 A gallery of paintings, adorned with the proudest tro- 
 phies of genius, might not be altogether without meaning; 
 for though the savage would look upon the creations of 
 Raphael or Titian with somewhat such an eye as that with 
 which Caliban looked upon Miranda, yet the uses of such 
 a collection, which the price of his own kingdom could net 
 buy, would not be entirely beyond his comprehension. 
 
 But a public library would be too much for him. It 
 would prove a mystery quite beyond his reach. Its de- 
 sign and its utility would be alike incomprehensible. The 
 front of the edifice within which the library was placed, 
 might indeed command his admiration: and within, the 
 lofty arches, the lengthened aisles and the labyrinthine 
 succession of apartments, might attract and bewilder him. 
 The books even, rising one above another in splendid lines, 
 and dressed in gilt and purple and green, might seem to 
 his savage eye a very pretty sight; though they would 
 please that eye just as well if carved and colored upon 
 the solid wall, or if, as has been the fancy of certain 
 owners of libraries, the volumes had been wrought from 
 solid wood — fit books for the wooden heads that owned 
 them. 
 
 The mystery of the library to the savage, would be the 
 books in it, — what they were, what they were for, and why 
 
Chap, l] Introductory, 3 
 
 they were thought worthy to be lodged in a building so 
 imposing, and watched with such jealous care. If he 
 should linger among the apartments for reading, and watch 
 the movements of the inmates, his wonder would be likely 
 to increase. ' His eye might rest upon Dr. Dryasdust, the 
 antiquarian, as with anxious look and bustling air he 
 rushes into one closet after another, takes volume after 
 volume from its dusty retreat, looks into each as the con- 
 juring priest at home looks into a tree or a stone to see the 
 spirit within, and after copying from each in strange char- 
 acters, stufis the manuscript into his pocket, and walks oif 
 as proudly as though, like the self-same priest, he had 
 caught and bagged the spirit in some fetiQh, amulet, or me- 
 dicine-bag. The man of science sits for hours unconscious 
 of the presence of the wondering savage, and seems more 
 and more bewildered as he gazes upon a single page. 
 The savage watches the poet reading a favorite author, and 
 marvels at the mysterious influence that dilates his eye 
 and kindles his cheek, and sends madness through his 
 frame. He is astonished at the reader of fiction, looking 
 upon what seems to him a vacant page, and yet seeming to 
 see in its enchanted lines a world of spirits, — living, 
 moving, talking, walking, loving, hating, fighting, dying. 
 Should he seek an explanation of the enigma, the expla- 
 nation would rather deepen than solve the mystery. Here 
 is a volume, his interpreter might say, by the aid of whose 
 characters the shipmaster can guide his vessel to your 
 island-home as easily as you can follow a forest path. 
 From this volume you can learn the story of that famous 
 white captain who first landed upon your shores, in the 
 days of your great-grandfather, and was there killed and 
 buried; and — mystery above mystery — in this little book 
 which gives an account of the discovery of your country by 
 the white man, will be found the sufficient reason why his 
 majesty, our kinsj, has a right to burn your towns, to shoot 
 
4 Boohs and Reading. [Ghap. i. 
 
 down your people, to take possession of your land and 
 bring you hither as a captive; all by authority of dis- 
 covery, and of a title-deed from some king or other poten- 
 tate who never saw the country which he gave away. 
 
 This lesson concerning the nature and value of books 
 would probably be quite enough for once, and would send 
 the poor barbarian away, well satisfied that a book was in- 
 deed a very wonderful thing, and that a collection of books 
 well deserved to be deposited in a dwelling so adorned and 
 so secure. 
 
 Were our savage to remain longer among his civilized 
 brethren, and gradually to master the mysteries of their 
 social state, his estimate of the influence of books would be 
 likely to gather strength. To say nothing of their past in- 
 fluence in bringing a nation up to a point at which he 
 could only wonder and be silent, their present power to de- 
 termine the character and destiny of single individual* 
 might startle and surprise him. A few pages in a single 
 volume fall as it were by chance under the eye of a boy 
 in his leisure hours. They fascinate and fix his attention ; 
 they charm and hold his mind; and the result is, that the 
 boy becomes a sailor and is wedded to the sea for his life. 
 No force nor influence can undo the work l:)egun by those 
 few pages; no love of father or mother, no temptation of 
 money or honor, no fear of sufiering or disgrace, is an 
 overmatch for the enchantment conjured up and sustained 
 by that exciting volume. A single book has made the boy 
 a seaman for life; perhaps a pirate, wretched in his life 
 and death. Another book meets the eye of another youth, 
 and wakes in his bosom holy aspirations, which, all his life 
 after, burn on in the useless flames of a painful asceticism, 
 or in a kindly love to God and man. Another youth in 
 an unhappy hour meets still another volume, and it makes 
 him a hater of his fellow-man and a blasphemer of his God. 
 One book makes one man a believer in goodness and love 
 
Chap. I.] Introductory, 6 
 
 and truth ; another book makes another man a denier or 
 doubter of these sacred verities. 
 
 These thoughts may serve to introduce our subject and 
 to suggest its importance. Books and Reading are the 
 theme — or rather the themes — on which it is proposed to 
 offer a series of free and familiar thoughts, principally of a 
 practical nature. The importance of the subject is not 
 only great, but it is constantly increasing. Books, as an 
 element of influence, are becoming more and more import- 
 ant, and reading is the employment of a widening circle. 
 Books of all sorts are now brought within the reach of 
 most persons who desire to read them. The time has 
 gone by when the mass of the community were restricted 
 to a score or two of volumes : the Bible, one or two works 
 of devotion, two or three standard histories, and a half- 
 dozen novels. Many intelligent men can recollect the 
 time when all the books on which they could lay their 
 hands were few, and were read and re-read till they were 
 dry as a remainder biscuit, or as empty as a thrice- 
 threshed sheaf. 
 
 There are ladies now living, who were well educated for 
 their time, to whom the loan or the gift of a new book 
 was an important event in their history, making a winter 
 memorable, and now their daughters or grand-daughters 
 dispatch a novel or a poem before dinner. All the known 
 books for children, two generations ago, were some half a 
 score; whereas, at present, new "juveniles" are prepared 
 by the hundred a year, and the library of a child ten 
 years old is very often more numerous and costly than was 
 that of many a substantial and intelligent household. 
 The minds of tens of thousands are stimulated and oc- 
 cupied with boohs, boohs, boohs, from three years old on- 
 ward through youth and manhood. We read when we 
 sit, when we lie down, and when we ride ; sometimes 
 when we eat and when we walk. When we travel we en- 
 
6 Books and Reading, ' [Chap. i. 
 
 counter a moving library on every railway car, and a fixed 
 library at every railway station. Books are prepared for 
 railway reading, and Railway Library is the title of more 
 than one series of books in America, England, France, and 
 Germany. We read when we are well and when we are 
 ill, when we are busy and when we are idle, and some 
 even die with a book in hand. There is little use for the 
 caution now-a-days, " Beware of the man of one book." 
 If it be true, as it may be, that single books make an im- 
 pression less marked and decisive than formerly, so that a 
 bad or inferior book may do less harm than it once did, it 
 is also true that bad books and inferior books are far more 
 common than they once were. Their poison is also more 
 subtle and less easily detected, for as the taste of readers 
 becomes omnivorous, it becomes less discriminating. Be- 
 sides, the readiness with which good men, and men sturdy 
 in their principles too, read books which they despise and 
 abhor, has introduced a freedom of practice on this sub- 
 ject, at which other generations would have stood aghast. 
 In many cases too, if the principles are not corrupted by 
 reading, the taste is vitiated. Or if nothing worse hap- 
 pens, delicacy of appreciation suffers from the amount of 
 intellectual food which is forced upon us, and the satisfac- 
 tion is far less keen and exquisite than was enjoyed by 
 readers of a few books of superior merit. 
 
 The number of persons who ask the questions : What 
 
 BOOKS SHALL I READ? AND HOW SHALL I READ THEM? 
 
 is very great. Those who are beginning to feel an inter- 
 est in books and reading, and who long for friendly direc- 
 tion, ask these questions more frequently than they receive 
 wise and satisfactory answers. Intelligent young men, 
 w^ho have finished their education at school — clerks, ap- 
 prentices, farmers, teachers who are moved by a wise and 
 sincere desire for self-culture and self-improvement — ask 
 the same questions of themsslves and others. If they go 
 
Chap. I.] , IntroduGtory , 7 
 
 into a bookstore, they are bewildered bj the number and 
 variety of the books from which they are to select, and 
 their chance selection is as likely, to say the least, to be 
 -bad as good. It will rarely happen that it is the best 
 which could be made. The bookseller can tell them what 
 books are popular and have a' run, but this recommenda- 
 tion is of a doubtful character. They may have access to 
 a well-selected library, but still .they are at fault, not 
 knowing how or what to choose for their immediate and 
 individual wants. Students also, who are in a course of 
 education at school or college, or who, having finished 
 their course, would mark out for themselves a generous 
 plan of private reading, are often greatly at a loss for the 
 best answers to the questions which they would ask. 
 Their time is limited, and they pertinaciously inquire : — 
 "What books ought I to read first of all, and what next 
 in order ? In what way can a student form and direct a 
 taste for the highest kind of literature ? How far can he 
 trust, and ought he to follow his fancy; how far should he 
 thwart and oppose his taste, and seek to form it anew ? 
 Are there any fixed principles of criticism, by which the 
 best books may be known, and a taste for them formed 
 and fixed ? Young ladies, too, who are sooner released 
 from the confinement of school-life and the drudgery of 
 imposed studies — who often fix the taste and prescribe the 
 fashion for the reading of the village or the circle in which 
 tliey move — oflen sadly suffer for the want of a little 
 direction. Their sensibility is fresh, their fancy is wake- 
 ful, their taste is easily moulded. If guided aright, they 
 might attain to a cultivated acquaintance with those ima- 
 ginative writers who would inspire the purest and tendcr- 
 est emotions and enrich the fancy with the noblest images ; 
 who w^ould elevate their tastes and confirm good and noble 
 principles.^J For the want of such direction, it often hap- 
 pens that swc/i young ladies read themselves down into an 
 
8 Books and Beading. [Chap. I. 
 
 utter waste and frivolity of thought, feeling, and purpose. 
 The trashy literature in which they delight, becomes the 
 cheap and vapid representative of their empty minds, 
 their heartless affections, and their frivolous characters. 
 Besides the classes already named, there are heads of 
 families who wish to form libraries, smaller or greater, 
 which may instruct and amuse both themselves and their 
 households, but who often choose books that defeat the 
 very aims which they propose to accomplish, and react 
 with more or less evil upon their children. What books 
 shall they bay and how shall they judge of books ? Above 
 all, how shall they train themselves and others to the best 
 use of the books which they possess and read ? 
 
 We would in these papers meet this variety of wants ; 
 not completely — to attempt which would be idle — but in 
 part, so far as our limits will allow. To give a complete 
 catalogue of the best books, even in a few departments of 
 literature, would be quite impossible. Such a catalogue 
 would be dry reading at best — as dry as a volume of 
 statistics, or a report of the census, and of far less interest 
 and authority ; for no man, on such a subject, would 
 blindly yield himself to the direction of any single mind. 
 A partial catalogue with a critique upon each author, 
 would be little better. All that can be accomplished is to 
 furnish^ thoughts and principles which may awaken the 
 mind to wise activity, and illustrate them by examples 
 from books and authors. We would show that the books 
 whi^h we read even carelessly, exert an influence upon us 
 which is far more potent than we are apt to think, and 
 that we ought to select our books — above all our favorite 
 books — with a more jealous care than we choose our 
 friends and intimates. We would also show that readino; 
 is more than the amusement of an hour and the gratifica- 
 tion of a capricious fancy : that it is an employment which 
 may leave behind the most powerful impress for good, or 
 
Chap, l] Introductory. 9 
 
 which may reduce the soul to utter barrenness and waste, 
 and even scathe it as with devouring fire. We would 
 treat .also of the different kinds of books and tke methods 
 of reading appropriate to each. We hope also to give 
 some direction to the taste, and this without the dry and 
 formal precepts of the schools, or the captious and positive 
 dogmatism of the professed critic. The taste, as applied 
 to books and reading, like the eye for color and form, may 
 be -educated, or rather it may be taught how to educate 
 itself. We would aid in this effort at self-culture ; es- 
 pecially would we indicate what are the methods and 
 ways of reading imaginative literature, which may cause 
 it to yield pure and exquisite delight, to add power to 
 the intellect, and to impart a grace and finish to the char- 
 acter and life. 
 
 We are not insensible to the perils which are incident 
 to our attempt. Not a few have undertaken to answer the 
 questions which we have proposed, and have suceeeded 
 very indifferently. Many a young man has asked his re- 
 spected teacher or trusted adviser " What and how shall I 
 read?" and been put off with tiresome platitudes and 
 solemn commonplaces for an answer, coupled with the 
 titles of half a -score of works, which every person is sup- 
 posed to be acquainted with, and which are deemed em- 
 inently judicious and safe reading. The manuals usually 
 known as " Courses of Eeading," though useful to a cer- 
 tain extent, usually lack the germinant force of fundament- 
 al principles in respect to the object of reading and the 
 estimate of authors. The list of books which Dr. John- 
 son recommended to a clerical friend, is -a good example of 
 most of the catalogues which are hastily prepared even by 
 eminent critics. '^ Universal History (ancient) — Rolling 
 Ancient History — Puffendorfs Introduction to History — 
 Vefrtofs History of the Knights of Malta — Vertofs Revolu- 
 tions of Portugal — Vertofs Revolutions of Sweden — Cartels 
 
10 Boolcs and Reading, [Chap. I, 
 
 History of England — Present State of Migland — Geogra- 
 phical Grammar — Prideaux's Connection — Nelson's Fasts 
 and Festivals — Duty of Man — Gentleman's Religion — Cla- 
 rendon's History — Watts' Improvement of the Mind — Watts' 
 Logic — Nature Displayed — Lowth's Fkglish Grammar — • 
 Blachwall on the Classics — Sherlock's Sermons — Burnet's 
 Life of Hale — Dupin's History of the Church — Shuck- 
 ford's Connections — Law's Serious Call — Walton's Com- 
 plete Angler — Sandys' Travels — Sprat's History of the 
 Royal Society — England's Gazetteer — Goldsmith's Roman 
 History — some Commentaries on the Bible." This list 
 seems to include works of three different classes. Books 
 of standard authority and permanent value ; books which 
 had happened to please Dr. Johnson's permanent or tem- 
 porary humor ; books which had happened to occur to 
 his mind when he w^as writing out the catalogue for his 
 young friend. The most exciting and satisfactory com- 
 ments on books and reading are not usually found in 
 formal treatises, but in such incidental remarks as those 
 which are recorded by Boswell of Dr. Johnson, or are met 
 with in Montaigne's rambling and free-spoken essay " Of 
 Books," or in the essay of Bacon on ^^ Studies" (in Locke's 
 TJioughts Concerning Reading and Study,) or in Charles 
 Lamb's ^^ Detached Thoughts on Books and Reading" or in 
 Hazlitt's many incisive essays and Coleridge's wonderfully 
 stimulating criticisms, or in two or three good thoughts 
 from Carlyle's address at Edinburgh mis-named " On the 
 Choice of Books" or the essay of R. W. Emerson on 
 ''Books" in the volume entitled "Society and Soli- 
 tude," which is characteristic of the author, even to 
 his remarks about "Jesus " and "the Bibles of the world." 
 -' All manuals entitled "Courses of Reading" must be 
 exposed to the objection noticed by the elder D'Israeli, 
 that they necessarily fall behind the times the rao- 
 ment they come up to them. A course of reading that 
 
Chap. I.] Introductory, 11 
 
 should be complete in one month must begin to be defee^ 
 tive the next. 
 
 Courses of reading from an elder adviser or friend to a 
 pupil or protege, even if they are hastily prepared, serve a 
 good purpose as pictures of the times. They cast more or 
 less light upon the culture and knowledge which prevailed 
 when they were written. A very distinguished clergyman 
 of New England, furnishes the following list of books for 
 a young pastor in 1792. " In Divinity, you will not 
 wonder if I recommend President Edwards' writings in 
 general ; Dr. Bellamy's and Dr. Hopkins' ; President 
 Davies^ Sermons; Robert Walker^ s Sermons; Howe's do; 
 Addison's Evidences ; Beattie's Evidences of Christianity ; 
 Ldand's View of Deistical Writers; Berry Street Sermons ; — 
 in History Prideaux's Connection ; Rollings Ancient His- 
 tory ; Goldsmith's Roman History ; do. History of Eng- 
 land, or Rider's History of England which is more prolix 
 and particular ; Robertson's History of North Ame^nca ; do. 
 History of Charles V ; Hutchinson's History of Massachu- 
 setts ; Ramsay's History of the War ; Guthrie's and Morse's 
 Geography ; Josephus' History of the Jews ; — Watts on the 
 Mind; Locke on the Human Understanding; — Specton 
 tor; Guardian; Tattler ; Rambler; Pamela; Clarissa; 
 Grandison ; Telemachus ; Don Quixote; Anderson's Voy- 
 age ; Cook's Voyages ; Milton ; Young's Night Thoughts ; 
 Vicesimus Knox's Essays ; Do. On Education ; — Buchan's 
 Family Physician ; Tissot on Health. — These may be 
 sufficient — but additions may be easily made. The great 
 danger will be of getting useless and hurtful books, es- 
 pecially Novels and Romances which generally corrupt, 
 especially young minds ; beside the loss of the purchase 
 money and the time spent in the reading of them." 
 
 Another paper of a later date was prepared by a clergy- 
 man, of some reputation for literature, for a young lady, 
 whose mind the writer sought to direct, and, as is veiry 
 
12 Boohs and Reading, [Chap. i. 
 
 likely, whose heart and hand he sought to win. It is as 
 follows ; " List of Books for a young lady's Library/' 
 " Cannes small Bible (with marginal references) ; Hornets 
 Paraphrase on the Psalms ; Mrs. Hannah Morels Strictures 
 on Female Education; Mrs. Chapone^s Letters to her 
 Niece; Grove on the Sacrament; Mason on Self-Know^ 
 ledge ; Doddridge^ s Rise and Progress, etc. ; Newton on the 
 Prophecies ; Guide to Domestic Happiness and the Refuge ; 
 Comperes Works, 2 vols. : Young^s Night Thoughts ; Ele- 
 gant Extracts in Poetry ; Rasselas, Prince of Abyssinia ; 
 The Rambler ; Thomson^ s Seasons ; DwigMs Conquest of 
 Canaan ; Washington's Life ; TrumbuWs History of Con- 
 necticut, This list of books might be enlarged, and 
 perhaps upon recollection some alteration might be made, 
 but these are well calculated to mend the heart, to direct 
 the imagination and thoughts to proper objects, and to 
 give command over them upon good principles. To read 
 . profitably we should always then have some object in 
 view more than merely to pass away time, by letting 
 words run off our tongue or through our minds. * * * 
 Order and system in any business, and certainly in cul- 
 tivating the mind, is really necessary, if we would be 
 benefited by study. It is by having a few books well 
 chosen and attentively and perseveringly read, that we fix 
 in our mind useful principles. Books are multiplied 
 without number, and it becomes perplexing to run fr©m 
 one to another, and none are well understood when we 
 read in this manner. The Bible should always stand first 
 in our esteem and be read first daily. It affords every 
 species of reading, — history, biography, poetry, etc., — and 
 shows the heart in its true character.'^ 
 
 If anything would discourage us from prosecuting the 
 plan of writing upon Books and Eeading, it would be the 
 perusal of this paper of well-meant truisms and well-worn 
 commonplaces. It does not follow, however, because 
 
Chap. L] Introductory, 13 
 
 advice upon any subject is especially liable to degenerate 
 into meaningless generalities, that advice should never be 
 given ; nor, because it is comparatively easy to discoui-se 
 safely with uplifted eye-brows about the books we read 
 and the companions we choose, that such counsel should 
 never be given at all. The much-needed pilot-boat must 
 run the risk of being itself stranded upon dangerous fiats 
 and beguiling shallows, if it would preserve the vessel 
 from being ingulfed in the deeper seas, and the more terri- 
 ble breakers. 
 
 There are not a few readers who reject all guidance and 
 restraint — some from inclination, and some from a the- 
 ory that counsel and selection interfere with the freedom of 
 individual taste and the spontaneity of individual genius. 
 Their motto in general is: "of all the sorts of vice that 
 prevail advice is the most vexatious.'^ So far as read'ng is 
 concerned, it is, " In brief, sir, study what you most affect." 
 One person, they insist, cannot advise for another, because 
 one cannot put himself in the place of another. " Read 
 what speaks to your heart and mind ; let your own feelings 
 b6 your guide, and leave critics and advisers to their stupid 
 analyses and narrow or prejudiced judgments. Read that 
 you may enjoy, not that you may judge; that you may 
 gather impulse and inspiration, not that you may under- 
 stand the reasons or explore the sources of the instruction 
 and enjoyment which you unconsciously derive from the 
 books in which you most delight." There is truth and 
 force in this position, we grant. No man can read with 
 profit that which he cannot learn to read with pleasure. 
 If I do not myself find in a book something which I my- 
 self am looking for, or am ready to receive, then the book 
 is no book for me whatever, however much it may be for 
 another man. But to assert that one cannot help another 
 to select and to judge of books is, in principle, to renounce 
 all instruction and dependence on those who are older and 
 
14 Boohs and Beading, [Chap. I. 
 
 wiser than we. To be consistent, it would turn every man 
 into a hermit or a savage. Such a position is sometimes 
 silly self-conceit; sometimes simple pride; sometimes it is 
 a voluptuous animalism that would find in literature both 
 stimulus and excuse for sensual indulgence. The wise ad- 
 viser would respect the tastes of each reader, and would 
 even bid him both gratify and follow them, but he can do 
 something to aid him in discerning what they are, and 
 why, and how far they are to be allowed, or, if need be, re- 
 strained. Inspiration, genius, individual tastes, elective 
 affinities, do not necessarily exclude self-knowledge, self- 
 criticism, or self-control. If the genius of a man lies in 
 the development of the individual person that he is, his 
 manhood lies in finding out by self-study what he is and 
 what he may become, and in wisely using the means that 
 are fitted to form and perfect his individuality. 
 
 Others are especially jealous of the use of any moral 
 standay^d in the critical judgments of books, or in the ad- 
 vice which is furnished concerning methods of reading. 
 Such persons would be instinctively repelled from the pa- 
 pers which we propose to write, as they may have already 
 inferred that we intend to use ethical considerations very 
 freely, and perhaps severely. Against this they will in- 
 wardly protest in thoughts like these: — What has litera- 
 ture to do with morality? Poetry and fiction, essays and 
 the drama, history and biography — everything in short 
 which we usually call literature — aim to present man and 
 his experiences as they are, and not as they ought to be. 
 It is the aim and end of all these to describe, and not to 
 judge ; to paint to the life, and not to praise or condemn. 
 The reader, not the writer, may judge if he will and as he 
 will. But, in order to be able to judge, one must see all 
 sides of human nature and human life, and these must be 
 portrayed with energy and truth as they are; he must sur- 
 vey every manifestation of the human soul, the evil as 
 
Chap. I.] Introdudory, 15 
 
 well as the good, the passionate as truly as the self-con- 
 trolled. The censor who brings the laws of duty to mea- 
 sure and regulate our reading, who judges of books as he 
 judges of men, interferes with the freedom that gives all 
 its life to literature and most of the zest and value to read- 
 ing. 
 
 There is some truth in all this ; or rather, there is a truth 
 which is perverted into this caricature and error. What 
 the truth is, and how far it may be carried without perver- 
 sion and danger, we will show as we proceed. For the 
 present, we observe that no mistake can be more serious 
 than to suppose that the law of conscience and the rules of 
 duty have nothing to do with the production and enjoy- 
 ment of literature, as many modern libertines in the field 
 of imaginative writing would have us believe. Ethical 
 ideals are produced by the same creative imagination which 
 furnishes the poet and the novelist their materials and their 
 power. Ethical truth is but another name for imagination 
 holding "the mirror up to nature," i. e., to nature in man, 
 or human nature. Nature in man invariably prescribes 
 ethical standards, and to these the imagination responds 
 when she sets forth fiction as fact, poetry as truth, and his- 
 tory as reality in its highest import and loftiest significance. 
 Not only is this true, but much more than this can be 
 shown most satisfactorily. 
 
 If the lessons of these facts teach anything, they teach 
 that literature must respect ethical truth if it is to reach its 
 highest achievements, or attain that place in the admira- 
 tion and love of the human race which we call fame. The 
 literature which does not respect ethical truth, ordinarily 
 survives as literature but a single generation. The writer 
 who gives himself to any of the untruths v/hich are known 
 as superficial, sensual, Satanic, godless, or unchristian, ordi- 
 narily gains for himself either a brief notoriety or an unen- 
 viable immortality. He is either lost, or damned to fame. 
 
16 Boohs and Heading, [Chap. l. 
 
 Of all the shams that pass current, with those who write or 
 with those who read, that is the flimsiest which hopes to 
 outrage or cheat the human conscience. While, then, on 
 the one hand we contend for a somewhat liberal construc- 
 tion of the ethical and religious code as applied to the pro- 
 duction and use of literary works, we insist that certain 
 rules on this subject can be easily ascertained, and should 
 be uncompromisingly enforced. But we as earnestly affirm 
 that neither ethical truth, nor even religious earnestness, 
 does of itself qualify a writer to produce, or require the 
 reader to read a work which has no other ground on which 
 to enforce its claims to attention and respect. It is not 
 enough to say of a book, that it is good or goodish, that it 
 is Christian or safe, in order to justify its having been 
 written or printed. There prevails not a little cant and 
 hollowness, if not gross imposition and downright dishon- 
 esty, in the use of the phrases " Christian literature/^ and 
 " safe or wholesome reading/' as we may have occasion to 
 illustrate at some length. 
 
 We wish it to be understood that we do not write for 
 scholars or litterateurs ^ but for readers of English; not for 
 bibliographers or bibliomaniacs, to whom literature and 
 reading are a profession, a trade, or a passion ; but for those 
 earnest readers to whom books and reading are instruction 
 and amusement, rest and refreshment, inspiration and re- 
 laxation. Our papers will be familiar and free, not affected 
 or constrained. Usefulness is their aim and object, and 
 this aim will control the selection and illustration of the 
 topics which may suggest themselves as we proceed. 
 
 But enough of this premising. We promise nothing, 
 and yet we would attempt something. What we propose, 
 if accomplished, will make these papers useful rather than 
 exciting. They will be the minister of pleasure in their 
 remote results, rather than by immediate excitement. 
 
Chap. L] Introductory, 17 
 
 "While then, as all well-mannered writers do, we ask the 
 attention of the reader, we trust it will be given with a 
 clear understanding of the character of what we propose 
 to offer him, and with no extravagant expectations con- 
 cerning its interest or its worth. 
 
CHAPTEE II. 
 
 WHAT IS A BOOK? AND WHAT IS IT TO HEAD? 
 
 It may appear very mucli like trifling to ask these 
 questions. Nothing is more familiar and nothing seems 
 better understood. We may, however, find it useful to 
 define, somewhat formally, what a book is, ajd what it is 
 to read a book. Children, as we know, are very generally 
 taught that whatever is printed is to be regarded with 
 deference. The fiction is useful if not necessary, first, to 
 prevent them from tearing books, and next, to train them 
 to listen to the wisdom of books with a teachable spirit. 
 In consequence, they learn very easily to esteem all books 
 as alike oracles of wisdom and truth. 
 
 Mr. H. Crabb Robinson tells us that when a child he 
 was corrected for mis-spelling a word on the authority of 
 his spelling-book. On being told that the word was 
 wrongly printed he says "I was quite confounded. I 
 believed as firmly in the infallibility of print as any good 
 Catholic can in the infallibility of his Church. I knew 
 that naughty boys would tell stories, but how a book 
 could contain a falsehood was quite incomprehensible." 
 — {Diaryj Ohap. ii.) 
 
 Not a few men live and die with a similar impression, 
 and never cease to esteem a book as in some way endowed 
 with a mysterious authority by the very fact that it is a 
 book. This opinion is well expressed in the lines 
 
 " 'Tis pleasant, sure, to sec one's name in print ; 
 A book's a book, although there's nothing in't." 
 
 Following this tradition there are very intelligent men wlio 
 18 
 
Chap, il] What a BooJc isy and what itis to read. 19 
 
 would never think of spending fifteen minutes in listening 
 to stupidity or commonplace from a man's lips, who make 
 it their duty and imagine it useful, solemnly te read, to 
 weigh, and consider, any amount of dullness which an ac- 
 credited author chooses to print, especially if it is done on 
 expensive white paper and with a fair and wide margin. 
 Men who will detect and spurn a lie, if it is spoken, will 
 read lies by the hundred, if they are only printed ; and 
 when they read two books which contradict each other 
 flatly in respect to statements of fact, will wonder how it 
 can be possible that both should be worthy of credit, and 
 yet as they are boohs they must of course he time, though 
 they cannot see hoio. Very grave and Christian citizens 
 — the stiff asserters of law and order — will read arguments 
 that tend to the destruction of the family, with its sacred 
 confidence and endearments — which would overturn every 
 tribunal, unlock every prison, and make murder and arson 
 as common as a change of the wind, and admire the pro- 
 foundness of their wisdom. 'Nay — let it not be spoken 
 above a whisper — modest and virtuous ladies, who would 
 blush at an innocent remark, if it happens to be unfortu- 
 nate or equivocal in its language, will read sentences, nay, 
 pages, that are equivocal neither in language nor in senti- 
 ment, and pronounce them enchanting and delightful. 
 
 Let it be observed and remembered, that a book is al- 
 ways written by a man, and that it is never by any magic 
 or mystery any better than its author makes it to be. 
 This author may be a wise man or a fool. He may be an 
 honest man or a knave. He may be a man of the best 
 intentions, but slightly, or more than slightly, elevated 
 with a little " too gude a conceit o' himseP." He may 
 have something to say which it is worth the while should 
 be said, and yet not know how to say it. But whatever 
 he is, or knows, and has the power to communicate, that 
 will he write down in his book, whether he thereby writes 
 
20 Boohs and Beadirig, [Chap. ii. 
 
 himself down a sage, or writes himself down after the 
 earnest desire of Justice Dogberry. 
 
 When we set ourselves to read a book, what do we do ? 
 We place ourselves in communication with a living man. 
 We go back with him to the time when he penned the 
 volume. We think over the thoughts which he then 
 thought, we sympathize with the feelings which he ex- 
 perienced, we behold the wondrous creations which his 
 eye, " in fine frenzy rolling," saw enter his door and live 
 and move about him — ^the men and women, or tlie spirits 
 of heaven and hell, to which he gave being in his mind 
 then, and which he re-creates in our minds now. 
 
 The theme may be God and man's concerns with God : 
 and we sympathize, it may be, with the inspired Psalmist, 
 as he utters the language of bitter repentance, of exulting 
 hope, of unshaken fortitude, or earnest supplication ; we 
 follow the thoughts of the eloquent apostle, who discourses 
 so sublimely of the loftiest themes ; or we listen, in the atti- 
 tude of love or of worship, to the words of Him who 
 spake as never man spake. Or perhaps Barrow pours out 
 before us a redundantly flowing stream of thoughts, 
 weighty for sense and copious in diction ; or Baxter speaks 
 to our hearts in fiery directness ; or Taylor amazes us by 
 his mellifluent speech and his never-ending imagery ; or 
 South astonishes us by his wit, while he instructs us with 
 his wisdom. Or, we confer with Bacon, who drops like 
 pearls those pregnant observations that come home to 
 " men's business and bosoms," or, after taking us by a 
 rapid survey over what had already been accomplished in 
 the field of science, lec^ds us to a height from which his 
 prophetic eye can discern fields yet undiscovered. Spenser 
 conducts us by devious but beguiling wanderings through 
 the long pilgrimage of " Una and the milk-white lamb," 
 till the Fairy Queen and fairy land become real to our 
 thoughts and familiar to our memory. Shakspeare lets 
 
C6AP. II.] What a Book is^ and what it is to read. 21 
 
 loose upon us a host of beings, the most wonderful that 
 were ever created by a human fancy, or that can be gazed 
 upon by the " mind's eye " of the re-creating reader. Mil- 
 ton opens before us the gates of heaven, and we are daz- 
 zled at the magnificence of the scene, overwhelmed by the 
 splendid array of the angelic host, or confounded by the 
 glimpses which we catch of the infinite glories of the Un- 
 created and Eternal. Or 
 
 " On a sudden open fly 
 With' impetuous recoil and jarriug sound, 
 Th' infernal doors," 
 
 and the archangel ruined stands before us, with his com- 
 peers — sublime in intellect, degraded by sin, scarred and 
 seared by suffering, yet proud and unsubdued in their 
 relentless wills. Scott, "the magician of the North,'' 
 marshals before us, with breathless haste, those marvellous 
 creations of his genius, which are as familiar as household 
 words. Dickens and Thackeray, " George Eliot " and 
 Mrs. Oliphant, with many others, send us almost weekly, 
 regular installments from their brain and bid us review 
 with them the creations which they produce for our plea- 
 sure. The journalist or reviewer takes us . into his closet, 
 and discourses to us with wisdom or wildness, in soberness 
 or extravagance, of the interests that concern the common 
 weal, or the themes which are uppermost for the hour or 
 the week. 
 
 To read an author is, however, more than to hold com- 
 munion with a mind in its ordinary state, or by the usual 
 method of hearing the conversation of a person, even in 
 his happiest mood. For by the act of writing the mind is 
 ordinarily raised to its highest energy both of thought and 
 feeling. It condenses as it were and intensifies itself: 
 whatever is good into what is doubly good — whatever is 
 bad into what is doubly bad. It is deliberate. It does 
 not proceed in haste. If a fact is to be sta;^edj it may be 
 
22 Books and Reading, t^"^'^- ^^' 
 
 examined with care and its truth established. If an 
 opinion is to be expressed, it may be looked at from every 
 side and in all its relations. What is spoken cannot be re- 
 called, but what is written can be revised. The mind in 
 its calmer mood can qualify and withdraw what it penned 
 in fervid haste. New thoughts may modify its first con- 
 clusions, new energy may be concentrated into some sinewy 
 epithet, and new fervor may be expressed in a " winged 
 word.^^ 
 
 / It follows from this, that a book does not merely 
 represent its author, but it represents the best part of him, 
 — or, it may be, the worst. It gives the picture of his in- 
 ner self in forms enlarged and ideally improved. The colors 
 are more intense and more finely contrasted than in the real- 
 ity of his ordinary experience. Hence, reading a man's book 
 is often worth far more than listening to his conversation. 
 Hence, too, a good book is of more value to the world 
 than a good man — for it is the best part of a good man — 
 the good without the evil. Thus when a wise man dies, 
 while his spirit is living on in one immortal life, he may 
 be also living another immortality on earth — occupying 
 perhaps a wider sphere than when he was in the body — 
 his thoughts quickening the thoughts of others, as if he 
 were present to speak them, his feelings inspiring the 
 noblest feelings of others, and his principles prompting to 
 worthy deeds after his own last action is done. It was by 
 more than a figure that Milton wrote, in his Areopagitica : 
 " for books are not absolutely dead things, but do contain 
 a progeny of life in them as active as that soul whose 
 progeny they are ; nay, they do preserve as in a vial, the 
 purest efficacy and extraction of that living intellect that 
 bred them.'' " As good almost kill a man as kill a good 
 book ; who kills a man kills a reasonable creature, God's 
 image, but he who destroys a good book, kills reason 
 itself, kills the image of God as it were in the eye." 
 
Chap. II.] What a Book is, and what it is to read. 23 
 
 The thought will doubtless occur, that this suggestion 
 towards answering the questions, " what is a book, and 
 what is it to read ?" applies to certain classes of books, but 
 not to all. There are many books, it may be said, which 
 might as well have been written by an automaton as a man, 
 — books from which we can by no means gather what kind 
 of a man produced them — books whicji have little or no 
 iiavor of the personality of their author.^ We grant this 
 of a few books, but the number is smaller than we should 
 at first suspect, and it is literally true of no book what- 
 ever, that its character and value are not greatly de- 
 termined by the intellect and culture, the honor and 
 honesty, of the man who made it. The traces of person- 
 ality are also oftener to be discerned than we imagine. 
 iSTot only does the man make the book in more respects 
 than we are wont to believe, but he can be known and 
 detected in his book and through his book, more frequent- 
 ly than many readers notice. 
 
 A dictionary seems to be removed the farthest from any 
 savor or aspect of human personality ; and yet in any co- 
 pious dictionary it is not difficult to discover the feelings 
 and even the prejudices of its author. Those of Dr. John- 
 son are sufficiently manifest in respect to Excisemen, Pen- 
 sioners, and his neighbors beyond the Tweed, by his -defini- 
 tions of Excise, Pension, and Oats, Excise he defines as 
 " A hateful tax, levied on commodities, and adjudged not 
 by the common judges of property, but wretches hired by 
 those to whom excise is paid." Pension, he says, is "An 
 allowance made to any one without an equivalent. In 
 England it is generally understood to mean pay given to a 
 state hireling for treason to his country." Pensioner is 
 defined to be " A slave of state hired by stipend to obey 
 his master." Oats he describes as " A grain which in 
 England is generally given to horses, but in Scotland sup- 
 ports the people." The private opinions of Noah Web- 
 
24 Boohs and Reading, [Chap. it. 
 
 ster look out very plainly through the judicial gravity 
 with which he lays down the law concerning scores of 
 words ; as for example, when he defines Dandy thus : " In 
 modern usage, a male of the human species who dresses 
 himself like a doll and who carries his character on his 
 back/^ 
 
 Every history purports to be an impartial recoad of 
 facts, and a faithful transcript of the great truths which 
 may be inferred from them. The historian, at the first 
 thought, might be " set down ^^ as nothing more nor less 
 than an impersonal chronicler of actual events and facts. 
 And yet who reads a history, even the most concise or 
 rigidly impartial, who may not also read in the record of 
 his facts the record of the author's partialities, and in his 
 philosophy a transcript of individual prejudices as well as 
 of universal principles ? The pithy Tacitus, by a pungent 
 epithet and antithetic phrase, does not more effectually 
 damn some hero in crime to everlasting fame, than he im- 
 presses you with a distinct and abiding image of his own 
 strong and fervid character. Gibbon and Hume, Lingard 
 and Macaulay, Bancroft and Hildreth, Arnold and 
 Froude, have not simply written out the story of the 
 countries which have been their themes, but have also 
 more or less distinctly recorded an abiding memorial of 
 their own characters and principles, if indeed they have 
 not now and then given to the world a distinct expression 
 of their own prejudices and passions. 
 
 The poet, the dramatist, and the novelist may personate 
 as many characters as they will, and put into the mouths 
 of their fictitious personages the words most appropriate to 
 the character of each — words seemingly very far removed 
 from their own sentiments and feelings ; but yet, when it 
 chances that their own private opinions have to be spoken 
 or their individual feelings expressed, it will be done with 
 an energy of words, an intensity of expression, which betrays 
 
Chap. II.] What a Book isy and what it is to read. 25 
 
 them as the author's own. Dante and Milton, Goethe and 
 Schiller, Byron and Bulwer, introduce upon their shifting 
 stage an immense variety of characters, and speak or sing 
 through each of them the thoughts and emotions that 
 belong to each. Their own genius lies in the power to 
 forget themselves completely in their characters, or rather 
 to transform themselves into the heroes w^hom they per- 
 sonate. But now and then occurs a sentence which is 
 weighty with a double meaning, because the author speaks 
 his own cherished opinions through his hero, or a strain 
 will recur so often and in a character so peculiar, that we 
 recognize it as the sad refrain of the poet's own sorrow. 
 Herein is seen the man, and hereby does the individual 
 man assert his right over the impersonal genius. Scott and 
 Shakspeare are the least personal and subjective, the most 
 completely objective and dramatic of all modern writers. 
 Scott was large-hearted and many-sided enough ordinarily 
 to lose himself in his characters. But now and then the 
 reader can detect the humane Scotch sheriff, as well as the 
 romantic and prejudiced Tory, in characters and sayings 
 in which neither would confess himself to be present, 
 Shakspeare is rightly called the " myriad-minded :'' and it 
 may be hard to discern the man Shakspeare through the 
 countless and strange variety of • personages into which 
 he so successfully transforms himself. But the man will 
 speak out in the sonnets, which have been thought by many 
 to have been written in order to satisfy even Shakspeare's 
 longing at times to write in his own character and to give 
 utterance to his own individuality. There are serious and 
 solemn passages in his dramas in which no imitated voice 
 is uttered: in w^hich it is no masked histrionist who 
 speaks, but Shakspeare's self ufcters sentiments and emo- 
 tions that he could not repress. It is almost idle to ob- 
 serve that neither Dickens nor Thackeray, Trollope nor 
 George Eliot, can always hide themselves in the motley of 
 
26 Books and Reading, [Chap. ii. 
 
 men whom their fancy has created. Coleridge and Southey, 
 Wordsworth and Tennyson, usually sing their own songs, 
 and from a loving, or, it may be, a saddened heart. We may 
 truly utter the seeming paradox, that while it is the proof 
 and triumph of genius to be able to overcome and overrule 
 the individual man, yet where the genius is not rooted in, 
 and does not grow out of the intense affections and the 
 earnest character of the writer's own individuality, he 
 shows the art of a dexterous histrionist rather than the 
 earnestness of a great nature. 
 
 As for those authors who write to amuse the public, the 
 perpetrators of humor of all sorts, and the producers of 
 every variety of bagatelle to suit the reading-market, it is 
 not easy for the man to hide his individuality behind the 
 mask which he assumes, however grotesque and comical 
 that mask may be. The features of the man will always 
 shine through the mask — if indeed there be a man be- 
 neath it. For very great is the difference whether it be a 
 clown or a man which is behind — whether we see, through 
 the disguise, the look half- vacant and half- villainous of 
 which the venal and frivolous Bohemian can never rid 
 himself, with all his tact and art, or the broad swimming 
 eyes of love, with which Hood always looked out through 
 his fun, or the sad earnestness into which Lamb relaxed 
 so soon as he had stammered out his joke or his pun. 
 
 It is scarcely needful to add that essayists and critics, 
 the authors of moral, political and religious tracts and 
 books, are supposed of course to write their own opinions, 
 which, though they be also the opinions of large masses of 
 men, will be shaded by the color and hue of the minds 
 from which they come, and be warmed with the feelings 
 which glow in the hearts of all thoughtful and eloquent 
 souls. 
 
 Let it not be thought for a moment, that the as- 
 sertions — that a book is written by a man, and is just 
 
Chap. II.] What a Book iSf and what it is to read. 27 
 
 what its author makes it to be, and that to read a book is 
 to converse with a living man — are barren truisms. We 
 believe them to be fertile in important suggestions, and 
 that if held fast in the mind they will serve as a clue to 
 guide us safely and wisely through the labyrinth of books 
 — which may mislead and bewilder as well as amuse and 
 ennoble. We invite the reader's attention to the suggestions 
 which may be derived from them. 
 
 These thoughts may suggest the principles which we 
 need to guide us as we judge of books and read them — ^ 
 and may help us distinguish the books which are books, 
 from those which are only " things in books' clothing,'' as 
 well as teach us how to make the best use of those which 
 are books indeed. 
 
CHAPTER III. 
 
 HOW TO EEAD — ATTENTION IN EEADING. 
 
 Let lis then take our clue in hand and follow it out, 
 feeling <Kir way along, in the suggestions and applications 
 to which it will naturally conduct us. 
 
 It is thought a great feat for a child to learn to read. 
 The process is not a trivial one which is accomplished 
 every day, and is going on in our nurseries and school- 
 houses, by which the infant learns to distinguish letters, 
 to spell them into words, to look through written charac- 
 ters, to interpret words into thoughts and feelings, and do 
 all these so readily that the skill seems literally to have 
 "come Jby nature." It is indeed a great feat, as we see 
 plainly when a full-grown man or woman attempts it for 
 the first time, and as we mark the slow and painful steps 
 by which such persons must halt and stumble for years, in 
 order to master the mechanical part of the process. It is 
 very rightly thought to be a most important step that 
 is gained when either the child or the man has finished 
 this apprenticeship, and to make a great diiference with 
 him to have overcome these obstacles. But why is it so 
 important? What makes the difference so great? Who 
 asks: what is all this for, and how may a man best use the 
 power which is thus gained? It is not enough to say that 
 it enables a person to transact business, to read his own ac- 
 counts and letters from other people, to know what is go- 
 ing on at New York or Washington, to pore over newspa- 
 pers, to gape over a few tales of blood and murder, or now 
 and then to extract a thought from a good book on Sunday. 
 If this were all, it were indeed worth all the cQst, as the 
 28 
 
Chap. III.] How to read: — Attention in Reading. 29 
 
 experience and the common sense of the world shows. The 
 transactions and intercourse of civilized life depend on this 
 acquisition; and the unconscious discipline of civilized man 
 that comes from the process, even in the limited and care- 
 less uses to which it is applied, reward the pains-taking a 
 thousand-fold. 
 
 But suppose the question were asked more distinctly and 
 more frequently: How may the power thus attained be 
 used to the best advantage, and what are the uses to which 
 • it may be applied ? Shall we say or think that the instru- 
 ment is too common to admit of improvement? Then 
 would one method of plowing be as good as another, and 
 one plow would be as good as another; when all the world 
 knows that from good plows and good plo^ving — ^to say 
 nothing of the -best looms and best weaving — come the 
 wealth and luxury and civilization of millions of men. 
 If the applioations to which a common instrument may be 
 turned are of no consequence whatever, then are potatoes 
 as good as wheat because both are products of the plow, 
 and the coarsest serge is as desirable as broadcloth from 
 Leeds or silk from Lyons. 
 
 But all this is too obvious to need an argument or illus- 
 tration ; yet it is well to bestow a thought on truths so 
 simple, for sometimes we are surprised by their extensive 
 reach and even their tremendous import. Surely if a man 
 should form and use principles in regard to any subject, 
 he should form and use them in respect to what and how 
 he reads, and for what ends. If life is not all a holiday or 
 a day dream, then reading should be pursued in an earnest 
 and reflecting spirit. For he that opens a book does by 
 this very act begin to converse with a man — good, bad or 
 indiiferent as the case may be — with a man perhaps in his 
 very best or worst phase or condition. If then you would 
 scorn to take lessons or receive influences from an ignora- 
 mus, a knave, or a known deceiver and seducer of tho 
 
30 Books and Beading, [Chap. III. 
 
 good, why not scorn to come nearer to any such man by 
 reading what is the image, the expression, nay perhaps the 
 essence or embodiment of himself? If, when you are ad- 
 mitted to the society of a wise or amusing man who gives 
 instruction or entertainment in a winning and graceful 
 manner, you think it important to be wakeful in his 
 society and to catch and weigh every word ; why should 
 you not feel the same necessity when he speaks to you 
 through the written page ? And yet how many neglect the 
 whole matter of what books they or their children read, or 
 suffer it to take its chance, for evil or for good ! Very 
 good persons who would be slow to provide unwholesome 
 or poisonous food, or to associate with mean or dangerous 
 men, do both these things by the books with which they 
 and their families come into close and frequent contact. 
 They and their children read such books as come in their 
 way, or are talked about, or are cheap, or attractive. Or, if 
 they are careful in choosing books, they have little care as 
 to the way in which they read them. This is not as it 
 should be. It may involve a fearful and lasting wrong. 
 If a man has but little time to read, he has no right to 
 allow these golden hours of his life to be wasted and worse 
 than wasted. If he reads a great deal, he has no right to 
 allow influences which are silently but most powerfully 
 affecting his whole character, to be what the chance or the 
 mood of the hour decides them — to bring disease or health, 
 life or death, to that which makes him a man. These in- 
 fluences might be most healthful and exhilarating ; they 
 might do much to make him a better, a more cheerful and 
 self-relying man: and yet his time, it may be, is dawdled 
 away in reading he knows not what, or in reading a good 
 book in such a way that he knows not what he has read, any 
 more than one can tell what he has said after being jaded 
 by an evening party or wasted by a round of morning- 
 calls. 
 
Chap. III.] How to read: — Attention in Reading. 31 
 
 Reading ought not to be aimless, even though its aim 
 be to while away an hour. And reading v/hen allowed 
 for the merest relaxation is not exempt from the guidance 
 of principles and, if need be, the restraints of conscience. 
 As to habits of reading, and the attitude with which we 
 are accustomed to present ourselves before our book and 
 its .author, these are of so great importance that our 
 success or failure in the use of books is determined by 
 them. "We are not so stupid or pedantic as to desire to 
 form the reading of two persons after the same model, or 
 to .lay down formal rules, for the mechanical adjustment 
 and direction of the mental processes. But we earnestly 
 desire to awaken each person to the dignity of forming his 
 own rules for reading ; and of making his converse with 
 books to contribute to and to grow from a character that is 
 individual because it is formed by reflection. 
 
 The first rule which we prescribe is : read with attention. 
 This is the rule that takes precedence of all others. It 
 stands instead of a score of minor directions. Indeed it 
 comprehends them all, and is the golden rule. To gain 
 the power and habit of attention, is the great difficulty to 
 be overcome by young readers when they begin. The one 
 reason why reading is so dull to multitudes of active and 
 eager minds is that they have not acquired the habit of at- 
 tending to books. The eye may be fastened upon the page, 
 and the mind may follow the lines, and yet the mind not bo 
 half awake to the thoughts of the author, or the best half of 
 its energies may be abroad on some wandering errand. The 
 one evil that comes from omnivorous and indiscriminate 
 reading is that the attention is wearied and overborne by 
 the multitude of the objects that pass before it ; that the 
 miserable habit is formed and strengthened of seeming to 
 follow the author when he is half comprehended, of 
 vacantly gazing upon the page that serves just to occupy 
 
32 Books and Reading, [Chap. hi. 
 
 and excite the fancy without leaving distinct and lasting 
 impressions. 
 
 It was said of Edmund Burke, who was a great reader 
 and a great thinker also, that he read every book as if hs 
 were never to see it a second time, and thus made it his 
 own, a possession for life. Were his example imitated, 
 much time would be saved that is spent in recalling things 
 half remembered, and in taking up the stitches of lost 
 thoughts. A greater loss than that of time would be 
 avoided : the loss of the dignity and power which are pos- 
 sessed by him who keeps his mind tense, active and wake- 
 ful. It is very common to give the rule thus, " Whatever 
 is worth reading at all, is worth reading well." If by 
 " well " is intended with the utmost stretch of attention, it 
 \s not literally true, for there are books which serve for 
 pastime and amusement, books which can be run through 
 when we are more or less fagged or ill, and cannot and 
 ought not to put forth our utmost energies of body and 
 mind. Then there are books which we may look through, 
 as a merchant runs over the advertisements in a newspaper 
 — ^taking up the thoughts that interest and concern us 
 especially, as the magnet takes and holds the iron filings 
 that are scattered through a handful of sand. But if every 
 part of a book be equally worthy our regard, as the 
 writings of Arnold, Grote, Merivale, Gibbon, Burke, Web- 
 ster, Milton, Shakspeare, or Scott, then should the en- 
 tire energy of attention be aroused during the time of 
 reading. The page should be read as if it were never to 
 be seen a second time ; the mental eye should be fixed as if 
 there were no other object to think of; the memory should 
 grasp the fiicts, (i. e.) the dates, incidents, etc., like a vise; 
 the impressions should be distinctly and sharply received; 
 the feelings should glow intensely at all that is worthy and 
 burn with indignation at everything which is bad. For 
 the want of this habit, thoroughly matured and made per- 
 
c.iAP. III.] Holo io read: — Attention in Reading. 33 
 
 ?riaiient, time is wasted, negligent habits are formed, the 
 j)owers of the mind are systematically weakened by the 
 very exercise which should give them strength, and read- 
 ing, which ought to arouse and strengthen the intellect, 
 produces, with many, no deeper and more abiding impres- 
 sion than the shifting pictures of a magic lantern, or the 
 fantastic groupings of the kaleidoscope — first a bewildering 
 show, then confusion and vacancy. 
 
 There is now-a-days a special danger from this inatten- 
 tion. So many books are written, which are good enough in 
 their way, ^nd yet are the food for easy, i. e. lazy, reading, 
 and they are so cheap withal ; so much excitement prevails 
 in respect to them, that an active mind is in danger of 
 knowing many things superficially and nothing well, of 
 being driven through one volume after another with such 
 breathless haste as to receive few clear impressions and no 
 lasting influences. 
 
 Passive reading is the evil habit against which most 
 readers need to be guarded, and to overcome which, when 
 formed, requires the most manful and persevering efforts. 
 The habit is the natural result of a profusion of books and 
 the indolence of ouy natures and our times, which desires 
 to receive thoughts, — or more exactly pictures, many of 
 which are thin, hazy, and evanescent — rather than vigor- 
 ously to react against them by an effort that thinks them 
 over and makes them one's own. It is the intellectual dys- 
 pepsia which is induced by a plethora of intellectual diet, if 
 that may be called intellectual which is the weak dilution 
 of thought. Almost better not read at all, than to read in 
 such a way. Certainly it is better to be forced to steal 
 a half-hour from sleep, after a day of bodily toil, 
 or to depend for your reading on an hour at a- mid- 
 day nooning when your fellow-laborers are asleep, if you 
 but fix your whole mind on what you read, than to dawdle 
 away weeks and months in turning over the leaves of 
 3 
 
34 Booh and Beading, [Chap. hi. 
 
 hundreds of volumes in search for sometliing new, which 
 is feebly conceived, as lazily dismissed, and as stupidly 
 forgotten.. Better read one history, one poem, or one 
 novel, well, if it takes a year to despatch it at stolen inter- 
 vals of time, than lazily to consume twelve hours of the 
 day in a process which wastes the time, and, what is worse, 
 wastes the intellect, the fancy, and the living soul. 
 
 But how is the attention to be controlled? How can 
 this miserable passiveness be prevented or overcome ? 
 Rules in great number have been prescribed. All sorts of 
 directions have been devised. An ingenious author has 
 advised that each sentence should be read through at a 
 single breath ; the breath being retained until the sentence 
 is finished. Some advise to read with the pen in hand ; 
 others to make a formal analysis of every volume ; others 
 to repeat to ourselves, or to recite to others, the substance 
 of each page and chapter. These, and other devices, are 
 all of service in their way, and some of them we will con- 
 sider in their appropriate place. But their chief value 
 turns upon this, that they induce an interest or require an 
 interest, either direct or indirect, in the subject-matter 
 which is read. Whatever awakens the interest will be 
 certain to fix and hold the attention. The hired lad in the 
 country who steals an hour from sleep or rest, that he may 
 get on a few pages in the odd volume of Plutarch or 
 Rollin, which, having fallen in his way, has begun to un- 
 fold before his astonished gaze the till then unknown 
 history of the ancient world; the errand-boy of the city, 
 who stands trembling at the book-stall, lest the surly pro- 
 prietor should cut short his borroAved pleasure from the 
 page which he devours ; these need no artificial devices to 
 teach them to hold the mind to the book, or to retain its 
 contents. The great secret of their attention is to be found 
 in the fresh interest with which they lay hold of the 
 thoughts of the pictured page, and this remains ever 
 
Chap. III.] How to 7'ead: — Attention in Beading. 35 
 
 the great secret of the habit of successful reading even to 
 the mind that has been disciplined to the most amazing 
 feats of application. There are no arts of attention, no arts 
 of memory, which can be compared with this natural and 
 certain condition of success. 
 
 Daniel Webster was one of the most earnest and in- 
 telligent of readers all his life long. His favorite authors 
 were read and re-read with a passionate fondness. His 
 critical conversations upon the standard poets and essay- 
 ists and orators of the English tongue are still remembered 
 and quoted by those who were present to hear when the 
 mood and opportunity of discourse were upon him. In one 
 of the last evenings of his life he beguiled the weariness of 
 his attendants by reciting a poem from Cowper. How he 
 came to be so successful and so intelligent a reader is ex- 
 plained in his autobiography. Whatever he read, he read 
 so often and so earnestly that he learned to repeat it. 
 
 " We had so few books," he says, " that to read them 
 once or twice was nothing ; we thought they were" all to be 
 got by heart." A small circulating library had been es- 
 tablished in the neighborhood by his father and other per- 
 sons, and among the books which he obtained from it was 
 the Spectator. " I could not understand why it was ne- 
 cessary that the author of the Spectator should take 
 such great pains to prove that Chevy Chase was a good 
 story ; that was the last thing I doubted." He tells us, " In 
 those boyish days there were two things which I did dear- 
 ly love, viz : reading and playing — passions which did not 
 cease to struggle when boyhood was over." 
 
 The man or boy who reads with attention thus quickened 
 cannot read amiss if Avhat he reads is worth perusing. Of 
 his habits when a student he says : "Many other students 
 read more than I did and knew more than I did. But so 
 much as I read I made my own. When a half hour or an 
 hour at most had elapsed, I closed my book, and thought on 
 
S6 Booh and Beading. EChap. hi. 
 
 what I had read. If there ^as anything peculiarly inter- 
 esting or striking in the passage, I endeavored to recall it 
 and lay it up in my memory, and commonly could effect 
 my object.^^ 
 
 Sir Edward Sugden explained to Sir Thomas Fowell 
 Buxton the secret of his professional success in the following 
 words : " I resolved when beginning to read law, to make 
 everything I acquired perfectly my own, and never to go 
 to a second thing till I had entirely accomplished the first. 
 Many of my competitors read as much in a day as I read 
 in a week, but at the end of the twelve months my know- 
 ledge was as fresh as on the day it was acquired, while 
 theirs had glided away from their recollection." {Mem. of 
 Sir T. F. Buxton^ ch. xxiv,) 
 
 He who would read with attention must learn to be 
 interested in what he reads. He must feel wants or learn 
 to create wants which must be supplied. If it be history 
 that he would read with attention, he must feel deficiencies 
 that will not let him rest till they are supplied ; he must 
 be moved by a desire that will command its object. Is it 
 poetry or fiction ? He must be excited by a restless appe- 
 tite that longs to be amused with new pictures, or diverted 
 by humorous scenes, or stirred by lofty ideals, or charmed 
 by poetic melody, and that grows by what it feeds on. 
 And the man must master, and not be mastered by, his in- 
 creasing stock of knowledge and his treasured products of 
 the imagination. He must exercise great and still greater 
 energy in judging and applying the acquisitions he has 
 made, making them accompany his musings, feed his 
 memory, animate his principles, and guide his life. 
 
CHAPTER lY. 
 
 HOW TO EEAD WITH INTEREST AISTD EFFECT. 
 
 We have seen that a book is the creation of a living 
 man, and should be regarded and judged somewhat as a 
 man himself is tried and estimated. A few books are 
 indeed almost impersonal, and might have been written by- 
 one man as readily as by another. These are to be judged 
 chiefly by their value, i. e., by what they contain. But 
 most books express more or less of the personality of their 
 authors; and in reading them, we come in contact with 
 living men. Good books, besides the value of what they 
 contain and impart, have a positive worth in their effect on 
 the principles, feelings and character. 
 
 If this is true, then in reading we are properly said to 
 come into communication with a human being, who will 
 either instruct and elevate, or mislead and degrade us. 
 From these fundamental conceptions of Boohs and Reading, 
 we have begun to derive our rules for the selection of the 
 books which we read, and for our own behaviour in using 
 them. We have also seen that, for success in reading, we 
 must read with attention, and to read with attention, 
 we must read with an awakened and sustained interest. 
 Though this interest when awakened must be regulated by 
 the rules of prudence and duty, yet it often needs to be 
 enkindled and sustained, if we are to read with attention 
 and profit. It becomes then a question of prime concern 
 how we can so arouse, sustain and direct our interest in the 
 books which we read as to make our reading most effective 
 for good. In answer to this somewhat comprehensive in- 
 quiry, we reply: 
 
 37 
 
38 Boohs and Reading, [Chap. IV. 
 
 1. If we are at a loss what to read, or if we can think 
 of nothing which we desire especially to read, it is well to 
 ask ourselves what we care most to learn or to think o^. 
 No questions are more frequently pressed than these: 
 "What shall T read? What shall I read next? With what 
 books shall I begin a course of reading? What do you 
 think will interest me?" Sometimes a person asks these 
 questions (?f himself More frequently he addresses them 
 to another. The best answers which can be given to them 
 are suggested by other questions like these: "What are 
 you most interested to know? In what particulars does 
 your ignorance most disturb or annoy you? With what 
 class of facts and thoughts, principles or emotions would 
 it please you best to be conversant?" If a person can 
 answer these questions with any satisfaction to himself, he 
 is in the way of knowing what books he ought to read first. 
 For if he cannot without assistance find the book which he 
 ought first to lay hold of, he can be more easily directed 
 by another, when his adviser knows what he cares most to 
 know or what excites his keenest appetite. 
 
 The great difficulty with the majority of readers is, that 
 their sense is, of any wants which books can supply, inde- 
 finite, or their desire to supply these wants is feeble. Or^ 
 if they are aware of their deficiencies in the general, they 
 have neither the courage nor the patience to know them 
 in the detail, and manfully to set about the work of 
 removing them. To many persons the wants which books 
 alone can supply are themselves either created or brought 
 to light by the use of books. Many a man needs first to 
 read and to read with interest, in order to have awakened 
 in his soul a thirst for books and a taste for reading. 
 There are however not a few who through a sense of 
 ignorance, or shame when brought in contact with those 
 better read than themselves, or through some other lucky 
 though perhaps rude shock to their self-conceit and self- 
 
Chap, iv.] How to read with Interest and Effect. 39 
 
 content, are suddenly fired with a desire for knowledge 
 from books. Of history they begin to have some inkling, 
 and feel the first desire to learn the story of their own 
 township, their own family, their own nation or their own 
 race. Of eloquence they have some idea, and they seek to 
 be excited by written oratory. Poetry may have moved 
 their ears with its rhythmic melody or charmed their souls 
 with its wizard imagery. The drama or the novel may- 
 have startled and enchanted them by its pictured pages. 
 Or perhaps the person who asks, "What shall I read?" or 
 "With what shall I begin?" may have read and studied for 
 years in a mechanical routine, and with a listless spirit; 
 with scarcely an independent thought, with no plans of 
 self-improvement, and few aspirations for self-culture. To 
 all these classes the advice is full of meaning: "Read what 
 will satisfy your wants and appease your desires, and you 
 will comply with the first condition to reading with interest 
 and profit." Hunger and thirst are better than manifold 
 appliances and directions, in respect to other than the 
 bodily wants, towards a good appetite and a healthy 
 digestion. If a man has any self-knoAvledge or any power 
 of self-direction, he is surely competent to ask himself 
 what is the subject or subjects, in respect to which he 
 stands most in need of knowledge or excitement from 
 books. If he can answer this question he has gone very 
 far towards answering the question, "What book or books 
 can I read with satisfaction and profit?" 
 
 2. It follows by a necessary inference that every man 
 should aim first of all to read and master all the books 
 which relate directly or indirectly to his profession or busi- 
 ness in life. If a man is alive to any subject whatever, it 
 is to his chosen occupation in life, and to whatever promises 
 its eas»ier working or more successful issue. If he dislikes 
 liis business, if he frets at and fights it, then God only can 
 help him. On such a man human counsel and human aid 
 
40 Boolc8 and Beading, [Chap. iv. 
 
 must be thrown away ; much more must books and reading, 
 if they cannot bring him to acquiesce in his business or to 
 change it. But if a man has something to do day by day 
 in which he strives after the skill whicli leads to success, 
 and if he can learn anything about it from books, he can- 
 not but read such books as will instruct him, with an excited 
 and prolonged interest. No novelist is held to the 
 charmed page of fiction, no rhapsodist reads and re-reads 
 his favorite poet, with the keen and excited attention with 
 which a man thoroughly aroused by some difficulty in his 
 occupation or his circumstances, resorts to the treatise or 
 the encyclopaedia, the journal or the magazine, which 
 promises to answer the question which he is anxiously 
 pondering. Let a farmer have brooded over the unac- 
 countable loss of his wheat or potato crop, or have anx- 
 iously inquired what will restore the blight which is begin- 
 ning to attack his favorite peach or pear tree, and he de- 
 vours the printed pages that prescribe a remedy or promise 
 relief. If a mechanic is at fault in his work, and finds his 
 machinery fails to do the service for which it is designed, 
 he feels no lack of interest and suffers under no failure of 
 attention while he is consulting the books which promise 
 to instruct him. Let either learn that by extensive read- 
 ing he can gain an insight into the secret of certain and 
 progressive success, and he will read widely in relation to 
 his business with an ever-increasing and intensified enthu- 
 siasm. The madness of the so-called book-farmers and 
 inventive enthusiasts, illustrates the truth which we assert, 
 that if a man would learn to read with interest and atten- 
 tion, he should first of all read much in respect to his call- 
 ing in life. If he is a farmer, he should read books of 
 agriculture ; if a mechanic, books on machinery ; if r 
 banker, books on banking and finance: whatever be his 
 calling, he should make it the one subject upon which he 
 will read, if he reads upon nothing else. In this way he 
 
Chap. IV.] How to read with Interest and Effect 41 
 
 will elevate his calling, from being a slavish and enslaving 
 drudgery, into a rational discipline, not only for immediate 
 profit but for manly cultivation. He will not only feed 
 and cherish his body, and enlarge his comforts and luxu- 
 ries by his better instructed toil, but he will discipline his 
 intellect and elevate his soul by the thinking and reason- 
 ing which his reading will require. He will waken into 
 life that within himself which is higher than his occupation 
 or profession, and that is his thinking and feeling self. 
 He will find in himself that which is more than the farmer, 
 the trader, or the mechanic, and that is the manhood that 
 he has and which he is bound to think of and care for. 
 The wants and desires, the hopes and the aspirations which 
 pertain to the man will be gradually awakened, and will 
 connect him with the thoughts and feelings of other men as 
 these are expressed in books, till it may be that books shall 
 become one of the necessaries of his life, and reading, in- 
 stead of being a listless and constrained employment, shall 
 be his chosen occupation, his best society, his most delight- 
 ful amusement, and perhaps his sweetest solace and com- 
 fort in dark and bitter hours. 
 
 3. In reading, we do well to propose to ourselves defi- 
 nite ends and purposes. The more distinctly we are aware 
 of our own wants and desires in reading, the more definite 
 and permanent will be our acquisitions. Hence it is a 
 good rule to ask ourselves frequently, " Why am I reading 
 this book, essay or poem ; or why am I reading it at the 
 present time rather than any other?" It may often be a 
 satisfying answer, that it is convenient; that the book 
 happens to be at hand ; or that we read to pass away the 
 time. Such reasons are often very good, but they ought 
 not always to satisfy us. Yet the very habit of proposing 
 these questions, however they may be answered, will in- 
 volve the calling .of ourselves to account for our reading, 
 and the consideration of it -in the light of wisdom and 
 
42 Books and Beading. [Cuap. iv. 
 
 duty. The distinct consciousness of some object at present 
 before us, imparts a manifold greater interest to the con- 
 tents of any volume. It imparts to the reader an appro- 
 priative power, a force of affinity, by which he insen- 
 sibly and unconsciously attracts to himself all that has a 
 near or even a remote relation to the end for which he 
 reads. Any one is conscious of this who reads a story with 
 the purpose of repeating it to an absent friend ; or an essay 
 or a report with the design of using its facts or arguments 
 in a debate ; or a poem with the design of reviving its im- 
 agery, and reciting its finest passages. Indeed one never 
 learns to read effectively until he learns to read in such a 
 spirit — not always indeed for a definite end, yet always 
 with a mind attent to appropriate and retain and turn to 
 the uses of culture, if not to a more direct application. The 
 private history of every self-educated man from Franklin 
 onwards attests that they all were uniformly not only earn- 
 est but select in their reading, and that they selected their 
 books with distinct reference to the purposes for which they 
 used them. Indeed the reason why self-trained men so 
 often surpass men who are trained by others in the effec- 
 tiveness and success of their reading, is that they know 
 for what they read and study, and have definite aims and 
 wishes in all their dealings with books. The omnivo- 
 rous and indiscriminate reader who is at the same time a 
 listless and passive reader, however ardent is his curi- 
 osity, can never be a reader of the most effective sort. 
 
 4. Another good rule is suggested by the foregoing. 
 Always have some solid reading in hand, i. e. some work or 
 author which we carry forward from one day to another, 
 or one hour of leisure to the next, with persistence till we 
 have finished whatever we have undertaken. There are 
 many great and successful readers who do not observe this 
 rule, but it is a good rule notwithstanding. The writer 
 once called upon one of the most extensive and persevering 
 
Chap. IV.] How to read with Interest and Effect, 43 
 
 of modern travelers at an early hour of the day to attend 
 him upon a walk to a distant village. It was after break- 
 fast, and though he had but few minutesi at command he 
 was sitting with book in hand — a book of history, which 
 he was perusing day after day. He remarked : " This has 
 been my habit for years in all my wanderings. It is the 
 one habit which gives solidity to my intellectual activities 
 and imparts tone to my life. It is only in this way that I 
 can overcome and counteract the tendency to the dissipa- 
 tion of my powers and the distraction of my attention, as 
 strange persons and strange scenes present themselves from 
 day to day." To the rule already given — read with a de- 
 finite aim — we could add the rule — make your aims to be 
 definite by continuously holding them rigidly to a single 
 book at all times, except when relaxation requires you to 
 cease to work and to live for amusement and play. Always 
 have at least one iron in the fire, and kindle the fire at least 
 once every day. 
 
 5. It is implied in the preceding, that we should read 
 upon definite subjects, and with a certain method and 
 proportion in the choice of our books. If we have a sin- 
 gle object to accomplish in our reading for the present, 
 that object will of necessity direct the choice of what we 
 read, and we shall arrange our reading with reference to 
 this single end. This will be a nucleus around which our 
 reading will for the moment naturally gather and arrange 
 itself. If several subjects seem to us equally important 
 and interesting, we should dispose of them in order, and 
 give to each for the time our chief and perhaps our exclu- 
 sive attention. That this is wise is so obvious as not to re- 
 quire illustration. "One thing at a time," is an accepted con- 
 dition for all efficient activity, whether it is employed upon 
 things or thoughts, upon men or books. If five or ten sepa- 
 rate topics have equal claim upon our interest and attention, 
 we shall do to each the amplest justice, if we make each 
 
44 Boohs and Beading. [Chap iv. 
 
 in its turn the central subject of our reading. There is little 
 dangei* of weariness or monotony from the workings of 
 such a rule. Most single topics admit or require a consid- 
 erable variety of books, each different from the other and 
 each supplementing the other. Hence it is one of the best 
 of practices in prosecuting a course of reading, to read 
 every author who can cast any light upon the subject 
 which we have in hand. For example if we are reading 
 the history of the Great Kebellion in England, we should 
 read if we can, not a single author only, as Clarendon, 
 but a half-dozen or a half-score, each of whom writes from 
 his own point of view, supplies what another omits, or cor- 
 rects what he under or overstates. But, besides the formal 
 histories of the period, there are the various novels, the 
 scenes and characters of which are placed in those times, 
 such as Scott's Woodstock ; there are also- diaries, such as 
 those by Evelyn, Pepys and Burton ; and there are me- 
 moirs, such as those 3f Col. Hutchinson, while memoirs and 
 diaries are imitated in scores of fictions. There are poems, 
 such as those of Andrew Marvel,. Milton and Dryden. 
 There are also shoals of political tracts and pamphlets, of 
 hand-bills and caricatures. We name these various descrip- 
 tions of works and classes of reading, not because we sup- 
 pose all of them are accessible to those readers who live at 
 a distance from large public libraries, or because we would 
 advise every one who may have access to such libraries, to 
 read all these books and classes of books as a matter of 
 course, but because we would illustrate how great is the va- 
 riety of books and reading matter that are grouped around 
 a single topic and are embraced withjn a single period. 
 Every person must judge for himself how long a time he 
 can bestow upon any single subject, or how many and 
 various are the books in respect to it which it is wise to 
 read ; but of this every one may be assured, that it is far 
 easier, far more agreeable and far more economical of time 
 
Chap. IV.] How to read with Interest and Effect. 45 
 
 and energy, to concentrate the attention upon a single 
 subject at a time than to extend it to half a score, and 
 that six books read in succession or together upon a single 
 topic, are far more interesting and profitable than twice as 
 many which treat of topics remotely related. A lady well 
 known to the writer, of the least possible scholarly preten- 
 sions or literary notoriety, spent fifteen months of leisure 
 snatched by fragments from onerous family cares and bril- 
 liant social engagements, in reading the history of Greece as 
 written by a great variety of authors and as illustrated by 
 many accessories of literature and art. Nor should it be 
 argued that such rules as these or the habits which they 
 enjoin are suitable for scholars only or for people who have 
 much leisure for reading. It should rather be urged, that 
 those wha can read the fewest books and who have at 
 command the scantiest time, should aim to read with the 
 greatest concentration and method ; should occupy all of 
 their divided energy with single centres of interest, and 
 husband the few hours wliich they can command, in 
 reading whatever converges to a definite because to a 
 single impression. 
 
 6. Special efforts should be made to retain what is 
 gathered from reading, if any such efforts are required. 
 Some persons read with an interest so wakeful and respon- 
 sive, and an attention so fixed and energetic as to need no 
 appliances and no efforts in order to retain what they read. 
 They look upon a page and it is imprinted upon the mem- 
 ory. They follow the thoughts and trace the words and 
 understand the sentences of their author and these- remain 
 with them as permanent possessions. Images, descriptions, 
 eloquent passages, well sounding and rhythmic lines in 
 poetry or prose, can all be spontaneously and accurately 
 reproduced ; or if words and illustrations are forgotten and 
 lost, principles, truths and impressions will remain and 
 cannot be effaced. Every book which such persons read 
 
46 Boohs and Reading. [Chap. IV. 
 
 enters into the structure of their being — it is taken up and 
 assimilated into the very substance of their living selves. 
 Every paragraph in a newspaper with every fact which it 
 records or truth which it illustrates, is turned to some 
 permanent account and remains as a lasting acquisition. 
 
 But there are others who read only to lose and to forget. 
 Facts and truths, words, and thoughts are alike evanescent. 
 We shall not attempt to explain here the nature of these 
 differences- We are concerned only to devise the remedy : 
 we insist that those who labor under these difficulties 
 should use special appliances to avoid or overcome them. 
 But that upon which we insist most of all, is that what we 
 read we should seek to make our own, only in the manner 
 and after the measure of which we are capable. Each reader 
 should follow the natural bent and aptitudes of his own 
 individual nature. If we have not a good verbal memory, 
 it is almost in vain that we seek to remember choice phrases 
 and sentences, happy turns of expression, admirable bits of 
 eloquent speech, or striking stanzas and lines of inspiring or 
 moving poetry. We may read them again and again, we 
 may admire them with increasing fervor, we may return 
 to them with an ever augmented interest, but we shall make 
 little progress in remembering them so as to be able to 
 recite them. If we have a feeble capacity for the retention 
 of dates and facts as such, unless they interest our feelings 
 or illustrate principles, the utmost pains-taking will do 
 little to help us to retain facts when isolated or uninterest- 
 ing, or numbers when they signify nothing but so many 
 figures. We do not advise a man laboring under these 
 inaptitudes to fight against nature or to fall into a querulous, 
 discouraged or fretful quarrel with himself, because, as he 
 says, he cannot remember what he reads. Nor when we 
 enjoin upon him to use special efforts to remember, do we 
 intend that he shall be more interested in his efforts to 
 remember than he is interested in what he is to remember. 
 
Chap. IV.] How to read with Interest and Effect, 47 
 
 We advise just the opposite. But we contend that when 
 a man reads he should put himself into the most intimate 
 intercourse' with his author, so that all his energies of ap- 
 prehension, judgment and feeling may be occupied with 
 and aroused by what his author furnishes, whatever it may 
 be. If repetition or review will aid him in this, as it of- 
 ten will, let him not disdain or neglect frequent reviews. 
 If the use of the pen in brief or full notes, in catch- words 
 or other symbols will aid him, let him not shrink from the 
 drudgery of the pen and the common-place book. If he is 
 aided to discern and retain the logical connections of an 
 argument or a discourse by drawing them out in a complete 
 skeleton or analysis, let him prosecute the dissection with- 
 out flinching. If a re-survey of the parts will give him a 
 comprehensive view of the method of the whole let him 
 complete his analyses with the utmost care and arrange 
 their products in a new and symmetrical order. But 
 there is no charm or efficacy in such mechanism by itself. 
 It is only valuable as a means to an end, and that end is 
 to quicken the intellectual energies by arousing and holding 
 the attention. It is by awakening and energizing the 
 reason — by concentrating and arousing the feelings that it 
 can serve any very useful purpose. To remember what 
 we read we must make it our own: we must think with 
 the author, rethinking his thoughts, following his facts, 
 assenting to or rejecting his reasonings, and entering into 
 the very spirit of his emotions and purposes. 
 
CHAPTER y. 
 
 THE RELATIONS OF THE READER TO HIS AUTHOE. 
 
 The considerations presented already, as well as the fun- 
 damental conceptions of books and reading with which we 
 set off in our search of rules and methods, enforce upon us 
 the truth that effective reading depends most of all on the 
 relations in which the reader finds himself, or into which he 
 can bring himself, with respect to his author. If these re- 
 lations are those of incongruity or of repellency, they will be 
 more or less fital to all profitable reading. The fault may 
 be in the reader, or the fault may be in the author, or it 
 may lie partly with the one and partly with the other, but 
 if the fault exists, it will go far to defeat the best results 
 which might otherAvise follow. Accordingly, our interest in 
 and our attention to what we read, and therefore our suc- 
 cess in reading, depend very largely on the authors whom 
 we read. A book which is very suitable for one person 
 may for this reason be entirely unfitted for another. The 
 same book which is suitable at one time, or at a certain 
 age, or with a certain degree of development or culture, 
 may be entirely unsuitable to the same person in another 
 mood, at another age, and after greater progress and cul- 
 ture. Thus the consideration of the manner in which we 
 should read, in a certain sense depends upon lohat 2ve read. 
 The discussion of how we may read with effect, depends 
 largely upon what we read, and involves the consideration 
 of the principles and rules by which we should select our 
 authors. Upon this topic we observe: 
 
 1. That in order to read with interest and attention we 
 48 
 
Chap. V.] The jRelotions of the Reader to his Author » 49 
 
 should choose an author from whom we can gain some- 
 thing. We do not say from whom we can learn something, 
 for we do not hold that it is the duty of all authors to 
 teach something in the way of fact or argument in order to 
 be useful or interesting. Many books serve to amuse and 
 impress, as well as to inform and convince. Those authors 
 are as useful who enforce and inspire, as those who en- 
 lighten and instruct. The novel that leaves us with a glow 
 of contentment and thankfulness, that inspires us with a 
 warm resolve to struggle with an unequal lot or to be con- 
 tented and cheerful under adverse fortune, that confirms 
 our faith in goodness and our trust in God, may be quite 
 as useful as the treatise which enforces some new principle 
 in finance, the history which clears up some disputed ques- 
 tion of fact, or the argument which sets forever at rest some 
 dispute upon a point of public policy, or even the sermon 
 which proves or enforces some theological truth. A tale 
 that fills an invalid with cheerful thoughts or whiles away 
 a weary hour with pleasant pictures, is as useful as the 
 most formal demonstration of a questioned proposition. A 
 poem that elevates the soul, excites the imagination, kin- 
 dles the emotions, and rouses the aspirations may be worth 
 more to myriads of readers than scores of so-called books 
 of fact and argument, or even of books of exhortation and 
 edification. 
 
 But with this enlarged conception of the kind and 
 variety of profit which we may expect from an author, we 
 are more completely justified in inquiring of every author 
 who solicits our attention : whether he has anything to 
 give us, L e.y whether we shall gain anything by reading 
 his book. If he can neither teach us anything which we 
 do not know, nor convince us of anything of which we are 
 in doubt, nor strengthen our faith in what we already 
 receive, nor set old truths in new lights, nor warm our 
 feelings into noble earnestness, nor entertain us with whole- 
 4 
 
50 Books and Beading, [Chap. v. 
 
 some jokes nor excite us to honest laughter, then he is not 
 the man and his is not the book for us. Whatever he 
 and his book may be to others, they have no claims upon 
 us, and we should be quite ready to show both the door. 
 Stupid commonplace, pretentious twaddle, weak sentimen- 
 talism, feeble reasoning, confused narrative, silly novels, 
 ambitious poetry, are not to be read except on compulsion, as 
 in a desperately rainy day, in a lonesome cabin, when a 
 last year's almanac or a thrice-conned newspaper have 
 yielded up their last returns of nutriment and succulence. 
 But in such a case the storm must forbid a walk, and 
 there should be not even an intelligent spaniel or a playful 
 kitten to furnish society. A stupid or senseless book is 
 thrice as stupifying as a stupid man. A vain, is^norant 
 and ambitious piece of writing has none of those redeeming 
 features which a humane and charitable spirit will .find 
 in a vain, ignorant and ambitious person. If then I am 
 to read anything with interest, I must be introduced to an 
 author who can do me some good. If his book can teach 
 or convince or ennoble or amuse me, then it may be 
 reasonably expected that I should be aroused to an interested 
 and wakeful attention. The conditio sine qud non of 
 earnest interest in reading is to find something which is 
 worth the reading. Said a youngster to a humorous old 
 New England preacher, "I observe that your parishioners 
 listen very attentively to your preaching." "I uniformly 
 aim to give them something which is worth attending to," 
 was the curt reply. "The man whom I like to converse 
 with above all others," said Daniel Webster, "is the man 
 who can teach me something." If every reader would 
 estimate, select and use his books by this rule, there would 
 be far less listless, lazy and profitless reading than there is. 
 What would befall large portions of many of our ncAVS- 
 papers, and what use could possibly be applied to much of 
 
Chap. V.] The Relations of the Reader to his Author. 51 
 
 the time which many of tlieir readers dawdle away over 
 them, it is no concern of ours to determine. 
 
 2. It follows that we should read with a certain deOTee 
 
 o 
 
 of deference and docility to our author. If we do an 
 author the honor to confer with him through his book, 
 for the supposed pleasure or advantage which his society 
 will afford us, we ought to observe toward him the courte- 
 sies of polite intercourse. By the act of reading him we 
 profess a respect for the thoughts and feelings which he 
 expresses through the printed page, and we ought to 
 maintain toward him that attitude of deference and courtesy 
 which consistency requires. If we do not weigh his argu- 
 ments with candor and accept his facts with confidence, if 
 we do not yield our feelings to his control by that pliant 
 sympathy which is requisite for the enjoyment of his en- 
 thusiasm, his wit or his eloquence; if instead of this def- 
 erential temper we are captious, critical -and hard to be 
 convinced -or moved, we had better dismiss the author from 
 our presence by closing his book. It is far more civil to 
 our author and more profitable to ourselves to dispose of 
 him with a courteous bow than it is ix) detain him with a 
 discontented air and a captious temper. It were better to 
 be content with our own thinkino; than to treat the thouo^hts 
 of another so unjustly and ill-naturedly. We had better 
 even act after the rule quoted by Charles Lamb, "To mind 
 the inside of a book is to entertain one^s self with the forced 
 product of another man's brain. Now I think a man of 
 quality and breeding may be much amused with the natural 
 sprouts of his own." As a general rule we had better not 
 re^d an author from whom we cannot derive some im- 
 portant benefit and with whom we cannot sympathize at least 
 in some particulars. There may be special reasons for break- 
 ing this rule. Those who read for investigation, for crit- 
 icism or for refutation, are often obliged to deviate from it. 
 But such exceptions justify and enforce the rule in a gen- 
 
62 Boolcs and Reading, [Chap .v. 
 
 eral way for all those who read chiefly to enrich their 
 minds, to confirm their faith, to enlarge their knowledge 
 and to elevate and kindle their aspirations. Mrs. Brown- 
 ing has said, and doubtless from her own experience, 
 
 " We get no good 
 By being ungenerous even to a book 
 And calculating profits, so much help 
 By so much reading. It is rather when 
 We gloriously forget ourselves and plunge 
 Soul- forward, headlong, into a book's profound, 
 Impassioned for its beauty and salt of truth — 
 ' Tis then we get the right good from a book." 
 
 3. We add another rule, to correct any excess or abuse 
 in the application of the foregoing, viz. : We should read 
 with an independent judgment and a critical spirit. It 
 does not follow, because we should treat an author with 
 confidence and respect, that we are to accept all his opinions 
 and may not revise his conclusions and^ arguments by our 
 own. Indeed we shall best evince our respect for his 
 thoughts by subjecting them to x)ur own revision. But it 
 by no means follows because we re-judge his argument and 
 opinions that we are not instructed by both. Milton, in 
 the Paradise Regained, in connection with some important 
 truth, puts a singular argument into the mouth of the 
 Great Teacher. 
 
 "Who reads 
 Incessantly, and to his reading brings not 
 A spirit and judgment equal or superior, 
 {And what he bririga tchat need he elseichere seekf) 
 Uncertain and unsettled still remains. 
 Deep versed in books, and shallow in himself." 
 
 The parenthetical line would imply that the capacity to 
 judge and revise the opinions of an author renders a man 
 independent of aid and incapable of instruction from and 
 of his fellow-men. To a similar effect a saying of Charles 
 Butler is quoted by one of Milton's editors, viz., " No man 
 
Chap. V.] The Relations of the Reader to his Author. 63 
 
 is the wiser for his books until he is above them." If this 
 were true, the wisdom of another could not become our 
 own except by the suspension or displacement of our in- 
 dividual activity of thought; instruction by books would 
 be an assertion of simple dogmatism; and confidence and 
 docility would only be other names for subservience and 
 credulity. Still whatever is our deference for an author 
 we cannot exalt his intellect into the place of our own ; we 
 cannot receive his facts without evidence, nor his arguments 
 except so far as they produce conviction; nor should we 
 profess to admire his eloquence, to love his poetry, or be 
 delighted with his novels, because he is reputed to be a 
 great genius or a splendid writer. Here we observe that : 
 4. Favorite authors often exert an excessive and occa- 
 sionally a blinding and stupifying influence over their ad- 
 mirers. We speak of such in connection with the duty 
 of reserving to ourselves the rights of independent judg- 
 ment and criticism, because it is rare that one human 
 being ever gains a more complete possession of another 
 than does a favorite author over his devoted readers. 
 The most confiding friend and enraptured lover are rarely 
 more completely taken captive in thought and feeling, 
 than are the readers of some fascinating writer, who is for 
 the time being in the ascendant, whether over a small 
 coterie of select worshipers or a whole generation which 
 he sv/ays by his genius. A special chapter might be written 
 on the favorite authors of the present century ; the secret 
 of their influence ; the explanation of their power — its rise, 
 culmination and its sudden or gradual decline. The names 
 of Scott, Southey, Byron, Coleridge, Wordsworth, Moore, 
 Byron, Bulwer-Lytton, Carlyle, James, Dickens, Thack- 
 eray, " George Eliot," Mrs. Browning, Tennyson and many 
 others in England, and of Irving, Longfellow, Mrs. 
 Stowe, Beecher, Hawthorne, Emerson, Lowell, etc., in 
 this country will occur to most persons as examples of 
 
54 Books and Reading. [Chap. v. 
 
 writers who have more or less extensively exerted this 
 peculiar influence, \yhen it is salutary and elevating it 
 cannot be estimated too highly as an influence for good. 
 When it is equivocal or positively evil its disastrous power 
 cannot be too greatly deplored. Of both we shall have 
 abundant occasion to adduce illustrations as we proceed. 
 We hasten to observe : 
 
 5. That it is a good rule to read those authors whom we 
 are competent both to understand and appreciate. This 
 seems so true and obvious as to be a truism and a common- 
 place. If a man is to sympathize with his author, much 
 more if he is to criticise and judge him, he must certainly 
 be able to understand his meaning. His thoughts and 
 feelings if they do not produce answering thoughts and 
 feelings, are nought to the reader. A complete and familiar 
 mastery of both are necessary to instruction and pleasure 
 in the recipient. We do not say an easy mastery nor a 
 mastery which does not cost at times severe and patient 
 labor ; for he who has never struggled to comprehend a 
 profound and subtile author has never had experience of 
 the manliest of activities — but we do say that the struggle 
 should be successful or it should be sooner or later 
 abandoned. There is not a more silly spectacle often exhib- 
 ited, than that of an untrained or an uninstructed person 
 professing to follow and enjoy a writer to whom he is un- 
 equal, looking wise over his philosophy, interested in his 
 narrative or enraptured by his eloquence and poetry, when 
 they are all Greek or Chinese to him. The silliness is 
 especially conspicuous if the author is at once popular, 
 conceited and arrogant ; if he understands and practises the 
 arts of intellectual trickery and delights to set people agape 
 with wonderment by sundry small artifices of high-sound- 
 ino; phraseology, far-fetched allusions, or any of the mam'-^ 
 fold impositions of word-play and imagery, or the more of- 
 ^'afiive attractions which are found in cool irreverence and 
 
Chap, v.] Tlie Meloti OTIS of the Reader to Ms Author. 65 
 
 audacious nonchalance vvitli respect to the prevailing re- . 
 ligion of the country in which he lives. The more real 
 genius he has, the more provoking is the effrontery of the 
 author who believes in and practises any kind of philo- 
 sophical or poetical tricker}^, and so much the more con- 
 spicuous becomes the ridiculous plight into which his 
 credulous but ignorant admirers bring themselves by try- 
 ing to persuade themselves that they understand a writer 
 who may not completely understand himself. 
 
 [^ reader should never be afraid to confess that he does 
 not understand or enjoy an author.^ He ought indeed at 
 times to say this with humility, and to feel that he thereby 
 makes a confession of some kind of incapacity, but he 
 ought to have the manliness to say it notwithstanding, 
 if the truth requires it. It is a fundamental condition of 
 all profitable study and thought, that a man should know 
 his ignorance and frankly confess it to himself. If a 
 reader does not appreciate a popular writer the fault may 
 not be his own. It may perchance be ia the author. But 
 it can never be settled with whom it lies, unless the reader 
 has the honesty to confess to himself his incapacity to un- 
 derstand or enjoy his writer. This bravery of an honest 
 confession of one's incompetence to understand some things 
 that are written, would be of especial service nowadays 
 when so much brilliant guess-work and imposing dogma- 
 tism is put forth in the guise of all manner of philosophies 
 — as the Philosophy of Religion, of Worship, of Art, of 
 Literature, of Reform, of Education, of Voting, of Fi- 
 nance, of "Woman's Rights and of Man's Duties, etc., etc. 
 The fable of Aristophanes concerning Socrates is literal- 
 ly fulfilled in our time, except that we have at least a score 
 of sages of different schools hanging side by side each in 
 his own basket, soaring and jinking between the heavens 
 and the earth, swaying to and fro in peril of a sudden tilt 
 from a capricious gust; each not rarely obscured by investing 
 
e56 BooJcs and Beading, [Chap. v. 
 
 clouds, which betoken inspiration and add to the authority 
 of the prophet, especially when gilded by the sunlight of 
 his genius. Beneath each basket stands a coterie of credu- 
 lous listeners, each affecting to believe what they do not 
 understand, or to understand what they ought not to •be- 
 lieve — all charmed, rapt, persuaded and convinced at ieast 
 of two things, of their own and their teachers' superiority ; 
 and all alike ready to reply to the question, " Are you sure 
 that you understand all the oracular sayings of your pro- 
 phet f " " Wa^d I hae the presumption f\ The greater is 
 the pity that many of them do not have the presumption 
 to demand that their favorite teacher should write so that 
 they can understand him ; and that much which they can- 
 not but understand, they do not reject with frank and 
 outspoken aversion ! This duty of reading authors whom 
 we can imderstand suggests another rule, viz.: 
 
 6. We should be contented to read that which is suita- 
 ble to our present development of thought and feeling, or 
 in plainer language, to our age and progress. Everything 
 is appropriate and beautiful in its season. Eat strawber- 
 ries in May or June, and wait for peaches and grapes till 
 the Autumn. Let not the miss just entering upon her 
 teens expect to appreciate the poetry or philosophy which 
 her brother of twenty-two is but just beginning to compre- 
 hend and enjoy. Above all do not meddle with philosophy 
 of any sort, whether it comes in the form of history, of fic- 
 tion, or grave discussion, until you can grapple with its 
 problems and follow its subtile abstractions. Let your 
 reading in every department follow somewhat the order of 
 nature and of psychical growth, and the growth will be all 
 the more rapid and easy. The transitions from that which 
 is adapted to earlier and later youth and to dawning and 
 developed manhood will be easily and gracefully accom- 
 plished, and both intellect and feeling will find in the 
 abundant variety of literary productions, suitable and sat- 
 
Chap. V. ] The BelaUons of the Reader to his Author. 57 
 
 isfying nutriment for their newly-developed wants and 
 tastes. Important aid in the selection of the right books 
 according to this rule may be derived from advisers who 
 know us well. But the rule furnishes in itself the means 
 for its own enforcement, if we considerately apply it. As 
 a genesal truth,,facts should come before philosophy ; narra- 
 tive before reflection ; objective description before subject- 
 ive meditation ; poetry that is graphic, outward and pic- 
 turesque before that 'which is meditative, learned and in- 
 troverted; ^nd history that paints and describes before 
 that which generalizes and interprets. 
 
 We have already intimated that we do not mean to say 
 by either or both of these rules, that we should never read 
 a book vv^iich is difBcult to follow or comprehend, and 
 which, it may be, costs a severe effort to master. Books of 
 this class are sometimes the most useful of all to read. 
 The person, particularly the student, who has never 
 wrestled manfully and perSGveringly with a difficult book 
 will be good for little in this world of wrestling and 
 strife. But when you are convinced that a book is 
 above your attainments, capacity or age, it is of little use 
 for you, and it is wiser to leave it alone. It is both vex- 
 ing and unprofitable to stand upon one's toes and strain 
 one's self for hours in efforts to reach the fruit which you 
 are not tall enough to gather. It is better to leave it 
 till it can be reached more easily. When the grapes are 
 both ripe and within easy reach for you, it is safe to con- 
 clude that they are not sour. 
 
 7. The style of a writer should often determine whether 
 we read or neglect him. But what is style and how shall 
 we judge whether it is good or bad? That depends upon 
 our taste ; i. e., "whether it is healthy or vitiated, whether 
 it is uncultured or rightly trained. Savages and semi-bar- 
 barians are fond of stimulating and strongly contrasted 
 colors, of violent and spasmodic gesticulations, of shrieking 
 
58 Boohs and Reading, [Chap. v. 
 
 and dissonant sounds, of noisy and discordant music. So 
 in literature, there are semi-barbarians who delight in the 
 glaring and the grotesque, the extravagant and the spas- 
 modic, the vulgar and sensational in diction and imagery. 
 In the judgment of such, those books, journals and news- 
 papers only are up to the times and produced by live men, 
 which are distinguished by characteristics that belong to 
 the barbaric age. That writer is trenchant and brilliant 
 who is ill-mannered, coarse, personal and vituperative. 
 That orator is magnificently eloquent who ranges through 
 the classical dictionary for historic parallels to common 
 men and common occasions, and always rides on the top- 
 most wave of his tumid diction. Flippancy and audacity are 
 taken for genius and power, and a perpetual straining after 
 tawdry ornaments and effective diction, such as remind one 
 of war paint and tattooing, is deemed the certain indication 
 of intellectual power. People of more refined habits and a 
 more perfectly developed civilization, require a somewhat 
 different style in the writers whom they delight to read — 
 as strength without roughness, elegance without affectation, 
 ease without weakness, copiousness without verbosity and 
 courtesy without loss of dignity. We judge of style some- 
 what as we do of manners. Whatever in expression facil- 
 itates the easy apprehension and the pleasant reception of 
 the thoughts and sentiments ; whatever fits both like a 
 glove and seems to have been their natural growth ; what- 
 ever in form is the unstudied product of an earnest and re- 
 fined nature is in general, good in style. On the other 
 hand, whatever is awkward, indirect, involved and 
 difficult to follow; whatever is factitious and affected; 
 whatever is overloaded with obtrusive and gaudy decora- 
 tions ; above all, whatever is swelling, declamatory, and 
 overstrained in its illustration and diction, is bad in style. 
 We may read an author whose style is defective or bad, 
 for the worth of his matter, but a bad style ought never to 
 
Chap, v.] The BehHons of the Reader to his Author. 59 
 
 please or attract us, and other things ^eing equal, we cannot 
 . but prefer the well written to the badly v/ritten book. 
 I Style, indeed, is not to be judged of as a thing of the su- 
 pi-emest consequence, but as chiefly valuable, as it renders 
 easy and agreeable the communication of thought and feel- 
 ing. " The more sash the less light, " was a pithy saying in 
 respect of diction, often uttered by a writer who illustrated 
 the rule by his own example. It is slightly too pointed to 
 be altogether true. A window may serve other ends than 
 to let in the white light of winter or the dazzling glare of 
 summer ; and style may be allowed to color and warm in- 
 tellectual clearness Avith the hues that express emotion, and 
 to set off these hues by varying contrasts of beauty and 
 shading; but when style is characterised by mere pomp and 
 glitter, by artificial nicety pr* studied effect, it deserves the 
 contempt of every person of sense, as truly when seen in a 
 book as when displayed by man. But as in conversing 
 with men, we are naturally pleased with an easy flow of 
 language from the lips, so is it with language when it is 
 written. There is a natural grace and order and beauty 
 which lend a charm that cannot be described. There is a 
 power in expression by which a word as used by one man 
 will produce a stronger impression than a page composed 
 by another. By one writer thought is thrust forth as dry 
 as a withered branch ; by another, through apt illustration, 
 it is made fresh and blooming, like an orange bough 
 just broken from the tree, in which bud, blossom and fruit 
 mingle their fragrance and beauty. From one man truth 
 falls as if wrung from unwilling lips; from another it 
 leaps into form and action, with a resistless energy, warm 
 and living, startling and overpowering. 
 
 It is of vital importance to our success and pleasure in 
 reading, that i\iQ books which we read should be well writ- 
 ten. It is also a prime necessity that our ideal of what 
 good writing is should be just and elevated. Next to bad 
 
60 Books and Beading, [Chap. v. 
 
 morals in writing, should be ranked bad manners in dic- 
 tion, or an infelicitous style. Awkwardness may be ex- 
 cused and even be accepted as an excellence when it be- 
 tokens sincerity and directness of aim, but vulgarity, af- 
 fectation, vituperation and bullying, as well as " great 
 swelling words of vanity " and lofty airs of pompous de>- 
 clamation, whether of the Asiatic and Oriental or the 
 American and .Occidental type — whether heard in the har- 
 angue from the hustings, in the sermon from the pulpit, or 
 in the speech to the universe in the legislature — whether 
 written in the newspaper or the essay, are more nearly 
 akin to moral defects than is usually believed or noticed. 
 Indeed they rarely fail to indicate them. Vague declama- 
 tion is a kind of conscious falsehood. Empty rhetoric is 
 a certain sign, as well as an efficient promoter of insinceri- 
 ty and hollowness, of sham and pretence in the character. 
 
 The fearful slaughter of honest English that is com- 
 mitted so freely by sensation preachers and traveling poli- 
 ticians under the name of eloquence, and the more fearful 
 depravation of popular taste and public honesty that fol- 
 lows the admiration of such tricks of empty rhetoric and 
 factitious declamation, call for prosecution by the Grand 
 Inquest as dangerous nuisances to the public conscience, 
 no less than as open offences against rhetorical and gram- 
 matical propriety. 
 
 8. It is implied in these rules that no person should feel 
 obliged to read everything that is published. Read every- 
 thing that is published ! why should a man think of such 
 a thing ? It were as reasonable to feel obliged to talk with 
 every man whom you meet ; and to talk with him as long 
 as he chooses to hold you by the button, and this whether 
 he talks sense or nonsense, or whether what he says con- 
 cerns you little or much or not at all. And yet there are 
 men who aspire to read everything that is printed — men 
 who in order to keep abreast with " the literature of the 
 
Chap, v.], The Melailons of the Header to his Author, 61 
 
 day, " as they phrase it, labor hard afc the service and 
 groan inwardly if not audibly, because the time fails them, 
 amidst the multitude of books which every week brings 
 out. But the attempt and the desire seem to us very un- 
 reasonable. Unless, indeed, all authors are equally able 
 and honest, choice as well as necessity should direct to the 
 opposite. For who would listen to an organ-grinder 'in 
 the streets when he might hear from the noblest of instru- 
 ments harmonies fit to be played in heaven ? Or who 
 would stop to listen to a violin scraper while on his way to 
 a series of solos by Ole Bull or Paganini ? Or who would 
 read a blundering, confused or lying history when he 
 might read one that is neat, orderly and trustworthy ? Or 
 why read the one when you are satisfied from the other ? 
 Who would read a novel or poem that depicts disgusting 
 or degrading scenes, or paints virtuously but feebly, when 
 he might read those that present worthy themes and treat 
 of them well? Books are constantly issued, concerning 
 which it is an honor to a man to say that he has not read 
 them — books which repel a right-minded man on the very 
 slightest acquaintance, — books of which such a man would 
 say instinctively, that he knows enough of them, to wish 
 to know nothing more. 
 
 But these thoughts bring us to a graver aspect of books 
 and reading, which we must reserve for another chapter. 
 
CHAPTER yi. 
 
 THE INFLUENCE OF BOOKS AND READING ON THE 
 OPINIONS AND PRINCIPLES. 
 
 We have learned that the best hoohsy certainly those which 
 are the most interesting, are the books which most distinct- 
 ly express some individuality in their authors. We have 
 also learned that that reading is ordinarily the most useful 
 and invigorating which brings us most closely and con- 
 sciously into contact with writers of marked and earnest 
 personality. 
 
 We cannot resist the inference that hoohs and reading 
 must exert a powerful influence upon the opinions and 
 principles. This they do both directly and indirectly — 
 directly, when they address well or ill-reasoned arguments 
 to the understanding ; indirectly, when their influence 
 upon the principles is secondary and unnoticed. Hence the 
 rule — and it is a rule of the first importance — that in read- 
 ing we should make ourselves distinctly aware of the 
 principles of a writer, so far as he consciously or uncon- 
 sciously expresses them in his writings, so that if need be 
 we may be on our guard against them. This rule is not so 
 necessary in the case of books which are avowedly written 
 for the purpose of defending a system of opinion, or es- 
 tablishing- a political, scientific, or theological creed. In 
 such cases the doctrines may be true or they may be false, 
 the opinions may be salutary or pernicious ; but the positions 
 are distinctly avowed, and the reasons for them are urged 
 directly and confessedly for the purposes of conviction. 
 There may be serious exposure in such cases, but the ex- 
 62 
 
Chap. VI.] Their Influence on the Pi-inclples. 63 
 
 posure is one of which we are distinctly aware, and in 
 which to \>Q forewarned is to be forearmed. In respect to 
 these cases, we do not propose to write a homily on that 
 most important and much abused direction, " Prove all 
 things ; holdfast that ichich is good,^ however useful and 
 greatly needed such a homily might be. We shall not 
 stay to defend the utmost courage and freedom in the 
 formation of our opinions, by the use of light and evidence, 
 from v/hatever sources these may come. Nor shall we en- 
 large upon the important consideration that many, not to 
 say most, inquirers after truth may often learn more from 
 the antagonists than they can from the defenders of the 
 opinions which they accept; nor shall we contend that 
 every student and reader should honestly estimate and 
 interpret the force of the arguments on both sides of every 
 question, as they are in fact regarded and held by the de-^ 
 fenders of each. 
 
 Considerations like these scarcely need to be urged upon 
 thoughtful and earnest readers, in these days of free dis- 
 cussion and large toleration ; or, as we might say, these 
 days when, among large classes of bookish and reading 
 men, free discussion is but another name for universal 
 doubt, or a free and easy vacillation of opinion ; when free 
 toleration is made both pretext and excuse for intellectual 
 libertinism ; when earnest and fixed convictions on many 
 subjects are practically judged to be an aifair of association 
 or taste ; — when jesting and sneering litterateurs so rarely 
 think of asking Whoi is truth f or, if they ask, do not 
 " wait for an answer" 
 
 Nor, on the other hand, do we care to insist on the dan- 
 gers which lie in the opposite direction, from a premature 
 agitation of opinions, before the mind is capable of a thor- 
 ough and dispassionate examination of Ijie reasons for or 
 against them, although no abuse of the rule " to read both 
 sides " is more serious in its consequences than that which 
 
64 Boohs and Reading, [Chap. VI 
 
 is committed by persons as yet untrained to discriminating 
 analysis or comprehensive speculation, when they attempt 
 to judge of arguments which they can neither comprehend 
 nor compare, or when they rush headlong into the study 
 of controversies concerning opinions which they have good 
 practical grounds for receiving. Admonitions of this sort, 
 however needful or pertinent they might be for the selec- 
 tion of books and the direction of reading, would open too 
 wide and indefinite a field of discourse. 
 
 We limit ourselves to the unconscious or the designed 
 propagation of the principles of an individual writer, in 
 an incidental way, by means of writings that have no 
 direct relation to the truth or falsehood of these principles, 
 and which, as works* of literature rather than of argument, 
 profess to stand apart from the field o:^ discussion and of 
 doctrine. In writings of this kind no direct attack is 
 made upon tjiose truths which are held sacred by right- 
 minded men. The convictions which men are usually 
 taught to accept concerning self-restraint and self-denial — 
 concerning the decent morals and the courteous manners, 
 which are at once the bonds and ornaments of human life 
 — are courteously recognized with outward homage. Con- 
 science and duty, virtue and God, are named with respect, 
 and the reader, it may be, is formally assured that no man 
 holds them, Avhen properly understood, in higher esteem 
 than does the writer. And yet, in the tale or the history, 
 the poem or the essay, such language is used, such insinua- 
 tions are hinted, such associations are skillfully evoked, as 
 to depress and chill the better aspirations and the nobler 
 enthusiasms, and to leave the reader with a weakened 
 faith in the nobleness of man and the goodness of God. 
 
 Notable examples of influences of this kind are furnished 
 in the celebrated histories of Gibbon and of Hume. Gib- 
 bon has left behind him one of the most splendid monu- 
 ments of human genius that modern literature can furnish. 
 
Chap. VI.] Their Influence on the Principles, 65 
 
 Inspired by the sublime and awful recollections that haunt 
 the ruins of the Eternal City, he essayed to write the story 
 of the " Decline and Fall " of that wonderful empire, of 
 whose greatness that city in its ruins is at once the symbol 
 and the sepulchre. This he accomplished with an indus- 
 try that was equal to the herculean labor involved in the 
 collection of his materials, and with a genius that over- 
 mastered and moulded his learning at its will. There are 
 faults in Gib'bon's style, and there may be defects in his 
 narrative ; but no man can deny the genius that could at- 
 tempt so great a task, and could execute it so well ; and still 
 less the value and splendor of the work which it has left 
 as its memorial. But it happened that the decline and 
 fall of Rome was coincident with the rise and growth of 
 another Empire, mysterious in its beginnings and superhu- 
 man in its force — a kingdom which has survived the 
 wrecks of many great empires, and v/hich can be no better 
 described than in the words of the prophet, as " the stone '^ 
 which "became a great mountain and filled the whole 
 earth," as the kingdom which "should break in pieces 
 and consume all these kingdoms," and shall "stand for ever." 
 Had Gibbon's genius been enlightened by faith, so that 
 he had been fired and elevated at the thought of the won- 
 drous movements of this unseen empire — had he but con- 
 ceived somewhat of the plan of God's providence in first 
 subduing the world to the sway of one iron dominion, that 
 he might provide and prepare a suitable arena upon which 
 to introduce to the human race the most wonderful being 
 that was ever born of that race ; so that when this race 
 was, as it were, taught to know one language, and gath- 
 ered into one grand amphitheatre, it might hear God speak 
 to man — he would have contemplated the growth and cul- 
 mination of Rome under relations that were far higher and 
 more elevating than any which he recognized. Had he 
 
 also seen how, to further the purposes connected with the 
 6 
 
66 Books and Reading, [Chap. vi. 
 
 progress of the new kingdom, it must first be incorporated 
 with the old Roman dominion, and even gain possession 
 of the throne of the Caesars, so that when the empire 
 should be broken in pieces, each shivered portion might 
 become the nucleus of a new Christian state — had he 
 written of Rome as thus falling, that a greater than Rome 
 might rise, what a different book had Gibbon's history- 
 been in its plan and its principles, in its influence and its 
 fame ! Had Gibbon but seen, as it would require no great 
 stretch of honesty or candor for a philosopher to see, that 
 everything good which comes to man and dwells among 
 men must be alloyed by human imperfection, and that, 
 therefore, it was not wonderful that Christian priests and 
 Christian teachers, in a barbarous age, should show much 
 of human passion and human infirmity — and had he, in- 
 stead of exaggerating and coloring these inconsistencies, set 
 forth the virtues that shone the brighter because encom- 
 passed by such darkness, how much nobler and truer an 
 impression had he made! Had he demonstrated to 
 himself and to others, that the natural causes in the pas- 
 sions and prejudices of men, to which he ascribes the pres- 
 ervation and triumph of a system which was in deadly 
 hostility with these agencies, did, in their presence and 
 power, only serve to illustrate the over-mastering force of 
 that vital principle which could work them out, throw 
 them off, or live on in spite of them, he would have done 
 but justice to the truth as well as to the grandeur of his 
 theme. 
 
 But Gibbon did no such thing, but rather made the 
 History of Rome, with all its splendor as a theme for a 
 Christian historian, to be an occasion for the insinuation 
 of debasing unbelief, and the manifestation of the Avork- 
 ings of an impure imagination. Of the tens of thousands 
 who have read this work as a history, and for historic 
 purposes, few have been able wholly to escape the indirect 
 
Chap. VI.] Their Influence on tlie Principles. 67 
 
 influences which pervade it in every part, as the seeds of 
 death will shake themselves from the gorgeous robes of 
 damask and gold that have been worn by one smitten of 
 the plague. We do not wonder that the great and good 
 Dr. Thomas Arnold was moved, by the thought of this 
 evil, to undertake to write a history of Rome, which should 
 be animated by a different spirit. 
 
 Hume had a theme only inferior to that of Gibbon ; 
 and that was the history of an empire which is more 
 wonderful in many of its relations to the world than Rome 
 ever was or could be, even in the pride of its power. 
 The one empire was honored as the birth-place of 
 Christianity. The other as the birth-place of that liberty 
 of which a developed and free Christianity could alone be 
 the parent. For it was in the struggles between the crown 
 and the people of England, that " the good old cause '^ of 
 human rights and of human freedom was in fact made the 
 issue, and it was through many a hard-fought contest of dc 
 bate and battle-field that liberty became triumphant, and 
 secured for herself a better abode and ampler room in her 
 new-found home beyond the ocean. How did Hume 
 write this history, so inspiring in its themes, so glorious in 
 the heroic men and the splendid deeds of strife and suffer- 
 ing, which emblazon its annals ? What is the sympathy 
 and what the spirit which he breathed into his record of 
 these men and their deeds ? With what judgments and prin- 
 ciples does he impregnate every line of his narrative? What 
 impressions does he leave upon the minds of his readers of 
 that which is most valuable in political institutions and 
 practical principles ? What faith does he awaken in the 
 noble and the heroic in character ? What feelings does he 
 excite in his readers towards the dead whom they ought 
 to revere and the living who would emulate their ex- 
 ample ? To these questions we are compelled to answer, 
 that he wrote with a continued sneer at the religious faith 
 
68 Books and Beading, [Chap, vl 
 
 and fervor which fired the souls who resisted the throne 
 on the one side, and with scarce spirit and soul enough to 
 do justice to the chivalrous loyalty that lent its grace to 
 the mistakes and wrongs of tyranny on the other ; and the 
 consequence was that he made out of the wondrous history 
 of England, a work fit only to be read by men who, hav- 
 ing faith neither in God's truth, nor in man's nobleness, 
 are prepared to be skeptics, self-seekers, and slaves. And 
 yet so easy is his narrative, so plausible are his representa- 
 tions, and so specious are his arguments, that thousands of 
 readers have confided themselves to his direction, without 
 suspecting that the author was chilling their enthusiasm 
 for private and public virtue, or weakening their faith in 
 self-forgetting devotion to freedom and to God. 
 
 The two well-knoAvn histories of the United States, by 
 Bancroft and Hildreth, are pervaded by the political and 
 practical philosophy ot their respective authors. Their 
 views of life, their estimates of character, as well as of the 
 conditions of greatness in the individual and the state, are, 
 in some respects, strikingly contrasted, and yet for differ- 
 ent reasons the peculiar principles of each are open to ex- 
 ception. No man can study either of their histories with- 
 out being either so consciously aware of their principles as 
 to accept or reject them, or without being unconsciously 
 moved to admiring sympathy, to unexplained antipathy, 
 or to decided aversion. The sanguine and naif democracy 
 of Bancroft sometimes becomes so emphatic and extreme 
 as to remind us of the wretched rant which in the K-eign 
 of Terror thundered from the tribune in the daily assem- 
 blies of the Convention, and shrieked by night in the 
 frenzied gatherings of the Hall of the Jacobins. His care- 
 ful and exhaustive research, and his painstaking compre- 
 hensiveness, are an insufiicient oifset against the superficial 
 philosophy that sometimes reminds us equally of the ped- 
 ant and the demagogue. The pains-taking accuracy and 
 
Chap. VI.] Their Influence on the Principles, 69 
 
 the judicial severity of Hildreth, do not atone for his sar- 
 donic bitterness, his cynic misanthropy, and his inveterate 
 dislikes; least of all for the chilling lesson of the nil ad- 
 mirari with which he weakens our faith in and respect for 
 self-sacrifice and self-denial. 
 
 The organs of great parties and interests, whether politi- 
 cal or religious, do not merely defend by open and legiti- 
 mate methods, the distinctive principles which they are 
 set to represent, but their judgments of men and of books, 
 of literature and philosophy, of tendencies and events — in 
 a word their blame and their praise — are determined more 
 or less completely by the political and religious opinions 
 of their party and school. This influence is pervasive like 
 the atmosphere, and it constitutes what is called the tone 
 and spirit of the journal, of the presence and character of 
 which the constant or occasional reader is not always so 
 distinctly aware, as he must inevitably be more or less 
 affected by it. We cite as examples, Blackwood^ s Maga- 
 zine and The Westminster Review, In the conduct of the 
 first, when at the height of its power, were employed 
 genius the most splendid and various, as well as classical 
 and historical learning both brilliant and profound. In 
 the same number, and in the same paper, fun and frolic, 
 carried to the extreme of bacchanalian revelry, mingle 
 with sacred eloquence and poetry, and each of these in- 
 congruous elements is represented with unrivalled fresh- 
 ness and force. This magazine has been devoted from the 
 first to the interests of the Tory party in Great Britain, and 
 the influence of its wit and humor, of its poetry and phil- 
 osophy, of its science and theology, has been to strength- 
 en this interest in Church and State. Many an enthusi-. 
 astic American youth has read it with admiration for 
 years, and, as the result, has found himself, without know- 
 ing why or how, the bond slave or devotee to all its pecu- 
 liar prejudices — has been made an English Tory oix 
 
70 Boohs and Reading, [Chap. vL 
 
 American soil, with all tlie comfortable self-complacence 
 and the real awkwardness of such a position. The West- 
 minster Review has stood at the other extreme. It has been 
 critical and learned, acute and fearless, sharp and out* 
 spoken. The authority of tradition, the prestige of rank, 
 the prerogative of office, the associations of the past, the 
 pretension of the schools, have not deterred it from bold 
 attacks on everything that is venerable and sacred in Church 
 and State. Its principles stand out too distinctly to fail to 
 be observed. No reader of this Review can fail to know 
 what its principles are. We fear, however, that many 
 who dislike and reject its doctrines are influenced by its 
 spirit and philosophy more than they are aware or would 
 be willing to acknowledge. 
 
 Thomas Carlyle never fails to impregnate whatever he 
 writes with a large infusion of his opinions as the Prophet 
 of Discontent and Antagonism towards whatever the age 
 which he despises sees fit to honor. The sphere in which 
 he rules is that of the " Everlasting No ;'^ his protest is a 
 perpetual veto. That he never fails to utter this protest with 
 brilliancy and power the multitude of his bewildered ad- 
 mirers testify with unwavering enthusiasm. That not a few 
 of these admirers are affected by his supercilious misan- 
 thropy and his cynical discontent is confessed by all but 
 themselves. Among American writers, the keen-minded 
 HolmeSj the wide-minded Emerson^ the subtle-minded 
 HawthovTie, the cynical-minded Thoreau, in whatever they, 
 write, proclaim each an Evangel, though it must be con- 
 fessed that this Evangel, varies somewhat from that which 
 has usually been received as the Christian Gospel. 
 
 It ought to be no matter of wonder that a book should 
 be thus pervaded by the principles and even by the preju- 
 dices of its author. Every book comes from the mind of 
 a man, and if he writes earnestly, as he must if he writes 
 with effect, he will write as he thinks and feels, and even 
 
Chap. VI.] Their Influence on the Principles, 71 
 
 when he does not iiJtend it, and his mind is intent on 
 something besides, his thoughts and feelings cannot but 
 make themselves manifest. We do not advise that a man 
 should never read books that imply principles which he 
 thinks to be false or dangerous. We only say that he 
 should be aware of the fact that they are thus diffused ; that 
 they give character and tone to large classes of books ; 
 and most important of all, that they have no greater au- 
 thority when insinuated by means of a book, whether it be 
 history or tale, poem or book of travel, than when they 
 are openly or insidiously uttered by the lips of a living 
 man. 
 
CHAPTER VII. 
 
 THE MORAL INFLUENCE OF BOOKS AND READING. — 
 THE HEADING OF FICTION. 
 
 We are brought insensibly to a subject still more seri- 
 ous — the Moral Influence of Boohs and Reading. What 
 is the question that presents itself? It cannot be whether 
 books should be read of which the moral influence is evil. 
 No man who seriously believes in right and wrong can 
 give but one answer to this question. But the question is, 
 \Yhat books are. such? how can they be distinguished, de- 
 scribed and classified ? how can I be certain that a book 
 which will be hurtful to another, will be injurious to my- 
 self? As a general answer to these inquiries, we can give 
 no better rule than the following by Robert Southey : 
 " Would you know whether the tendency of a book is good 
 or evil, examine in what state of mind you lay it down. 
 Has it induced you to suspect that that which you have 
 been accustomed to think unlawful, may after all be inno- 
 cent, and that that may be harmless, which you hitherto 
 have been taught to think dangerous ? Has it tended to 
 make you dissatisfied and impatient under the control of 
 others ? and disposed you to relax in that self-government, 
 without which both the laws of God and man tell us there 
 can be no virtue and consequently no happiness ? Has it 
 attempted to abate your admiration and reverence for what 
 is great and good, and to diminish in you the love of your 
 country and your fellow-creatures ? Has it addressed it- 
 self to your pride, your vanity, your selfishness, or any 
 other 'of your evil propensities? Has it defiled the imag- 
 72 
 
Chap. VII.] Their Moral InflueTice, 73 
 
 ination with what is loathsome, and shocked the heart 
 with what is monstrous ? Has it disturbed the sense of 
 right and wrong which the Creator has implanted in the 
 human soul ? If so — if you are conscious of all or of any 
 of these effects — or if, having escaped from all, you have felt 
 that such were the effects it was intended to produce, throw 
 the book into the fire, young man, though it should have 
 been the gift of a friend ! Young lady, away with the 
 whole set, though it should be the prominent furniture of 
 a rosewood book-case \'^ — {The Doctor.) 
 
 These rules are uncompromising in their severity and 
 strictness, but tolerant in their respect for individual free- 
 dom and discretion. They yield nothing to appetite and 
 passion, however insidiously these may be addressed, or 
 however tempting may be the allurements with which 
 genius masks the temptations or palliates the consent to 
 evil. They allow neither paltering nor parley with that 
 which would mislead or offend. They stimulate the moral 
 energies like a fresh and invigorating breeze. But they al- 
 low every one to judge for himself what may expose him to 
 harm, and permit no one besides to judge for him or to 
 rejudge his judgments. No larger liberty for the individ- 
 ual can be conceived of than that which these rules allow. 
 
 With such rules, or rules so phrased, a very large class 
 of critics, are not at all content. They would be more de- 
 finite. They must name not only the books, but the classes 
 of books which are always and only evil. Some denounce 
 all light literature so-called, with a condemnation that is 
 by no means light in the matter or the manner. Others 
 reject everything that is fictitious, with a saving clause^ 
 that saves little or nothing that is worth preserving. 
 Poetry, Novels, and the written Drama, and whatever ad- 
 dresses the imagination are labelled by such mentors as 
 suspected or infected goods. 
 
 There is nothing which gives greater pleasure to the 
 
74 Books and Beading* [Chap. vii. 
 
 friends of that literature which is really demoralizing, than 
 such wholesale and indiscriminate attacks upon works 
 of the imagination, especially if they are made from the 
 pulpit -or in the name of religion. Such persons know, 
 that as they are uttered they are not true, and cannot be 
 successfully defended. They know, moreover, that the 
 rejection of what is false and excessive in them will destroy 
 the good influence of what is true — that those who make 
 th'^se attacks will be excluded from the field of literature 
 in dishonor, and leave it free for their own exclusive oc- 
 cupation. The false issue made in the attack gives the 
 amplest opportunity for a false issue in the defence. 
 This issue they thus present : They do not defend the per- 
 version of the imagination, not they I but only its inno- 
 cent and healthy use; and thus under the name of the 
 liberty of nature, they secure the sphere and influence 
 of literature to the service of licentiousness. The motto 
 prefixed to one of the most shameless poems of the present 
 century, shows conclusively how an unfair attack suggests 
 and justifies a skillful but unfair retort and defence : '^ Dost 
 think because thou art virtuous that there shall be no more 
 cakes and ale ? Yes, and ginger shall be hot in the mouth.'' 
 After this defence of harmless " cakes and ale," spiced a 
 little, but with nothing hotter than " ginger,'' what does the 
 writer do, but under this label send out to the world a 
 poisonous and disgusting mixture of arsenic and assafoetida, 
 in a poem, parts of which are fit only to be read or heard 
 in a brothel ! 
 
 This being but too just an account of the manner in 
 which the question in respect to the moral influence of fic- 
 titious and imaginative literature is argued on both sides, 
 it seems desirable that one or two suggestions should be of- 
 fered towards its right determination. 
 
 We assert then first of all, that a book is not of necessity 
 demoralizing, because it is fictitious or imaginative. The 
 
Chap, vii.] Their Moral Inflaence. 75 
 
 imagination is an endowment from God, and as such is not 
 to be dishonored or depreciated by the sneering or ignorant 
 contempt of man. It is also one of the noblest human 
 powers — the power which in some of its aspects is nearest 
 to the divine, and as such is capable of the most exalted 
 uses, and of an influence for good which cannot be compu- 
 ted. Of its products in literature Lord Bacon says : " The 
 use of this feigned history has been to give some shadow of 
 satisfaction to the mind of man in those points, whereiix 
 the nature of things doth deny it, the world being in pro- 
 portion inferior to the soul. . . . Therefore because 
 the acts or events of true history have not that magni- 
 tude which satisfieth the mind of man, poesy feigneth 
 acts and events greater and more heroical, because true 
 history propoundeth the successes and issues of actions 
 not so agreeable to the merits of virtue and vice, there- 
 fore poesy feigns them more just in retribution, and 
 more according to revealed providence: because true his- 
 tory representeth actions and events more ordinary and 
 less interchanged, therefore poesy endueth them with 
 more rareness and more unexpected and alternate varia- 
 tion: so it appeareth that poesy serveth and conferreth 
 to magnanimity J morality, and delectation. Andi, there- 
 fore, it was ever thought to bear some participation of 
 divineness, because it doth raise and erect the mind, by 
 submitting the shows of things to the desires of the mind, 
 whereas reason doth buckle and bow the mind unto the 
 nature of things." — On the Advancement of Learning. If 
 Lord Bacon is right then there is nothing in the nature of 
 a work as fictitious which makes it either immoral or of 
 immoral tendency. It is no argument against a book, to 
 say that it is a novel or poem, nor does the fact that it is a 
 novel or poem show that it is less favorable to morality or 
 even to religion, than to say that it is a collection of homi- 
 lies or sermons. All appeals and indiscriminate assertions 
 
76 Boohs and Beading, [Chap. vii. 
 
 that are directed against the reading of novels or poetry as 
 such, are like the guns of Trumbull's McFingal which, 
 
 " well aimed at duck and plover. 
 Bear wide and kick their owners over." 
 
 More than this is true. ^Not only is it clear that fiction 
 and poetry may exert a good influence, but it is equally 
 obvious that they do in fact exert an influence that is both 
 healthful and elevating. Next to falling in love with one 
 who is worthy of the first and best afiections of the lover, 
 should be ranked in its influence for good, the reading of 
 the first really good novel or poem which takes a strong 
 and permanent hold of the heart and character. There is 
 a charm investing this ideal world for the first time un- 
 veiled to the view, and a superhuman elevation in the 
 beings who live and move in it — a purity in their loves, a 
 dignity in their acts, and a weight and sacredness in their 
 words, which hold the young reader as by a spell, and lead 
 him a delighted captive. With what joy does the de- 
 lighted pupil of Romance tread the common earth now 
 glorified for the first time to his anointed eyes, or look out 
 upon the transfigured sky now that heaven is seen to glow 
 beyond it ! With what delight does he greet the face of man 
 and woman when he learns that they are capable of poetic 
 idealization; what new views does lie take of life? as soon 
 as he awakes to the discovery that its common prose can 
 be titrned into romance and poetry ! It is not merely true 
 that as young people will fall in love, so they icill read 
 poetry and novels, but we add, as it is ivell that they fall 
 in love, if they love aright, so it is well that they read 
 works of imagination, if they read them aright. Of many 
 a young man has it been true, that the sentiments of his 
 favorite poet, or of some ideal character in his favorite 
 novel, have exerted a healthful and elevating influence 
 over his whole being — have been made the standard of his 
 
Chap. VII.] Their Moral Influence, 77 
 
 own efforts, and have breathed the breath of life into his 
 feeble aspirations. Were a wise man to have the complete 
 control over the mind and heart of a young person of 
 either sex, and to seek to form him or her after the ideal of 
 a o-enerous, affectionate, and heroic character which would 
 be ready to labor, to suffer, and if need be, to die for man 
 or for God, he would freely avail himself, at proper in- 
 tervals and in a due proportion, of the writings of men of 
 imaginative genius. He would teach his pupil not only 
 to love and admire them, but to study them thoroughly, 
 to enter fully into their spirit, that he might cherish purer 
 thoughts, more disinterested affections, and better ideals 
 than the actual contact with life can possibly furnish. 
 The private history of the training of many of the noblest 
 men and women whom the earth has ever seen, would 
 amply justify the wisdom of this theory of moral culture. 
 If we reflect upon the actual influence for good which 
 proceeds from writers of this class, the argument gathers 
 an uncomputed and a resistless force. We speak of good 
 in the large and liberal sense of the word ; — not merely as 
 it is obvious in writers who have consecrated their genius 
 directly to the service of devotion, as Watts, Cowper, 
 Young, and Milton in large measure ; but of the good 
 which has come from Shakspeare, Scott, Burns, and many 
 others, by the introduction to the world of thought and 
 feeling of ideals that are pure and elevating, when glowing 
 with those golden hues with which genius transfigures the 
 lowliest thing which she touches with her finger. What 
 another place has this 'prosaic world become to every 
 reader of the English language, since Milton, Shaks- 
 peare, Burns and Scott, have perpetuated in that lan- 
 guage the visions which once met their imaginations? 
 With what another atmosphere of thought and feeling is 
 the intellect and heart of every reader elevated, invigora- 
 ted, and refreshed ? The characters and scenes described 
 
78 Boohs and Reading. • [Chap. vil. 
 
 and depicted by each have become to us as real and as per- 
 manent as are the sun and the stars, or the faces of our 
 familiar friends. We never behold them but they quickea 
 our 'thoughts and give new life to our feelings. They 
 are a part, and not the least important, of the actual world, 
 ever exerting upon our characters and lives a powerful and 
 constant influence. Each new mind upon which open 
 these wondrous pages, -gratefully owns their power. Their 
 ideal but still intensely real scenes and characters hence- 
 forward control and possess his world of thought and feel- 
 ing, and still they live on and will act on other genera- 
 tions with unexhausted energy. To these creations might 
 be applied with eminent significance the remark of the old 
 monk to Wilkie concerning Titian's Last Supper : " I 
 have sat daily in sight of that picture for now nearly 
 threescore years; during that time my companions have 
 dropped off, one after another, all who were my seniors, 
 all who were my contemporaries, and many or most of 
 those who were younger than myself ; more than one gen- 
 eration has passed away, and there the figures on the 
 picture have remained unchanged ! I look at them till I 
 sometimes think that they are the realities, and we but 
 shadows." In Milton, the Paradise which was lost al- 
 p-ays blooms in virgin freshness. Satan, Moloch, and 
 Belial are ever holding their perpetual council and utter- 
 ing words of specious cunning or of inextinguishable hate. 
 The mother of our race is always mourning the loss of her 
 sinless home, or with heart-broken grief charges upon her- 
 self the Q^uilt of the first transgression. In the Paradise 
 Regained, the ancient world is still mapped out before the 
 eye, which here beholds 
 
 " Where on the ^gean shore a city stands, 
 Built nobly; pure the air, and light the soil, 
 Athens the eye of Greece, mother of arts and eloquence." 
 
 And there is described imperial Rome, along whose 
 

 Chap. VII.] Their Morol Influence, 79 
 
 famous roads and through whose opened gates are ever 
 trooping her legions and tributaries, to and from the limits 
 of her world-wide empire. Comus with his bacchanalian 
 crew still tempts with artful cunning, and is still repelled 
 by the pure-hearted lady who, strong in virtue, waits a 
 certain rescue. The genius of mirth is always tripping by 
 upon " the light fantastic toe," while her graver sister is 
 ever moving forward with downcast eye and measured 
 tread. 
 
 In Shakspeare, Hamlet is always the same, with senses 
 half paralyzed at the wrong he has suffered, and with 
 mind perplexed that the times should be so " out of joint," 
 and he be called to set them right ; the gentle Ophelia is 
 always wailing ; the wronged Desdemona is ever sobbing 
 out the disappointment of her crushed and broken heart ; 
 the injured but uncomplaining Cordelia, wonders at, but 
 does not reproach her cruel sisters, and comforts as best 
 she can, the distracted father whom their cruelty would 
 murder ; Lady Macbeth stands in guilty horror pointing to 
 the " damned spot " which will not "out " at her bidding ; 
 and ever as we gaze upon these forms, or hear the words 
 of these creatures of the imagination, our flesh creeps with 
 horror, our hearts are elated with joy, burn with indigna- 
 tion, or relax into weeping grief. 
 
 What a world of living beings has Scott created, what 
 personages has he called into life, what conversations do 
 we hear from their lips, what stirring events are still 
 wrought by their agency ! Nay, more; he has carried these 
 all into the real world and given them a perpetual habita- 
 tion there. Old castles, and moors, and mountain-tops, 
 and battle-fields, each have received from him the new 
 inhabitants evoked by his genius, so that when the travel- 
 er visits them it is not alone the ruined wall, nor the bare 
 mountain, nor the unruffled lake that he sees ; but here the 
 royal retinue seems to group itself around the " maiden 
 
80 Books and Beading. [Chap. vit. 
 
 queen," within the ruined castle of Kenil worth ; there 
 Roderick's clan springs up, one by one, each from behind a 
 concealing rock, and there the Lady Ellen pushes out her 
 light canoe. 
 
 How has Burns by his wondrous touch turned the 
 house of every Scottish peasant into an abode of content, 
 and loye and piety, and every simple Scottish lass into a 
 fairy being, and as a reward for the glory which he gave 
 to his beloved Scotia, has made for his poems in the actual 
 homes of Scotland, a place next to the Bible, and a 
 warm and thrilling remembrance in every living Scotch- 
 man's heart ! 
 
 To hold intercourse with such creations, if the scenes be 
 innocent and the transcripts are made from no vicious and 
 degrading realities, cannot be unfavorable to pure and ele- 
 vated moral feeling, even if there be no moral to the tale or 
 poem and no religious enforcement of its lessons. It is at 
 least an invigorating use of the powers to occupy them with 
 such creations of the lofty or humorous imagination. 
 
 We are prepared to assert that not only is the so-called 
 imaginative literature useful in its influence, but that all 
 literature whatever finds its principal power to elevate, in 
 the culture and stimulus which it furnishes to the imagina- 
 tion — that literature as such as distinguished from that use 
 of letters which adds to scientific knowledge or aims at 
 conviction, i. e. literature in the most of its forms, is 
 chiefly valuable for what it does for the imagination by 
 enlarging its range, elevating its ideals, stimulating its aims, 
 and purifying and ennobling its associations. To decry 
 the imaginative faculty and its products is to decry all lit- 
 erary culture if not to abrogate culture of every kind. 
 
 Let all this be granted says the objector or inquirer. But 
 what if the scenes are vicious, the sentiments false, and the 
 passions are sensual, malignant, and degrading? The an- 
 swers to these and kindred questions must be reserved for 
 fiu-ther discussion. 
 
CHAPTER YIII. 
 
 IMAGINATIVE LITERATURE : ITS REPRESENTATIONS OF 
 MORAL EVIL. 
 
 In our last we had reached the Moral Influence of 
 Books and Reading, and in discussing this were brought 
 to the questions so often mooted of the moral influence of 
 the so-called works of the imagination. We attempted 
 the defence of such works in the general, by citing ex- 
 amples from writers to whom all men pay a willing hom- 
 age. Our discussion was arrested by the half-inquiry, 
 half-objection : " What if the scenes are vicious, the senti- 
 ments are false, and the passions are sensual, malignant, or 
 degrading ? Can it be morally healthful that one should 
 be conversant with such pictures, thoughts, and feelings, 
 especially if armed with double energy, and clothed with 
 dangerous fascinations by the power of genius ? Would 
 you have your son or your daughter excited by the scenes, 
 infatuated by the characters, or tempted by the words of 
 Byron, Moore, Bulwer, Goethe, or even of many that they 
 find in Shakspeare, Milton, Burns, and Scott? In the 
 works of every one of these writers, I can point you to 
 many passages that should never be presented to a pure 
 and virtuous mind. The very contact with them must in- 
 volve some soil or taint, if it does not impart corruption. 
 To entertain them in any form, to suffer them to confront 
 the imagination, or to glide before the eye of the mind 
 even for an instant, is to be debased and polluted, and to- 
 wards them one should have no other feelings than aver- 
 sion and disgust, however splendid or powerful is the ge^ 
 nius that gilds or glorifies them." 
 
 6 81 
 
82 Boohs and Reading, [Chap. viil. 
 
 This is partly true and partly false. What is true is 
 very true, and what is false is very false. The moral evil 
 or danger in such cases, does not, however, arise from the 
 fact that debasing scenes or wicked characters are made to 
 stand or move before the imagination ; nor again, that 
 hateful passions are spoken out in venomous or malignant 
 words ; nor that wickedness acts itself forth with complete 
 and consistent energy. It still remains true that : 
 
 ^' There is some soul of goodness in things evil, 
 Would men observingly distil it out." 
 
 The ground of moral exposure is not the fact that evil 
 is painted, nor that it is painted boldly ; but it is in the 
 manner in which it is represented, — whether with fidelity 
 to the ordinances of nature, or falsely to her eternal laws 
 as written on the heart of man. This will be determined 
 in a great measure by the man whose imagination reflects 
 and recreates the evil, according as he writes like a Chris- 
 tian, or writes like a Turk — like a man with a conscience 
 and a moral nature, or like a man who makes his passions 
 his conscience, and his will his God. Prof. F. W. New- 
 man solidly observes, " In poetry, as in all other writings, 
 the moral influence depends on its throwing our sympathies 
 aright and leaving on the mind fit images and contempla- 
 tions. Many darker passions may be portrayed : for the 
 pathos which we seek has a two-fold character like the 
 sublime and beautiful, viz: the terrible and the lovely. 
 While we shudder at evil passion, it cannot make us worse. 
 Demoralization begins, when we learn to sympathize with 
 it, or to dwell upon things over whieh it is healthful to 
 step lightly." — {Lectures on Poetry y i.) This difference be- 
 tween the two methods of depicting evil will be obvious by 
 one or two examples. 
 
 Satan, as described by Milton, is well known to most 
 readers. He is justly conceived and nobly painted. He is 
 
Chap, vm.] Imaginative Literature, 83 
 
 not a being who is low and offensive because degraded and 
 brutish, but an archangel ruined, once possessed of the in- 
 tellect and heart of a seraph, now blasted by bad ambition 
 and consumed by unrelenting pride. Every feature is con- 
 sistent with this conception. His will is as inexorable as 
 that of Prometheus nailed to the Caucasian rock. The 
 liatred is intense, steadying the powers by unrelenting 
 determination, not distracting or weakening them by impo- 
 tent rage. The cunning is masterly, yet dignified. The 
 passion burns like a red-hot furnace, and the words speak 
 out the inner soul with the energy of a fierce north-wester. 
 " Better reign in Hell than serve in Heaven,^' utters and 
 describes his character and ruling principle. Had Milton 
 painted Satan thus and only thus, he had given but half his 
 being, as well as glorified him with splendors too attractive 
 for the responsive tastes of many readers. But he did not 
 leave him thus, for his truthful insight taught him, that 
 thus described and only thus, he were no real fiend — no 
 conceivable being of any species, but simply the half of an 
 incomplete conception — a monster by defect. He therefore 
 makes him confess his agony in such words as — 
 
 " Me miserable ! which way shall I fly 
 Infinite wrath and infinite despair ? 
 Which wq,y I fly is hell — myself am Hell ! 
 And in the lowest deep, a lower deep, 
 Still threatening to devour me, opens wide. 
 To which the hell I suffer seems a heaven. 
 then at last relent : is there no place 
 Left for repentance, none for pardon left ? 
 None left but by submission, and that word 
 Disdain forbids me and my dread of shame." 
 
 In the presence of his old compeer, Zephon, severe in 
 steadfast allegiance and white with unstained purity : — 
 
 " Abashed the Devil stood, 
 And felt how awful goodness is, and saw 
 Virtue in her shape how lovely : saw and pined 
 His loss ; but chiefly to find here observed 
 His lustre impaired — yet seemed 
 Undaunted." 
 
84 Boohs and Reading, [Chap. viii. 
 
 He descends to the low and mean disguise of a filthy 
 reptile, placing himself at the ear of the sleeping Eve, 
 " squat like a toad," from which disguise, when touched 
 by the spear of Ithuriel, he cannot help himself but he 
 must stand forth a treacherous tempter, " discovered and 
 surprised/' As he reports to his associates his success in the 
 ruin of man, and waits with confidence for — 
 
 " Their universal shout and high applause 
 To fill his ear," 
 
 there rushes in upon his enraged and disappointed soul 
 
 " On all sides, from innumerable tongues, 
 A dismal universal hiss, the sound 
 Of public scorn." 
 
 The completeness and truth of Milton's picture of Satan 
 is in striking contrast with the Lucifer of Byron's Cain, 
 who discourses atheism and blasphemy with such specious 
 and passionate force that the trusting reader's faith in God 
 and^ conscience is shaken and confounded, and it is well if, 
 with heated brain and unbelieving heart, or passionate and 
 despairing scorn, he does not plunge himself into some rash 
 act of passion or crime ; or, having done so, does not sul- 
 lenly turn his back upon hope, and cast in his lot Avith 
 those who curse God and die. In such a character there 
 is but half the truth, and therefore truth itself is dishonored 
 and belied. Passion is painted in sublime energy, in auda- 
 cious daring, with impetuous and overbearing ferocity. So 
 far there is truth. But the inward shame and agony are 
 wanting ; and most important of all, the conscious weak- 
 ness of selfishness and sin that are self-confessed; the 
 meanness of violating gratitude, fealty, and self-control ; 
 all of which should be present and made prominent to ex- 
 press and impress the truth, that this Lucifer, with all his 
 sophistry and pride, with his boasting and his blasphemy, 
 inwardly knows that he has sold himself to a falsehood. 
 
Chap. VIII.] ImagiTuitive Literature. 85 
 
 Moreover, in the absence of this completing half-truth — so 
 far as the poet's representations are concerned — God him- 
 self is, by these specious and passionate reasonings, made 
 an almighty and malignant monster, injustice sits upon the 
 eternal throne, and the universe itself is pervaded by a 
 gigantic lie. A similar defect with similar evil conse- 
 quences, is to be observed in the Devil of Goethe's Faust, 
 except that the metaphysics are more profound and scholar- 
 like, and the sneer is more consummately devilish at what- 
 ever is worthy in human pursuit, whatever is noble in human 
 self-denial, and whatever is confiding in human affection. 
 
 We observe that by these three writers the same bad 
 character is depicted, and so far as his badness is con- 
 cerned, with feelings, words, and acts that are consistent ; 
 and so far, with more or less of aesthetic perfection. In 
 Milton the evil is harmless ; it is even morally healthful, 
 because, with the attractions and force of evil, the weak- 
 ness and self-reproach, the shame and agony are alsa repre- 
 sented. With Byron and Goethe, the diabolism that is 
 dormant in man, is uppermost, and blasphemy, selfishness 
 and lust rule in the universe, and sit upon the throne of 
 the Eternal. * 
 
 We might also <Jontrast the Hamlet of Shakspeare with 
 the Manfred of Byron. Hamlet had been disappointed of 
 his rightful crown, and wronged in his holiest confidence, 
 by the frailty of his mother. Disturbed in his confidence 
 in man and in God, he plots a murderous revenge, slays 
 the father of Ophelia, and spurns and treads upon her 
 
 * We trast that none of our over-fastidious readers will sneer at our recogni- 
 tion of the " diabolism that is dormant in man." It was suggested by the 
 words of Sir Thomas Browne : " The heart of man is the place the devils dwell 
 in. I feel sometimes a hell within myself; Lucifer keeps his court in my 
 breast; Legion is revived in me." "In brief, we are all monsters — that is, a 
 composition of man and beast ; wherein we must endeavor to be as the poet's 
 fancy that wise man Chiron, that is, to have the region of man above that of 
 beast, and sense to sit but at the feet of reason." — Religio Medici. 
 
86 Books and Heading, [Chap.viii. 
 
 gentle and loving heart. Self-destruction is the readiest 
 relief from his sufferings, and the speediest deliverance 
 from a stage of existence in whicli everything is " out of 
 joint." '^ To be or not to be," is the question which he 
 debates with himself in thoughts and words which are 
 forever true to the heart of man. 
 
 " To die ; — ^to sleep, — 
 No more ; and by a sleep, to say we end 
 The heart-ache, and the thousand natural shocks 
 That flesh is heir to, — 'tis a consummation 
 Devoutly to be wished. To die ; — to sleep ; — 
 To sleep ! perchance to dream ; — ay, there's the rub j 
 For in that sleep of death what dreams may oome 
 When we have shuffled off this mortal coil, 
 Must give us pause. There's the respect 
 That makes calamity of so long a life ; 
 For who would bear the whips and scorns of time 
 
 But that the dread of something after death, — - 
 The undiscovered country, from whose bourn 
 No traveler returns, — puzzles the will ; 
 And makes us rather bear those ills we have, 
 Than fly to others that we know not of. 
 Thus conscience does make cowards of us all." 
 
 Manfred by his own confession is far more guilty than 
 Hamlet. His guilt he does not hide, he spreads it abroad 
 for "public gaze, but rather to incite the sympathy of look- 
 ers-on than in the spirit of confession and shame. Re- 
 morse he does not conceal, but he gives expression to it too 
 often to leave the impression that it is either natural or 
 sincere. In the struggle with conscience and avenging 
 spirits, it is pride not conscience which prevails. In his 
 exit it is the spirit of defiant bravado which dismisses him 
 from life. The weakness and fear with which the guilty, 
 and especially the confessed victim of remorse, looks over 
 into the life beyond, are wholly wanting. Instead thereof, 
 this mortal who by crime and remorse has made himself 
 so wretched that he cares to live no longer stalks defiantly 
 
Chap. VIII.] Imaginative Literature, 87 
 
 into the Unseen, a stupid atheist, successfully defiant of 
 the earth-spirit that comes to fetch him away, yet without 
 a thought or prayer for that Greater Spirit whom he can- 
 not avoid. There is little homage to conscience here — it is 
 pride and self-will, not conscience and self-reproach, that 
 win the day. The timorous weakness that conies from 
 sin, the coward fear that looks forward to the undiscovered 
 country, are not expressed. The self-centred though suffer- 
 ing criminal triumphs in his fiendish pride. Conscience is 
 not the victor, but conscience is vanquished by unbroken 
 and self-willed pride. * 
 
 We might also contrast at length Bulwer Lytton and 
 Scott. We mean Bulwer Lytton in his earlier novels, the 
 heroes of which are not only factitious men of high life, 
 but they are very generally intellectual and sentimental 
 adulterers and libertines, accomplished withal in the arts 
 of life and the graces of society, who are deeply absorbed 
 at times in the profoundest speculations concerning God 
 and immortality, intermixed with the slang of high life at 
 the club and the gambling-house. These all quietly ter- 
 minate their career in the novelist's heaven of reform, wis- 
 dom, and wealth, without repentance and without shame. 
 They are without a human conscience, and of course 
 monsters — doubly monsters by the splendid accessories 
 with which the writer's eloquence and power has contrived 
 to set them forth. 
 
 The healthy and truthful mind of Scott could not de- 
 pict, because it could not conceive, the possibility of such 
 unnatural human creations. Though Scott does not write 
 
 * We find since writing the above that the Rev. F. D. Maurice, in his re- 
 cently published " Lectures on Casuistry/' refers to Manfred, as " that wonder- 
 ful play of the conscience," and couples it with Macbeth in this regard. But 
 in our judgment, three words of Lady Macbeth express more, of both aesthetic 
 efiFcct and moral truth,. than scores of lines of Manfred's ambitious self-flagella- 
 tions. No reader would care to change places with the one ; but there are 
 many who sympathize with Manfred to the end, and suflfer no recoil of horror. 
 
88 Books and Heading. [Chap, viii 
 
 m a professedly ethical spirit, or for ethical aims, he al- 
 ways writes with ethical truth. Traditional and conven- 
 tional prejudices may sometimes bias his judgments and 
 representation of the historical characters and historic 
 times which he depicts in his romances. The Cavalier 
 and Tory writer may now and then be unjust to the Cov- 
 enanter and the Whig of whom he writes, but the eternal 
 distinctions of right and wrong are always honored, and 
 the responsive emotions, which cannot be extinguished 
 in the human soul, are recognized and honored with a 
 woman's delicacy of sentiment. Scott may not always make 
 the conscience sufficiently prominent as an element of hu- 
 man nature ; he may not always give room and space 
 enough to man's relations to the unseen, but he no more 
 thinks of describing man without a conscience, than with- 
 out a head, and he would as soon make him breathe with- 
 out the air as live without a God. 
 
 Thackeray and Dickens both write with ethical truth so 
 far as they go. The satirical tone of the one, and the 
 comic humor of the other, may in a certain sense interfere 
 with the most effective lessons of either human sympathy 
 or ethical earnestness. Much of the power of both writers, 
 however, lies in the recognition by the one, of the flimsi- 
 ness of shams, the vulgarity of snobs, and the emptiness 
 of pretentious and uncultured fashion ; and by the other, 
 of the meanness of avarice, the sweetness of a kindly spirit, 
 the blessing of a sunny temper and the dignity of patient 
 beneficence. 
 
 We cannot leave unnoticed the relations of literature, and 
 especially of works of the imagination, to the virtue of 
 purity, and to that sensitiveness and reserve which are at 
 once the defence and ornament of the weaker sex. Many 
 are offended at the freedom which writers like Shakspeare 
 and Milton use in their portraitures of women, and at the 
 boldness of speech with which they unveil the mysteries 
 
Chap. VIII.] Imaginative Literature, 89 
 
 which the modesty of commoa conversation, or even of un- 
 imaginative writing, rarely approaches. The young reader 
 is appalled and shocked at his first acquaintance with not 
 a few passages in both these writers. Perhaps he concludes 
 that it is an offence against morality to have written or to 
 read them. He cannot persuade himself that they do not 
 offend against modesty, and if they offend against modesty, 
 surely they must be condemned in the court of conscience. 
 Scruples like these disquiet many older persons who feel a 
 stain of impurity as a wound, and who would pi:efer to 
 throw their Milton and Shakspeare into the fire than to 
 offend their sense of right. To meet the scruples of such, 
 the Family Shakspeare has been provided, and an expur- 
 gated Milton has very probably been thought of. The 
 question is a fair one. Why are these scruples unfounded? 
 why are these great writers not rejected as impure, when 
 others perhaps less gross in speech are properly condemned? 
 So far as these writers are concerned, we may say in answer, 
 that the language of a writer may be free and seemingly 
 gross, and yet the purity of nature may be observed ; for 
 nature is not a whit of a prude, and those who write with 
 genius must follow nature wherever she leads. '^But 
 nature, though not a prude, is modest and chaste.'^ True, 
 yet still it is possible that in conformity with the freedom 
 of the times of a writer, there should be much in language 
 that is gross, and yet nothing be expressed that tends to in- 
 flame and excite lascivious passion. With all the freedoms of 
 Shakspeare and Milton, there are few or no artful addresses 
 to those desires that were made to be sternly controlled. 
 There is little luscious and honeyed speech, like that of 
 Moore or Byron, in which genius ministers directly at tlie 
 altar of lust, and all the more effectively and shamelessly 
 when . her robe is studiously modest to excess, and her 
 language to the ear, is as pure as Diana's. 
 
 In the Scriptures both the Old Testament and the New, 
 
90 Boohs and Reading. [Chap, viii- 
 
 there are not a few passages which to the mind and ear seem 
 and sound immodest, but there is nothing that is fitted to 
 excite lascivious passion or to gratify prurient desire; 
 nothing which is in the least akin to that which constitutes 
 the chief interest of both plot and character in scores of 
 modern novels in which adultery, jealousy, and lust are 
 the prominent themes ; in which the skill of the writers, 
 often, unhappily, women, is expended in artfully suggest- 
 ing pictures which they dare not paint, and stimulating 
 curiosity by the suggestion of passions which it is indecent 
 to name. A lawyer in a recent trial in wdiich the question 
 turned on the moral tendency of a novel represented to be 
 impure, recited a long passage from Milton to show that 
 nothing could be more indecent, — and that therefore no 
 freedom of speech in a man of genius could be open to this 
 charge. We are not forced, in order to justify or define 
 what we consider the true criterion, to defend every passage 
 of Milton, but we assert that he very rarely introduces any 
 theme or dwells on it more broadly than the necessities of 
 his subject require, and that he never gratuitously or direct- 
 ly, seeks to stimulate or excuse licentious passion. We 
 cannot perhaps assert so much for Shakspeare. Some of 
 his minor poems cannot be defended by the warmth of 
 youth or the general freedom, even the grossness, of the 
 times. But, in general, when we have bated from his plays, 
 those passages which may have been interpolated by actors 
 to please the groundlings of the pit, there is remarkable 
 purity of tone — we may say chasteness of feeling, even in 
 what to the ear is broad and free. In respect to the higlier 
 attributes of woman, nothing can surpass the delicacy of 
 his conceptions, or the elevating purity, we might almost 
 say the vestal chastity of his thought and feeling. If we 
 compare him with the poets, and especially with the drama- 
 tists of his time, with Ben Jon son at their head — the most 
 learned, who ought to have been the most civilized — he 
 
Chap. VIII.] Imaginative Literature, 91 
 
 shines by the contrast with a radiance that surprises and 
 delights the fair-minded critic. Dryden, the great leader 
 of the next generation, with Shakspeare as an example to 
 guide and elevate him, whom he both studied and criticized, 
 deliberately wallows in a slough not only of grossness of 
 speech, but of indecency and licentiousness in sentiment 
 and intent. 
 
 From these examples we think can be derived a canon 
 which will enable even the most unpractised person to de- 
 termine what is pure or impure in imaginative literature. 
 
 "A writer, from what we call the grossness or freedom of 
 the times in which he lived, may be gross in language, and 
 even in description and allusion, and yet not be impure. 
 He may also introduce in writing, if his plot or character 
 or theme requires it, both scenes and descriptions which it 
 may not be pleasant to recite or read in a drawing-room. 
 Sometimes he must do this, or his picture would not be 
 complete, or his character consistent. But he may never 
 enact the part of the tempter to evil, either by soliciting 
 or excusing passion. Whoever does this, is a licentious 
 writer, whatever be the refinement of his allusions, or the 
 euphemisms of his speech. Whoever goes beyond this, 
 and makes the chief interest and excitement of his tale or 
 character to depend on the attractiveness of sin, without 
 its shame and sorrow, is often a more serious offender, 
 just in proportion to the refinement of his double entendres 
 and the studied propriety of his descriptions. That modern 
 literature, in both fiction and poetry, is often indecent, even 
 when it seeks to be exquisitely refined, is too notorious to 
 be denied or overlooked." 
 
 " It is very remarkable," says F, W. NewmaUy " that while 
 the ancient theory concerning the relation of the sexes was at 
 best deficient and at worst very base ; while the abundance 
 of slave women and freed women, and the unchallenged 
 rightfulness of slavery, depressed the best men's notions of 
 
92 BooJcs and Reading. [Chap. Vlll. 
 
 the rights of women; yet in their highest poets there is^ 
 less than in our own that can minister to voluptuousness, 
 even in Homer and Yirgil than in Milton and Spenser. 
 But here also Walter Scott is admirable. He has an un- 
 failing sweetness of heart, full-charged with the morality of 
 the future." — [Lecture i,) 
 
 A sharp humorist in Blackwood's Magazine is not at all 
 too severe in the following, which purports to be an item 
 in his last AYill and Testament. " My sense of Decency 
 and Decorum J my dislike to details of the Divorce Court 
 and the general annals of prurient living — I leave to the 
 lady-novelists, whose utter destitution in this respect moves 
 pity and compassion ; and I appeal to all those who have 
 any qualities, even worn ones, of regard for cleanliness of 
 life and decency of demeanor, not to forget creatures so 
 utterly bereft of these gifts, and to whom even the rags of. 
 virtue would prove an unspeakable luxury." 
 
 A generation cannot be entirely pure which tolerates 
 writers who, like Walt Whitman, commit, in writing, an 
 offence like that indictable at common law of walking 
 naked through the streets, and excuse it under the pretence 
 that ^^ Nature is always modest." Nor can such a writer 
 as this be successfully defended, even by Emerson, if 
 he regards one of his own maxims, that " Nature is 
 severely chaste." That literary catholicity must be too 
 broad for those who " can afford to keep a conscience," 
 which excuses or applauds such lecherous priests of Venus 
 as Algernon Swinburne, or would palliate not merely his 
 enormous offences in the service of passion, but his more 
 shameless defiance of the remonstrances of those whom he 
 offends. Let the imagination of such writers be ever so 
 brilliant and their diction ever so enchanting, the altar at 
 which they serve is that of harlotry and pollution. 
 
 Lest it should be thought that these remarks are too 
 sweeping, we would refer to one or two reasons ^\hy 
 
Chap, viil] Imaginative Literature, 93 
 
 
 authors may sometimes be more refined in their tastes than 
 their works would indicate, and why critics in literature 
 and students of books are less sensitive than unpracticed 
 eaders in respect to certain freedoms of allusion and of 
 treatment. To critics and authors, the matter may be one 
 of simple psychological development and study, while to the 
 person whose sensitive imagination responds with vivid in- 
 terest to every successful representation, the delineation of 
 passion may be fraught with sophistical or seductive 
 power. One who is fortified by the varied experiences of 
 life, or whose passions are cooled by age, or controlled by 
 habits of duty, may safely visit scenes and have to do with 
 persons which would be dangerous to those younger and 
 more inexperienced. The residents of a large city must of 
 necessity come in sight of evil, to the attractions of which 
 the stranger from the country has not become insensible. 
 The physician, who is strong in health and hardened by 
 custom, inhales with impunity the oifensive and deadly air 
 of contagion, without being even sensible of its nauseous 
 and dangerous quality. The habitue of a dissecting-room, 
 who in more than one respect may be likened to a literary 
 critic, is so used in all his senses • to every form of morbid 
 anatomy, that he sometimes forgets that what is rightfully 
 most offensive to others has ceased to be so to himself. 
 Perhaps in this way we may explain why it is that certain 
 imaginative writers, whose aims are usually pure and ele- 
 vated, and whose tastes are sensitive and refined, sometimes 
 introduce scenes and personages that offend right-minded 
 and right-hearted readers, and why critics of the severest 
 ethical tastes not infrequently tolerate what deserves repro- 
 bation. We can understand why a writer who could han- 
 dle such "extra-hazardous characters" as are introduced in 
 "Peg Woffington'' with such delicacy and even ethical 
 truth, should excite offence by those in " Griffith Gaunt," 
 and why in respect to the ethical influence of the latter 
 
^ Boohs and Reading, [Chap.viii. 
 
 work there should fail to be entire unanimity of dissatis- 
 faction. The professional insensibility of a practiced litter- 
 ateur is however scarcely an adequate explanation or 
 excuse for the proclivities of such a writer as the author of 
 " New America " and " Spiritual Wives." The pruriency 
 of not a little modern literature is a sad sign of degeneracy 
 of taste and of tone in certain circles which pride themselves 
 upon their excessive refinement of taste and their secure 
 elevation above the ordinary weaknesses and responsibilities 
 of humanity as well as above the received maxims of pro- 
 priety, not to say of decency in the relation of the sexes. 
 
 This variety of opinion and practice makes even more 
 imperative the rule which we have laid down, that what 
 offends one's moral tastes, or is condemned by one's moral 
 judgment, should be uncompromisingly rejected. No 
 freedom of practice or opinion on the part of others should 
 be allowed, as against this law for the individual conduct.. 
 While there is force in the maxim, " To the pure all things 
 are pure," there is truth in the proverb, "What is one 
 man's meat is another man's poison;" and there is no 
 poison so deadly, as there is none which is so insidious and 
 tenacious, as the poison which defiles the imagination by 
 means of licentious literature. That young man does a 
 better thing than he knows of for his conscience, his char- 
 acter, and his manhood, who resolutely throws into the fire 
 a book which he finds to be bad, even though it is bad 
 only for him ; and that young lady serves her conscience, 
 and womanliness too, who does the same with any book 
 which should cause her to blush to herself that she has not 
 done it before. 
 
 Leaving this topic, we are prepared also to draw a still 
 broader induction in respect to the general moral influence 
 of imaginative writers. It certainly is not required that a 
 writer be morally pure, and even morally elevating, that 
 he should point — or rather blunt — every sentiment, tale, or 
 
ruAP.viii.] Imaginative Literature, 95 
 
 poem with a moral. IS^or is it necessary that the writer 
 sihoukl at «ill times maintain a preaching tone, in order to 
 be moral, or even in order to be Christian. All books 
 ought not to preach at all times ; no more should all men, 
 even if preaching is their proper vocation. Too much 
 preaching diminishes or mars the effect of good preaching, 
 when preaching is required; much more is it to be avoided 
 if the preaching is not of the best quality, as it rarely can 
 be, in a story or poem. 
 
 The obtrusion of religious or ethical aims characterizes 
 the so-called Tendenz-roman of the Germans, and the 
 Novel of purpose or the Doctrinal Novel of the English. 
 These . are generally characterized by a single defect, and 
 that is, that when the purpose or tendency is moral it is 
 usually so obtrusive or embarrassing as to weaken the 
 imaginative character of the work, and thus to hinder or 
 destroy its power to be morally useful. A tale or poem 
 that is constructed for the single aim of enforcing an ethi- 
 cal or religious truth, in nine cases out of ten, suffers mate- 
 ^•ially as a tale or a poem. It is then by no means essen- 
 tial that the ethical aim of the writer should be apparent, 
 nor even that he should write with an aim that is distinc- 
 tively ethical at all, in order that he be both ethically use- 
 ful and ethically pure. 
 
 Nor, again, is it necessary in order that literature be in- 
 tensely and in the best sense ethical, that bad scenes, bad 
 characters, bad sentiments, and bad passions, should not be 
 introduced, and, when represented, should not be con- 
 sistently and forcibly described — giving to sin all the 
 dignity and beauty and attractions which it may lawfully 
 claim, else the mirror were not held up to nature. What 
 v/e contend for is simply that the mirror should be held up 
 to nature as it is, only with magnified proportions. Now 
 nature, i, e., human nature, is intensely ethical ; she re- 
 cognizes conscience, not always in her actions indeed, but 
 
96 Boohs and Reading. [Chap. viii. 
 
 always in her convictions ; she requires judgment and re- 
 tribution too, at least within the domain where shame and 
 self-reproach abide ; she forgives indeed, but never without 
 repentance, never to those who glory in wrong or hatred, 
 in selfishness or shame. It is just when, and just because, 
 the mirror is not held up to nature, that there is moral 
 danger, and often moral death ; and the danger is exactly 
 in proportion to the power of genius to glorify or excuse 
 the distorted and unnatural images which it reflects. It is 
 when the magic mirror which genius has always at com- 
 mand, is no longer a mirror of truth — reflecting the shapac, 
 the corruption, and the remorse of sin as well as its glory, 
 its short-lived triumph and its joy — but the lying glass in 
 which the harlot is set forth as a vestal, the fiend as a lov- 
 ing angel, and the atheist as an adoring seraph, that genius 
 becomes one of the mightiest agents for evil, by bewilder- 
 ing the imagination, confusing the judgment, anti leading 
 captive the passions of an admiring generation. 
 
 In discussing the ethical criteria of imaginative writers 
 and their works, we have in fact considered the ethical 
 characteristics of all sorts of literature. We repeat the 
 thought without hesitation, that literature as literature, in- 
 variably acts upon and addresses ihe imagination. In one 
 word, all literature so far as it is literature proper is ima- 
 ginative. Literature does indeed enlarge our store of facts, 
 and in this way gives what is called information or know- 
 ledge ; but if what we learn does not excite us to recreate, 
 either for delight to the feelings or for application to use, 
 the facts and information which it imparts are as dry and 
 barren as the tables of a book of logarithms or the rows of 
 figures in an old ledger. Literature also reasons with us 
 and convinces of truth, but if the truth is not recast and 
 used to interpret nature or direct the life, wherein is its 
 value ? But if used in either of these ways, it acts upon the 
 imagination. It will be found moreover that all history, 
 
Chap. VIII.] Imaginative Literature, 97 
 
 all reasoning, all eloquence, and all positive knowledge 
 whatever, are more or less imaginative, and are fitted 
 either to exercise and stimulate, and consequently to ele- 
 vate or degrade the imagination. Literature in all these 
 higher relations must therefore be ethically good or ethi- 
 cally bad. It cannot be morally indifferent. It must be 
 healthful or injurious. 
 
 The imagination forms and controls the conscience so 
 far as it forms and enforces the ideals of what we can and 
 ought to become. The ideals which it actually forms and 
 enforces must inevitably raise us upward or drag us down- 
 ward. Literature in all its products, as history, essay, 
 oration, or argument, modifies and energizes these ideals — 
 entering into all by an unobserved but most potent in- 
 fluence. This influence is especially subtle and effective 
 when the imaginative element gives character and name' 
 to the ' product, L e., when, as poem, novel, or drama, it 
 stimulates and directly addresses this controlling power. 
 It follows that all those ethical criteria and rules by which 
 we estimate and use confessedly imaginative writers, apply 
 as properly to every department of literature. 
 
 There is a very abundant class of writings that are some- 
 times denominated cheap literature, which, only by courte- 
 sy, deserve to be called literature at all. It is a class 
 somewhat miscellaneous and comprehensive, consisting as 
 it does of novels, novelettes, journals, and newspapers, in 
 which so-called stories abound. Of many of these produc- 
 tions nothing worse can be said — though that is bad 
 enough — than that they are utterly frivolous and vapid, 
 that they while away the time, and interest the feelings, 
 but neither elevate, the tastes nor brighten the life. They 
 are simply a reflex of the commonplace aims and the 
 vulgar feelings of the mass of readers for whom they are 
 written. They are made to tahe and made to sell, and 
 
 they both take and sellj because they humor what their 
 
 7 
 
98 Books and Reading, [Chap. viil. 
 
 readers like, in respect to characters, incidents, illustra- 
 tions, and style. 
 
 Much of this sort of literature is open to the more seri- 
 ous objection, that it stimulates and inflames the passions, 
 ignores or misleads the conscience, and studiously presents 
 views of life that are fundamentally false. The lower ap- 
 petites are often directly addressed, or their indulgence is 
 indirectly justified through the gravity that becomes a book, 
 and the sophistical art which every writer must use to keep 
 for himself and his reader the semblance of a becoming 
 self-respect. Writings of this class lead men to believe 
 that they can be rich without toil and saving ; that they 
 can be amiable and attractive, and yet be intensely hypo- 
 critical and selfish ; that they can have exquisite moral 
 sensibilities and lofty moral aspirations, and yet be de- 
 based by appetite and passion ; that they can be profanely 
 blasphemous, and yet fervently religious ; in short, that 
 they can be successful for the present and future life, with- 
 out complying with a single condition of success for either. 
 
 And they find readers, too — scores, hundreds, thousands, 
 myriads of readers. Yes, of myriads they constitute the 
 sole reading. The man of business, whose tastes are low 
 and whose aims are vulgar, reads them when he lays dovv^n 
 his favorite newspaper — too often like them — and he be- 
 comes more intensely mean and animalized than before ; 
 the clerk reads them, and they furnish him with the slang 
 of his loose conversation, or train him to rob his master's 
 drawer, or tamper with his accounts, that he may visit the 
 gambling-house and the brothel. The silly and unpro- 
 tected girl reads them, and she is ripened by them to yiekl 
 to the flatteries of her seducer. The neglected boy reads 
 them, and they make him an incendiary or a pirate, a 
 hater of law and a despiser of God. They are the Bible 
 and the Primer to myriads of the rising generation at this 
 very hour. One can never see a bale of books or papers 
 
Xhap. VIII.] Imaginative Literature, 99 
 
 [ of this sort without thinking, there goes a package of the 
 5 ^ seeds of robbery and lust. It were almost better to im- 
 port living lecturers in behalf of sensualism and crime, 
 and furnish them with pulpit and hall, for then we should 
 have the disgusting facts of sin to give the lie to its flatter- 
 ing words. It were almost no worse that a procession of 
 harlots should walk the streets of every city or village, for 
 these would bear the brand of their own shame upon their 
 foreheads. 
 
 But are not these books brilliant? Yes, brilliant as a 
 rotten log, or a putrescent carcass, which shine because 
 they are decayed, and are phosphorescent just in proportion 
 as they are oifensive. But do they not sparkle and 
 delight? Yes, just as the will-o'-wisp, which is created of 
 foul gases, and leads the silly pursuer through brush and 
 brier, till it lands him in some miry swamp, or chokes him 
 with the damps of death. No language can describe the 
 influence of this so-called literature in degrading the tastes, 
 in weakening or corrupting the principles, and in pro- 
 voking the passions. No man can easily estimate the evil 
 consequences that are to come of it, in a character at once 
 frivolous, conceited, and vulgar, or sensual, ferocious, and 
 atheistic. 
 
 It is grateful to turn from this painful picture to a 
 higher and better kind of popular literature which we be- 
 lieve to b.e gaining a surer hold and a widening influence. 
 While with one class of readers there is certain degradation, 
 as there must be with forces so active as to carry them 
 downwards, with another there is a steady and progressive 
 elevation, as there are books to foster such an improve- 
 ment. 
 
 Such are the histories which attract and instruct; tjie 
 biographies which ' leave a glow in the minds of their 
 readers ; the poetry that is both popular and elevating ; the 
 criticism that discerns undiscovered beauties in our favor^ 
 
100 Boohs and Reading, [Chap. Vlii. 
 
 ite authors ; the travels that almost reconcile us to the ne- 
 cessity that forbids us to wander ; and the tales that spar- 
 kle without corrupting, and that let us laugh and still be 
 wise. 
 
 It is still more grateful to imagine the time when Books 
 and Reading for the people shall become altogether good 
 in their influence; w^hen their agency, which is to the 
 health of the mind what the atmosphere is to that of the 
 body, shall be like a fine June or October morning ; in- 
 vigorating, exciting, inspiring — ^an atmosphere in whose 
 breath is no poison, detected or concealed ; no seeds of 
 plague, neither the rank and offensive nor the delightful 
 but deadly. 
 
 Such a literature would be both flower and fruit of a 
 perfected Christian civilization, and in that sense a truly 
 Christian literature. But what is the just conception of 
 a Christian literature has been a matter of some question. 
 The conception itself is also not easy in all respects to de- 
 fine ; we must therefore defer the consideration of it to a 
 separate discussion. 
 
CHAPTER IX. 
 
 THE EELIGIOUS CHAEACTER AND INFLUENCE OF BOOKS 
 AND READING. 
 
 From the moral, we proceed to the religious relations 
 of books and reading. The two are very nearly allied, 
 and yet each requires to be discussed apart from the other. 
 
 Their affinity suggests similar criteria in judging of 
 books, and similar rules in using them. As the law of 
 duty is in its very nature supreme, so the sanctions of re- 
 ligion are, by their very sacredness, inviolable. As what 
 we obey from conscience should be obeyed without reserve, 
 so what we reverence as divine must be worshiped 
 without a rival. Duty gives law in all relations and to 
 every kind of action, and religion asserts attractions which 
 outshine and exclude rivals of every sort, even in the 
 forms of culture, art, or literature. 
 
 We have seen that whatever in books or reading weak- 
 ens the conscience or corrupts the moral feelings, should be 
 rejected as evil. By the same rule, it follows that what- 
 ever in either hinders or depresses the religious life should 
 be scrupulously avoided. The religious nature, though it 
 is sanctioned and controlled by the conscience, is more 
 sensitive than the conscience itself. It feels a stain like a 
 wound, not merely as doing violence to the most sensitive 
 emotions, but as involving dishonor to the objects and per- 
 sons hallowed for its worship and trust. If, then, we con- 
 verse with any book, or practice any reading which con- 
 sciously interfere with our religious faith or fervor, we 
 should dismiss the one and desist from the other without 
 hesitation or compromise. 
 
 101 
 
102 Boohs and Reading, [Chap. ix. 
 
 This rule applies both to faith and feeling, the two ele- 
 ments of the religious life. Whatever in literature dis- 
 turbs or weakens o\ir faith, injures us in a vital point, in- 
 asmuch as it cuts off or dries up the fountain of life. 
 Whatever disturbs or shocks the religious emotions, intro- 
 duces discord into the harmony of the highest and best 
 sensibilities. This rule is very general, and, so to speak, 
 is entirely formal. It neither provides for nor regulates 
 its own application. Whether or not the effect or the 
 tendency of a particular book, or the reading of an author 
 or a class of writings, is good, evil, or indifferent in these 
 respects, must be decided by every man for himself. 
 Books that are harmless or useful to one man, may be in- 
 jurious to another. Reading which is useful to the relig- 
 ious life of one, may be worse than useless to that of an- 
 other. Every reader who is capable of independent judg- 
 ment must decide for himself. Those whose judgments 
 are immature, or whose tastes are unformed, should ask 
 advice of those whom they have learned to trust. 
 
 We cannot overlook or deny the fact that the religious 
 faith of some men is perversely narrow, bigoted, and posi- 
 tive; while that of others is broad, lax, and uncertain. 
 The religious feelings of one are gloomy and depressing ; 
 those of another are irreverent and presumptuous. But 
 whatever the faith and feelings are, they constitute the re- 
 ligious life of the individual ; and this life is, for him, 
 sacred and supreme, whether it is strong or weak, whether 
 it is well or ill controlled. The effect of books and read- 
 ing upon each individual can be measured and estimated 
 best by himself. 
 
 We must also assume and concede that the faith of 
 every man should be founded upon reason, after wei, Gib- 
 ing the arguments for and against its conclusions. The 
 duty to read books of argument or evidence for or against 
 our creed, it falls not within our plan to discuss or to en- 
 
Chap. IX.] Tiieir Religious Character, 103 
 
 force. This subject belongs obviously to the debatable 
 and vexed department of polemics, and tends so directly 
 to awaken special jealousies as properly to be excluded 
 from consideration. It would be nothing le&s than dis- 
 courteous, if indeed it were nothing more, to assume or im- 
 ply that the faith and worship of any one of our readers 
 were not the products of thought and reflection — were noi 
 commended to his conscience and justified by his reason. 
 
 All these things being assumed and conceded, we re-as- 
 sert with greater emphasis, that whatever in books and 
 reading, whatever in literary enjoyment or culture, hinders 
 the religious activity or lowers the tone of religious faith 
 and feeling, should be abandoned at the cost of any pain 
 or sacrifice. We assert with equal confidence, that every 
 man must judge for himself what in fact hinders or helps 
 him in this regard. We insist also, that in many cases a 
 book may seriously hinder the religious life by lowering 
 the tone of faith and feeling, even if it does not lead to 
 avowed unbelief, to hesitating skepticism, or bold irrever- 
 ence. If we may not safely yield ourselves to the personal 
 influence of an unbelieving or irreverent man, we should 
 for the same or still stronger reasons, hesitate to expose 
 ourselves to the sophistries or scoffings of a fascinating 
 writer who is atheistic or profane. Indeed, the fascina- 
 tions of a bad man are less ensnaring than those of a bad 
 book which is written with brilliancy and power. A man 
 who is atheistic and profane may, it is true, be dangerous- 
 ly attractive from the force and fascinations of his very 
 presence and the charms of his conversation ; but he must 
 also be repellent to sensitive natures, from the defiant hard- 
 ness which usually attends upon wilful unbelief, and tiift 
 selfish heartlessness which commonly lurks behind irrever- 
 ent feeling, however refined may be the culture or polished 
 the manners. But in a book these defects and repellencies 
 are not so obvious, and hence the poison to the soul may 
 
104 Bools and Reading. [Chap.ix. 
 
 be the more readily conveyed, for the very reason that it 
 is not so obtrusive to the perceptions. The powerful or 
 brilliant genius that knows how to heighten those ideal 
 attractions which altogether surpass any impersonated 
 charms, is equally skilful in suppressing that offensiveness 
 which cleaves to evil when personated in a man. For 
 these and manifold reasons, a bad book, though its energy 
 may not be so intense and striking, may, by its subtle and 
 insidious influences, be far more dangerous in a religious 
 regard than a bad • man, however plausible and attractive 
 are his manners or conversation. 
 
 The inquiry will here be interposed : Do we not asso- 
 ciate freely and often intimately, with living men whose " 
 religious faith, — or no faith, — we reject, and with whose 
 feelings we cannot sympathize ? Should we not count it 
 folly to do otherwise? Why, then, should not we do th& 
 same with those books which are openly anti-religious, or 
 which are divergent from our own faith and feelings ? We 
 answer. We may do the one and also the other. The rule 
 is not that we may never read nor even study books of the 
 class described, but it is that whenever the reading or the 
 study does us positive harm, or tends to a conscious evil, 
 then such books should be abandoned and proscribed for 
 our individual use. The Great Master of the faiths of 
 Christendom, and in a sense even of its no-faiths, has laid 
 down the rule, ' If thine eye causes thee to offend, pluck it 
 out.' Is a book, a favorite author, or a course of reading, 
 w^orth more to us than the eye or the hand? Or may we 
 say or think that because we have become great readers we 
 have outgrown the authority of Christ's teachings ? Surely 
 not those which concern our duty and allegiance to Him- 
 self. Shall we count Him too severe when He comes into 
 our libraries to scrutinize our reading and to judge our 
 literature ? Not surely if we remember that this censor 
 and judge, who is seemingly so severe upon some of our 
 
Chap. IX.] Their Religious Oiaraeter, * 105 
 
 books and reading, has done more than all the writers and 
 all the culture of all the ages, to excite the imagination, to 
 elevate the emotions, to give power and breadth, tone and 
 pathos to what we call modern, but should call Christian lit- 
 erature ; that he has given themes and inspiration to Dante 
 and Milton, to Tasso and Shakspeare, to Wordsworth and 
 Coleridge, to Schiller and Tennyson, to Scott and the 
 Brownings, to Dickens and Hawthorne — has not only sub- 
 dued modern thought and feeling by his authority, but in 
 so doing, has elevated and transfigured modern thought and 
 feeling to the enlargement and the aspirations of which 
 modern literature is the splendid product. 
 
 But here it will be insisted, and with great apparent 
 truth, that literature is in its very nature free, and the 
 imagination in order to be creative must for the time be 
 freed from those restraints which the actual and the practi- 
 cal both acknowledge. " Literature,^' it will be urged, " has 
 always in its influence been catholic and liberalizing, for 
 the simple reason that it has embodied in its products the 
 results of every form of thought and opinion, and every 
 shade of sentiment and emotion, without respect to the 
 exactest orthodoxy of opinion, or the precise quality or in- 
 tensity of the religious feelings. It has served as the one 
 liberalizing agency in the world of controversy and intoler- 
 ance by providing a common arena wtere the professors of 
 all faiths have met on the footing of courteous toleration, 
 have had access to each other's views, and learned rightly 
 to appreciate and judge emotions with which they have 
 not sympathized. Had it not been for this fusing and 
 liberalizing influence," it is urged, "theology would have 
 been hopelessly bigoted and unreformed, every sect and 
 party would have shut itself up v/ithin its own narrow 
 pale, and those humane and charitable sentiments which 
 are acknowledged as the genuine products of true religion 
 would scarcely have found expression or influence. It is 
 
10^ Books and Reading, [Chap. ix. 
 
 to a free and catholic literature that theology owes thanks 
 for its most important advancements, and it is from such 
 a literature that religion has learned to be charitable and 
 humane. From the days of those Athenian bigots, who 
 caused the martyrdom of Socrates in the interest of an 
 established religion, down to the latest mitigation of the 
 ferocity of Christian theologians, literature has been most 
 efficient in improving theology, while the culture fostered 
 by literature, when untrammeled by religion, has in its 
 turn humanized religious sentiment, as well as refined the 
 means and methods of expressing it. Above all, literature 
 in its freedom has refined and elevated that prime instru- 
 ment of both culture and religion — the human imagination. 
 But literature has only been able to accomplish these 
 changes by acting on an independent footing, and by main- 
 taining a position aloof from and above all current crude 
 and narrow controversies ; especially the intense and exclu- 
 sive emotions that belong to the zealot and devotee. It is 
 only as men of genius have compelled the religionist to 
 allow them an exemption from his narrow sympathies that 
 they have made for literature a sphere of its own, a refuge 
 and a home for all noble and ennobling emotions, a verita- 
 ble Delectable Ground where the imagination may disport 
 itself freely and be refreshed." 
 
 This is true and important. But on the other hand the 
 commands of the Master are definite and uncompromising, 
 if we could only ascertain what they signify. Moreover, it 
 is in the world of thought and imagination that He claims 
 especial control, because it is here that the principles are 
 formed and the affections find their nurture. It is because 
 the imagination is so nearly allied to faith that her power to 
 hinder or to help is so unlimited, and that literature itself 
 becomes to religion either the deadliest foe or the most 
 potent ally. There are not a few who say, " Leave to reli- 
 gion and literature independent spheres. As of science 
 
Chap. IX.] Their Jteligious Character, 107 
 
 so of literary activity, their maxim is, ^ Render to Csesar 
 the things which are Caesar's, and to God the things which 
 are God's/ Allow to each untrammeled activity. As 
 religionists we must maintain our creed, as worshipers we 
 must perform our devotions. These should satisfy the de- 
 mands of religion, but in the sphere of literature we may 
 claim and use the utmost freedom. As readers and critics 
 we need not care whether what we read is in opinion The- 
 istic and Christian, on the one hand, or atheistic and 
 Christless on the other ; whether in sentiment it is devout 
 and thankful, or Godless and despairing; whether it is 
 reverent and trustful, or scoffing and profane.'' This device 
 is accepted by some and practiced by more. The sermon 
 on Sunday and the Scripture on the week-day are dutifully 
 attended to ; the prayers are said and the songs are sung 
 morning and evening with earnest devoutness ; and so reli- 
 gion has her rights. Religion having received its dues 
 literature asserts its claims. Forthwith our favorite 
 authors plunge us into an atmosphere of thought and feel- 
 ing in which there is neither God, nor Christ, nor thank- 
 fulness, nor hope ; or perhaps into an atmosphere which is 
 " earthly, sensual, devilish." Such a compromise, as it 
 would seem, is a hollow truce, an armed neutrality, giving 
 the amplest opportunity for disguised treachery on the one 
 hand and a compliant surrender on the other. It can 
 satisfy no religionist whose belief is any thing more than a 
 tradition to accept or a symbol to swear by, or whose wor- 
 ship is aught beyond a superstition or a spectacular display. 
 The man whose religion does not show itself in forming 
 and regulating his taste for books and reading, or which 
 allows a practical libertinism in this regard, might as well 
 dispense with it altogether. He can hardly be said to have 
 any religion " worth the speaking of." 
 
 It is in these forms that the question of the religious 
 relations of books and reading presents itself at the present 
 
108 BooJcs and Beading, [Chap. ix. 
 
 day., Eellgion on the one hand urges its authority, and 
 this authority knows no compromise. On the other hand, 
 literature rightfully asserts its freedom, shows that this 
 freedom has the sanction of Christianity itself, and has 
 most efficiently served Christianity by making it tolerant 
 and humane. " I would not read Shelley's Queen Mab, 
 because it is atheistic," said one college friend to another. 
 '^ Why not read Shelley," replied the other, " as soon as 
 Lucretius, who is far more deliberately and consistently 
 atheistic ; or as soon as Homer or Virgil, those hoary old 
 assertors of ' lords many and gods many f And yet you 
 not only allow yourself to read these inveterate sinners, but 
 you would steep the minds of the young in the literature of 
 antiquity, pervaded as it is with the exploded orthodoxies 
 of the past." Again, it is asked, " Why not read the 
 modern Emerson, because some say that he teaches a sub- 
 tle Pantheism, as freely as you read the ancient Plotinus, 
 to whom he refers so often, and with a deference so pro- 
 found ; or as you read those Indian sages, from whom he 
 quotes a striking line now and then, with the intimation 
 that should he tell us all they have written, Jesus and His 
 teachings might be greatly cast into the shade, and perhaps 
 lose much of that public confidence with which they have 
 hitherto been favored ?" " Or why is it worse for a Chris- 
 tian family to be amused by the clever caricatures of 
 Holmes than it is to read and laugh at the lampoons of 
 Lucian, inasmuch as both are directed against the same 
 object, the current Christian orthodoxies of the nineteenth 
 and second centuries ?" 
 
 Questions like these are not unfrequently asked, and it is 
 not always easy to answer them. It isjsafe to say, that who- 
 ever the author may be, whether he be Shelley or Lu- 
 cretius, Emerson or Plotinus, Holmes or Lucian, if he 
 shakes your well-established confidence in God, or leads 
 you to disown the name that is above every name ; or if he 
 
Chap. IX.] Their Religious Character. 109 
 
 disturbs the serenity or fervor of your Christian devotion, 
 then he is not an author whom you should read. If he 
 does not exercise this influence over you, if he casts upon 
 you no spell or blight of evil, you may admire his genius 
 and rejoice in its products, while you are amazed at his 
 presumption and pity his blindness to the light which to 
 you is so cheerful and satisfying. As between the ancient 
 and modern Pantheists and anti-Christians, one diflPerence, 
 however, deserves to be noticed. The older writers repre- 
 sent principles and modes of thinking that are more or less 
 effete. Their arguments and images have little force with 
 the present generation, occupied as it is with modern 
 thought and animated by the modern spirit. Their 
 modern followers invest their opinions with the dignity of 
 present science, and make them glow with the interest of 
 current thought, as well as breathe the warmth of men 
 who have the ear and the sympathy of the present genera- 
 tion. The philosopher of ancient times protests against 
 degrading and childish superstitions, and, by contrast, 
 finds an advantage for his deification of nature and his 
 serene and self-relying resignation to fate. The modern 
 rejects the personal care and scorns the personal sympathy 
 of an Infinite Father. The ancient stands with his eye to 
 the east peering — sometimes wistfully — after the faint in- 
 dications of the dawning twilight ; himself a dark and cold 
 shadow against the breaking light of the, as yet, unrisen 
 sun. The modern looks westward with his back proudly 
 turned on its risen splendor, amid a world that from every 
 object reflects its pervading light ; himself suffused with 
 that light and glowing with the attractions which it gives, 
 but denying that it proceeds from the sun or that the sun is 
 risen and shines. The Atheist or Pantheist of antiquity is 
 a cold spectre, shivering in the chill morning. His imita- 
 tor of the nineteenth century, rejoices in the strength and 
 
110 Books and Beading. [Chap. ix. 
 
 glows with the beauty of the high noon of the Christian 
 day. While his power to attract and move the men of his 
 time gives plausibility and currency to the little argument 
 which he employs, these very attractions are its most effi- 
 cient refutation, because they are all derived from the 
 Christian Faith or the civilization which has flowered from 
 its roots. 
 
CHAPTER X. 
 
 A CHRISTIAN LITERATURE — HOW CX)NCEiyED AND DE* 
 
 FINED. 
 
 These several inquiries and arguments — these march- 
 ings and counter-marchings of thought which we have 
 taken, — force upon us the more general inquiry : Is there 
 anything which can properly be called a Christian litera- 
 ture ? If so, what is it ? How can it be defined so as to 
 secure, on the one hand, the essential freedom which litera- 
 ture imperatively requires, and on the other, the deference 
 to Christianity which Christianity uncompromisingly ex- 
 acts? How far can we be tolerant of every variety of 
 sentiment and opinion and yet be just to our allegiance to 
 the great Master of our faith, and indeed, of modern litera- 
 ture ? 
 
 These questions are very much vexed in modem think- 
 ing, and the answers to them are also vexatious to many 
 who strive to adjust the claims of culture and of Christian 
 feeling. They cannot be answered without considering 
 what is the correct conception of literature, as well as what 
 must be taken as essential to Christianity so far as it 
 should be recognized in literature. In respect to both 
 these points, the views of many are diverse and unsettled. 
 Hence the term Christian literature is used by different 
 men in senses which are exceedingly vague, and often 
 plainly contradictory. We shall best explain our own 
 meaning by asking first. What a Christian literature is 
 not, and second. What it is ? 
 
 A Christian literature is not necessarily Theohgical in 
 
 m 
 
112 Books and Beading. [Chap. x. 
 
 its matter or form. Theological treatises, however able 
 and convincing, are not therefore works of literature. 
 They may be convincing and exhaustive in argument, and 
 erudite in history, without that perfection of style, that at- 
 tractiveness of imagery, or that eloquence of feeling, which 
 are the requisites of whatever is dignified as literature. 
 While in one sense we include in literature all -the pro- 
 ducts of human thinking which are made permanent in 
 books or pamphlets — and in this sense everything that is 
 printed belongs to the literature of the day, of the week, or 
 of the century — we usually require certain characteristics 
 of form and illustration for that which we call literature 
 in the eminent sense. Theology is not of course included 
 in Christian literature because it is Christian, if it does not 
 possess these special features ; nor, again, should it be ex- 
 cluded from its sphere because its themes are both relig- 
 ious and Christian. Some of the finest contributions to 
 modern literature have been works of theology. The 
 writings of Bossuet, Massillon, Hooker, Taylor, Howe, 
 Eobert Hall, Mason, Edward Irving, Channing, Cole- 
 ridge, Robertson and many others, hold the highest rank 
 as literary compositions. 
 
 Not every devotional or practical treatise is a contribu- 
 tion to Christian literature. By the rule already given, 
 many devotional works fall within, but many more fall with- 
 out this sphere. The Hebrew Psalms ; many Christian 
 hymns, as of Milton, Watts, Wesley, Heber, Keble, 
 Faber and J. H. Newman, to say nothing of the Latin 
 and German Lyrists, all give grace and beauty to Chris- 
 -tian literature. With them are ranked a few devotional 
 and practical works, such as the De Imitatione Christie 
 The Holy Living and Dying, The Pilgrim's Progress, etc. 
 But it is no dishonor to say of numerous products of devo- 
 tional rhyming and meditation, that they belong to litera- 
 ture in no tolerable sense of the word, and therefore not to 
 
Chap, x.t A Christian Literature, 113 
 
 Christian literature at all. They may be useful in their 
 sphere, and therefore deserve to be tolerated and even en- 
 couraged, but they are not literature. They may be hon- 
 estly thought and earnestly written, and withal be very use- 
 ful for the circle of readers for whom they are designed. 
 Perhaps from their plainness and want of formal attrac- 
 tions they are fitted to be more useful than works of 
 greater ability and genius. The man who requires the 
 highest perfection in form and diction may be content 
 with them for their Christian excellence, but he is not 
 therefore obliged to be pleased with what is- uncultured 
 in language, mean in illustration, and commonplace in 
 thought. That which is positively offensive in both form 
 and conceptiion may be a positive injury to the cause which 
 it professes to serve. The claim is sometimes set up that 
 Christianity is to be held responsible for the mass of 
 wretched doggerel and drivelling that has been written by 
 its earnest but uncultured disciples, and that every rever- 
 ent Christian is obliged to treat it with respect and read it 
 with deference. The claim is preposterous, and for those 
 to seem to allow it whose taste it offends or whose intel- 
 lect it does not instruct, is to sin against both taste and 
 Christianity. Such stuff may be tolerated when it is use- 
 ful, but is only to be endured as a useful evil. To re- 
 commend or to circulate all sorts of goodish writing 
 because of its Christian aims, or to encourage the reading 
 and printing of it under the title of a Christian litera- 
 ture, is to commit nothing less than a pious fraud, which 
 is as weak as it is dishonest. 
 
 A Christian literature is not usually written in the inter- 
 est or with the spirit of a Christian sect or denomination. 
 While it is the impulse and the duty of every such division 
 of Christian confessors to set forth and to defend its distinc- 
 tive tenets, and while the champions of each are often most 
 eloquent and able in such vindications, it is to be observed 
 
114 Boohs and Reading. [Chap. x. 
 
 that the themes which most readily challenge the intellec;t- 
 to its noblest achievements, and inspire the imagination to 
 its loftiest flights, are the truths which the Christian Church 
 holds in common. Those religious and Christian writers 
 whose works have been received as the permanent glories 
 of 1 iterature, if they have written for their own communion, 
 have usually addressed what was Christian in it, and by 
 this means have found a response in the Christian senti- 
 ment of all believers. 
 
 Again : A work need not be religious, either in matter 
 or form — it need neither avow Christian doctrines nor ex- 
 press Christian feelings — to deserve a place in Christian 
 literature. A history, a novel, a poem, a tale, an essay, a 
 drama may be eminently Christian without uttering the 
 name of Christ or recognizing directly a faith in His per- 
 son or teachings, and without even expressing those emo- 
 tions which are distinctively religious. No disavowal or 
 denial of Christian truths can be allowed, no dishonor 
 may be put upon the sentiments of Christian faith, hope, 
 and worship, but the obtrusion of either for the purpose of 
 expressing the creed of the writer, or of confirming that 
 of the reader, may be forbidden by the proprieties of the 
 occasion, and be so manifestly an offense against good taste 
 as to hinder rather than help the good cause. All that 
 may properly be required is that the work should be such 
 as a Christian writer might be supposed to produce with- 
 out inconsistency, and such as a devout Christian reader 
 might be conceived as reading, without offense to his 
 opinions and feelings. This leads us to consider positively 
 what a Christian literature is or ought to be. If it need 
 not be theological, devotional, practical, or even religious, 
 in order to be Christian, pray how can it be characterized 
 and judged ? We reply : First, 
 
 A Christian literature must be controlled and pervaded 
 by those ethical faitJis and emotions that are distinctively 
 
Chap. X.] -4 Christian Literature. 115 
 
 Christian. Many of these have become so completely the 
 property of Christendom that it is often forgotten that they 
 are the products of Christianity. They have been accepted 
 more or less intelligently and consistently as constituting 
 the right standard of the true and the good for the human 
 race, and the measure of what is ideally noble in human 
 attainment and desirable for human aspiration. They in- 
 fluence communities which would scarcely call themselves 
 Christian. Not a few individuals who are ambitious to 
 show that they think very slightingly of the claims of 
 Christ's person, or of the influence of the Christian church, 
 are foremost to pay homage to the eternal truth and the 
 unquestioned excellence of those ethical faiths and feelings 
 which we claim are distinctively Christian, and which we 
 assert should characterize any literature which is in any 
 sense Christian. The faith in the moral order of the uni- 
 verse as supreme and beneficent, because directed by a 
 holy and sympathizing Father, the belief in the ultimate 
 triumph of the good and the right, the conviction that love 
 to God and love to man comprehend all goodness — are 
 some of these prominent ethical faiths. Hope in adversity, 
 resignation under affliction, penitence for transgression, 
 forgiveness under wrong, the desire to recover and reform 
 the vicious, charity in judging of the motives of other men 
 — these and many kindred feelings are distinctively Chris- 
 tian feelings. Just in the measure in which these faiths 
 and feelings give spirit and tone to the productions of any 
 "writer, just in that proportion is he a Christian writer. 
 Just in the measure in which any one or all of these emo- 
 tions and convictions, fail to show their presence and 
 power when required, does the writer of any work depart 
 from the Christian and fall back into the Pagan spirit. 
 We do not speak of the obtrusive or pharisaical lip-service 
 of an essayist or poet, but of the homage of the convictions 
 and the heart. We do not require ill-placed or obtrusive 
 
116 • Books and Reading. [Chap. x. 
 
 moralizing, or wearisome cant. These are sometimes as 
 eminently unchristian in fact as they are pretentiously 
 Christian in form. But we insist that any writer who does 
 not accept the faiths, and sympathize with the emotions 
 which are Christian, is not a Christian writer, in whatever 
 year of grace he may write or whatever may be the charm 
 or the power of his thinking or his style. Let those who 
 write in the faith of Stoicism and with the feelings to 
 which it schools the heart, receive all the honor which 
 they deserve for their gifts or genius, but let them not ask 
 to be called Christian writers. Nor let their genial self- 
 complacence be ruffled by the slightest rippie of contempt- 
 uous disdain if critics or readers who receive a more 
 humane, — i. e, a less " advanced " (or retrograde) — practical 
 creed than themselves, shall fear or avoid their influence as 
 ethically defective or injurious. 
 
 But Christianity, even as it influences literature, is more 
 than an ethical system. It would be easy to show that 
 the faiths and emotions which have been enumerated, have 
 all been matured by the power of a belief in the personal 
 and historic Christ. Whatever value or dignity they may 
 have in the judgment of the race which has been trained 
 to accept and approve them — whatever hold they may have 
 gained upon the sentiment and the literature of Christendom, 
 is owing to the energy with which this faith in the person 
 of Christ has wrought upon the minds of His believing dis- 
 ciples. This positive faith has not wholly died out. How- 
 ever confidently it may be claimed that all the "advanced 
 thinkers" of the times reject the historic traditions of the 
 gospels and the church, it remains true that a large number 
 of thinking and cultured men still retain this faith, and 
 recognize this faith in the varied literature which they pro- 
 duce and delight in. Whatever they write, whether it be 
 poem, novel, essay, or history, is written in the spirit of a 
 fervent faith in Christ as their Master and Saviour, and as 
 
Chap. X.] A Christian Literature, 117 
 
 the destined Judge and King of the whole human race — 
 as the master of the world's future thinking and the central 
 inspirer of its future literature. There are others who do 
 not attach this importance to His person or to faith in it, 
 who find in Christ nothing more than a genius remarkable 
 for ethical discernment and religious tenderness, for whom 
 all claims to special homage or confidence must be aban- 
 doned, with the progress of knowledge and of insight. In 
 this spirit they write not works of grave theology alone, 
 nor treatises of sagacious and learned philosophy, but works 
 of literature, essays, poems, histories, and fictions. 
 
 In respect to writings of this class we are required to ask 
 and to answer the questions. Are they Christian writings? 
 Is the literature which llicy compose Christian literature ? 
 If they are not Christian for defect of faith in the person 
 of Christ, how precise must that faith be made and what 
 one of the manifold shades of alleged orthodoxy upon this 
 subject must it assume in order to be accepted as Christian? 
 To this we Aply, and in doing so develop the second dis- 
 tinctive mark of a Christian literature : 
 
 That literature alone is Christian which recognizes Christ 
 as the object of trust aiid reverence, Christ's own language 
 is here most pertinent. " Ye call me Master and Lord ; 
 and ye do well, for so I am." This test is reasonable, for 
 the reason that so far as literature as such can be affected 
 by the faith of a writer, it must be chiefly affected by his 
 faith or his want of faith in the personal authority and 
 position of Him from whom Christianity takes its name. 
 We cannot agree with Emerson that " by the irresistible 
 maturing of the general mind, the Christian traditions 
 have lost their hold. The dogma of the mystic ofl&ces of 
 Christ being dropped, and He standing on His genius as a 
 moral teacher, 'tis impossible to maintain the old emphasis 
 of His personality ; and it recedes, as all persons must, 
 before the sublimity of the moral laws." We believe that 
 
118 Boohs and Reading, [Chap. x. 
 
 all the movements of thought and feeling must be affected 
 by the presence or absence of this faith in Christ's person- 
 ality. Mr. Emerson would be the last to deny that up to 
 a very recent period the intellect and heart of Christendom 
 have been swayed by this faith in Christ's person as a rul- 
 ing principle, and that much of the manhood and more of 
 the womanhood which is reflected in modern literature, is 
 represented as formed by its influence. The two not un- 
 common prints from Ary Scheffer, the Christus Consolator 
 nnd Christus RemuneratoVj forcibly depict what have been 
 the central forces of the Christian literature of the past, as 
 well as symbolize its distinctive criteria in all time. 
 
 The criterion we propose, is reo^onahle and just. If a 
 man does not believe in the reality or significance of 
 Christ's person, his disbelief must modify his judgments 
 of the characters and the sentiments which are formed by 
 this faith. He may respect these for their sincerity, but 
 he cannot honor them for their reasonableness. The emo- 
 tions to which they prompt, the style of chaf^acter which 
 they form, the hopes and fears which they inspire, the 
 principles of action which they create, in a word, the man- 
 hood and the womanhood which they produce, cannot re- 
 ceive his full and hearty sympathy. Let a writer have a 
 marvellous power of passing into the character which he 
 depicts, and of feeling for the time the very emotions 
 which the character he impersonates should express ; still 
 the capacity of truly and adequately rendering the emo- 
 tions of a Christian soul can scarcely be reached by him, 
 if they do not awaken his believing sympathy. Goethe's 
 delineation of the Confessions of a Beautiful Soul in Wil- 
 helm Meister, George Eliot's Dinah in Adam Bede, miglit 
 be cited as instances against this position. Both these wri- 
 ters, it will be generally conceded, do not accept the faith 
 which controlled the feelings of the characters whom they 
 depict. Shall we call these delineations Mlures ? Goethe 
 
Cbap. X.] A Christian Literature. 119 
 
 succeeds in most respects in hiding his own face beneath the 
 mask and robes which he assumes, but the voice of Jacob at 
 times betrays the half-sympathizing, half-mocking skeptic, 
 even in the most plaintive tones of confession and of hope. 
 Of Dinah we scarcely can trust ourselves to speak. The 
 character is so eminently and heartily Christian, even in 
 the most of its finer shades, that we do not care to point 
 out tiic particulars in which it betrays the want of the 
 entirost sympathy on the part of the author. Surely it 
 was writton from the fresh remembrances of days of warm 
 and confiding Christian faith, now perhaps under the chill 
 of an honest, and a temporary eclipse. 
 
 To use this criterion is also historically just. We do not 
 call Plato, Plotinus, or Epictetus, Christian writers, how- 
 ever noble be their faith, or lofty their ethics, for the 
 reasf)n tliat neither the one nor the other are Christian in the 
 historic sense of the word. We do not call Julian a Chris- 
 tian because he would exalt the Christ whom he disowned 
 among the sages and gods of the ancient mythology ; nor 
 do we call Spinoza a Christian writer, because his ethics 
 are so lofty and his resignations are so saint-like. Pray, 
 what should we call Emerson, or Thoreau, or the hosts of 
 "advanced thinkers^' who in their writings obtrusively 
 announce their absence of faith in the received import of 
 the Christian history, and in the lowest possible signifi- 
 cance of the central personage in that history; who quietly 
 assume that it is now beyond dispute, among all those 
 whose opinions are entitled to respect, that this history is 
 an effete mythology, and that Christ, as a personage to be 
 trusted and adored, is an exploded imposture ? Or what 
 shall we call those literary critics who in their judgments 
 of history or philosophy, of poetry or fiction, tacitly assume 
 or confidently assert that the results of what is significantly 
 called " negative criticism," in respect to a belief in the 
 miraculous and tlie supernatural, are nov/ accepted by all 
 
120 Boohs and Reading, [Chap. x. 
 
 enlightened and well-read thinkers ? We make a differ- 
 ence, it is true, between those whose intellects are oppressed 
 with perplexities, while their hearts are thoroughly Chris- 
 tian, .and the confident and contemptuous anti-Christian; 
 between those who long to believe, but who cannot fully 
 accept the Christian record and the truths which it con- 
 tains, who are yet devout worshipers of the (as yet) unknown 
 God and the unfathomed Christ, and those who desire no 
 God but "the beneficent laws,^' and no « Christ but some 
 idealized human genius. There is an important sense in 
 which it is true that 
 
 " There lives more faith in honest doubt 
 Believe me, than in half the creeds." 
 
 To call this literature and these writers a-Christian, 
 wn-Christian, or a^i^i-Christian, is not intolerant. We do 
 not desire to suppress either by law or by the force of 
 public opinion. We will defend the right of those who 
 hold their opinions to propagate them to the utmost of 
 their ability, by all those means which are recognized as 
 proper by the laws of the country and the courtesies of 
 literary freedom. Not only would we tolerate them in the 
 propagation of their theologies and philosophies, but we 
 hold ourselves ready to study their reasons, to weigh their 
 arguments, and ponder their facts, with the utmost atten- 
 tion and care. We ^Y\]1 even welcome them to the arena 
 of public criticism and discussion, as those who are likely 
 to render an important service to the cause of truth and 
 Christianity, just so far as they present facts for our con- 
 sideration, or arguments for our scrutiny. But we claim 
 from them a like toleration in turn. They may not regard 
 questions as settled to the disadvantage of Christianity, 
 which we consider as open for its vindication. Least of 
 all may they seek to transfer the discussions which are 
 appropriate to the fields of philosophy and theology — tha 
 
Chap. X.] -A Christian Literature, 121 
 
 recognized fields of lawful strife — into the arena of litera- 
 ture, where the rights of the flag of truce prevail. A 
 truly knightly soul would scorn under such a flag to ask 
 for any one-sided courtesy. We welcome these writers to 
 the arena of discussion when they present themselves as 
 theologians and philosophers, and concede to them all the 
 rights of toleration which we ask for ourselves ; but when 
 they claim the one-sided privilege of proclaiming at our 
 fire-sides, with cold-blooded assurance or sardonic scorn, 
 that the victory is with them, over our cherished faiths, 
 our hallowed worships, and our immortal hopes, we deny 
 that the question is any longer a question of tolerance. 
 
 Nor is our position discourteous. It is not discourteous 
 to call certain writers rejecters of Christ as an object of 
 love and confidence, or to say of them that they make litera- 
 ture a medium by which to express and propagate their 
 private opinions. Whether it is altogether courteous on 
 their part to obtrude these opinions in ways so manifold 
 and unnecessary, is a question which we will not discuss. 
 If it is true, as they insist so often as at least to persuade 
 themselves, that those who adhere to the old faith in 
 Christ's personality, are blind to argument and ignorant of 
 history, that they know nothing of criticism, and are un- 
 acquainted with philosophy, it would be a matter of 
 humanity at least to leave such to the quiet enjoyment of 
 their own ignorance and want of thought. If it is not dis- 
 courteous to dishonor what they revere, and satirize what 
 they respect, it is at least inhuman to make them uncom- 
 fortable. If it is not indictable under the statutes of dis- 
 courtesy, it may at least be condemned under the laws 
 against cruelty to the ignorant and imbecile. 
 
 Our position is not jproscriptive. We do not contend 
 that these anti-Christian writers are never to be read, ad- 
 mired, and enjoyed by a person who rejects their version 
 of the New Testament history; but only that if they 
 
122 Books u/nd Reading, [Chap. X. 
 
 weaken his faith and disturb his peace by an indirect sug- 
 gestion of sentiments and opinions that are incongruous 
 with his own, he had better leave them alone, or have to 
 do with them only so far as his taste and conscience will 
 allow. We do not disuse the literature of the old Pagans, 
 nor need we forego the use and enjoyment of the new, 
 provided we recognise them as Pagans. 
 
 " No one who acknowledges Christ," writes Dr. Thomas 
 Arnold, " can be indiiferent to Him, but stands in such re- 
 lations to Him that the highest reverence must be pre- 
 dominant in His mind when thinking or writing of Him." 
 
 '^If I think that Christ was no more than Socrates (I do 
 not mean in degree but in kind,) I can, of course, speak 
 of Him impartially ; that is, I assume at once that there 
 are faults and imperfections in His character and on these 
 pass my judgment, but if I believe in Him, I am not His 
 judge, but His servant and creature, and He claims the 
 devotion of my whole nature, because He is identified with 
 goodness, wisdom and holiness." 
 
 We admire all that this literature presents for our ad- 
 miration of truth in morals and philosophy, and of beauty 
 in imagery and diction ; even though we are disturbed at the 
 poverty of its argumentation, the recklessness of its asser- 
 tions, and the undisguised effrontery of its self-satisfied 
 illumination. But we are not prepared to substitute, at its 
 bidding, the worship of Genius for the worship of a higher 
 Master, least of all, the worship of a genius that in some 
 respects is so superficial, even though in others it is so 
 admirable. 
 
 The influence of this anti-Christian literature is far more 
 prevalent in this country, than it is in England. With us 
 the majority of the cultivated men are not authors and 
 critics, but theologians, lawyers, physicians, politicians, 
 and projectors of all types. Of the few who have been the 
 most distinguished in fiction, poetry, and criticism, not a 
 
Chap. X.] -4 Christian Literature, 123 
 
 gmall party sympathize with a very much smaller party in 
 England in holding what is called a negative or uncertain 
 position in respect to the very grave questions which are 
 now so earnestly agitated concerning Theism and Super- 
 natural Christianity. The readers and students of litera- 
 ture technically so-called, among us, are more impressible 
 in any direction to which their favorite authors and critics 
 may lead them, than are those of a similar class in any 
 other country. Confident assertion in imposing phraseology 
 and under attractive imagery, passes for more with us than 
 with any other cultivated people. The critical journal, 
 whether it be quarterly, monthly, w^eekly, or daily, insinu- 
 ates most successfully what it believes, or rather what it 
 fails to believe. While there is no country in which the 
 Christian faith has a stronger hold upon the convictions of 
 earnest and sober thinkers, or upon the feelings of the true- 
 hearted, it cannot be denied that among the cultivated 
 classes as such, that is, the classes devoted to liWature as 
 a passion and an employment, there prevails a practical, if 
 not an avowed Paganism, in one of the two forms of a 
 philanthropic Stoicism or a refined Epicureanism. We 
 call it Paganism, because, though it accepts the ethical 
 spirit which Christianity has created, it is as far removed 
 from the Christian worship of a personal God and th^ 
 Christian trust in Christ, as was the cultured but comforv. 
 less Philosophy of Athens, which ostentatiously erected 
 manifi)ld altars to the Unknown God — which was always 
 eager to run after any novelty in speculation, but conld 
 make nothing of the teachings of Paul the Apostle. 
 
 This literary Paganism with its culture and its confi- 
 dence, with its positive and not always courteous assertions 
 that science and history are entirely upon its side, has no 
 7.eed to ask for toleration. It has little occasion to com- 
 plain of social persecution. It is far enough from being 
 in danger of reproach or ostracism, while it has the hearty 
 
124 Boohs and Reading, [Chap. X. 
 
 sympathy of multitudes who are so ambitious of culture as 
 to be ready to accept any novelty in the form of specula- 
 tive suggestions or brilliant improvisation. 
 
 We do not propose to discuss the influence or the prospects 
 of this Pagan tendency in American or in modern litera- 
 ture. Had we no higher assurance that its influence must 
 be short-lived, history would teach us that its vagueness 
 and barrenness must soon dry up its life. That a vigorous 
 literature cannot be long sustained in an atmosphere of no- 
 faith is demonstrably certain. The creative and fervent 
 periods of English literature have been closely connected 
 with the prevalence of a positive Christian belief, and a 
 fervent Christian feeling. Among the writers of eminent 
 genius ijow living who are influenced by the Pagan spirit, 
 there is not one who does not give tokens of the blight and 
 depression which the cheerfulness and fervor of a better 
 hope would remove. 
 
 But we need not pursue our theme in these new direc- 
 tions. Its practical aspects have already detained us too 
 long. 
 
CHAPTER XI. 
 
 HISTOKY AND HISTORICAL READING. 
 
 We propose to leave the discussion of books and reading 
 in general, and to proceed to some more particular observa- 
 tions upon different classes of books and different kinds of 
 reading. Perhaps in so doing our thoughts may be less 
 general than they have been ; we cannot promise that they 
 will be anything more than useful. 
 
 We begin with History. It seems natural to begin at 
 this point, as histor}^ is the favorite and the common field 
 of all industrious readers. The bright-minded boy, who is 
 withal a little solid and thoughtful, if he is known among 
 his companions as a great reader, usually takes a special 
 delight in History. If he is merely bright-minded, he 
 may be satisfied with novels or plays, childish or other- 
 wise ; biit if he is also intelligent and curious, he uniformly 
 takes to History. He usually does this very early, and 
 not rarely he follows this taste so passionately as to seem 
 more at home in the old and the distant than in the new 
 and the near. Such a boy often, in the first gush of his 
 historic enthusiasm, thinks and talks more of Athens and 
 Pericles, of Rome and Julius Caesar, of Moscow and Napo- 
 leon, than he does of the places and the men that are pre- 
 sent to his senses. This taste is also conspicuous in the 
 earnest and thoughtful among so-called well-informed men, 
 as the steady and sturdy mechanic or farmer who thinks 
 for himself, who expresses opinions on public affairs to 
 which other men listen in a debating-club or a town-meet- 
 ing, or when occupied in earnest talk at a shop or grocery. 
 
 125 
 
126 Boohs and Reading. [Chap. XI. 
 
 Now and tlien we meet with a thoughtful old lady or aii 
 intelligent old gentleman, to whom history has all their life 
 been both instruction and pastime, and the result is seen 
 and felt in the mellowed and comprehensive views which 
 they utter upon every subject of which they chance to speak. 
 They are rightly revered as the pracles of their circle. 
 
 History has also a kind of precedence from having been 
 the first form of writing. Books of history are the oldest 
 written productions. This was both natural and necessar}^. 
 The child of modern times sits on the 'father's knee, to lis- 
 ten to the stories of what happened in his childhood to 
 himself and his play-mates — how they hunted in the forest 
 and sported on the holidays. And so, as we may believe, 
 was it in the earlier times. In the morning of the race, 
 the reverent family and the deferential tribe gathered often 
 about their patriarch to hear the story many times repeated, 
 of those whom he had known — brave warriors, great hun- 
 ters, safjacious inventors and skilful artists. As soon as 
 language was framed into connected phrases, history began 
 to be recited. The story-teller, as lie wrote or read upon 
 the monument of stone or wood the names of great men or 
 the dates of great events, would expound at length the 
 tales of which these names and numbers were only the 
 suggestive texts. Now and then, if he had a rhythmic 
 tongue and a vivid imagination he would frame history 
 into a ballad — like the song of Chevy Chase, or the ballads 
 collected by Scott in "The Minstrelsy of the Scottish Bor- 
 der," or by Percy in " The Reliques of English Poetry," 
 or " Frithiof 's Saga " — which he would recite to his family 
 or clan, in the long twilight, or uiider the bright starlight, 
 or in the deep arctic nights. Others would recite to 
 crowds on festive occasions — as at the feast of Tabernacles 
 among the Jews; or at the Olympic games among the 
 Greeks when the poems of Homer were chanted in recita- 
 tive ; or as in the middle ages the wandering bard made 
 
Chap. XI.] History and Historical Reading. 127 
 
 himself welcome by his impassioned histories in verse. In 
 many of these earlier histories, not only the power of de- 
 scription was brought into requisition, but the imagination 
 was allowed the freest play. Literal truth was not always so 
 much cared for as an effective story, especially one in favor 
 of the heroes or penates of a family or tribe. Such stories 
 would grow most rapidly in transmission, and what was at 
 first a somewhat faithful narration, would soon become* 
 more or less of a poetic exaggeration. When History 
 begins to be written for the sober ends of truth, as by 
 Herodotus, its so-called Father, there is manifest abundant 
 credulity and play of fancy. This spirited and cheerful 
 narrator, with much that was true and well-attested, 
 gathered together somewhat loosely much that he had 
 picked up in his travels of the traditions that had come 
 down from preceding generations in their narratives and . 
 songs, their epics and fictions. These being currently re- 
 ported, when they were once written down and read, 
 would obtain a sort of credit and footing in the faith of the 
 world. People are sp eager to know something of other 
 times and of distant countries, that if anything passes cur- 
 rent as a story it is soon accepted as a fact. 
 
 This is the first stage of historical writing — the period of 
 simple and naif narration, largely intermixed with what is 
 purely imaginative and fictitious. It confines itself to re- 
 cording such facts as strike the imagination and interest 
 the feelings, especially of admiration and reverence ; follow- 
 ing the method of simple narration, with large credulity, 
 few critical attempts to distinguish between truth and 
 falsehood, and absolutely no philosophy. As writers and 
 readers reach a more sober and less childish age, history 
 becomes more grave and dignified in its manner, and 
 events are recorded with a more careful exactness. To the 
 imagination and feelings far less freedom is allowed. 
 Facts and dates are copied with care from monuments and 
 
128 Books and Beading, [Chap. xi. 
 
 records. But history is still very credulous and undis- 
 criminating ; its writers set down without sifting the most 
 of what they find recorded or hear reported without weigh- 
 ing authorities or adjusting conflicting testimonies. It is to 
 be noticed also, that only the so-called great personages and 
 great events, are deemed worthy to be recorded. Great bat- 
 tles, decisive victories, the deeds of heroes, the lives of kings 
 and princes, of nobles and statesmen ; the events which 
 make one people the conqueror and another the subject; 
 these stand conspicuously forth from the ordinary level of 
 human affairs and are alone thought deserving of preserva- 
 tion. The fortunes of the common people, the condition 
 of those who do not belong to the court or the aristocratic 
 classes, the ways in which they lived, tilled the soil, built 
 houses, sat at their tables, slept in their beds, navigated 
 rivers and the sea or traveled by land, their customs and 
 rites, their manners and feelings, their thoughts and their 
 faiths, these are overlooked as beneath the so-called dignity 
 of history. The great events judged worthy of notice are set 
 forth in an exaggerated style, such as impresses the ima- 
 gination and excites the wonder of the commonalty. 
 Partly from the natural operation of reverence and the 
 nobler sentiments of respect, and partly from the exalted 
 imagination of the narrator, the great men of the past are set 
 forth in gigantic outline and intensified coloring as something 
 superhuman. All men were giants in the ancestral days, as 
 the writer describes and as the reader conceives them. 
 Many of the classic historians write in this vein, as Livy 
 and Plutarch; and almost all of the modern writers of ancient 
 history, till a comparatively recent period, have imitated 
 very closely their style and spirit. As we read Plutarch's 
 Lives, or Eollin's Ancient History, we seem to be lifted 
 above the actual solid earth of every day life, and to fly 
 or float in a sort of cloud or enchanted land. Lofty forms 
 stalk before us, stately and long-robed personages, always 
 
Chap. XI.] History and Historical Reading, 129 
 
 in attitudes of superhuman dignity or grace, never speakr 
 ing except as they utter short orations or weighty apo-* 
 thegms, enacting no deeds except deeds of staid and awe- 
 inspirmg solemnity. The events with which we are con- 
 fronted are all more weighty and significant than those to 
 which we are accustomed in our daily, or even in our 
 modern life. They cannot be compared with these. To 
 conceive of them or to measure them by the common men 
 and the common things of our time and of modern days, 
 would be to /degrade the events and to dishonor ourselves. 
 The whole impression is solemn, stage-like and magnifi- 
 cently imposing, as when a familiar scene is viewed by the 
 weird moonlight — half elevating, half bewildering, but 
 always impressive and disposing to admiration and reve- 
 rence. We may say, indeed, of the impression received by 
 the readers of the great men of antiquity as described by 
 Plutarch, that it is not unlike that made by the statuary 
 in the Vatican, or at the Louvre, as exhibited by torch- 
 light, when the eifect of every object is exalted and made 
 mysterious by the unnatural lights and shadows that play 
 upon them, and the witchery of the scene is heightened by 
 the back-ground of impenetrable darkness beyond. Many 
 of the histories of the ancients by the moderns, were in a 
 certain sense little more than transcripts from such ancient 
 originals. The early legends were all faithfully copied by 
 most of these historians, some of them being recognized as 
 exaggerations or myths with a slender basis of fact, and 
 others as being of uncertain import ; but no serious, cer- 
 tainly no successful attempt was made to discover what 
 was true or certain. Many of the extravagant stories and 
 improbable events were set down as true, and all the judg- 
 ments of both men and events were in the highest degree 
 credulous and timid. The surprising deeds of the heroic 
 ages and the superhuman virtues of the ancient republics 
 — the simplicity, fidelity and patriotism reported — ^were all 
 
130 Boohs and Reading, [Chap. xl 
 
 confided in, and it was scarcely even suspected that any of 
 the traditions of the ancients themselves might require a 
 careful scrutiny and a critical revision. 
 
 The modern histories of modern events have been too 
 often written in the same exaggerated and undiscriminating 
 manner. The common stock histories of England and the 
 United States are almost universally in this vein, begin- 
 ning with the well known older histories and coming down 
 to the declamatory laudations of Bancroft, and the curt and 
 biting sentences of Hildreth. 
 
 The names of Hildreth and Bancroft as well as those of 
 Mitford and Gibbon, Hume and Burnet, Lingard and 
 Neal, suggest the remark that history in all its forms, 
 whether ancient or modern, is liable to be written in a 
 'partisan spirit. The ancient writers have long been recog- 
 nized even to the uncritical and trusting eyes of their 
 admirers, as not altogether unbiassed in their sympathies 
 and antipathies. Even honest old Homer tells the largest 
 and the most favorable stories of his favorite Greeks and 
 makes the gods sympathize a little unfairly with Achilles, 
 while the gossiping Herodotus uniformly flatters his favor- 
 ite nations. As we come down into the region of history 
 that is more sober and accurate, we find that almost every 
 author writes in the interest of some political party, some 
 social caste, or some favorite hero. Even those grave and 
 judicial old narrators, who look and write in such a solemn 
 and stately way, are not always so disinterested as they 
 seem, but contrive to set off their impressions concerning 
 men and things to the advantage or disadvantage of those 
 whom they like or dislike. They do not write in the man- 
 ner of special pleaders or retained advocates so obviously as 
 some of the moderns, for it was inconsistent with the 
 dignity of ancient manners to do so ; but it is almost as 
 easy to be solemnly one-sided and unfair with the air of a 
 judge, as to be violently partisan with the gesticulations 
 
Chap. XI.] History and Historical Reading. 131 
 
 of an attorney. Modern History is too extensively and 
 notoriously partisan, to require any special comment. 
 Especially has the histoiy of England, which is that with 
 which we have the nearest concern, been written in the in- 
 terest and by advocates of almost every shade of political 
 opinion and religious belief. There have also been special 
 histories of almost every party and sect, written with more 
 or less of partisan partiality. 
 
 History, as we have reviewed it, has had two distinct 
 stages of development: First, the narrative, which is 
 abundantly imaginative and largely credulous ; next, that 
 of the sober and accurate narrator, but only of such facts as 
 are stately and dignified, with a more or less indiscrimin- 
 ate admiration of what is recognized as superhuraanly 
 great and good ; which in turn has readily and almost uni- 
 formly degenerated into a blind or willful partisanship. 
 
 Within the last fifty years, there has been a decided 
 reaction from these excessive and mischievous tendencies. 
 This reaction has led to a new method of writing history ; 
 which involves new methods of studying and reading it. 
 History both ancient and modern has been written in what 
 is properly called the critical spirit. This has well- 
 nigh involved a revolution in the scrutiny of historical 
 documents, and in the judgment of historical facts, as well 
 as in the spirit and aims in which history is written and 
 read. Under its influence it has become almost necessaiy 
 that all history, both ancient and modern, should be re- 
 written. Many of the old standard histories and histori- 
 cal series have been discarded and displaced. Long series 
 of uncritical narratives like " The Ancient and the Modern 
 Universal History," of some fifty volumes, have become 
 almost so much rubbish. History also is read as it were 
 with new eyes. This reaction, and the application of the 
 critical method, took a distinct and recognized form under 
 the shaping genius of Mebuhr, though eminent critics and 
 
132 Boohs and Beading. [Chap. XL 
 
 scholars had prepared the way by the method and spirit 
 in which they had studied antiquity before his time. It 
 was reserved for Niebuhr, however, to accomplish a 
 revolution in the prevailing ideas in respect to the early 
 history of Rome, and in so doing to establish and vindi- 
 cate a new method for the treatment of all History. He 
 not only suggested but vindicated the position that a large 
 portion of what is recorded by Livy as historical truth is 
 little better than a series of mythical and exaggerated 
 legends with a slender basis of fact. Much of the history 
 of the seven kings went the same way with the story of 
 the miraculous she-wolf who suckled Romulus and Remus, 
 the reputed founders of the Eternal City. The subse- 
 quent, and, till then, the universally accepted narratives 
 of the gravest and the most trustworthy historians, were 
 also revised with rigid care; being carefully tested by 
 close comparison with one another, with the allusions of 
 contemporaneous literature, with permanent monuments, 
 with well known and newly discovered or newly interpre- 
 ted inscriptions, and last not least, with the testimony of 
 languages and dialects ; which, strange as it may seem, 
 serve as the means of correcting many errors and confirm- 
 ing many conjectures. Other writers, following the ex- 
 ample of Niehuhr and catching his spirit, have traversed 
 the same and other fields of ancient history. Of histories 
 well known to English readers, Arnold's History of 
 Home, and Grote's History of Greece, are eminent ex- 
 amples of the superiority of the new over the old method. 
 As the result of Niebuhr's example and influence, not only 
 have the fabulous and legendary elements been eliminated 
 from the histories of the older nations, but the overstrained 
 and exaggerated conceptions of the men and events which 
 had come to us from the ancient Plutarch and the modern 
 Rollin, have been toned down to the modesty of a proba- 
 ble and rational judgment. The tendency to see heroes in 
 
Chap. XI.] History and Hhtorical Reading, 133 
 
 both virtue and vice beyond the possible attainments of 
 human nature, which had free indulgence, has given way 
 to a juster estimate of what was possible and is therefore 
 credible. 
 
 The old times, which were ignorantly admired and ex- 
 travagantly lauded, have been carefully measured by what 
 we know of the workings of the human nature of to-day. 
 The institutions, the principles, the passions, the aims and 
 the achievements, of such men as Pericles and Alcibiades, 
 of Cicero and Seneca, of Catiline and the Cesars, have been 
 examined, not under the colored lights of blind admiration, 
 nor by the weird lights of myth-making credulity, nor the 
 false lights of blind or lying partisanship, but by the dry 
 and white light, which is reflected from the aims, principles 
 and passions of men in similar circumstances in modern 
 times — ^the good men not being over good for human nature, 
 and the bad not so much, and so desperately, worse than 
 the very bad of later times. In short, the historian has 
 learned to measure the ancient world by the modern world, 
 instead of by an extravagant and distorted creation of his 
 own bewildered admiration and his excited fancy ; because 
 the modern is known to be the actual world, and as such 
 illustrates those permanent laws and forces of humanity, by 
 which alone all history, w^hether old or recent, can be 
 rationally estimated and judged. But while this critical 
 tendency has dissipated what is false and extravagant in the 
 pictures and conceptions of ancient life, it has established 
 more firmly and set in bolder relief whatever is true, though 
 it be peculiar and even supernatural. While it has ex- 
 plained the myths and legends of superstition and credulity 
 in the false religions that cloud the morning of the historic 
 period, it has justified and confirmed the miracles that are 
 so appropriate to simpler times, which have so fitly signal- 
 ized the presence of One who is higher than nature, and 
 introduced those manifestations of his moral character and 
 
134 Boohs and Reatlmg. [Chap. xi. 
 
 his loving care which have been required in the world's 
 moral history. The same criticism which has proved so 
 destructive to the myths of Grecian and the legends of 
 Eoman story, has proved itself most positive and construc- 
 tive when applied to the miraculous and supernatural 
 which are alone adequate to explain the rise and develop- 
 ment of the Mosaic and Christian economies. This has 
 been the actual result of the most careful and critical inves- 
 tigation of the two by some of the most eminent students 
 of the new historical school. Niebuhr himself, after some 
 sharp experiences of misgiving lest the miraculous in the 
 Old and New Testaments should, under the critical method, 
 go the same way with the mythological in the Roman and 
 Greek History, writes thus concerning the education of his 
 son : " While I shall repeat and read the old poets to him 
 in such a way that he will undoubtedly take the gods and 
 heroes for historical beings, I shall tell him at the same 
 time that the ancients had only an imperfect knowledge of 
 the true God, and that these gods were overthrown when 
 Christ came into the world. He shall believe in the letter 
 of the Old and New Testaments, and I shall nurture in 
 him, from his infancy, a firm faith in all that I have lost 
 or feel uncertain about.'' His biographer records further, 
 that "The Word made Flesh — the Divine brought into 
 visible contact with the Human, and finding an historical 
 embodiment in an individual — was a doctrine that found a 
 warm response in a mind so full of earnest aspiration to- 
 wards heaven, and at the same time so thoroughly histori- 
 cal in its views of the world. His personal reverence foi* 
 Christ was a sentiment that deepened with the progress of 
 his life. . . . He once exclaimed, in the course of an 
 argument with the present [former] King of Prussia, ^I 
 would lay my head on the block for the divinity of Jesus ! ' " 
 [Life and Letters^ etc.) Arnold observes : " The miracles of 
 the Gospel and those of later history, do not stand upon 
 
Chap. XL] History and Historical Reading. 135 
 
 the same ground. I do not think that they stand on the 
 same ground of external evidence ; I cannot think that the 
 unbeliev^ing spirit of the Roman world, in the first century, 
 was equally favorable to the origination and admission of 
 stories of miracles, with the credulous tendencies of the 
 middle ages. But the diiference goes deeper than this to 
 all these who can appreciate the other evidences of Christi- 
 anity, and who, therefore, feel that what we call miracles 
 were but the natural accompaniments of the Christian 
 revelation — accompaniments, the absence of which would 
 liuve been more wonderful than their presence. This, as 
 I may almost call it, a priori probability in favor of the 
 miracles of the Gospel cannot be said to exist in favor of 
 those of later history." — {Lectures on the Study of Modern 
 History y ii.) Again, "Strauss writes about history and 
 myths, without appearing to have studied the question, but 
 having heard that some pretended stories arob mythical, he 
 borrows this notion as an engine to help him out of Christi- 
 anity. But the idea of men writing mythic histories be- 
 tween the time of Li\'y and Tacitus, and of St. Paul mis- 
 taking such for realities!" — (llemolrSj etc) 
 
 If we pass to the modern histories of modern times, 
 which have been written with the true historic spirit, we 
 find that they have been as truly improved by the new 
 method as the histories of the ancient world. The tone of 
 blind admiration and of exaggerated laudation has been 
 sensibly lowered, the intense and bigoted partisanship has 
 been exposed and answered by counter-criticism, or has 
 quietly given w^ay before the more judicial spirit of a cooler- 
 judgment. 
 
 One improvement is especially noticeable in modern his- 
 tory, if it be not almost a revolution. This is the fact, 
 that much less is made of the so-called great events of his- 
 tory now than formerly. As history has learned new no- 
 tions of its own dignity, it attaches less importance to the 
 
136 Boohs and Reading, [Chap. XL 
 
 fortunes of princes, the movements of generals, and the is- 
 sues of campaigns, and occupies itself far more earnestly 
 and busily with the condition of the middling and lower 
 classes, with their progress in civilization, in political free- 
 dom, in wise laws, general education, and the security of 
 property, as well as in general thrift, prevailing frugality, 
 courteous manners, moral principle, and religious faith. 
 History has become more humane and democratic as it has 
 become more critical and just. It looks beneath the sur- 
 face of events for the springs of action. It searches under 
 facts for principles. It strives to discover the great laws 
 of progress and stability in the world's evolution. It re- 
 gards moral interests as higher than physical, the faith and 
 heroism of a people and a period as of greater consequence 
 than the external and physical events which distinguished 
 either. Hence it tends to be more ethical, more reverent, 
 and more religious, while it is also more candid and toler- 
 ant. 
 
 Two characteristics are especially worthy of notice in 
 the tendencies of modern history. It is at once more ima- 
 ginative and more philosophical. 
 
 The new history employs the imagination more liberally 
 and yet more wisely than did the old. While it does not 
 yield indiscriminately to its direction so as to be misled by 
 its vagaries, it avails itself freely of its guidance and aid 
 that it may more perfectly and vividly reproduce the past. 
 The historian no longer conceives the past to have been so 
 utterly unlike the present as to allow him to credit all the 
 fantastic creations of the mythological and the credulous 
 school, but rather conceives it to have been so nearly like 
 the present as to justify him in freely using the present 
 that he may more vividly picture and reproduce the past as 
 it was. Hence it is the persistent effort of the modern tiis- 
 torian to revive the past by means of every possible ap- 
 pliance of which he can avail himself. He continually 
 
Chap. XI.] History and Historical Reading. 137 
 
 asks himself, How did men live in the earlier times, what 
 sort of houses did they build, how did they light and 
 warm them, at what sort of tables did they eat, and of 
 what food, and how was this cooked and served, on what 
 seats did they sit, in what beds did they sleep, how were 
 they dressed, of what material was their clothing made, 
 and into what sort of garments was it shaped, how did 
 they travel and visit, in what fashion did they greet one 
 another ? So minute have been these inquiries, and so suc- 
 cessfully have they been answered by the aid of the paint- 
 ings, and mummies of Egyptian tombs, by bas-reliefs on 
 Assyrian monuments, by Greek and Roman statues and 
 inscriptions, as also by the exhumations of Pompeii and 
 Herculaneum, that it seems now almost possible to build 
 again a Grecian and Roman house, to provide it with im- 
 plements and furniture, and to reproduce in detail all the 
 particulars of ancient life. In the same way the historian 
 of Old or New England of two hundred years ago, con- 
 cerns himself with thousands of details, which enable his 
 reader vividly to imagine how the people actually lived, 
 what was the daily aspect and history of a street in Lon- 
 don or in Boston, what was the method of spending a day 
 or a week by a merchant or a farmer, a laborer or a pro- 
 fessional man. 
 
 What is of far greater consequence, the historian asks 
 and can answer. How did the men of other times think 
 and feel in regard to the great and small things which in- 
 terest the human race in all times ? What was the measure 
 of their knowledge and of their intellectual power ? What 
 were their loves and hatreds toward God and man? He 
 seeks to place himself within their very souls, so as to 
 gaze on the visible creation with their eyes, to meet his 
 fellows with their loves and hatreds, to scan the firmament 
 with their infinite longings or their shivering terror, to seek 
 after God with their awe or their longings. In all such 
 
138 BooJcs and Reading, [Chap. xr. 
 
 efforts of history the imagination must be largely em- 
 ployed ; but it is employed in the service and for the ends 
 of truth. It does not dress up its ideals of past genera- 
 tions with impossible and therefore fantastic perfections, 
 nor does it make them stalk forth in robes of gorgeous 
 statelincss, nor does it bring them in fantastic conflicts like 
 the spectred hosts of departed warriors such as are seen by 
 a belated shepherd far off in cloud-land above some real 
 battle-field, but it seeks to conceive these generations as 
 they actually lived and acted, thought and felt. The 
 power, when trained and used in the search after historic 
 truth, becomes what is called The Historic Imagination, 
 which by long practice becomes so discriminating and so 
 trustworthy as to be termed The Historio Sense, It is not- 
 till the imagination is thus matured that a man is able to 
 appreciate adequately the literature of other nations and 
 other times than his own. He must first understand the 
 times in which its speeches and essays, its poems and its 
 plays, its novels and its sermons were composed, in order 
 to judge of them by their relations to the men by whom 
 and for whom they were written. When thus heard and 
 read they are received as far more real and living, and are 
 judged with a far more sensitive and just appreciation 
 than they possibly could be if read or judged apart from 
 the forces which produced them or the conditions under 
 which they came into being. What is more important 
 still, the actions of the men of another age are studied in 
 the light of the knowledge which they actually attained, 
 the aims which they proposed, and the motives by which 
 they were impelled. What would be inexplicable if .done 
 in our times can be accounted for if allowed in mother »days. 
 What in our day would be a work of cruelty and revenge 
 is excused, palliated, or even justified, when traced to the 
 motives and feelings, which occasioned it. What seems 
 laughable and grotesque, formal and supei-stitious, when 
 
Chap. XI.] History and Historical Reading. 139 
 
 looked at with oar eyes, is grave and proper, natural and 
 rational, when looked at through the eyes of the men of 
 other times, as we are enabled to do, by the cultured his- 
 toric sense when this is quickened and guided by the his- 
 toric imagination. 
 
 As the result of this liberal and wise use of the ima- 
 gination, history has become more true and more just in 
 its judgments as well as more elevating in its lessons and 
 influence than formerly. The more vividly and fully we 
 represent the men and the scenes of other times, the more 
 entirely shall we do justice to them. The more thorough- 
 ly we understand events in their motives and principles,, 
 the more truthfully shall we estimate and weigh them. 
 The new method educates and elevates the imagination, as 
 well as employs it as an auxiliary to truth. We read and 
 study history somewhat as we read and study the drama, 
 viewing it as a grand spectacle of the past that is vividly 
 reproduced in scenery, personages, and events; that fixes 
 our attention, excites our curiosity, and kindles our sympa- 
 thies. As the actual drama is fitted to ennoble the ima^- 
 gination and purify the passions, so does dramatized his- 
 tory act with even greater energy in these directions, when 
 it is fitly rendered by the writer and justly conceived by 
 the reader. These 4;houghts lead us to, 
 
 The second characteristic .stated, viz., that the New His- 
 tory is more philosophical than the old. It recognizes 
 more distinctly the truth that all historic events are to be 
 explained by certain causal influences or agencies, which 
 are furnished in man's own nature, in the circumstances 
 of his condition, and in the purposes of the living God. 
 Different historians differ in the variety of the agencies 
 which they recognize, in the importance which is to be at- 
 tached to each, and in the power of harmonizing one with 
 another ; but all agree that to some agencies or principles, 
 acting after fixed metho<ls or rules, all great historical 
 
140 BooJcs and Beading. [Chap. xi. 
 
 events are to be ascribed, and^ that the problem of history 
 and the duty of the historian is to discover what these 
 principles are. The historian nowadays is not content to 
 entertain his readers with striking descriptions of the 
 startling events which give to history its dramatic interest, 
 nor to paint to the life the story of those great personages 
 who illustrate the pathos and power, the tenderness and 
 energy of human passion, but he seeks also to explain his- 
 toric phenomena both the greater and the less — by their 
 principles and laws. 
 
 To determine what are the principles and what the laws 
 which underlie all these events is the aim of what is 
 technically called The Philosophy of History. Much is 
 made of this phrase in our times. To many persons it 
 suggests something very profound, attractive, and incom- 
 prehensible. To others it is big with high-sounding ver- 
 biage, transcendental pretension, attenuated Pantheism, or 
 depressing Fatalism. But there ought to be no special 
 mystery in the phrase. If a philosophy of the universe 
 of spirit and matter, is possible in its present manifesta- 
 tions, then a philosophy is possible of the past history of 
 man, from which lessons of instruction may be derived, and 
 if need be, of monition for the future. As there is a 
 variety of theories of the present, each one of which may 
 be incompatible with the other, so there may be an equal 
 variety of philosophies of the past. A Mohammedan, a 
 Mormon, a Brahmin, and a Christian, would necessarily 
 have each a peculiar philosophy of history. It need not 
 be a mystery or a wonder that a materialist and a spiritua- 
 list, a necessitarian and a believer in freedom, should each 
 interpret the history of man after a fashion of his own. 
 One who studies man as an animal only, and recognizes 
 no other forces and laws than those which are vital, will 
 of necessity, like Draper y make physiology the basis of his 
 Philosophy of History, or rather, he will resolve all his- 
 
Chap. XI.] HMory and Sistorical Beading. - 141 
 
 torical into physiological phenomena, whether they are 
 material, vital, or spiritual. Temperature and moisture, 
 of a certain degree and quantity, acting on certain chemi- 
 cal combinations of nitrogen, carbon, phosphorus, etc., are 
 the formulae by which historical phenomena can all be ex- 
 plained. Napoleon and Waterloo, Abraham Lincoln and 
 Bull Run, General Lee and Appomatox Court-House, are 
 satisfactorily accounted for by various formulae, of which 
 the terms are H, O, C, N, etc., in various combinations. 
 A writer who recognizes a somewhat wider range of forces, 
 some of which are spiritual, but all, whether material or 
 spiritual, obey mechanical laws and act by a necessitating 
 force, will, like Buckle, evolve and explain all possible oc- 
 currences and phenomena according to an h priori neces- 
 sity, from whose iron embrace there is no release. Those 
 who, like Froude, believe in the caprices and energy of 
 human passions and individual freedom, or who, like 
 Niebuhr, Arnold, Goldmn Smith and hosts of other Chris- 
 tian historians, distinctly recognize a Divine Providence 
 fulfilling merciful plans of human progress and redemp- 
 tion, will have another and a nobler philosophy of history, 
 because they accept a nobler philosophy of the universe 
 and of human life. 
 
 It ought to be added that to serve more effectually the 
 philosophical explanation of the Past, the great move- 
 ments of historic progress in separate lines and the several 
 agencies on which they depend have been treated of in 
 distinct works. Thus we have not a few generalized his- 
 tories, as of Commerce, Geographical Discovery, Emigra- 
 tion, Philosophy, Morals, Literature, Poetry, Fiction, Criti- 
 cism, and even of Civilization itself. The treatment of 
 these topics of historic research separately has this great 
 advantage, that it limits the attention more effectually to 
 single classes of phenomena, and to the workings of single 
 forces. It withdraws the mind from the more palpable 
 
142 Books and Beading, |;Chap. xt 
 
 and material effects and causes, to the more refined and 
 spiritual. It enables each student to look at the history 
 of man from that point of view which most interests his 
 own feelings, or bears upon his own studies, and it saves 
 the general reader an immense amount of special research 
 and laborious investigation. 
 
 But the impatient reader, who may have followed us 
 thus far, will be likely here to interrupt us with the in- 
 quiry ; " But what has all this to do with a course of his- 
 torical reading ? These general disquisitions on the writing 
 of history may have some interest for those who have his- 
 tory to write, but they can have no possible application to 
 those who have history to read. The progress and de- 
 velopment of history, from poetic narration to philosophi- 
 cal interpretation, may be instructive to learned students 
 but not to general readers." To which we reply : " Have 
 patience. History is a vast jungle, an impenetrable mo- 
 rass to the reader who undertakes to find his way 
 through it without a guide, and even to him who reads 
 the first book which is recommended to him, and having 
 finished that seizes upon another. To read history with 
 any profit or even with much satisfaction, whether alone or 
 under the advice of a sagacious friend, one should know 
 something of what history is, and how it is written, in 
 what various forms, with what diversity of honesty, truth, 
 and trustworthiness." To furnish this information, pre- 
 liminary to special advice respecting the selection of books 
 and the manner of reading them, has been the aim of this 
 chapter. 
 
CHAPTER XII. 
 
 HOW TO BEAD HISTORY. 
 
 It is not easy to prescribe a course of Historical Read- 
 ing for a single individual, even though he is an intimate 
 friend, whose character and culture, whose aims and ha- 
 bits, whose leisure and opportunities are all supposed to be 
 familiarly known to his adviser. It is more difficult to do 
 it for many persons, every one of whom may differ from 
 the other in every one of these particulars. An extended 
 or general course which might be equally suitable for all 
 readers, is idle to think of. To attempt even a selection 
 of the best authors, without knowing somewhat intimately 
 the person for whom they are chosen, would be foolish and 
 futile. All that we propose to do is to lay down a few 
 principles which will enable a reader to begin wisely and 
 to proceed with satisfaction in selecting books for himself; 
 and also to illustrate these principles by referring to a few 
 authors of marked peculiarities and of unquestioned ex- 
 cellence. 
 
 We observe, /rs^ of all, that a thorough mastery of the 
 field of history must be the work of many years ; in some 
 sort, of a lifetime. To fix in the mind the dates of the 
 most important events, to impress the events themselves 
 upon the memory so that they shall be permanent and 
 familiar, to settle the great questions which are in dispute 
 in respect to facts and principles, to be able to summon at 
 call the great pictures which make up the diorama of the 
 world's past, can be achieved only by the few students to 
 whom historical research is the exclusive occupation of 
 
 143 
 
144 Books and Reading. ^ [Chap, xil 
 
 their life. For such we do not write. They would not 
 need our assistance, could we give it ; for it is the preroga- 
 tive of every such student to find his path opening na- 
 turally and easily before him as he proceeds. To such the 
 author immediately in hand introduces many others whom 
 he will wish to read. The subject which at present occupies 
 the attention inevitably suggests numerous kindred topics. 
 In part this is true for the class of persons for whom we 
 write — who are supposed to be comparatively ignorant of 
 booKS and unpractised in reading. Even such readers 
 ought not to expect to finish in a year or two the brief 
 and imperfect course of history which they may immediately 
 require. We grant, one may learn a compend of events 
 or a table of dates within a few months. He may commit 
 to memory an outline history of Greece and Eome, of 
 Europe in the middle ages, of Great Britain and the 
 United States. But to do this is simply to lay the foun- 
 dation and to erect the scaffolding. To master the history 
 of these countries, so as intelligently to enjoy it and be in- 
 structed by it, requires a far longer period, and must be, at 
 the shortest, the work of several years of earnest and awak- 
 ened attention. Moreover, it would not be desirable, were 
 it practicable, to finish such a course of reading more 
 speedily. To read history should be proposed by every 
 thoughtful person as the learning and pastime of his entire 
 life ; as capable of perpetually opening new views of re- 
 gions unseen before, and of bringing before the same eye 
 fresh aspects of scenes that are none the less interesting be- 
 cause they have been often revisited. Indeed, there is an 
 important sense in which it is true that a man must wait 
 till he is somewhat advanced in life before he can read his- 
 tory with full advantage and enjoyment, because such a 
 person only can bring to it the observation and interest fur- 
 nished by actual experience. If "old experience '' alone, as 
 Milton suggests, can attain " to something like prophetic 
 
Chap. XII.] S^ow to read HMcn^y. 145 
 
 strain '^ in its forecast of the future, it is almost equally- 
 necessary that one may intelligently appreciate the history 
 of the past. History to the eye of the young has the in- 
 terest of an exciting spectacle ; to the old it is as inspiring 
 as the counsel of a life-long friend. The youth gazes with 
 excited and breathless curiosity upon the shifting panora- 
 ma of great empires rising mysteriously like overhanging 
 clouds, of vast cities thronged with representatives from a 
 hundred nations, of endless caravans of barbaric emigrants; 
 of the confusion of battle, the pomp of victory, and the 
 splendor of pageants. All these are to his eye brilliant, 
 imposing, and exciting. But when the same eye has seen 
 more of living men and of actual life, when the man has 
 interpreted the causes and meditated upon the lessons of 
 the events which have occurred within his personal experi- 
 ence, then and then only is he prepared to gather instruc- 
 tion from the story of the past, because in the men and the 
 events which this story records he sees the counterpart of 
 what has passed beneath his personal observation. To the 
 young, history must be an exciting drama or a painful 
 task ; to the old, it is as fresh as a fairy tale, and as in- 
 structive as the lessons of a patriarch. 
 
 Those persons who are impatient to acquire in a twelve- 
 month a satisfactory knowledge of history, or who expect 
 or wish to finish up their reading in order that it may be 
 done with and laid aside, might almost as well not begin 
 at all, for by such history can be read only for convenience 
 or show, and to them it can bring little instruction and less 
 enjoyment. There are not a few who, having just left 
 school or college, say to themselves, " A man must know 
 something of history, in order to pass respectably with in- 
 telligent people. Without having read history, one can- 
 not understand the newspapers, or take part in conversa- 
 tion, or shine in a debating-club, or make speeches ; there- 
 fore I will take a course in history — what is the best, be- 
 10 
 
146 Books and Beading. [Ghap. xii. 
 
 cause the shortest and the soonest over ?" To such persons 
 we would say : ^' Study a table of chronology as you would 
 take a dose of medicine, or buy the best and briefest com- 
 pend of universal history which you can hear of, and 
 master it because you must ; but do not call such occupa- 
 tion the reading of history." This sort of reading should, 
 of all others, be regarded as the constant occupation and 
 pastime of the life of any one who reads at all ; and it is 
 well to begin history as it is to begin our reading life, 
 with this view of it — to form our plans, and to select our 
 authors with these expectations distinctly in mind. 
 
 There is the greater need of cautions of this sort, for the 
 reason that so many persons, under mistaken impressions, 
 or by the direction of stupid or thoughtless advisers, com- 
 mence reading a course of history with such authors or 
 after such a plan as to be very soon disgusted and disap- 
 pointed. We recall very distinctly a friend who, on finish- 
 ing his college-life, gave himself up for a year to what he 
 fondly anticipated would be " the still air of delightful 
 studies," with glowing expectations of what he should ac- 
 complish and enjoy in a year of general reading. To 
 master an ample course of history was his first ambition 
 and his most attractive ideal. He seated himself at his 
 desk with the expectation of finishing this course in a * 
 twelvemonth, and in order to begin at the beginning, he 
 opened one of the dreariest and most matter-of-fact books 
 that ever was written, w^. .• The Old and New Testament 
 Connected, hy Humphrey Prideaux. It was a part of his 
 plan to follow this work with another, which, if possible, 
 is more dreary and forbidding, viz. : Shuchford's Sacred 
 and Profane History Connected. But he never got so far 
 as Shuckford, for the reason that, after a few weeks' trial 
 with Prideaux — so many hours a day, and so many pages 
 of the wooden volumes read in a mechanical way — he be- 
 came dispirited and discouraged, and the course of histori- 
 
Cbap. XII.] S^ov) to read History. 14*r 
 
 cal reading " never did run smooth " with him, after such 
 an inauspicious beginning. 
 
 Second, This instance may give meaning and interest to 
 our next suggestion, whicli is, that history, to be wisely 
 begun, should be commenced by every person at what is 
 the right starting-point for him. We have ali^^ady in- 
 sisted that the book on which every man should first lay 
 his hands is the book which wdll instruct, amuse, or ele- 
 vate him most in any direction in which his needs are the 
 most imperative, whatever the subject-matter may be. 
 This rule is pre-eminently good in historical reading. If 
 we assume that the entire field is to any one unoccupied 
 and unknown, there are yet certain countries, personages 
 or events — one or all — of which every man has some im- 
 mediate interest to know something. Whether his inter- 
 est arises from the curiosity of the inquirer or the useful- 
 ness of that which is to be known, is unimportant. At 
 this very point should he begin. The author who best 
 meets this impending want, w^hether he can do this by his 
 ease of style, clearness of arrangement, copiousness of infor- 
 mation or elevation and truthfulness of -aim, is the author 
 with whom he should begin. But suppose a person has 
 few historic needs, at least few of which he is conscious, 
 and little or no curiosity, what shall be said to him? 
 Should there be such a person, we have only to say, that 
 it may be the time has not come for him — and it may be 
 it ought never to come — to read history at all. It would 
 be safer, however, to deny that a person ever existed who 
 is without any historic curiosity or historic needs, if it 
 could only be discovered in what direction they lie. With 
 some these wishes and wants may turn upon that which is 
 nearest their senses, — the local history of the town or 
 county in which they live, of the family to which they 
 belong, or the state or country in which they are born ; or 
 perhaps their imagination may be excited to ask questions 
 
148 Books and Beading, [Chap. xir. 
 
 concerning some prominent personage whom they have 
 seen or of whom they have heard, as some great lawyer 
 physician, clergyman, banker, merchant, sea-captain, or 
 general. If they are interested in any trade or employ- 
 ment, the history of their own occupation, or of the objects 
 with which it is concerned, may be the history which will 
 take the strongest hold of their feelings. 
 
 When, then, a man comes to us with the question, 
 " What history shall I read first ?" we reply, as we have 
 already suggested, with the questions : " What history do 
 you care to know the most about ? Of what country, or of 
 what people — of what events or what personages do you 
 wish or need to be informed accurately and fully ? Con- 
 cerning what great interest, as of trade or commerce, tariff 
 or business, of shipbuilding, or invention in art or litera- 
 ture, do you at present feel disposed to ask the most nu- 
 merous questions of a friend or acquaintance ?" If you can 
 answer to yourself these questions, then you will be able 
 to decide what history you should begin to read. 
 
 Third. History should be read after the laws and habits 
 of the kind of memory with which the reader is naturally 
 endowed, without any violent efforts to resist or reform 
 these laws or habits. For example, there are a few per- 
 sons who have a natural memory for dates. They can 
 scan with the eye or hear with the ear the dates of tlie 
 principal events of a war, a reign, or a century, and can fix 
 them with exactness so as to recall them when they are 
 wanted. But the majority, even of young persons — in 
 wh'om the -spontaneous memory is most active — find it 
 somewhat difficult to imprint a table of simple dates upon 
 the memory. Those who labor under this defect are soon 
 discouraged in the reading of history. They complain 
 that before they have finished a single volume most of the 
 dates of the events which it records have escaped from 
 their possession. Of what possible use, say they, can it be 
 
Chap. XII.] ^ow to read History. 149 
 
 to read the next, if even the times and the order of the 
 great events which it recounts are in like manner to slide 
 from our recollection ? Of what use, if this is continually 
 to happen, will it be for us to read history at all ? To re- 
 lieve the minds of those who feel these difficulties, two 
 considerations are pertinent. The^rs^ is, that history may 
 inscribe many most valuable lessons upon the memory of 
 those who can remember the dates of but few of the great 
 events which it records. It is with reading history very 
 much as it is with seeing people and observing the course 
 of nature. A thousand lessons may have been impressed 
 upon the understanding, a thousand most important rela- 
 tions may have been discerned, a thousand inferences or 
 principles may have been suggested or confirmed, a thou- 
 sand movements of feeling or w^ill may have been evolved 
 in connection with a thousand persons and events observed, 
 of which very few, and perhaps none at all, can be recalled 
 singly and in their individual relations. To be profited 
 by history in almost every way conceivable, it is by no 
 means essential that we retain a distinct remembrance of 
 the individual facts which history records and recites. 
 We would not intimate that a knowledge of dates and 
 events is unimportant, nor again that strenuous and perse- 
 vering efforts should not be made to fix and hold them. 
 We would only preclude the inference that great exactness 
 or facility in this respect is essential to the most import- 
 ant uses of thLs study. We would also insist that any 
 range, exactness, or readiness in the memory of historical 
 facts is only important so far as it is attended with the ca- 
 pacity to discern and connect these facts by means of their 
 higher relations. Simple memory is so very convenient 
 that it is often greatly over-valued. School-teachers and 
 school-children, pedants and paragons of memory, who 
 can promptly tell you the precise date of every event in 
 history, plume themselves very often upon what is merely 
 
150 Books and Reading, [Chap, xil 
 
 a great intellectual convenience. Those unfortunates, on 
 the other hand, who are always at a loss when called on to 
 furnish such details for themselves or others, are often 
 mortified and discouraged at their constantly recurring 
 failures. For this reason it needs often to be repeated that 
 a knowledge of dates is chiefly to be valued because of the 
 higher relations to which it constantly ministers. This 
 suggests the second consideration to which we referred, 
 viz: That when the dates of history are habitually con- 
 templated in these higher relations, the study of chronology 
 becomes fascinating and easy to many who are deficient in 
 the mechanical memory. It may seem of little import- 
 ance to know, and therefore, it may appear difficult to re- 
 call, the precise number of months or years by which the 
 American preceded the French Revolution, or to recount 
 the exact order of the several events which ushered in the 
 bloody catastrophe, and the inevitable reaction of the Di- 
 rectory, the Consulate, and the Empire. But viewed in 
 another light the exactest knowledge of these time-periods 
 and time-epochs may be of the greatest service. It may 
 even be absolutely essential to enable the reader to estimate 
 the force and to compute the laws of the agencies which 
 produced these stirring and frightful phenomena. At first 
 view, that would seem to be the most trivial coincidence 
 which conne(3ts two events together by the relation of time 
 — as a discovery, an invention, a bold and beneficent en- 
 terprise achieved by two or three minds in the same month 
 thousands of miles distant. But coincidences of this sort 
 observed and remembered, illustrate how the thinking of 
 the race proceeds with an even step, and may bring out the 
 exact occasion or condition which has evolved in many 
 minds a similar intellectual or moral result. The exact 
 date of the first emigration of miners to San Francisco, or 
 of the first large shipment of gold from California to New 
 York or London, might be of the first importance to illus- 
 
Chap. XII.] How to read History, 151 
 
 trate the beginning of some new movement of commerce, 
 or a new tendency in the money markets of the world. 
 The exact date, to the day of the month, of the proclama- 
 tion of the Queen of England concerning the belligerency 
 of the parties in our late civil war, is esteemed by many as 
 of the greatest significance in determining what were the 
 feelings and what the position of the English Government 
 with respect to the two parties. 
 
 We have cited these examples to illustrate the truths, 
 that to any person who reads history with a moderate de- 
 gree of intelligence and reflection, the chronology of his- 
 tory may be invested with a high intellectual, and even a 
 high moral interest, and that those who study dates and 
 time relations under these higher lights can by degrees 
 learn to remember them. This is but a special inference 
 and application of the general rule already laid down, that 
 every man should read history after the methods and con- 
 nections of his own memory. If a reader has little force 
 of that spontaneous power which reproduces dates and 
 facts by a mechanical method, let him learn to elevate 
 these dates and facts by the dignity and interest which 
 belong to higher relations and deeper principles. If, on 
 the other hand, he remembers isolated facts and incidents 
 with ease, let him not be content with the convenient ser- 
 vice or the doubtful reputation of an intellectual instru- 
 ment that passively depicts everything that has been pre- 
 sented to the mind. 
 
 It is interesting to notice how the driest of all books, — -a 
 table of dates, may to the enlightened eye become radiant 
 with instruction and interest ; and especially how a table 
 of comparative chronology, like the Oxford Tables, or 
 those prepared primarily for the study of Church History 
 by Dr. Henry B. Smith, and many others, may become a 
 most attractive manual. 
 
 Against passive reading of every kind we would enter 
 
152 Books and Beading, [Chap. xii. 
 
 our repeated protest as an idling of time and an enfeebling 
 of the powers. History tempts not a few to such habits. 
 Many read history as they read a novel or a drama, moved 
 only by the excitement of the story, permitting scarcely re- 
 flection enough to assent to the story as a recital of actual 
 events, — dreaming over its pictures rather than believ- 
 ing its realities, neither measuring its facts by principles, 
 nor deriving principles from its facts. Others, of an op- 
 posite habit of mind, bestow so much reflection upon the 
 facts, that they often forget the facts which have suggested 
 their reflections. They read history very much as an ab- 
 sent-minded man listens to a concert or an opera, or as 
 under a lecture or a sermon he surrenders himself so com- 
 pletely to the thoughts which the speaker suggests, that he 
 forgets very much of what the speaker has said. Such 
 persons bring away everything which history can teach 
 them except its facts, viz., the truth and reflections which it 
 suggests. A little faithful and persevering self-discipline 
 would enable such persons to remember both the incidents 
 and the dates, which their own reflections should make per- 
 manent by ennobling them. These thoughts inculcate a con- 
 sideration, which it will not be wise to forget or overlook, 
 and that is, that the reading of history must be prosecuted 
 somewhat as a study, in order to be permanently pleasant 
 or profitable. History need not be learned as a lesson to 
 be repeated to another, but the reading of it should be pro- 
 secuted with a special wakefulness of attention, with con- 
 stant and deliberate reflection, and with frequent and wise- 
 ly arranged reviews. Particularly should history be read 
 with some sort of system at the outset, it being always re- 
 membered that it should never be regarded as an enforced 
 task-work. 
 
 While, then, we should begin to read history by using 
 the kind of memory which we have at command, we 
 should not despair of cultivating our memory by the very 
 
Chap. Xtl.] Sow to read History. 153 
 
 act and effort of reading. Surprising achievements have 
 been accomplished by trifling acts of painstaking, when 
 these have been reduced to fixed and pleasant habits. 
 
 Fourth . History should always be read with the aid of 
 Geography. If the dates of the events of History are im- 
 portant and instructive, so are the places in which they 
 occur. Indeed we may say without reserve, that it is im- 
 possible to read history with intelligence, without bringing 
 distinctly before the eye of the mind the place-relations of 
 the scenes in which these events occur. Nor does it suf- 
 fice that one should be able to fix these as presented by a 
 map, if one cannot interpret the lines of the map into pic- 
 tures of boundary and surface. Not only should the or- 
 dinary map and atlas be kept con§tantly within reach, but 
 what are called historical maps should be freely and con- 
 stantly employed by every reader of history who can pro- 
 cure them. . These are constructed for the special purpose 
 of representing to the eye the various changes and divisions 
 of a country which have occurred in great historic periods, 
 as the result of conquest or colonization. These changes 
 .are represented to the eye by a series of maps of the whole 
 or a part of a continent drawn to the same scale and with 
 the same completeness of physical features ; the growth, 
 diminution, or absorption of its subordinate divisions being 
 indicated by changes in their variously colored boundary 
 lines, and by the presence or absence of its marts, fortresses 
 and Capitols. The several changes in Western Europe 
 which took place after the French Revolution and during 
 the career of Napoleon, are most impressively depicted to 
 the eye by a series of such maps, each one of which tells 
 its own story of rapid conquest and humiliating defeat, of 
 sudden and surprising growth, and of contractions and 
 retreats as unlooked for. The decisions of the Congress of 
 Vienna made it necessary to reconstruct the map of Eu- 
 rope. No sooner had Prussia achieved the one victory of 
 
IS4 Books and Reading, [Chap. xii. 
 
 Sadowa after a seven weeks' campaign, than the maps of 
 Germany were all altered, and new maps of the new 
 Prussia were sold in Berlin before her troops had returned 
 in triumph to the capital. A series of good historical 
 maps of the Rise and Fall of the Koman Empire suggests 
 volumes of Ancient History. The moral and political les- 
 sons which a few moments' inspection of a series of such 
 maps is fitted to enforce, cannot fail to be noticed by any 
 thoughtful mind. The career of the great Napoleon is 
 full of admonitory wisdom as it is illustrated to the eye 
 that follows his unbounded ambitions and his astounding 
 achievements, — in the expanding and still expanding lines 
 of the Empire which centred in Paris, — to that crisis, which 
 contracted them in a day by the victory of Waterloo, and 
 sent him to the distant rock of St. Helena. Historical 
 maps of the great empires of the ancient world are like the 
 successive pictures of a prophet's vision. Historical at- 
 lasses have hitherto been almost inaccessible to ordinary 
 English readers, and have been scarcely known except by 
 historical scholars. With a few exceptions, they have been 
 prepared by German editors, and are not easily used by a 
 person who is ignorant of the German language. The 
 simple inspection of one of the atlasses of Karl von Spruner 
 cannot fail to impress even such a reader with the great 
 utility of such maps as an aid to the reading of history. It 
 cannot be long before appliances so useful and almost in- 
 dispensable will be freely furnished to English and Amer- 
 ican readers. 
 
 We name another use of Geography in the reading of 
 history, which is of far higher interest and of nobler appli- 
 cation — its use in the Philosophy of History. As the 
 dates of events are often of the greatest significance in ex- 
 plaining them, so also is their scene and place. The 
 physical features of every country — as its mountains, 
 coasts, and rivers — should be carefully studied, not merely 
 
Chap. XII.] How to read History, 155 
 
 as they have furnished the show-place upon which, and the 
 limits or framing within which, the great transactions have 
 occurred that have made the country famous, but as they 
 have had a large influence in determining what the history 
 of the country should be. As the material has not a little 
 to do in determining what the spiritual and moral shall be 
 in the development and career of the individual man, so 
 the study of the physical geography of a country is the best 
 interpreter of its history. It often furnishes the only clue 
 by which the student and the reader can explain its most 
 striking peculiarities. For example, if we would under- 
 stand the peculiar and wonderful history of England, it is 
 not merely convenient, and in many senses necessary, to 
 know that the island is moored alongside the Continent, 
 at a convenient and yet a safe distance from France, Spain, 
 Holland and Germany ; but it is entirely essential to keep 
 this fact continually in mind, and to refer to it again and 
 again, as the one condition which England required for the 
 development of her unique and marvellous history, and 
 for the attainment of her boasted imperial power. Had 
 the English channel been only a little less formidable 
 than it is in its rock -lined walls, its storms, its fogs, and 
 its tides, England, might in a half-score of instances, have 
 been possessed and overrun by foreign invaders after she 
 had become great enough to tempt as a prize, or defiant 
 enough to invite as a conquest. Dutch Fleets, Spanish 
 Armadas and French Expeditions, in conjunction with 
 Irish Rebellions, Scotch Risings and Romish Intrigues, 
 would, but for this single physical feature of England, 
 have figured very differently in the changed history of the 
 kingdom, and in the «tory of Protestant Christianity and 
 of general political liberty. Indeed, had the English 
 channel been a little narrower and its currents a little less 
 fearful. Protestantism and freedom might neither of them 
 have had a permanent foothold on the earth — assuredly 
 
156 Books and Reading [Chap. xn. 
 
 not upon English soil. The free spirit of the English 
 people would have wanted the insular protection within 
 which to find its free development, that gave it a home 
 and a fortress as against foreign assailants, and a conve- 
 nient city of refuge for many a noble exile. The seafaring 
 tastes and the adventurous spirit of the English navigators 
 and traders owe to this circumstance their early and mar- 
 vellous growth — from which originated the naval supre- 
 macy, the colonial extension, and the enormous wealth 
 of this sometimes unscrupulous and always imperious peo- 
 ple, which so long rejoiced in the exclusive title to the 
 dominion of the seas. But the high tides and stormy 
 passages along the coasts of this island would themselves 
 have accomplished little for England's power and wealth 
 had it not been for the coal and tin and iron which were 
 also provided beneath her rocks, as the means of develop- 
 ing her manufacturing skill, and of fabricating the metallic 
 and textile products with which for so long a period she 
 has tempted and controlled the markets of the world. 
 Here, again, the proximity of England to the Continent, 
 with her insular independence of it, were miost important, 
 as they enabled her government in repeated instances to 
 introduce skilled labor from Flanders and from France, 
 on critical occasions, when it was not only convenient for 
 manufacturers and "artisans to leave their homes, but when 
 this became necessary if they would save their consciences 
 and their lives. Thus did England, by its physical fea- 
 tures, become not only an asylum for many of the noblest 
 exiles, but she also made of this asylum a treasure-house 
 for her future wealth and a work-shop for the supply of 
 the world, which in this way became her tributary. 
 
 The example of England is one of many which might 
 be adduced to illustrate the relation of physical geography 
 to history. The honor of discerning and setting forth this 
 relation in its adequate and manifold importance belongs 
 
Chap, xil] How to read History, 157 
 
 to Professor Carl Bitter j one of the most eminent men of 
 the present century, who was alike distinguished for his 
 vast learning, his historical sagacity, and his modest and 
 Christian humility. His views were given to English 
 readers some years ago by one of his most eminent disci- 
 ples, Professor Arnold Guyot, in " The Earth and 3Ian/^ 
 and more recently in translations from a few of his works. 
 The intelligent reader, however, needs only to seize upon 
 the clue which Ritter's speculative wisdom has furnished, to 
 be able to read history by a new light and with a new in- 
 terest, as he finds the physical features as well as the geo- 
 graphical situation of every country to be essential to the 
 understanding of its political and moral growth, and of 
 the part which it has enacted in the world's drama. 
 
 The thought is kindred, but not unimportant, that to 
 understand and appreciate either history or geography with 
 the highest profit, and especially to understand the two as 
 mutually related, traveling with an intelligent eye is an 
 important auxiliary. We would not be understood to as- 
 sert or intimate that a person who cannot travel cannot do 
 justice to the reading of history. The fact is notorious, 
 that some of the most intelligent and appreciative students 
 of histoiy have traveled but little ; while hundreds, if not 
 thousands, yearly look upon Rome and Jerusalem and the 
 Nile with unanointed eyes, who neither bring to these ex- 
 citing places nor carry away from them a single historic 
 association. 
 
 Nor, again, is it needful to travel long distances, or to 
 visit many of the seats of ancient or modem commerce and 
 empire, in order to learn the most important and the most 
 substantial lessons which travel is fitted to impart. A 
 journey of a hundred miles can be turned by one person 
 to uses that are far more abundant and instructive than a 
 journey of a thousand miles by another.- The sagacious 
 eye needs but few hints or motives to be able to judge of 
 
H8 Book& and Reading, [Ohap. xii, 
 
 the remote by the near, of the long by the short, and of 
 the great by the small. Gibbon found in the study of 
 tactics which he made as captain of the Hants militia a 
 sufficient preparation to enable him to understand the 
 movements of the great military leaders of the Roman em- 
 pire. " The discipline and evolutions of a modern batta- 
 lion," he says, " gave me a clearer notion of the phalanx 
 and the legion ; and the captain of the Hampshire gre- 
 nadiers (the reader may smile) has not been useless to the 
 historian of the Roman eftipire.'' On the other hand, no 
 intellect can be so acute, and no imagination can be so ac- 
 tive, as not to be stimulated and instructed by the excite- 
 ments of the eye and the ear. The traveler who has 
 crossed the Alps in person and on foot will be far more 
 likely to do justice to the difficulties which impeded Han- 
 nibal ; and he who has traversed Palestine with the Scrip- 
 tures in his hand cannot but make more jeal to himself 
 and more intelligible the Old and the New Testament 
 history. It is worth noticing that the best historical writ- 
 ers have almost uniformly been fond of traveling. At 
 least, they have had " the topographical eye," and that in- 
 terest in natural scenery which seems to be essential to the 
 vivid representation to the mind of historic scenes, events, 
 and personages. 
 
 This suggests our fifth point, viz., the use of the ima- 
 gination in the reading of history. Whately pertinently 
 observes, in his annotations upon Lord Bacon^s Essay on 
 Studies : " In reference to the study of history, I have 
 elsewhere remarked upon the importance, among the in- 
 tellectual qualifications for such a study, of a vivid ima- 
 gination — a faculty which, consequently, a skilful narrator 
 must himself possess, and to which he must be able to 
 furnish excitement in others. Some may, perhaps, be 
 startled at this remark who have been accustomed to con- 
 sider imagination as having no other office than to feign 
 
Chap, xil] Sow to read History, 159 
 
 and to falsify. Every faculty is liable to abuse and mis- 
 direction, and imagination among the rest ; but it is a 
 mistake to suppose that it necessarily tends to pervert the 
 truth of history, and to mislead the judgment. On the 
 contrary, our view of any transaction, especially one that 
 is remote in time and place, will necessarily be imperfect, 
 generally incorrect, unless it embrace something more than 
 the bare outline of the occurrences; unless we have before 
 the mind a lively idea of the scenes in which the events 
 took place, the habits of thought and of feeling of the ac- 
 tors, and all the circumstances connected with the transac- 
 tion ; unless, in short, we can in a considerable degree 
 transport ourselves out of our own age, and country, and 
 persons, and imagine ourselves the agents or spectators. 
 It is from consideration of all these circumstances that we 
 are enabled to form a right judgment as to the facts which 
 history records, and to derive instruction from it. To say 
 that the imagination, if not regulated by sound judgment 
 and sufficient knowledge, may chance to convey to us false 
 impressions of past events, is only to say that man is falli- 
 ble. But such false impressions are even much tJie more 
 likely to take possession of those whose imagination is fee- 
 ble or uncultivated. They are apt to imagine the things, 
 persons, times, countries, etc., which they read of, as much 
 less different from what they see around them than is real- 
 ly the case. The practical importance of such an exercise 
 of imagination to a full and clear, and consequently pro- 
 fitable, view of the transactions related in history can hard- 
 ly be over-estimated." 
 
 To stimulate and aid the imagination in its efforts to re- 
 produce the past, historical plays and poems, and more 
 recently historical novels, have been abundantly employed. 
 Their usefulness has been the subject of frequent discussion 
 and of various opinions. It has been forcibly, and perhaps 
 not untruly said, that the majority of the present generation 
 
160 Books and Beading, [Chap. xii. 
 
 of English readers have learned more of English history 
 from Shakspeare and Walter Scott than from the entire 
 library of professed historians. Of course no man would 
 contend that either Shakspeare or Scott can be substituted 
 for the usual historical authorities, but only that they may 
 supplement them in certain important particulars. Many 
 other historical plays and novels are invaluable, as enabling 
 the reader to enter more fully into the spirit of past times. 
 They are of especial service in helping him to appreciate 
 the feelings and motives of prominent personages, and 
 vividly to reproduce the manners and institutions of another 
 age. It is not often that an historical writer is endoAved 
 with the painstaking zeal of the antiquarian and the creative 
 power of the poet. If we cannot have the two gifts in a 
 single writer, we must seek for them apart, in the historian 
 and the novelist. 
 
 Thackeray's Henry Esmond is an admirable example of 
 a good historical novel, when carefully and conscientiously 
 written by a man of rare gifts, and of a rarer honesty. 'No 
 reader of this tale of the times of Queen Anne could fail to 
 derive from it such impressions of the state of manners and 
 of morals in the higher circles, as well as of the political 
 jealousies and the religious feuds which divided men of all 
 classes, as no formal history could possibly convey — such 
 as even the most abundant and painstaking research into 
 the less access- ble sources of historical knowledge would 
 fail to impart to a man of feeble capacity to picture and re- 
 combine. The service is not a slight one which is rendered 
 to the world, when a painstaking explorer of historic truth 
 like Thackeray gathers his materials with faithful and 
 laborious research, and weaves them together into so fasci- 
 nating and instructive a story. But this tale, marvellous as 
 it is for its elaborated truthfulness and picturesque effects, 
 strikingly illustrates the possible dangers, and disadvantages 
 to which the historical novel may be abused. Thackeray 
 
Chap. XII.] How to read History, 161 
 
 was not without his prejudices in certain directions. These, 
 with his desire for producing; striking effects, are manifest 
 in the occasional overdrawing of this generally well bal- 
 anced representation of one of the most interesting periods 
 of English history. It is notorious that Walter Scott^gave 
 very serious offence to multitudes of his admiring readers 
 by some of his portraitures of the representative characters 
 of the great historical parties of Scotland and England. 
 With all the good sense and candor which he had at com- 
 mand, his sympathies were too intense and his prejudices 
 too tenacious to allow him to write otherwise than he 
 did, though he knew he should excite the indignation of 
 thousands of his fervid countrymen. 3frs. H. B. Stoice, 
 says in the preface to her recent historical romance, Old- 
 town Folks: — ^'I have tried to make my mind as still smd 
 passive as a looking-glass or a mountain lake, and thus to 
 give you merely the images reflected therein. '' But a fer- 
 vid and sympathetic nature like hers can no more free itself- 
 from a theological or personal bias, in representing the 
 New England of the past, over which she has laughed, and 
 wept, and speculated, and struggled all her life, than "the 
 mountain lake" can hold itself in glassy smoothness against 
 the gusts and breezes that sweep upon it from the heights 
 above. Writers less conscientious and trustworthy than 
 the three we have named would very easily make the his- 
 torical novel to be the vehicle of partisan prejudice, dishon- 
 est misrepresentation, and virulent vituperation. It is also 
 so easy to exaggerate for the simple purpose of effective repre- 
 sentation, that many such novels have been written with 
 no conscious bias, and yet have been no better than coarse 
 exaggerations and extravagant caricatures of the simple 
 truth. Some of the novels of '^ Mrs. IluhlbacV (Clara 
 Mundt) are sad and humiliating examples of this sort, 
 doing equal violence to historic truth, to correct taste, and 
 to dramatic propriety. Others are written with greater 
 11 
 
162 Boohs and Beading. [Chap. xii. 
 
 fidelity to both dramatic and historic truth. The very 
 wide-spread popularity of these tales illustrates the fitness 
 of this kind of writing to meet an important craving of 
 human nature. The volumes of the Schonberg-Cotta and 
 the Erckmann-Chatrian series will readily occur to many of 
 our readers as exemplifying the same truth. George Eliofs 
 JRomola is if possible a still more surprising achievement 
 than any which we have named; as the period was more 
 remote and the materials more scanty, and the actors and 
 scenery more strange to a native of England. 
 
 The fact deserves notice in this connection that, of late, 
 professed historians have indulged somewhat freely in ro- 
 mancing, and so in a sense turned their histories into quasi- 
 historical novels ; especially when they attempt to give 
 elaborate and eloquent portraitures of their leading person- 
 ages, in which the most lavish use is made of effective 
 epithets and of pointed antitheses. Macaulay, among the 
 recent historians, has set the fashion very decidedly in this 
 direction. In his efforts to make history minute, vivid, 
 and effective, he has often described like an impassioned 
 advocate, and painted like a retained attorney, with the 
 most unsparing expenditure of contrasts and epithets. 
 Garlyle gives sketches alternately in chalk and charcoal, 
 that exhibit his saints and demons, now in ghastliest white, 
 and then in the most appalling blackness. But though he 
 draws caricatures he draws them with the hand of an artist, 
 and if his outlines are often bold and grotesque there are 
 many of which Michael Angelo would not have been 
 ashamed. Froude, by research, eloquence, and audacity 
 combined, attempts to reverse the settled historic judg- 
 ments of all mankind in respect to the characters that had 
 been '^ damned to everlasting fame." Bancroft and Motley 
 abound in examples of this tendency to paint historical 
 characters so much to the life, that the impression is made 
 that the result is only a painting to which there never was 
 
Chap. XII.] B^ow to read History, 163 
 
 reality. The ghost of the miserable Philip II. would suf- 
 fer more than the purgatorial tortures which he dreaded 
 and deserved so long, were he made to writhe under the 
 unsparing pertinacity of Motley's invective, from which 
 there is no release, and to which there is no termination : 
 while the spirit of William, the Silent would be more re- 
 served and reticent than ever were he forced to listen to 
 the perhaps not undeserved, but the certainly unqualified 
 laudations of his admiring narrator. The elaborate por- 
 traits of Bancroft, if they do nothing more, do most effec- 
 tively illustrate the historian's own conceptions of what 
 sets off a man well in description, so intense is the color- 
 ing and so abundant are the adornments which he em- 
 ploys. The disposition to use two colors certainly allows 
 striking contrasts, if it does nothing more. The hero in 
 black is drawn with deep shadows, if they are few. The 
 hero in white is as white as is practicable, and permit him 
 to be distinctly visible. Gradations in color as well as 
 flowing outlines, if less effective in the excitement with 
 which they shock and excite the nerves, are more pleasing 
 to the taste that is truly refined, as well as ordinarily more 
 true to nature, and just to the reality of things. 
 
 To satisfy the imagination history must be individual 
 and minute. Hence it is that biography supplements his- 
 tory so happily by imparting an individual interest to the 
 events which concern a larger number of men, by giving 
 minuteness of detail in place of general and vague descrip- 
 tions, and by awakening our personal and human sympa- 
 thies in what would otherwise be conceived as indefinite 
 and impersonal. The life of a great ruler or a distinguished 
 commander becomes for these reasons the most satis- 
 factory medium for recounting the history of a great nation 
 or a critical war. We need only cite as examples the lives 
 of Frederick, Napoleon, and Abraham Lincoln. A single 
 human being takes the central place in the picture, and his 
 
164 Books and Reading. [Chap. xii. 
 
 personal feelings and interests awaken active interest and 
 sympathy. The recital of the events of which he had per- 
 sonal knowledge stands out in bold relief from the hazy 
 back-ground of general descriptions and the dry details of 
 dates, numbers, and results. Hence a snatch from the diary 
 of a soldier on a march, a brief letter after a battle, a per- 
 sonal narrative of what he saw and felt in a charge or 
 repulse, is often more attractive and even more instructive 
 than scores of official summaries and despatches. The few 
 diaries which were faithfully kept in the stirring times of 
 England, as those of Evelyn and Pepys, the personal recol- 
 lections of Mrs. Lucy Hutchinson, and the stately record- 
 ings of Burton in his Cromwellian diary, are not only val- 
 ued above all price for the distinctness with which they 
 bring again to life those exciting times, but they have given 
 suggestions for scores of imitations in manifold fictitious au- 
 tobiographies and diaries. A few series of letters from an 
 active correspondent to his intimate friend like those of 
 Horace AYalpole, are sometimes of great interest and ser- 
 vice. Indeed a bundle of old letters, freshly gathered from 
 some forgotten chest or dusty closet may aid the imagina- 
 tion and move the heart more than a score of elaborate 
 volumes. The zealous student of history is moved by the 
 true historic spirit, to fill his library with books and col- 
 lections of this sort, and is never weary with ruminating 
 over the past which , he ever anew recreates to the eye 
 of his mind out of these fragmentary hints, and these tat- 
 tered, seared, and dusty memorials. An old letter reveals 
 a new world ; an old account-book recalls a past generation, 
 with its ways of getting and spending, of buying and sell- 
 ing, of marrying and burying, of clothing and furnishing. 
 We have read a manuscript correspondence of sixty years 
 from a friend in England to a friend in the United States 
 that seemed to introduce us to much that was most impor- 
 tant of the inner life of England during the intcrestiiig 
 
Chap. XII. J ^ow to read History, 165 
 
 and exciting period which it covered. An old musket or 
 a soldier's outfit represents a battle-field of another time ; 
 and an old diary unrolls a pictured procession of deaths 
 and burials, of weddings and funerals, of famines and 
 pestilences, in which the long dead reappear upon the 
 earth, inhabit their old houses, and walk the once-fre- 
 quented streets. The imagination of many a Dr. Dry^ 
 asdust is pictured all over with unwritten romances ; and 
 his heart, which seems as desolate and forbidding as his 
 dusty and disorderly den, is brimming over with the ten- 
 derest recollections. Peace to his ashes, for in them slum- 
 ber the glowing embers of the loved and therefore the un- 
 forgotten pastl 
 
CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 A CX)URSE OF HISTORICAL READING. 
 
 We proceed next to give an outline of a course of Histor- 
 ical Reading. It will be remembered that we do not pro- 
 pose to furnish a list of books for the student, but only for 
 the general reader. We begin with the earliest period, and 
 follow the order of time. 
 
 The best and most readily accessible general history of 
 the earliest nations is Philip Smith's History of the World, 
 from the Earliest Records to the Present Time, of which the 
 history of the nations of antiquity is complete, and com- 
 prises three volumes. This History has the very great 
 advantage of using the results of the latest researches and 
 explorations in literary and monumental remains, and is 
 written and compiled with a distinct recognition of the 
 criticdl method which we have already noticed. It suffers, 
 as was unavoidable, under the disadvantage of being a 
 compilation. It is of necessity not written with the enthu- 
 siasm and earnestness which only those writers attain who 
 have limited their investigations to a single country or a 
 single period, and are not constrained by the necessity of 
 condensation. It is especially serviceable as an introduction 
 to more special and particular histories. This work cannot 
 be recommended too earnestly as compared with Rollin, 
 Prideaux, Shuckford, and numerous writers like them, 
 whose .usefulness and authority have been superseded, and 
 whose occupation ought by this time to be gone. It is to 
 be feared that notwithstanding the progress of civilization, 
 shoals of their works will continue to be multiplied by the 
 zeal of interested publishers, and that book-agents will 
 166 
 
Chap, xni.] A Course of Historical Reading, 167 
 
 still sell them as standard histories. Niebiihr's Lectures 
 on Ancient History,, etc., in three volumes, treat of special 
 topics with learning and freshness. They are of a general 
 character, and are in striking contrast with those excessively 
 minute and learned investigations which were given to the 
 world in the first volumes of his History of E-ome, and 
 which have occasioned the impression that Niebuhr in all 
 his writings is unintelligible to those readers who are not 
 scholars. C. L. Brace's Races of the Old World is an ex- 
 cellent companion in all historical studies. 
 
 A. H. L. Heeren, in his Politics, Intercourse and Trade 
 of Ancient Asiatic Nations and his Politics, Intei^course and 
 Trade of the Carthaginians, Ethiopians, and Egyptians, treats 
 of these special topics with great freshness, and has the great 
 merit of continually confronting and comparing the past 
 with the present, making the ancient world to seem a real 
 world to the modern reader, and its life to be reproduced 
 as an actual and present reality. He writes for the historic 
 imagination as well as for the historic judgment. Rawlin- 
 son's History of the Five Great Monarchies of the Ancient 
 Eastern World is a recent work, which is at once original, 
 drawn from direct research, critical, and reverent of things 
 and truths which are sacred. Rawlinson's Herodotus ought 
 to be named in this connection. Le Normant and Cheval- 
 lier's History of the Oriental Nations of Antiquity, 2 vols, 
 partially satisfies a long-felt want. A. H. Layard's Dis- 
 coveries in Nineveh and Nineveh and its Remains would 
 naturally be consulted here. 
 
 In the history and antiquities of Egypt, Sir J. G. Wil- 
 kinson is tlie highest authority, and he may be read either 
 in liis larger work, Planners and Customs of the Ancient 
 Egi/ptians, 3 vols. 8vo., or in the more popular and abridged 
 Popular Account of the Ancient Egyptians^ 2 vols. 12 mo. 
 IThleraann's Three Days in Memphis is as successful an 
 attempt at reviving the Egyptian world to the imagination 
 
168 Boohs and Beading. [Chap, xiii 
 
 of the moderns as couM be expected. Osburn's Monumen- 
 tal History of Egypt is a work of interest and authority. 
 Egypt Arwient and Modern, by M. Russell, is a brief com- 
 pend of Egyptian history. Egypt and the Books of Moses 
 is an elaborate work, by E. W. Plengstenberg. Egypt Bast 
 and B resent, by Dr. J. P. Thompson, is carefully prepared. 
 Egypt, its Blace in the World^s History, by Baron Bunsen, 
 has the characteristic excellencies and defects of its well- 
 known author. 
 
 If we pass from Egypt to Palestine, we have for the 
 general reader the well-known and the well-written History 
 of the Jews, by the eloquent and scholarly H. H. Milman. 
 This work is not as frequently and faithfully read as it de- 
 serves to be. It is written with the critical spirit of a 
 thorough scholar, with the candor of an enlightened Biblical 
 student, with the imagination of a poet, and the faith of a 
 believing Christian. Jahn's History of the Hebrew Com- 
 monwealth, from the German, is solid and trustworthy, but 
 heavy in style. Ewald's History of the Beople of Israel, 
 from the German, translated in part, is masterly for its 
 learning and originality, but abundant in capricious and 
 not always well-sustained suggestions. M. T. Raphall's 
 Bost Blblieal History of the Jews is a faithful and painstak- 
 ing History by a well-known learned Rabbi. For the 
 understanding of the Hebrew institutions in their relation 
 to the Hebrew literature. Herder's Spirit of Hebrew Boet/ry, 
 from the German, is invaluable. No intelligent and 
 thoughtful reader can fail to be delighted and instructed 
 by its eloquent pages. Isaac Taylor On Hebrew Boetry, 
 and Robert Lowth on the Sacred Boetry of the Hebreivs are 
 both excellent adjuncts. Helon^s Bllgrlmage, an historical 
 novel, from the German of F. Strauss, published more re- 
 cently also under the title of The Glory of the House of 
 Israel, is a very successful attempt to reproduce in a tale 
 the life of the Jewish people in the century preceding the 
 
Chap.xiit.] -4 Course of Historical Reading, 169 
 
 advent of Christ. It was prepared with great care, with 
 competent learning, and as an aid to the study of the Jew- 
 ish history and institutions, as well as a successful inter- 
 preter of the Jewish faith and worship, is worth a score of 
 professed and formal commentaries. Its merits are far 
 superior to many extemporized and superficial imitations 
 purporting to be reproductions of the times of the Old 
 Testament and the Jews, that seek to supply what they lack 
 in historic accuracy, by exaggerated diction, ill-conceived 
 illustrations, and extravagant portraiture. 
 
 No thorough student of Jewish history would be willing 
 to overlook the works of Josephus, the only, but not al- 
 ways to be trusted authority upon many points. The or- 
 dinary reader cannot but find great advantage in reading 
 portions of these works, if for no other reason than that 
 they so effectually transport him back into the past, and 
 enable him to understand and to sympathize with the 
 spirit of the enlightened political Jews of the times. The 
 Geography of Palestine has been treated in an exhaustive 
 and critical way by the eminent Professor Robinson in his 
 Biblical Hesearches, and his Geography of Palestine. The 
 Sinai and Palestine, in connection with their History, by 
 Arthur P. Stanley, is more popular in its form, and is bet- 
 ter adapted to the use of the general reader. The 3Iaps 
 of Palestine that were edited by Dr. Robinson are very 
 carefully corrected, and the Map of the Holy Land, by C. 
 W. M. Van de Yelde, is in every respect deserving the 
 highest confidence. Raa?, Map of Palestine, an imitation 
 of maps in relief, is at once ornamental and instructive, 
 and should be in the hands of every student of Biblical 
 History. The Dictionaries of the Bible and the Encyclo- 
 pedias of Religious Literature which we shall notice in the 
 Chapter on Religious Reading are indispensable auxiliaries. 
 
 From Palestine to Greece is but a short distance, and 
 the transition is not unnatural from the Hebraic to the 
 
170 Books and Beading, [Chap. xiil. 
 
 Greek history. C. Wordsworth's Greece, Pictorial, De- 
 scriptive and Historical, and a History of Greek Art, is an 
 admirable introduction to the study of the geography, his- 
 tory and literature of that wonderful country. The extend- 
 ed and carefully written History of Greece by George Grote 
 has superseded almost every other, and no objection can be 
 urged against it, except its excessive minuteness and its 
 length. A good abridgement of it for schools and begin- 
 ners has been prepared by William Smith. W. Mitford's 
 History of Greece is written with great spirit and with 
 masterly vigor ; but it is excessively partisan in its charac- 
 ter, the writer being a desperate enemy to popular institu- 
 tions of every kind, and finding in the convulsions and 
 changes of the states of Greece abundant confirmations for 
 his political sympathies. C. Thirl wall's History of Gh-eece is 
 carefully written, but it wants the spirit of Mitford, and the 
 critical research and masterly insight of Grote. E. Curtius' 
 Manual History, from the German, from the reputation of 
 the author, must be accepted as of high authority. Anxi- 
 charsis^ Travels, by J. J. Barth^lemy, from the French, is 
 an attempt to recall the Greece that was, in a series of^ ima- 
 gined travels taken in the palmy days of the Grecian 
 States. Pausanias's Greece, an itinerary from a careful 
 traveler and antiquary of the second century, is invaluable 
 as a record of places, buildings, and works of art as seen by 
 Greek eyes and judged by a Greek mind. W. A. Becker's 
 Charicles is a brief and formal, but for its purposes, an ad- 
 mirable historical novel, the design of which is to repro- 
 duce Greek life as it has been re-created and interpreted by 
 the thorough critical researches of modern scholarship. It 
 is fortified and illustrated by abundant notes, which refer 
 to the classical writers. C. J. Felton's Greece Aifwient and 
 Modern, is learned and spirited. Athens, its Rise and 
 Fall, by Sir Edward Lytton Bulwer, is eloquently written, 
 and serves to quicken and aid the historic imagination, 
 
Chap, xiii.j -^ Course of Historical Reajing, 171 
 
 while Attica and Athens by C. O. Muller and others is at 
 once learned and interesting, and A. Boeckh's Public Econ-^ 
 omy of Athens is full of solid and satisfactory information 
 in respect to the political organization of the State. 
 
 The later history of Greece has been carefully and labo- 
 riously written by George Finlay in the following works, 
 which are above the taste and the wants, as they are be- 
 yond the reach of the ordinary reader : Greece imder the 
 Roman^y Medioeval History of Greece^ History of the By- 
 zantine and Greek Empire. 
 
 The history of Rome may be said to be well represented 
 in English literature by Thomas Arnold's History of Rome 
 and his Later Roman Commonwealth^ and by Charles 
 Merivale's Rome under the Emperors. These works may 
 be recommended as of the very highest authority in respect 
 to research and thoroughness. They are all written in a 
 clear and fluent style. H. G. Liddell's History is a scholar- 
 ly manual compiled from the best sources. J. C. Eustace's 
 Classical Tour through Italy is a useful book of reference. 
 Theodore Mommsen's History of Rome^ from the German, 
 is now accessible to English readers, and cannot be too high- 
 ly praised for its brilliant generalizations and its success in 
 comparing ancient with modern events and institutions. 
 W. A. Becker's Gallus does the same for Roman which 
 his Charides does for Greek life. W. Forsyth's Life of 
 Cicero, though a little stiff and ponderous in its movement, 
 is valuable to the reader who desires to understand something 
 of the individual life of one of the most distinguished of Ro- 
 man writers and statesmen, and who also would learn some- 
 what of the domestic and social life of the country, as re- 
 flected in the personal record of the feelings and the fortunes 
 of so great a man. This biography, like the most interest- 
 ing of modern lives, is in the main drawn from Cicero's 
 private letters. The whole correspondence of Cicero with 
 Atticus is accessible by translations to English readers. 
 
172 Books and Heading, [Chap. xiii. 
 
 Plutarch's Lives have been read with enthusiasm by thouv 
 sands of youths, and have at least imbued their readers 
 with vivid impressions of ancient thought and feeling. 
 They are lauded by R. W. Emerson as one of the books 
 which every man should read and re-read. A. H. Clough's 
 revised edition is the best. 
 
 This suggests the thought that the reader of Greek and 
 Roman history who is not a proficient in the Greek and 
 Latin languages, — as well as many who are, — cannot be 
 said to master the history of these countries unless he 
 knows something of their literature and of its history. 
 
 There are now accessible many good translations of the 
 works of the leading writers in prose and poetry, as also 
 good critical and popular histories of these literatures. 
 The great poems of Homer have been rendered into Eng- 
 lish with. various ability and success, from the quaint and 
 graphic Chapman down to the Earl of Derby and two or 
 three after him, of whom our own Bryant is the last 
 but not the least successful. The history of Herodotus 
 has been translated and commented upon by Rawlinson. 
 W. E. Gladstone's Juventus Mundi is intensely interest- 
 ing in its reproduction of the Greek life from the representa- 
 tions of Ilomer. In this connexion we name G. W. Cox's 
 Manual of Mythology, Tales of the Gods and Heroes, Tales o^ 
 Thebes and Argos; C. O. Miiller's Scientific System of My- 
 thology. Several of the Dialogues of Plato have been 
 translated into fluent English with annotations by the emi- 
 nent philosopher W. Whewell. George Grote has written 
 an elaborate treatise upon the writings of Plato, in the 
 form of a careful analysis of each of his Dialogues. Aris- 
 totle's Ethics, Rhetoric, and Treatise on Poetry have been 
 well translated and published in Bohn's Classical Library. 
 The Tragedies of Sophocles have been translated by E. H. 
 Plumptre, and some of the Comedies of Aristophanes have 
 been admirably rendered by J. Hookham Frere. Coning- 
 
Chap, xiil] A Course of Historical Heading, 173 
 
 ton^s Virgil is interesting even to a school-boy. The well- 
 known translations of the leading Latin writers need not be 
 enumerated. William Mon-is's Life and Death of Jason, 
 imitated from the Greek^ is admirably fitted to awaken the 
 feeling for ancient life and to carry the reader back to the 
 earlier centuries. Of the histories of Greek and Roman 
 literature we may name W. Mure's History of the Language 
 and Literature of Ancient Greece, also C. O. MUller's His- 
 tory of the Literature of Ancient Gireece, published by the 
 Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge, and Dun- 
 lop's History of Roman Literature. William Smith's 
 Dictionaries of Ancient Geography, 2 vols. ; of Antiqui- 
 ties, 1 vol., and of Biography and Mythology, 3 vols., are 
 an encyclopedia of reference upon all points and ques- 
 tions which relate to Greek and Roman history, litera- 
 ture, and biography. Rollings History of the Arts and 
 Sciences of the Ancients is a much better book than the 
 much better known Ancient Universal History, 
 
 As we come from ancient to modern times, the introduc- 
 tion of Christianity and the rise and growth of the Chris- 
 tian Church attract our attention. They cannot be left out 
 of view, for they are entwined with the rise and growth of 
 all the modern States, and in great part constitute as well 
 as in greater measure explain our modern history. We 
 may speak hereafter more at length of books upon these 
 topics under the title of Religious Reading, but at present 
 we shall confine ourselves to the notice which they deserve 
 from the reader of general history. H. H. Milman's History 
 of Christianity in the First Three Centuries is perhaps the best 
 single work of the general character which is required by 
 such a reader. This work is neither ecclesiastical nor re- 
 ligious. It professes to treat of Christianity chiefly as it 
 affected the secular, political, and social relations of the 
 Roman empire and the Roman world. C. Merivale's Con- 
 version of the Roman Empire is a work of the same general 
 
174 Books and Beading, [Chap. xrir. 
 
 scope. Helena^s Household, an unpretending story by J. 
 De Mille, recently issued, gives an interesting and faithful 
 picture of the workings of Christianity in a Koman house- 
 hold, and interweaves also much of the history of a part 
 of the first and second centuries. Zenobia, Aurelian and 
 Julian, by the Rev. William Ware, Salathiel, by Ecv. 
 George Croly, and Valerius, by J. G. Lockhart, are all ex- 
 cellent examples of good historical tales of the earlier 
 Christian centuries. Neander's General History of the 
 Christian Religion and the Christian Church is not un- 
 worthy the attention of the general reader, although it is 
 professedly written from a religious as well as a secular 
 standpoint. The great work upon this transition-period 
 which meets and satisfies the wants of the general reader 
 most completely is the masterly history by Gibbon of the 
 Decline and Fall of the Roman JE/nipire. It still remains 
 the treasure-house of digested learning and of critical judg- 
 ment for all other historians. We have already taken ex- 
 ception to the moral spirit in which it was written, and to 
 the antagonistic attitude which it assumes towards Christi- 
 anity. While we ought not to insist that every historical 
 writer should write in a believing or devout spirit, we may 
 reasonably require that he should treat with respect the 
 opinions of believers in Christianity, and that he should 
 not dishonor by contemptuous and indirect depreciation 
 that religious system which is universally conceded to be 
 the noblest which the world has ever witnessed. To 
 counteract the influence of these arguments and insinua- 
 tions of Gibbon, both Milman and Guizot have edited 
 special editions of this History, with abundant notes. The 
 Stadenfs Gibbon, prepared by W. Smith, in a similar 
 spirit, is an edition greatly abridged, which is designed for 
 school and college use, and may serve as a convenient 
 manual for review and reference. J. Sismondi has also writ- 
 ten an excellent brief History of the Decline and Fall 
 
Chap. XIII.] A Course of Historical Beading. 175 
 
 of the Roman Empire. Milmau's History of Latin Chris- 
 tianity is of the highest value, and is universally accepted 
 as one of our best standard histories. 
 
 Gibbon's celebrated history is the connecting bridge by 
 which we pass from ancient to what we are accustomed 
 to call Modern History. A dark chasm intervenes be- 
 tween the two, in which barbarism and disorder struggle 
 with the tendencies to civilization and order, which during 
 a long series of centuries are furnished first and almost 
 exclusively by the Christian Church, itself greatly unen- 
 lightened and corrupt. Others sprung from the literature, 
 art, and free spirit that were introduced and inspired by 
 the revival of classical study, and both at last struck their 
 own roots and developed an independent life in what we 
 call modern Europe. It is not yet given to special stu- 
 dents of history to understand this period perfectly, and 
 the results of what has been satisfactorily established are 
 not accessible in general histories that are adapted to the 
 ordinary reader. Koch's Revolutions of Europe is an ex- 
 panded chronological table, convenient for reference and 
 instruction to those who have patience to use it. A. F. 
 Tytler's Modern History was once used in schools and col- 
 leges, but has now been generally disused. W. C. Taylor's 
 Manual of Modern History is to be preferred to this. Rus- 
 sell's well-known and much used History of Modern Europe 
 may perhaps be set aside by the compilation of Philip 
 Smith. A few manuals translated from the German, as 
 those of J. Yon Muller, Schlosser, Weber, furnish the 
 principal facts, with little or no expansion, illustration, or 
 philosophy. 
 
 Rev. James White's Eighteen Christian Centuries is 
 •written with spirit, and furnishes a very convenient and 
 interesting general view of the prominent events of modern 
 history. It is, however, and professes to be, nothing more 
 than* a sketch of these events. A sketch of an entirely 
 
176 BooTcs and Reading, [Chap. xiii. 
 
 different character is fotind in Guizot's History of Civiliza- 
 tion in Europe, This work treats of the great moving in- 
 fluences and agencies which brought order and light into 
 the chaos and darkness consequent upon the breaking up 
 of the ancient civilization. Hallam's State of Europe dur- 
 ing the Middle Ages is a work of the highest authority. 
 Though exceedingly dry and condensed in its matter and 
 manner, it is indispensable even to a general reader. In 
 this connection we may properly refer to Hallam's Intro- 
 duction to the Literature of Europe, as giving the best ac- 
 count which is accessible of the beginnings and progress 
 of literature from the period of its revival and onward. 
 Froissart's Chronicles carry us back to the fourteenth cen- 
 tury, and give us vivid impressions of the stir and ro- 
 mance of chivalry. Professor G. W. Greene's Lectures on 
 the Middle Ages is a useful and trustworthy manual. 
 Leopold Rankers History of the Popes and History of the 
 Reformation should also be read as supplementary to the 
 exclusively secular histories of those times. It is, of 
 course, written from a Protestant point of view, but is gen- 
 erally accepted as candid and trustworthy. No man can 
 understand the history of Europe who does not make him- 
 self intimately acquainted with the manifold phases and 
 the powerful agency of the Romish Church, and with the 
 relation of the Protestant Reformation to the political ac- 
 tion of the Protestant powers. An historical essay by 
 James Bryce, On the Holy Roman Empire, treats very 
 ably of the fancied successor to the old Roman domi- 
 nion, which at times embraced within its supremacy manv 
 of the separate European States, and had the most import- 
 ant influence over the whole field of European history. 
 D' Aubigne's History of the Reformation, which is -decided- 
 ly Protestant and positively and earnestly religious, is 
 drawn from original sources and largely biographical. 
 The History of the Crusades by Michaud, from the 
 
Chap. XIII.] ^ Coufse of SistoHcdl Reading, 177 
 
 French, and C. Mills' History of the Crusades, should be 
 read here, with Tasso's Jerusalem Delivered and Walter 
 Scott's Ivanhoe and The Talisman. 
 
 If we leave the general history of Europe and consider 
 its separate States and countries, we naturally turn first to 
 Italy. In this field the supply for English readers is un- 
 fortunately very meagre. Frederick von Eaumer's ffis- 
 tory of Italy and the Italians, from the German, and J. C. 
 L. S. de Sismondi's History of the Italian Repuhlics, from 
 the French, are works of deservedly high reputation. 
 William Roscoe's Life and Pontificate of Leo X. and 
 Life of Lorenzo de Medici are elegantly and carefully 
 written. Sir Edward Lytton Bulwer's Rienzi, or the 
 Last of the Tribunes, and Romola, by " George Eliot " 
 (Mrs. Lewes) are historical novels of great excellence, the 
 last deserving all the high encomiums which it has re- 
 ceived. Sismondi's History of the Literature of the South 
 of Europe is very full upon the literature of Italy. 
 Dante's great poem should be studied in connection with 
 Italian history. 
 
 It is with Spain as with Italy. There is no general 
 history of Spain of very high authority. This is perhaps 
 the less to be regretted, as this history is covered to a con- 
 siderable extent by the histories of the Empire, and by 
 those of special periods and personages. Mrs. Calcott's 
 Popular History is said by a competent critic to be as suc- 
 cessful as the materials and the nature of the subject would 
 allow. Ticknor's History of iSpanish Literature is of the 
 highest authority, and is very readable. Robertson's well- 
 known History of Charles V., Watson's Philip II, Pres- 
 cott's History of Ferdinand and Isabella, Washington 
 Irving's Life and Voyages of Columbus, J. L. Motley's 
 Histories of the United Netherlands and of the Rise of the 
 Dutch Republic, supply in a good measure the deficiency 
 of a single general history of this splendid but ill-fated 
 
178 Books and Reading. [Chap. xiir. 
 
 country, Napier's Peninsular War is one of the ablest 
 and most interesting of all military histories. 
 
 Spain naturally suggests Holland, inasmuch as the for- 
 tunes of the two countries for many memorable years were 
 closely connected. Grattan's History of the Netherlands 
 is a good manual history. Motley's histories, just named, 
 are nearly all that could be desired for the periods of time 
 which they cover. For the periods subsequent to those, 
 the history of Holland and Belgium is treated pretty fully, 
 as it necessarily would be, in the special histories of the 
 great States which are adjacent, and in the general history 
 of Europe, and especially in all histories of the French 
 Revolution. 
 
 For Germany, the English reader must content himself 
 with Kohlrausch's General History and MenzeFs History 
 of Germany and the Germans; both translated from the 
 German. Coxe's History of the House of Austria^ and 
 Carlyle's Frederich the Great, are books of the highest 
 authority, the last being deformed by the author's worst 
 faults, which are redeemed by striking excellencies. No 
 book can be compared with this to enable the reader to 
 understand the rise and growth of the now great Prussian 
 power. Schiller's History of the Thirty Years' War is 
 full of striking and eloq^uent passages. J. S. C. Abbott's 
 Austria is a mere compilation, as it professes to be^bilfc is 
 faithfully executed. 
 
 For the history of Russia we are dependent upon a few 
 manuals — among which Abbott's takes a respectable rank. 
 The more scholarly reader must resort to works in French 
 and German. 
 
 Geijer's History of the Swedes as translated, is unfortu- 
 nately not complete. 
 
 France is a country of which the history is most closely 
 intertwined with that of England and America. It ex- 
 cites the warmest and deepest interest in almost every -1 
 
Chap.xiil] -4 Course of Historical Heading, 179 
 
 reader, and deserves careful study. Kev. James White's 
 brief history of this country, and Parke Godwin's as yet 
 incomplete manual, are both good. Michelet's eloquent 
 sketches are excellent, and Martin's elaborate volumes, 
 translated (as yet in part only) from the French, are ad- 
 mirable. The Student's History of France is dependent 
 on Martin, and is an excellent compend. Parke Godwin's 
 History of France cannot but be solid and brilliant. 
 Guizot's History of Civilization in France^ Sir James 
 Stephens's Lectures on the History of France, Smedley's 
 History of the Reformed Church in France, Smiles's 
 Huguenots, The Memoirs of the Dulce of Sully and of the 
 Cardinal de Retz, Miss Pardoe's Louis XIV., come in as 
 representatives of a great number of monographs on special 
 topics and periods. Bungener's Preacher and King and 
 Priest and Huguenot, are effective and eloquent portrait- 
 ures of the reigns of Louis XIV. and XV., which attract 
 all classes of readers. G. P. E.. James' The Huguenot 
 is trustworthy and useful. The French E-evolution, as 
 was natural, has been a very fertile theme for a great num- 
 ber of special histories. Mignet gives a brief and trust- 
 worthy ij^rrative of the principal facts. Carlyle presents 
 the chief incidents and personages in a series of brilliant 
 and impressive pictures. Thiers has wrought up the 
 abunffknt material at his command into elaborate and ef- 
 fective representations in his Histories of The French Revo- 
 lution and of The Consulate and Empire. Alison's His- 
 tory of Europe from 1789 to 181 5 gives the English aristo- 
 cratic view of those convulsions in Europe. The novels 
 of the Erckmann-Chatrian series illustrate the same period. 
 Not a few tracts and tre^ises on the French Revolution 
 of a general character have been written by writers of the 
 first ability, which it is wmlh while to read in connection 
 with its history proper — as for example Edmund Burke's 
 Reflections on the Revoiutlon in France, Sir James Mackin- 
 
:#^ 
 
 180 Boohs and Reading, [Chap. XIIX. 
 
 tosh's Vindicice G-allicoe, Madame de StaeFs JEvents of the 
 French Hevolution, Paine's Rights of Man, Lamartine's 
 Histories, and William Smyth's Lectures. 
 
 The history of England is the history above all others 
 which is important and interesting to the man of English 
 origin, not merely because it is the history of his own na- 
 tion and lineage, but because it records the development of 
 the liberty and the institutions, of the literature and the 
 commerce which have already exerted the most wide- 
 spread influence upon the human family, and which are 
 destined to exercise a still more extensive influence on 
 future generations. The history of many of the countries 
 of Europe, as of Holland, France, and Prussia, may pre- 
 sent many single passages of dramatic interest; they are 
 ennobled by the character and deeds of many heroes in arts 
 and arms ; they have added many single products to hu- 
 man civilization *of lasting value ang;- splendid renown. 
 But none of these have achieved so much for man, by as 
 uniform and steady progress in a noble direction, as have 
 England and America. We say England and America, 
 for to the historic student both these countries are one. 
 No other countries have embodied their achievements in 
 political institutions so free, in laws so beneficent and hu- 
 mane, in a public sentiment so efficient, so just, and so 
 wide-reaching, and in a literature so various and so enno- 
 bling. The Englishman who is not proud of the history 
 of his own country is degenerate and low-minded. The 
 American who does not study it with filial delight and 
 gratitude is narrow-minded and barbarous. Whatever 
 M temporary alienations may have disturbed our sympathy 
 with the old homestead, or whatever wrongs we may have 
 suflered from the haughty and unnatural jealousy of the 
 old mother, they should not abate in the least from the 
 interest which we feel in that part of the history of Eng- 
 land which is our history as truly as it is hers, or make ua 
 
Chap. XIII.] ^ Course of Historical Reading, 181 
 
 content to alienate from ourselves the least item of our 
 share in its achievements and its renown. Indeed, were 
 the American disposed to do so, he cannot avoid reading 
 the history of England, if he would understand his own. 
 Her history is a part of the history of his own country. 
 It is essential as an introduction to this history. What 
 we most value in our ancestral spirit was first developed 
 on En<rlish soil and in the conflicts which are recorded in 
 English annals. The habits, the principles, and the faith 
 which have moulded this country are English in their 
 origin. The literature which has both formed and ex- 
 pressed our public sentiment has much of it been composed 
 on English soil, and all of it flows in a common stream of 
 sentiment that has been derived from English hearths and 
 English altars, from English tribunals and English cus- 
 toms. The contributions which we have made to this 
 stream do not discofer its purity or disturb its flow. The 
 early English history is in some respects even more im- 
 portant to the American reader than it is to the resident 
 upon English soil, for the reason that to the home-born 
 and home-bred the traditions and customs^ the names of 
 places, the associations that cleave to the very soil, that 
 haunt every common and gather about eveiy church-yard 
 in the old country may in some sense and to a certain de- 
 gree take the place of written history. The American 
 must find all these, or their substitutes, in books and de- 
 scriptions. To him books must supply the place of tradi- 
 tion, and it is in books only that he can interpret the origin 
 of the laws, the government, the church, the opinions, and 
 manners, which make his country to be what it is. The 
 resident of old England smiles at the enthusiasm with 
 which the American visits the old churches and church- 
 yards to which he has been wonted from his infancy. He 
 wonders at the delight with which the stranger explores 
 the rickety houses and the rambling old streets of many a 
 
"^^ 
 
 182 Boohs and Reading. [Chap. xiil 
 
 city or village which to him are only squalid and offensive. 
 But the same enthusiasm which sends the intelligent 
 " American to England to explore the home of his fathers, 
 '''; should lead him to study with care and zeal the records of 
 ..what his ancestors did and suffered in the same old home. 
 The best History of England for the general reader is 
 Knight's FopuJar Hinhry- in 8 vols. 8 vo. It comes down 
 to the death of Prince Albert, and is a history of the peo- 
 ple as well as of courts and the cultivated classes. It is a 
 history of manners and of literature, of the arts and of 
 commerce, as truly as of the politics and the wars of the 
 empire. It is not written with the spirit and the power 
 which we find in such writers as Macaulay and Froude. 
 This would not be expected from a writer who acts rather 
 as the gatherer of the results and the conclusions which 
 have been reached by a judicial siirvey of the movements 
 and strifes of political and religious parties than as the repre- 
 sentative and advocate of any. Its tone is quiet and cool. Its 
 summings up are deliberate and dispassionate. It is writ- 
 ten, indeed, in the interest of freedom, of progress, and of 
 toleration. It sympathizes with the people rather than with 
 their rulers, and wdth free principles and free institutions, 
 as against the defenders of prerogative and of traclition, but 
 it aims to be neither violent nor one-sided. We think, there- 
 fore, that for a single history which may serve for constant 
 use and reference in the library, or for frequent reading, it 
 is to be preferred to every other. The Pictorial History/ of 
 England, in 8 vols. 4to. by the same editor, was prepared 
 earlier, and with less skill in respect to style and form. It 
 is also more overloaded with matter, and is so heavy in 
 style as to be less readable. It terminates with the death 
 of George III. We have already given our opinion of 
 Hume's History as delightful in style and most readable 
 in manner, but as open to grave objection for its intensely 
 partisan character, as well as for the flipjj^ant though grace- 
 
Chap.xiil] -^ Course of Historical Reading. 183 
 
 ful insinuations with which it abounds to the disadvantase 
 of freedom and Christianity. No diligent and zealous 
 reader of English history, however, would be contented 
 not to be familiar with Hume. Among the special his- 
 torians who treat of separate portions or periods of history, 
 we name the brilliant and spirited Macaulay, who always 
 sustains and excites the reader, even if offended by his 
 style, or forced to reject his conclusions ; Lingard, who is 
 universally acknowledged to be eloquent and able, al- 
 though he writes as the avowed defender of the Catholic 
 Church against the representations of Protestant histori- 
 ans; Lord Mahon, now Earl Stanhope, who always 
 writes with dignity and elegance, and inspires confidence 
 in his candor if he does not transport the reader with en- 
 thusiasm • for his brilliancy ; Froude, whose merits as a 
 writer are universally acknowledged, and who has certain- 
 ly set forth in a bold relief, an important class of facts 
 concerning the people of England and the state of the times, 
 even though his opinions in regard to Henry YIII., rather 
 astonish than convince his readers. Godwin's History of 
 England during the Commonwealth and Catharine Macau- 
 lay's History of England have not been read so generally 
 in England, as they deserved, because of their pronounced 
 Republican sympathies. Sir James Mackintosh's brief 
 . and unfinished history is pronounced by all who have 
 read it to be brilliant and philosophical, though its style is 
 better suited to philosophical generalization than it is to 
 flowing narrative. Clarendon's History of the Rebellion is 
 written with warm sympathies for the cause of Charles I.^ 
 but it has the interest which pertains to a narrative com- 
 posed by one who was personally present during many 
 of the stirring scenes of the most memorable movement 
 by which England was ever agitated, and was person- 
 ally acquainted with many of the leading spirits of those 
 times. The Life of Colonel Hutchiiison, by his widow. 
 
184 Boohs and Reading, [Chap. xiii. 
 
 herself the fairest and the most cultivated of Puritanesses, 
 and the Narrative of his own Life and Times by Richard 
 Baxter, have a similar fresh and personal interest. Both 
 these works are written under sympathies and a bias in a 
 direction opposed to those of Clarendon. Carlyle's Letters 
 and Speeches of Oliver Cromioell is fraught with interest to 
 every honest inquirer for historic truth. It has made the 
 name of Cromwell respected in circles that for generations 
 had named it with contemptuous scorn, and came near 
 to give Cromwell a statue among the rulers of England in 
 the corridor of the Houses of Parliament. The Diary of 
 John Evelyn was written by a devoted Royalist of accom- 
 plished culture and earnest religious character. It 
 stretches through the times of the Commonwealth into 
 those of the Restoration. Pepys's Diary records most 
 fully many of the events which occurred after the Restora- 
 tion, and presents a living picture of those frivolous and 
 shameless times, which is all the more trustworthy and 
 life-like because the writer seems unconscious of the sever- 
 ity of the sentence with which he condemns what he often 
 seems to palliate. If any person has the desire or is laid 
 under the necessity to learn more of the grossness of 
 the shameless court of Charles II., he may peruse the 
 Memoirs of Count de Grammont. Butler's Hudihras should 
 be read by all means in connection with the history of the 
 Rebellion and the Commonwealth. Burnet's History of 
 his own Time is gossiping and garrulous, but honest. No 
 reader can doubt that the author might easily have been 
 misled by his own prejudices and the misrepresentations 
 of others. As little would it be denied by any one that 
 this history is in the main a faithful picture of the men 
 and scenes which it portrays. Baxter and Burnet write 
 from opposite points of view. Their histories cover very 
 nearly the same period. They were both credulous and 
 one-sided; but he must be a bold partisan who would 
 
Chap. XIII.] ^ CouTse of Historical Beading, 185 
 
 deny the honesty of either. Lord John Hervey's Me- 
 moirs of the Reign of George II., Horace Walpole's Letters 
 (several series,) and his Journal of the Reign of George 
 HI. J are instructive and entertaining. 
 
 Guizot's History of the Revolution of 1648, as also 
 Cromwell and Monky or the Fall of the Republic, are of espe- 
 cial value as giving the opinions upon critical questions of 
 a candid and well-informed Frenchman. 
 
 Mackintosh's History of the Revolution of 1688, and 
 Fox's Life of James 11. ^ are both written by earnest 
 Whigs and pronounced partisans of the Revolution, and 
 are esteemed of the highest authority. If one reads Ma- 
 caulay, however, it would seem that he might be satisfied in 
 this direction. There is one political history of England 
 which no intelligent reader, especially no intelligent Amer- 
 ican, can possibly dispense with, and that is The Constitu- 
 tional History of England by the judicious and fair-minded 
 Hallam. This history, with the supplem^ent of the same 
 by T. E. May, from 1760 to 1860, is of priceless worth. 
 We would almost say to any reader, if you can read but a 
 single history of England, peruse this above all others, for 
 the light that it sheds upon w^hat is most important to us in 
 respect to the heritage which we have received and derived 
 from our English ancestors. It should never be forgotten 
 that what has made our country what it is was but the devel- 
 opment of the free spirit, the principles, the rights, and the 
 institutions which our fathers brought with them across the 
 seas ; and that the story of the origin and growth of all 
 these is more interesting and instructive to us than it can 
 be to the Englishman at home. The beginnings of this 
 history of Hallam are to be found in his work on the Mid- 
 dle Ages. Dr. Robert Yaughan's Revolutions of English 
 History are excellent examples of instructive and trust- 
 worthy historical essays. Vaughan's History of England 
 under the Stuarts is worth consulting, Goldwin Smith's 
 
186 Boohs and Reading. [Chap. xiii. 
 
 little works on Ireland and The Empire are of surpassing 
 interest and value. Burton's History of Scotland is i\\Q best. 
 There are not a few readers who are especially attracted 
 to the history of the stirring times of the Commonwealth. 
 Such readers should not overlook Mr. John Forster's 
 Statesmen of the Commoriwealth, his history of The Debates 
 on the Grand Bemonstrancej and his Life of Sir John Eliot. 
 Goldwin Smith's Three English Statesmen wdll satisfy the 
 most ardent champion of the cause of the Parliament. 
 Burton's Cromwellian Diary will attract the patient delver 
 into the sources from which history is derived. The com- 
 parative freedom of the press which was so long allowed in 
 England has given birth to a multitude of political pam- 
 phlets, tracts, handbills, lampoons, caricatures, which are 
 invaluable for any zealous and patient student of any of the 
 later periods of English history. Some of these have been 
 collected and reprinted in series, like The Somers Tracts 
 and The Harleian Miscellany. Many others have been 
 gathered by book-collectors, and are found in the largest 
 and best furnished libraries in this country. It is quite 
 aside from our aims to give any titles or references for mat- 
 ter of this kind. Those who have the capacity or taste for 
 such researches usually know what they need and where to 
 find it. We only observe that Hansard's Debates, Dods- 
 ley's Annual Register, and the Celebrated State Trials can 
 be readily found and referred to. The collected speeches 
 of the great orators who have been distinguished at the bar 
 and in Parliament, and the biographies of the great politi- 
 cal leaders, are the most interesting commentaries and 
 illustrations of the political history of the country. A very 
 convenient and comprehensive work of American author- 
 ship, Goodrich's British Eloquence, contains a good selec- 
 tion of the best speeches of the leading British orators, from 
 Sir John Eliot to Lord Brougham, with carefully prepared 
 sketches of the life and times of each, and many excellent 
 
Chap. XIII.] ^ Course of Historical Beading^ 187 
 
 explanatory foot-notes. This book has been highly com- 
 mended in England, which has produced no manual which 
 deserves to be compared with it for comprehensiveness and 
 careful preparation. 
 
 The history of the British Empire can scarcely be con- 
 sidered as in any sense completed if Martin's History of the 
 Colonies and'MilFs British India are not consulted. 
 
 Miss Martineau's History of England since the Peace, in 
 4 vols. 8vo., is very full upon many points of very recent 
 interest, and is a very useful compilation. 
 
 The earlier history of England may attract the special 
 attention of a limited class of readers. The works of J. 
 M. Kemble are of the highest authority in Anglo-Saxon 
 history, but Sharon Turner's History of the Anglo-Saxons 
 will meet the wants of most readers, and is easily accessible. 
 Sir Francis Palgrave's England during the Anglo-Saxon 
 Period is also one of the few classical books in this depart- 
 ment. John Thrupp's Anglo-Saxon Home is a monograph 
 of no little interest. Our English Home: its Early History 
 and Progress, is a work of similar character. Thierry's 
 History of the Norman Conquest, from the French, is bril- 
 liantly written, though probably in many points more elo- 
 quent and highly colored than solidly true. Freeman's 
 History of the Norman Conquest is likely to supersede all 
 other books on this subject. T. Wright's History of Press, 
 Planners, and Sentiments in England during the Middle 
 Ages is a work of some interest, though not superior to 
 the chapters in the Pictorial History upon these topics. 
 
 A few among many historical novels may be named 
 which illustrate different periods of English history. E. 
 L. Bulwer's Last of the Barons; Scott's Ivanhoe, Kenil- 
 tvorth, Woodstock, Fortunes of Nigel, Peveril of the Peak, 
 Old 3fortaUty, etc., etc. ; Kingsley's Hereward and West- 
 ward Ho! Thackeray's Henry Esmond; The Youth of 
 Shakespeare; W. Shakespeare, His Life and Times ; Mrs. 
 
I8S Boohs and Beading, [Chap. xiri. 
 
 Charles' The Draytons and the Bavenants, and On Both 
 Sides of the Sea^ are a few of the many tales which are 
 fitted to throw no little light and interest upon different 
 periods and passages of English history. To the same 
 class of works belong The Diary of Lady Willoughhyy The 
 Maiden and Married Life of Mary Powell^ and others. 
 
 We have already recognized the important truth that 
 the literature of every country must be freely and famil- 
 iarly consulted in order to master its history. This is true 
 in a pre-eminent sense of English history. The freedom 
 of thought and speech which the English people have as- 
 serted for themselves from very early times has expressed 
 itself in an endless variety of productions more or less 
 worthy to be called its literature, the study of which en- 
 ables us to understand the temper of the times. The more 
 we read the great writers of each generation, the more 
 completely can we understand the spirit of the age in which 
 they lived. The more various our reading is, especially 
 of all sorts of ephemeral and miscellaneous publications, the 
 greater will be our satisfaction. Much of the most lively 
 and most eflPective English writing has been composed upon 
 political themes and occasions. Much of it has been in- 
 spired by the noblest patriotism, in the double form of 
 chivalrous loyalty on the one side, and of stern devotion to 
 the Parliament and the people on the other. Not a little 
 of the most spirited thought and the most effective writing 
 have been incited by party virulence. John Milton, An- 
 drew Marvel, John Dryden, Daniel Defoe, Roger L'Es- 
 trange, Jonathan Swift, Samuel Johnson, Edmund Burke, 
 Sir James Mackintosh, Richard Price, Lord Brougham, 
 Samuel Romilly, Sydney Smith, Robert Southey, William 
 Cobbett, S. T. Coleridge, John Wilson, T. B., Macaulay, 
 Richard Cobden, and hosts of others, have l>een distin- 
 guished as political writers, and every reader of their 
 writings of necessity makes new additions to his knowledge 
 
Chap. XIII.] -4 Course of Historical Reading, 189 
 
 of the events of English history. What we have said in 
 general of the significance of pamphlets and newspapers as 
 interpreters of history, is in a special sense true of the his- 
 tory of England and America. For the American who, not 
 having visited England, would understand the country in 
 many of its most interesting features both physical and so- 
 cial the following may be named, H. Colman's European 
 Life and Manners, Wm. Howitt^s Rural Life in Ungland, 
 J. M. Hoppin's Old England, 
 
 We hardly need add, that much of the best and most 
 permanent knowledge of the history of England is to be 
 acquired by the study of the lives of its eminent men. 
 Many of these lives have b«en written with special care by 
 their personal and familiar friends, or those devoted to the 
 cause or interest in which they were conspicuous. In- 
 dividual men in England have always been prominent in 
 the eye of the public, and have impressed themselves 
 strongly upon every great cause. The lives of John Knox, 
 John Wesley, Johnson, Goldsmith, Burke, Garrick, Rey- 
 nolds, Chatham, Pitt, Buxton, Walter Scott, Chalmers, 
 Arnold, Keble; of Romilly, Robert Hall, and Henry 
 Crabb Robinson, are not less valuable as contributions to 
 the general history of the times in which these individuals 
 lived, than as additions to our personal knowledge of in- 
 dividual character. 
 
 The history of America is limited especially to that of 
 the United States, for reasons which are so obvious as not 
 to require enumeration. Bancroft is very full, and gen- 
 erally very accurate, on the Colonial history of the States, 
 and his history generally is indispensable as a work of re- 
 ference. It is unfortunately written in an ambitious style, 
 which sometimes excessively crowds the information which 
 it seeks to give, and not infrequently distracts the atten- 
 tion by affected turns of thought and exaggerated declama- 
 tion. It is foolishly demagogical at times, and betrays 
 
190 Boohs and Beading, [Chap.xiii. 
 
 also somewhat of the want of earnest faith in the very 
 truths and principles which it ostentatiously parades before 
 the reader. In one w^ord, it is very deficient in the sterling 
 qualities of simplicity of matter and of manner. Hildreth 
 lacks neither earnestness nor directness. Unfortunately, 
 this very able writer, though wholesome and whole-souled 
 in his strong attachments to the Federal party, is so obvi- 
 ously bitter in his spirit, and intolerant in his judgments, as 
 to weaken the confidence of his readers in his candor and 
 trustworthiness in respect to all subjects. His history 
 terminates with the first term of Monroe's administration. 
 He has no sympathy with religious faith or fervor in any 
 form ; least of all with the religious aims of the New-Eng- 
 land settlers, and no tolerance for their political systems. 
 He does them scant justice in many other particulars. 
 Palfrey's History of New England is eminently fair, truth- 
 ful, and trustworthy in its representations of its themes, 
 as well as a model for classical condensation and elegance. 
 Burke's History of European Settlements in America is 
 written with spirit and philosophic insight, and Parkman's 
 well known volumes need only be referred to in passing. 
 The history of almost every State in the Union has been 
 written by some well-known writer. Many of these States 
 have also an historical society which has published collec- 
 tions of old pamphlets and other important documents. 
 The histories of many counties, towns, and churches have 
 been written with more or less fidelity and success. These 
 particular and local -histories should receive especial atten- 
 tion from every person who reads history at all. These 
 local fields are within the reader's own observation. The 
 events and personages are those of which he can form, in 
 some sort, a personal judgment. Human nature is very 
 nearly the same on a large and on a limited scale. A 
 town-meeting is a Congress or Parliament in miniature. 
 A village or church quarrel represents a national war or 
 
Chap. XIII.] A Course of Historical Reading. 191 
 
 an ecclesiastical schism. A traditional jealousy between 
 the north and south end, or the east and west side of a 
 township, is the type of a great sectional controversy that 
 has endured for generations. A dispute over a mill privi- 
 lege or a town-line represents many a border war. A. 
 sharp discussion between the supervisors of two towns is a 
 school in which to study diplomacy, and its skill to conceal 
 intentions and to use ambiguous language. If we become 
 familiar with the history of what is within our reach ; if 
 we learn to know what history means by reading it when 
 written of the persons, events, and scenes which are in a 
 certain sense personally known to ourselves, we shall be 
 able to understand it when it treats of objects that are dis- 
 tant in place, remote in time, and grand in their propor- 
 tions. We do not include in our list any titles of books 
 or collections of this sort, for the most obvious reasons. 
 
 The study of the government and institutions of this 
 country, and of the origins and transformations of its great 
 political parties cannot be too earnestly recommended. 
 The best works on these subjects are The Federalist, which 
 has been edited with great care and published in two rival 
 editions ; The Madison Papers, and the lives of Washing- 
 ton by John Marshall and Washington Irving. A very 
 able work, with Federalist sympathies, entitled Sullivan's 
 Letters on Public Characters, is invaluable — as is also 
 Theodore Dwight's History of the Hartford Convention, 
 For the illustration and defence of the Jeifersonian princi- 
 ples no better authority can be found than Jeiferson's col- 
 lected writings, and the laudatory memoir of his life by 
 Randall. G. T. Curtis' History of the Origin^ etc., of the 
 JJ. S. Constitution, with the Commentaries on the con- 
 stitution, by the eminent jurists Kent and Story, are 
 classical works on this subject. Benton's Thirty Years' 
 View, or History of the Government from 1810 to 1850, 
 with Martin Yan Buren's History of Political Parties, and 
 
192 JBoohs and Reading. [Chap. xiii. 
 
 Buchanan's History of his Administration, coupled with the 
 /Speeches of Clay, Calhoun, AYebster, Seward, and Sumner, 
 will enable the reader to understand our political history. 
 Benton's Abridgement of Debates in Congress may be found 
 and consulted in many public and some private libraries. 
 Frank Moore's American Eloque7ice^ a Collection of 
 Speeches by the most eminent Orators of America, will al- 
 ways be useful. 
 
 For the American Revolution, Botta may be read in ad- 
 dition to what Bancroft and Hildreth furnish. B. J. Los- 
 sing's Pictorial Field-booh of the Revolution as also of The 
 War of 1812, gives the picturesque and striking incidents 
 of both, and G. W. Greene's Lectures, etc., a generalized 
 statement of the leading :fe,cts and lessons of the first. 
 Trumbull's Hudibrastic poem, McFingal, should by no 
 means be omitted. For the history of the civil war, The 
 Rebellion Record is a great storehouse of documents, and 
 Greeley's American Conflict a condensed view of its memor- 
 able events. Lossing's Pictorial History has the same 
 charm w^hich belong to the other works of the same author. 
 The lives of Lincoln, by Raymond, Holland, and others, 
 and separate sketches of the campaigns of Sherman, Grant, 
 etc., will occur to every one. 
 
 What has been said of the relation of the biography of 
 Englishmen to the history of England applies to that of 
 the biography of Americans to our history with equal per- 
 tinence. 
 
 As the reader makes progress in the knowledge of his- 
 tory he will naturally desire to read some works upon the 
 study and philosophy of history itself; in order to learn 
 something of the sources from which it is derived, of the 
 evidence by which its assertions are supported, and the les- 
 sons which it inculcates. In some works of this kind parti- 
 cular directions are given in respect to the authors and 
 parts of authors which should be read upon particular 
 
Chap. XIII.] ^ Course of Historical Beading. 193 
 
 countries and periods. Boliugbroke on The Use and Study 
 of History was formerly much read and referred to. 
 Priestly 's Lectures on the Study of History is a useful book. 
 Dr. Thomas Arnold^s Lectures on Modern History ^ and 
 Goldwin Smithes Lectures on the Study of History are good 
 books for the general reader. G. C. Lewis^ Credibility of 
 early Roman History , and W. C. Taylor On the Natural 
 History of Society are standard works. Prof. Henry Reed 
 is the author of some very elevating and suggestive lectures 
 on English history. Prof. William Smyth's Lectures on 
 Modern History, edited by Sparks, is at once an extended 
 directory for study and a manual of the best books and 
 parts of books which should be read. Frederick SchlegeFs 
 Modern History, and A. W. SchlegeFs Philosophy of His- 
 tory, are well worth attention as good specimens of German 
 generalization and philosophizing. The philosophy of 
 Buckle's History of Civilization in England we have already 
 characterized. W. Draper's The Intellectual Development 
 of Europe, is written after the manner of Buckle. Some 
 of the ablest contributions upon this subject are in the form 
 of essays or reviews upon history in general or upon some 
 historical writer. We name as examples Macaulay's well- 
 known article on History in the Edinburgh Review, and an 
 article on Hume as an Historian in ISTo. 73 of the London 
 Quarterly. The indexes of modern periodical literature 
 abound in the titles of such papers. 
 
 It is safe to say that much which is written on the Phil- 
 osophy of History is the product of conjecture, pretension, 
 or an atheistic theory of the universe, and much more is 
 mere philosophical romancing. 
 
 The list of books w^hich we have furnished may seem to 
 
 many very meagre, and to others much too extensive. 
 
 The titles of many works have doubtless been omitted 
 
 which should have been included in a list constructed for 
 
 the ends and according to the theory which we have pro- 
 13 
 
194 Books and Reading. [Chap. xiii. 
 
 posed. We have endeavored to indicate the books which 
 should be preferred by the place which they occupy in the 
 several heads of the catalogue, or by the comments which 
 we have made upon them ; but in selections of this sort 
 much liberty should be allowed to individual taste and 
 judgment. Advice ought not to be urged beyond certain 
 general suggestions and information. We can only say 
 that the list has been prepared with some care and pains- 
 taking, and is doubtless capable of being enlarged and im- 
 proved. 
 
 ■/ 
 
CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 BIOGRAPHY AND BIOGRAPHICAL READING. 
 
 Biography is closely allied to History. We have ob- 
 served, that it is only by reading the lives of distinguished 
 personages, that we can most satisfactorily acquaint our- 
 selves with much that is valuable in History. It has been 
 forcibly said that " History is the essence of innumerable 
 biographies." 
 
 There is an important distinction, however, between 
 biography as the interpreter and representative of other 
 times, and biography as the record of an individual life 
 and the exponent of individual character. It is with 
 biography in the last sense that we have noAV to do. The 
 written lives of individual men are as various as the men 
 who are described, and the writers who describe them. 
 Their interest and worth depend upon two circumstances — 
 the significance of the events and characters recorded, and 
 the skill and fidelity of their narrators. It is also true and 
 worthy of notice, that the interest with which any biography 
 is read — its value and usefulness indeed — may depend 
 nearly as much upon the tastes and culture of the reader as 
 upon either the worth and interest of the character which 
 is recorded, or the genius of the biographer. This, in a 
 sense, is true of all books, but it is especially true of books 
 of lives. 
 
 To many readers biography is especially uninteresting 
 and unattractive. Not a few persons have been heard to 
 say, " I hate biography — to me it is the stupidest of all 
 reading." It would seem at first to be a general fact that 
 
 195 
 
196 Books and Beading, [Chap. xiv. 
 
 the taste for biography must be acquired, like the taste for 
 tomatoes or olives. On a second thought, however, the 
 suggestion might occur that the fact is capable of some 
 sort of explanation. The first solution would probably be, 
 that biography must always put the reader upon a course 
 of analysis and reflection which is unnatural to most men. 
 As the majority of readers do not care to examhie their 
 own motives and springs of action, much less do they con- 
 cern themselves with those of other persons. Very many, 
 again, do not like soberly to estimate themselves by any 
 very high standard, whether it be of public opinion, of 
 conscience, or of God, and for a similar reason prefer not 
 to judge the being and doing of their fellows. To this 
 should be added, that the capacity for this sort of analysis 
 is not developed, if ever, till late in life, and hence is es- 
 pecially unsuited to the tastes of youth. 
 
 In view of these facts, we propose to consider the dif- 
 ferent sorts of biographies and the different methods after 
 which biography is written, in order that we may explain 
 why it is that the taste for this kind of writing is so vari- 
 ous, — and also furnish a general directory for this depart- 
 ment of reading. We aim here, as elsewhere, to establish 
 j^rineiples by which to sekct and judge of books of this 
 class, rather than to furnish a complete and annotated cat- 
 alogue, to be implicitly followed. 
 
 The first class of biographies which we name are those 
 of incident and adventure. The subjects of such lives are 
 always heroes, and the life, whether true or exaggerated, 
 is more or less of a romance. In biographies of this kind, 
 two things are conspicuous : the striking events and un- 
 common positions by which the life of the hero is dis- 
 tinguished, and the spirit, skill, and courage with which 
 he meets and overcomes them. Books of this sort are 
 favorites with the young, especially with boys. It cannot 
 be said that such biographies are stupid or uninteresting 
 
Chap. XIV.] Biography and Biographical Reading. 197 
 
 to tliut usually very fastidious class of readers. Very few 
 boys are indifferent to such lives as those of General 
 Francis Marion, Commodore Paul Jones, Charles XII., 
 Admiral Nelson, General Andrew Jackson, JSTapoleon 
 Buonaparte, General Sherman or Stonewall Jackson, 
 Baron Trenck, Frederic Douglass, Mungo Park, Captain 
 Parry or Dr. E. K. Kane. It matters little in what 
 particular field of adventure the hero may be engaged, it 
 is all the same to the boyish and often to the older reader ; 
 provided the adventures are sufficiently stirring and haz- 
 ardous, and the spirit and resources of the hero are equal 
 to the occasions. Whether it be on the battle-field or in a 
 prison, in a storm or a shipwreck, whether the conflicts be 
 with bad men or good, with villains or policemen, if the 
 adventures and the heroism move the sympathies and excite 
 the admiration, the life is always interesting, even to boys. 
 Upon this principle we explain the strong hold which 
 Plutarch^ s Lives have had upon the minds of so many boys 
 and so many men for so many generations. The grand- 
 iose attitudes in which the great men of antiquity stand 
 out to view — not so much men, as moving and walking 
 statues — and the grand lights in which their biographer 
 displays them, both contribute to this impressiveness, and 
 have stamped their influence upon all the generations 
 which have read them. The lives of great criminals espe- 
 cially when narrated by themselves, the confessions of 
 famous murderers, pirates, and forgers, derive much of 
 their interest from the same sources. By these we explain 
 the potent and often dangerous fascination which attracts 
 so many to stories of lives which were stained by daring 
 .crime and dishonored by gross excesses of cruelty and vio- 
 lence. The excitement of the incidents and the pluck of 
 the hero are more than a match for any horror of cruelty 
 or aversion to crime in the youthful reader. It cannot, 
 we think, be said, that any of the biographies of the class 
 
198 ' Boolzs and Reading- [Chap. xrv. 
 
 to wliich we have referred are especially unattractive, or 
 that the reading of such lives is especially stupid. 
 
 To the same class we refer the lives of great generals and 
 'captains, which have fascinated so many young readers 
 with the thought of a military or naval career, and have 
 so long been the favorite reading of multitudes of older 
 people. Who has not delighted to read the story of Alex- 
 ander of Macedon and Julius Caesar, of Prince Eugene and 
 Gustavus Adolphus, of the Duke of Marlborough and 
 Frederick the Great, of Napoleon and Wellington, of the 
 Napiers and Lord Clive, of General Havelock and Captain 
 Hedley Yicars, of Generals Grant and Sherman, and last, 
 not least, of the many youthful heroes who fell in our re- 
 cent civil war? No books are more popular than the lives 
 of old or young soldiers, with both you ag and old. The 
 Harvard Memorial Biographies has largely this element of 
 interest, as well as many that are far higher. 
 
 Akin to the interest with which military biographies are 
 studied and read, is that which is attached to distinguished 
 historical personages. Such characters are indeed often 
 military heroes; but whether they are or are not, their 
 career is of that public and heroic sort which attracts the 
 attention of those readers who require startling scenes and 
 splendid actions. The lives of kings and queens, of cour- 
 tiers and court favorites, have always been noticeably popu- 
 lar; the more minute and detailed are their description? 
 of the scenes in which they figure, so much the better. 
 Whether the scene be public or private ; whether it be a 
 pageant or a ball, whether a frivolous or a criminal in- 
 trigue, is altogether indiiferent. The elevation of the station, 
 the splendor of the surroundings and the wide-reaching 
 character of the results will always invest the life of the 
 central personage with a real or a factitious importance. 
 The biographies of Alexander -and the Caesars, of Charle- 
 magne and Alfred the Great, of Henry lY. of France and 
 
^ Chap. XIV.] Biography and Biographical Reading, 199 
 
 Henry YIII. of England, of Charles Y. and Francis I., 
 of Philip II. and William the Silent, of Frederick the 
 Great and George III., of Charles I. and Oliver Cromwell, 
 of James II. and William III., of Elizabeth and Maiy 
 Stuart, of all the Queens of England down to Victoria, are 
 read with breathless interest in many a log-hut and thatched 
 cottage, simply because the personages were kingly or great. 
 The reading of kings and courts introduces to the imagina- 
 tion brilliant pageants, splendid dresses, imposing state, 
 thrones, crowns, gorgeous robes, and long processions of per- 
 sonages magnificently grand. Indeed, as we have already 
 noticed, much of our pleasure in reading history arises from 
 our sympathy with the fortunes and the story of the great 
 historical personages who have figured prominently in its 
 scenes of splendor or depression, of victory or defeat. 
 
 Closely allied to these are great statesmen and political 
 leaders, diplomatists and orators, who have helped and 
 hindered sovereigns and nations, whose intellect and skill 
 have sustained or thwarted the plans of kings, have inspired 
 the achievements or marred the fortunes of great nations. 
 The interest in the events and the heroes is in these cases 
 of a more elevated description. The arena is intellectual, 
 the struggles are of sagacity, eloquence, or craft. The 
 issues are the progress or regress, the triumph or downfall 
 of a great party or a great empire. The reader who has 
 intelligence enough to comprehend the nature of such strug- 
 _ gles, and the courage and skill w^hich are required for suc- 
 cess, always follows with interest the personal career of 
 this class of great men. The lives of Wolsey, Sir Thomas 
 More, and Cranmer, interest us as deeply as the life of 
 Henry YIII. The personal character and history of Bur- 
 leigh, Leicester, Essex, Raleigh, and Bacon, we follow with 
 as keen an interest as the career of the imperious but capri- 
 cious Elizabeth, and the pedantic and conceited James. The 
 lives of Laud and Straiford are, if possible, more exciting 
 
200 Books and Heading, [Chap. XIV. 
 
 than those of the ill-fated sovereign whom their counsels 
 so fatally misled. Sir John Eliot, John Hampden, Lord 
 Falkland, William Pym, Sir Harrj Vane, and Colonel 
 Hutchinson have left lives as fraught with exciting interest 
 as that of Cromwell himself. We follow the lives of Alger- 
 non Sidney and of Lord Eussell with far more breathless 
 attention than we do the stupid and senseless course of the 
 bigoted monarch who sent them both to the scaffold. Riche- 
 lieu, Mazarin, Sully, and De Retz, each had a personal 
 character and a personal career which has an interest separ- 
 ate from the character and career of the great monarchs 
 whom they served. Lord Somers and the great Whig 
 leaders of the Revolution of 1688 interest us by the adroit- 
 ness and personal courage with which they planned and 
 achieved a bloodless victory for the rights of the English 
 people and the establishment of constitutional restraints 
 upon the crown. The lives of Chatham, Fox, and Burke 
 are as exciting as a drama to one who knows what were the 
 forces against which their lives were a perpetual struggle, 
 and what were the weapons of argument and oratory, of 
 sagacity and leadership, with which they strove. Pitt pre- 
 sents in his life a history as interesting as that of the great 
 soldier against whom he subsidized the armies of Europe 
 witli the wealth of England. 
 
 We follow in the career of Brougham and Romilly» 
 of Mackintosh and Horner, of Macaulay and Cobden, the 
 great thoughts, the courageous daring, and the persevering 
 tenacity which have overturned the traditional policy of 
 England and rooted up the prejudices of centuries, though 
 backed by the wealth and prestige of the crown and aris- 
 tocracy. 
 
 If we think of our own country we find the interest of 
 a drama in the more or less complete and satisfactory biog- 
 raphies which we have of the lives of James Otis and 
 Samuel Adams, of Joseph Warren and Patrick Henry, of 
 
Chap. XIV.] Biography and Biographical Beading, 201 
 
 Benjamin Franklin and Alexander Hamilton, of Thomas 
 Jefferson and Aaron Burr, of John Jay and Timothy Pick- 
 ering, of John Eandolph and De Witt Clinton, of John C. 
 Calhoun and Henry Clay, of Daniel Webster and Martin 
 Van Buren, of Thomas H. Benton and William H. Seward. 
 The life of each of these statesmen and orators must be 
 intensely exciting to every one who can comprehend the 
 great objects for which each one of them lived, and the 
 energy and skill which each displayed in bringing over the 
 nation to his own opinions and policy. It may be ques- 
 tioned whether the great men of history are not the objects 
 of the most intense personal feelings of like and dislike, 
 chiefly because we view them as struggling for or against 
 some great cause or party v/hich we ourselves accept or re- 
 ject. It is certain that every one follows the career of his 
 favorite orators and statesmen with somewhat of the samo 
 excited suspense with which he watches the course of a 
 living party leader in a present or impending conflict. In 
 England and America, where so many intelligent persons 
 take so warm and active an interest in political questions 
 and party leaders, it is not strange that the most positive 
 and excited interest should be felt in the personal history 
 and personal character of the great men who have organized 
 or led those political parties in other generations, whose 
 traditions and passions are still active in the present. 
 
 Those readers who rise above party sympathies and con- 
 siderations, and are interested in the conflicts and struggles 
 which result in great reforms, whether they are distinc- 
 tively religious or political, moral or social, find the most 
 abundant excitement in the life of any great Reformer, 
 The incidents and the heroism kindle the imagination 
 and stir the blood. In any soul in which the sense of 
 public justifce is wakeful, and the sympathy with human 
 suffering is- glowing, and the courage to contend against 
 popular opposition is determined, there is the capacity to 
 
202 Boohs and Heading, [Chap. xiv. 
 
 be stirred by the life-history of any man who has dared to 
 brave power and faction and public opinion in favor of 
 suppressed truth, an oppressed class, or a much-needed but 
 long-delayed reform. 
 
 The lives of Savonarola, of Luther, of Ignatius Loyola, 
 of George Fox, of John Wesley, of William Wilberforce, 
 of Thomas Fowell Buxton, of John Brown, and of multi- 
 tudes more, never want for sympathizing readers, even 
 among men who do not sympathize with the principles or 
 the spirit of their heroes. In the interest which is aroused 
 by such lives, fanaticism and imprudence are overlooked and 
 forgiven, and bold words and bolder deeds are admired and 
 applauded. The dramatic interest of the shifting positions 
 of the contest, and the imposing attitudes of the central 
 figure, often fighting single-handed with myriads of foes, 
 engross the attention and carry off the admiring sympathy. 
 We admire and sometimes adore the heroes of a cause 
 which we cannot but detest. 
 
 The biographies of self-made men are almost universally 
 attractive. No man of any generosity or spirit can avoid 
 being excited by the determination and perseverance which 
 these exemplify. Only a snob or a tuft-hunter, or a toady 
 to the rich or great, is ashamed of a strong interest in the 
 men who have risen from humble beginnings. They are 
 especially fascinating and instructive to those young men 
 of limited means who aspire to make something of their own 
 lives. Smiles' Self-Help abounds in brief sketches of, and 
 allusions to, a great number of men of this class, and one is 
 surprised in reading such a book to find how large a num- 
 ber of those who have been eminent in every condition in 
 life have risen from lowly conditions at the start. 
 
 The interest in such records is felt alike by those who 
 have already risen in life and those who are just beginning 
 to rise — pre-eminently by the latter. 
 
 This leads us to observe that those who are earnestly de- 
 
Chap. XIV.] Biography and Biographical Readmg, 203 
 
 voted to any art or profession are especially attracted to the 
 lives of those persons who have attained special eminence in 
 a similar profession or employment. Especially is this the 
 case if their own career is as yet incomplete — if tlieir aspi- 
 rations are high and their difficulties are manifold — if the 
 goal is bright but distant, and the path to it seems long and 
 steep. The ever-present consciousness of the difficulties 
 under which we labor leads us to compare our own condi- 
 tion with that of another like ourselves. The desire to over- 
 come these difficulties and to attain eminence speedily, leads 
 us to consult the experience of those who have succeeded, 
 and to inquire minutely what was the secret of their success. 
 We are never tired of studying their devices, of hearing 
 of their discouragements, of fighting over their battles, and 
 of triumphing in their victories. The young advocate who 
 is looking impatiently for his first brief, or who is forced to 
 wait for days for the welcome step of a new client, reads 
 with intense excitement the story of Erskine's speedy and 
 brilliant entrance into a crowded practice. The young 
 lawyer who proposes for himself a successful professional 
 career, which shall be adorned and elevated by noble aspi- 
 rations and liberal culture, can find few books which are so 
 inspiriting as the lives of Sir Samuel Romilly and Francis 
 Horner, of Patrick Henry and William Wirt, of Daniel 
 Webster and Rufus Choate. The physician who wonders 
 whence his patients are to come, and whether he can ever 
 win his way into a lucrative practice, reads and re-reads 
 with fresh interest the life and experience of any city or 
 country doctor which he may chance to encounter. The 
 lives of John Hunter and Sir Charles Bell are fraught with 
 inspiration to him. 
 
 Many a journeyman printer has been inspired and, as it 
 were, remade, by the records which Franklin has left of his 
 own experiences at the press. Many a young writer has 
 read and re-read the story of Franklin's patient attempts 
 
204 Books and Beading, [Cbai-.xiv. 
 
 to attain a good English style. The popularity of Frank- 
 lin^s life in America and England is a complete refuta- 
 tion of the assertion that biography is to the mass of read- 
 ers essentially stupid and uninviting. The life of ths 
 Learned Blacksmith has encouraged not a few laborers at 
 the anvil. The lives of Watt and Arkwright, of Fulton 
 and Whitney, of Stephenson and Goodyear, have stimu- 
 lated many an inventor to renewed patience and courage. 
 No romance can excite a more kindled interest and excited 
 enthusiasm in any generous mind than Hugh Miller's Mi/ 
 ScJwoIs and Schoolmasters, as no book can possibly be 
 more instructive to the working-man who will follow its 
 guidance and yield to its inspiration. Horace Greeley is 
 nowhere more interesting and wise as a guide to readers 
 who have their own fortunes to make than in his Recollec- 
 tions of a Bui<y Life. The young physicists and scientists, 
 who are so numerous at the present day, can find no read- 
 ing which will please and reward them so well as the lives 
 of Franklin and Ferguson, of Davy and Faraday, of New- 
 ton and Dalton, of George Wilson and Edward Forbes. 
 Artists never tire of reading the lives of the unhappy de- 
 votees of their craft, like Haydon, and the more fortunate, 
 like Reynolds and Turner, Gainsborough and Wilkie, 
 West and Allston. Literary men of all classes gather 
 fresh inspiration and instruction from the biographies of 
 literary men — an ample and most valuable class of lives, 
 to which we shall again return. 
 
 The partial review which we have taken of these few 
 classes of biographies and the grounds of their attractive- 
 ness for their several classes of readers, enable us to gain a 
 more satisfactory view in regard to biography and biogra^ 
 phical reading in general. We have seen that biography 
 is attractive for the incidents which it records and the sym- 
 pathy which it arouses with prominent actors. Biogra- 
 phy is interesting to this or that reader just so far as he 
 
Chap. XIV.] Biography and Biographical Reading. 205 
 
 cares for and comprehends the incidents, the feelings, or 
 the characters Avhich biography describes. The lives of 
 some men present pictures and emotions into which all, 
 even the youngest and the most unreflecting, easily enter. 
 In all cases, however, the interest must depend very large- 
 ly upon the skill and success with which the scenes 
 and characters are depicted. If the incidents* are beyond 
 the capacity of the reader to comprehend, through defect 
 of age, culture, or reflection ; if the feelings and character 
 are such as he cannot or does not care to study or interpret 
 — then the life cannot be interesting ; it may be positively 
 distasteful. We cannot expect the life of a metaphysician, 
 a philologist, or scientist, to be intelligible or interesting to 
 a child, or to a full-grown man whose knowledge and cul- 
 ture are limited. William Wordsworth was known to his 
 neighbors only as a kind-hearted and frugal neighbor. 
 Sir Walter Scott was esteemed by a large class of well-to- 
 do acquaintances not as the magician of the North, but 
 simply as the Sheriff who gave glorious suppers and was 
 great in his talk of dogs and horses. Burns had a jolly 
 set of associates, who cared more for his good fellowship 
 than for the poetry of his songs. What could any of these 
 friends of Wordsworth, Scott, or Burns know, or what 
 should they care for the events or the characters which 
 make the record of their lives so intensely interesting to 
 the student of literature and the student of man ? That 
 which made their lives so famous, and the story of them 
 so exciting to a certain class of readers, lay entirely beyond 
 the range of their comprehension and their sympathy. 
 
 While then, as we have seen, there are not a few bio- 
 graphies which are within the range and comprehension 
 of all classes of readers, there are many others which are 
 reserved for men whose culture takes a special direction, 
 or is of a higher order than is accorded to the many. 
 
 The first of these which we name are those which are 
 
206 Boohs and Reading, [Chap, xiv, 
 
 eminently jpsychologwal, i. e., those which in\oive an ana- 
 lysis and record of the inner processes or growth of the 
 soul. There are not a few biographies of which the chief 
 interest arises from and turns upon the changes in the in- 
 ner life which they record. The external incidents of the 
 life may be unexciting, the career of the man may have 
 been very uneventful or very humble ; but the record of 
 the progress of the man, of his varied experiences of feel- 
 ing, of the development of his intellect, and the changes 
 in his opinions, of his new views of life, his strengthened 
 faith, his refined culture, and his intellectual or moral 
 achievements, lend an indescribable charm to the narra- 
 tive, and gather around it a circle of excited readers. 
 
 It is obvious, however, that no man can be interested in 
 such a biography who has never given attention to the pro- 
 gress of his own inner life, or watched the several steps by 
 which such progress has been made. Those who recognize 
 the improvement of one^s position in life as the groat end 
 of living, and who measure progress by the vulgar tests of 
 gain in wealth or power, cannot be expected to understand 
 or care for the inner life of a man who esteems the culture 
 of the intellect, the refinement of the tastes, the victory 
 over the selfish and sensual passions, and the enlargement 
 and confirmation of all right and noble principles, as the 
 most elevated ends to which any life can be devoted. 
 Those w^ho never look within but always look without, 
 must find the biography of that which is within to be 
 necessarily stupid and uninteresting. But those who care 
 for their own improvement in good habits and noble 
 achievements, and who are accustomed closely to watch 
 and carefully to judge of their progress or failure in these 
 particulars, may naturally be expected to study with intense 
 and wakeful interest the inner record of any noble life, pro- 
 vided the story be told with requisite skill. Those who 
 include moral culture and religious growth in their concep- 
 
Chap. XIV.] Biography and Biographical Beading, 207 
 
 tion of true progress, will follow with a lively interest any 
 such record which is sincere, provided the subject of it be 
 otherwise so gifted as to attract the attention, or the story 
 be told in such a way as to satisfy a pure and simple taste. 
 Even the absence of any special gifts of nature or attain- 
 ments of culture will often be abundantly compensated by 
 pure aspirations and honest endeavors. The record of an 
 honest and unlettered mind, if unskillfully made, like the 
 life of John Wool man, the Quaker, can be so elevated by 
 simple purity of heart, or like the life of John Bunyan, can 
 be so irradiated by flashes cf seraphic fire, as successfully to 
 vindicate the essential superiority of moral and religious 
 greatness over greatness of every other sort. But no gifts of 
 genius in the subject or skill of portraiture in the writer 
 can or ought to compensate for the absence of moral earnest- 
 ness in a professedly ethical biography, or for the presence 
 of the debasing alloy of Pharisaism and cant in a profess- 
 edly religious life. Hypocrisy is always hollow; Pharisa- 
 ism and affectation are invariably offensive, in proportion 
 to the elevation of the ideals to which they pretend to rise, 
 and the purity of the saintliness which they profess to imi- 
 tate. Hence, while a good biography of a truly good man 
 is the best and often the most inspiring of all biographies, 
 if it be written with tolerable skill ; an inflated, ovei-strained 
 and laudatory life of a man who was very iinperfectly or 
 defectively good, is often one of the most offensive and 
 depressing of books. 
 
 The temptation to error in the form of overdoing in the 
 quantity and quality of moral and religious biography is ex- 
 ceedingly strong. The religious public is frightfully inun- 
 dated with the lives of persons whose lives had better not 
 have been written, or if written, would better have been 
 privately ' printed. It is the dictate of friendship to magni- 
 fy the virtues of the departed, and to fail to notice their de- 
 fects, when we look at either through the tears which we 
 
208 Books and Beading, [Chap. xiv. 
 
 weep at their graves ; but no man is, for such a reason, 
 justified in setting forth the life of a person of merely com- 
 monplace goodness, simply because he was good. While 
 every good life is far more eloquent and winning in the 
 circle which it illumines than any book can be, those lives 
 only deserve to be brought before the public in a book, 
 which had characteristics sufficiently uncommon to make 
 the goodness specially attractive when it is portrayed. 
 
 Second. — The lives which we have called psychological 
 are usually most successfully written in greater or less part 
 by the persons themselves who were the subjects, of them — 
 in part by their recorded conversations, their diaries and 
 letters, or wholly in formal autobiographies. Hence the 
 most satisfactory lives of really superior men are made up 
 of their reported sayings, their private journals, and ex- 
 tracts from their correspondence, set in a framework of ex- 
 planatory history. BosivelVs Life of Br. Johnson is, for 
 two reasons, the best example of a life made up of sayings 
 and conversations. The sayings of Johnson were well 
 worth reporting for their intrinsic interest and value, or for 
 the manner in which they were expressed, and Johnson 
 had an admiring Boswell always at hand to report them. 
 It has of late become much the fashion to make up the lives 
 of significant men very largely from their journals and 
 their letters. Some of the most instructive and delightful 
 biographies of modern times are of this class ; such as those 
 of Robert Burns, Charles Lamb, Robert Southcy, John> 
 Sterling, Walter Scott, John Wilson, Thomas Chalmers, 
 Samuel Romilly, John Foster, Dr. Thomas Arnold; of 
 Charlotte_Bront^, J. Blanco White, Thomas Fowell Bux- 
 ton, Edward Irving, Ridiard Whately, B. G. Niebuhr, 
 Frederick Perthes, John Keble, Frederick W. Robertson, 
 Henry Crabb Robinson, Baron Bunsen, Theodore Parker, 
 Margaret Fuller, Horace Mann, and Lyman Beecher. 
 
 In all these instances the persons named were more or 
 
Chap, xit.] Biography and Biographical Beading. 209 
 
 less distinguished for public and literary activity. This fact 
 suggests the remark that the lives of this class of persons are 
 generally more instructive and interesting than those of any 
 other. The reason certainly cannot be that their intellects 
 were superior, or their principles were more elevated ; that 
 their feelings and tastes were more refined, or their influ- 
 ence was more commanding than were those of others 
 whose lives remain wholly unwritten. It is rather that 
 such men more frequently leave behind them copious mate- 
 rials of this sort. But even this is not universally the case. 
 It is only men who write easily, and of such men only here 
 and there one who leaves behind him a journal or diary in 
 which he notes events as they occur, or records his views 
 in regard to them, or his own principles, feelings, and aims. 
 Many journals which are extended and copious are chiefly 
 objective, and fail to express the individuality of the man, 
 and to manifest his inmost feelings and the springs of his 
 character. Very many really able and communicative 
 men fail to write letters with that fullness and freedom 
 which should satisfy a biographer. But when all these 
 conditions are present, when the character or career is 
 Avorth describing, and the character and aims are copiously 
 expressed by the individual himself, then we have the con- 
 ditions of such a life as Lockhart's Life of Scott, or Stan- 
 ley's Life of Arnold, or the Lives of B. G. Niebuhr and 
 Frederick Perthes, of Thomas Fowell Buxton, and the 
 Rev. F. W. Robertson. 
 
 The lives of men devoted to science or letters are spe- 
 cially interesting for another reason. Such men reflect 
 the sentiments of their times more completely and vividly 
 than men of any other class. In great part they form 
 these sentiments, or are the central points around which 
 they gather. They give to these sentiments a concrete 
 and personal interest, and cause the times to revive and 
 live before the eyes of the reader. They are very often 
 14 
 
210 Boohs and Reading, [Chap.xiv. 
 
 symbolic and representative men — men who either origi- 
 nate or impersonate some striking tendency of thought or 
 feeling. At all events, they record in their own diaries 
 and letters more or less fully, by allusion or formal dis- 
 cussion, the phases of thought aud feeling which prevail 
 in the community, and so preset' ve fresh and living pic- 
 tures of transient and momentary events. These pictures 
 are usually colored with the hues of their own personal 
 feelings. They are warm with love, clouded by displea- 
 sure, or disturbed by anxiety or terror. English lit- 
 erature has of late been greatly enriched with many bio- 
 graphies of this class, of the choicest description — ^biogra- 
 phies interesting from the excellence of the character 
 which they record, from the variety of incidents which 
 they narrate, from the exciting phases of prevailing 
 thought and feeling which they reflect, and from the in- 
 sight which they open into the inner springs and motives 
 of the persons described. 
 
 Autobiographies have for many, not to say for most per- 
 sons, a peculiar charm. They do not always give so com- 
 plete a picture of the inner life as we desire, nor do they 
 reveal so fully what was characteristic of the man as we 
 hope to discover when we begin to read ; but they almost 
 uniformly delight the student of human nature, by their 
 honest and nazf detail of what we are more or less curious 
 to know. They are usually brief, almost every writer of 
 his own life being apparently overcome with irresistible 
 modesty when he attempts to introduce to the great public 
 his comparatively humble self. They are often unfinished, 
 the writer getting on very comfortably with the recollec- 
 tions of his childhood and the experiences and feelings of 
 his early days, but growing suddenly timid as he is 
 obliged to look in the face the follies, and perhaps the sins, 
 of his later life, and not liking always to speak so freely 
 of others, whether dead or living, as would be necessary 
 
Chap. XIV.] Biography and Biographical Reading, 211 
 
 should he speak freely of himself. It is worthy of notice 
 how many brief sketches of this sort are suddenly broken 
 off, as if the writer had become disgusted with thinking 
 and talking about himself, and had left for his children a 
 mere fragment, where they expected and longed for a full 
 and detailed narrative of his entire life. We have, how- 
 ever, a few autobiographies that are tolerably complete, 
 and they are all in their way fraught with interest. The 
 life of Franklin is attractive for many reasons ; but pre- 
 eminently because it was written by himself, and because 
 he tells a story which of itself is fitted to interest every 
 poor boy who is beginning life, with a simplicity and^ di- 
 rectness which enlists the sympathies and holds the atten- 
 tion of every reader. No book has been more popular in 
 our country than this. ,Xone has exerted a more powerful 
 influence, not always of unmixed good. Tried by the 
 more elevated standard of either pagan or Christian moral- 
 ity, it is often defective. The persistent self-seeking which 
 crops out so offensively now and then, and the absence of 
 faith in the more generous sentiments, as well as the sar- 
 castic condescension with which Franklin treats revealed 
 religion, are not always healthful. They have lowered 
 the tone and weakened the faith and the principles of not 
 a few. But with all these abatements its attractions are 
 at this moment as fresh as at the first. It has in these 
 days the additional merit of giving a vivid picture of sim- 
 ple times forever gone by, as well as of unfolding the in- 
 ner movements of a very unique personality. For the 
 same reason that the apprentice and clerk read Franklin 
 with special interest, the scholar never tires of reading Gib- 
 son's 3Iemoirs of my own Life and Writings, or the brief 
 autobiographies of Hume, VoltairCj and Lord Herbert of 
 Cherbury. The lovers of excitement and adventure will 
 return again and again to the autobiographies of Cellini, 
 Vidocq,J. Wo'fc To}iCj'.ind JLidamedu Barri, These auto- 
 
212 Boohs and Beading. [Chap. xiv. 
 
 biographies, with many others, are found in what professes 
 to be a Collection of the most Interesting and Amusing Lives 
 ever published y written by the 'parties themselves, Lond(h,: 
 1826-1832. This collection certainly contains a very great 
 variety of very amusing and instructive reading. The 
 fragments of autobiography which often precede the more 
 elaborate lives of prominent men are almost invariably 
 read and re-read with careful attention. 
 
 We cannot think that biography is especially uninterest- 
 ing and unattractive. On the other hand, we believe that 
 the want of interest in any life or class of lives must arise 
 from one or more of three prominent causes — a want of 
 capacity to comprehend the character described — a want of 
 sympathy with his aims and principles, or some defect of 
 skill in the biographer. While, as»we have seen, there are 
 some biographies which interest both the young and the 
 old, the uncultured and the refined, there is a very great 
 number which, from the nature of the case, can only in- 
 terest a few — according as they understand or care for the 
 style of man which the life describes. It is therefore im- 
 possible to furnish any but the most general rules for the 
 selection of this class of books — and it is, for this reason, 
 less easy to select any list which may be called the best. 
 What are the best for one age, or one degree and kind of 
 culture, may be wholly unsuited for another. 
 
 There is no class of reading which is ethically more 
 profitable than this. "When I am sick of the world in 
 church and state, in solitude and in society," says a sharp 
 and stern thinker, "I turn for relief to the portraits of two 
 saintly heroes which hang in my library, and say to myself. 
 These two were honest and noble men, and they teach me 
 never to despair of mankind or of myself In like man- 
 ner there is nothing so quickening and elevating to the 
 generous and high-minded as to read a few pages in the 
 biography of one who has been a prince among men for 
 
Chap. XIV.] Biography and Biographical Reading. 213 
 
 greatness and goodness combined, especially if his life and 
 character are largely interpreted by himself. "JS^o young 
 man can rise from the perusal of such lives as those of Bux- 
 ton and Arnold without feeling his mind and heart made 
 better, and his best resolves invigorated/' "Horner says 
 of the life of Sir Matthew Hale, that it filled him with 
 enthusiasm; and of Condorcet's Eioge of Haller, 'I never 
 rise from the account of such men without a thrilling pal- 
 pitation about me, which I know not whether I should call 
 admiration, ambition, or despair/ " A snatch of such read- 
 ing is like the injection of fresh and generous blood into 
 the veins, or the drinking a generous and refreshing draught 
 to one who is thirsty and faint, or the breathing copiously 
 of a highly oxygenated atmosphere. That young man or 
 young lady is to be congratulated who has his or her favor- 
 ite biographies to which he or she habitually turns and re- 
 turns — if, indeed, they present noble ideals. The lives of 
 Dr. Arnold and of F. W. Robertson have done more for 
 the quickening and encouragement of Christian culture and 
 of Christian nobleness in the present generation, than the 
 personal influence of the two men when living — inspiring 
 as were the teaching and intercourse of the one, and the 
 preaching and conversation of the other. In no sense is it 
 so eminently true, that the good which men do lives after 
 them, as when the spirit and essence of their lives are em- 
 balmed in a worthy biography. 
 
 **More sweet than odors caught by him who sails 
 Near spicy shores of Araby the blest, 
 A thousand times more exquisitely sweet, 
 The freights of holy feeling which we meet 
 In thoughtful moments, wafted by the gales 
 From fields where good men walk or bowers wherein they rest.** 
 
 But how is it with the evil which bad men do ? Is not 
 
 this equally powerful to ensnare and corrupt ? To this we 
 
 . reply, such evil is not often so frankly and fully exposed, 
 
214 Boohs and Reading, [Chap. xiv. 
 
 and X)f:vpr by themselves ; and herein is very strikingly il- 
 lustrat'^d the homage which vice pays to virtue. It is rare 
 that a bad man confesses to the world in his letters how 
 bad he is, unless he does it with repentance and shame. 
 It is rarer even that a man writes down in his diary, as an 
 eminent scholar was once in the habit of doing, " This day 
 read the Antigone of Sophocles, after which I was desper- 
 ately drunk.'' Or if a man occasionally forgets decency in 
 his letters, and self-respect in his diary, it is rare that his 
 biographer will spread out such revolting details for the 
 perusal of the public. If he is forced to allude to the sins 
 or the foibles of his hero, he usually endeavors to palliate 
 find excuse them. No libertine or drunkard, no unbeliever 
 in duty or denier of God, ever shines attractively in an 
 honestly written life, or inspires his readers with a desire 
 to be like him. But while the lives of bad or imperfect 
 men do not attract, they very often warn. In the realm 
 of biography the saying is emphatically fulfilled, " The 
 name of the wicked shall rot.'' The memory of the wicked 
 docs rot, either in the withering neglect of succeeding gen- 
 erations, to which it is so often doomed, or in the putres- 
 cent phosphorescence at whose lurid light posterity starts 
 and shudders. 
 
 In view of these considerations, we advise for all those 
 who have leisure and opportunity a large and liberal read- 
 ing of biography. We advise that the taste for this de- 
 scription of reading should be fostered. If fostered, it cer- 
 tainly will grow more active and intense. The study of 
 biography is the study of man. A generous familiarity 
 with the lives of men of all sorts of opinions tends to lib- 
 eralize the feelings and to enlarge the understanding. Its 
 influence in this regard is like that of a very extended and 
 varied acquaintanceship with living men. Nor need we 
 fear to study the lives or to converse with the characters 
 of men from whom we differ very widely in opinions, or 
 
Chap. XIV.] Biography and Biographical Beading, 215 
 
 diverge very materially in our sympathies. If our own 
 principles are fixed, we shall find sufficient strength and 
 inspiration from the lives of the men with wliom we agree 
 in opinions and character to enable us to withstand, as far 
 as we ought to desire, any counter-influence from the lives 
 of those with whose opinions we do not entirely sympa- 
 thize. No man of liberal cidture can afford to be without 
 — ^no such person ought to desire to be wholly without — ■ 
 the liberalizing influence which comes from a study of the 
 lives of men of the greatest variety of opinions and charac- 
 ters. On the other hand, no man whose opinions are fixed 
 or whose principles are earnest can fail to have his favorite 
 biographies, his lives of men most loved and honored, to 
 which he continually resorts — it may be to enjoy with 
 them a few moments' converse in their most elevated 
 moods, or perhaps to rise by their aid to those noble posi- 
 tions which the soul is more competent to gain for an hour 
 than to keep for a day. 
 
 Of biographical reading we may say, that the man who 
 has no heroes among the truly noble of the earth, must have 
 either a sordid or a conceited spirit. He must be too ig- 
 noble to admire that which is really above himself, or 
 must be too satisfied with himself to care to concern him- 
 self with the characters or the claims of others. He who 
 reverences and admires no one of the great and good of 
 other times, is likely to reverence and admire the man who 
 is least worthy of honor and admiration, and that is him- 
 self, — and to bring to his altar an unshared and solitary 
 worship. 
 
 Two rules may serve in the selection and judgment of 
 biographies. The first is, "see that the man whose life 
 you would read had a marked and distinctive character." 
 The second is, " see that this character be set forth with 
 truthfulness and skill.'' A man with small individuality, 
 eitlier of gifts or of goodness, is not entitled to have his 
 
216 Boohs and Reading, [Chap. xiV, 
 
 life written, and certainly has no claim that his life should 
 l]|g read. The circumstance that he held a high position 
 in life, or attracted honor or attention from his wealth or 
 rank or office, is of the slightest possible significance to 
 those who come after him, provided there w^as nothing in 
 his genius, his industry, .or his goodness which entitles 
 him to the consideration of others. Mere goodness which 
 is commonplace, however useful and honorable in the liv- 
 ing, cannot shine as an example through a written life, un- 
 less there was something distinctive enough to attract the 
 attention and to impress the feelings of lookers-on. The 
 number of stupid biographies which encumber our libra- 
 ries, of lords and generals and bishops, and of clergymen 
 and physicians and lawyers who were simply significant 
 from their position, is something frightful to contemplate. 
 Now and then they fill several bulky volumes. They arc 
 glanced at by a limited circle, and stand upon the shelves 
 of our libraries, to be consulted by an antiquarian or a 
 genealogist, and this is all the service which they render. 
 
 It is not enough, however, that the subject of the life 
 should have had something in his character that was so 
 distinctive as to be worth recording. The life should be 
 skilfully set forth by his biographer. The power of seiz- 
 ing the individual characteristics by nice analysis, or of 
 interpreting^ them by sagacious generalizations, does not 
 " come by nature " to all biographers. The gift of select- 
 ing from conversations and correspondence what is worth 
 preserving is not possessed — certainly it is not exercised, 
 by all. To narrate with method and clearness, and also 
 with spirit and life, is not so easy to a writer as it is plea- 
 sant to the reader. 
 
 The following protest, directed against the indiscrimi- 
 nate publication of an author's remains, is equally appro- 
 priate to those lumbering biographies in which little wise 
 selection rules i-r- 
 
Chap, XIV.] Biography and Biographical Beading, 217 
 
 " The imperfect thing or thought. 
 
 The fervid jeastiness of youth, 
 
 The dubious doubt, the twilight truth. 
 The work that for the passing day was wrought^ 
 The schemes that came to naught, 
 
 " The sketch half-way 'twixt verse and prose. 
 
 That mocks the finished picture true, 
 
 The splinters whence the statue grew. 
 The scaffolding 'neath which the palace rose^ 
 The vague, abortive throes, 
 
 "And crudities of joy or gloom : — 
 
 In kind oblivion let them be ! 
 
 Nor has the dead worse foe than he 
 Who rakes these sweepings of the artist's room. 
 And piles them on his tomb." 
 
 "Whether a particular biography will meet the condi- 
 tions prescribed must be left, in most cases, to the judgment 
 of the reader himself. To attempt to make a selection from 
 the very rich and copious library of works of this class 
 with which English literature abounds, would be diffi- 
 cult, if not impracticable, within our limits. We must 
 ask the reader to accept in its place the classification 
 which we have made, and the illustrative examples which 
 we have cited under its several heads. "We add that brief 
 biographical sketches of eminent personages may be found 
 in any good Encyclopedia. 
 
 Some of these have been prepared with great care by 
 very able writers. Biographical Dictionaries also abound. 
 Among these may be named the two most recently issued, 
 as very convenient and carefully prepared. Lippincott's 
 Universal Pronouncing Dictionary of Biography and My^ 
 thology. By J. Thomas. 2 vols, and A Brief Biographical 
 Dictionary, compiled and arranged by Rev. Charles Hole. 
 Am. ed. by William A. Wheeler. The last gives only the 
 names, profession, etc., with dates of death and birth. 
 
CHAPTER XY. 
 
 NOVELS AND NOVEL-READING. 
 
 From History and Biography to Fiction and Poetry 
 the transition is natural and easy. It is none other than 
 from true to what Lord Bacon calls " feigned history ^' 
 — the one being the narration of events which have 
 actually occurred, the other the narration of events which 
 are only supposed to have taken place. The form of the two 
 is the same ; the matter is different. The story which the 
 novelist and poet narrate would be history if what is nar- 
 rated had actually taken place. But the end in both cases 
 always is or always should be the same — i. e., the com- 
 munication of truth ; not always what we call real truth 
 in the sense of actual or literal occurrences, but always real 
 truth in the sense of those relations and impressions which 
 are real in that import which is most comprehensive and 
 profound. Whenever the imagination, by its creations of 
 incidents and drapery, can assert or impress truth of this 
 kind more effectually than the memory by its transcripts 
 from reality, then is it at liberty to do so, provided it does 
 not disturb the relations of truth to veracity. There are 
 other ends for which the truth is conveyed than the ends of 
 instruction and science. It may often be largely for ends 
 of amusement; but it is truth nevertheless. The mirror of 
 the imagination must always reflect nature, though with en- 
 larged and altered proportions. The criterion of every good 
 work of imagination is well expressed by the description of 
 the Arcadia of Sir Philip Sidney as a work of which " the 
 invention is wholly spun out of the phansie, but conforma- 
 ble to the possibilitie of truth in all particulars." 
 218 
 
Chap. XV.] Novds and Novel-Reading, 219 
 
 ^Ye have already defcDcled works of imagination from 
 ignorant and prejudiced objections. We have also sought 
 to show that the highest advantage which can come of 
 literature and reading of all kinds is the service which 
 they render to the imagination, as they enrich it with 
 multiform and varied images of beauty, elevate it by no- 
 ble associations, and inspire it with pure emotions. 
 We shall neither repeat nor expand our argument in vin- 
 dication of Fiction and Poetry. If anything needs to be 
 added, it will naturally present itself in our suggestions 
 concerning the wise and profitable use of both. 
 
 Prose Fiction is of comparatively recent growth in Eng- 
 lish literature. It is within the present century that it 
 has attained its gigantic proportions. Our grandmothers 
 read Basselas, The Vicar of Wakefield^ Sir Charles 
 Grandison^ The Castle of Otranto, and a few other tales. 
 Some of our grandfathers allowed themselves now and 
 then the entertainment of Tom Jones, Humphrey ClinJcer, 
 and Tristram Shandy. There are thousands of their 
 grandchildren who would be puzzled to tell what novels 
 they have read, or to recite the names of their authors — 
 both are so numerous. Two novels a week is the smallest 
 number that is produced as an average from the British 
 press, if we say nothing of the novels translated from the 
 French and German ; and the names of all the leading 
 popular novelists it would be difficult for even the most 
 desperate and practised novel-reader to recount. The year 
 1814, in which Waverley was published, ushered in the 
 new period of English," and, we may say, of modern fic- 
 tion, and since that time the number and variety of novels 
 has been steadily increasing. The writing of Fiction has 
 been widened and enriched as an art, and the reading of 
 Fiction has been more distinctly recognized and worthily 
 appreciated as a means of culture and a source of enjoy- 
 ment. Juvenile Fiction has of late been increased to 
 
220 Boohs and Reading, [Chap. xv. 
 
 well nigh enormous dimensions. The writing of novels 
 has become one of the regular professions ; the reading of 
 novels is the chief occupation of a certain class of persons 
 who are exempt from the ordinary claims of business 
 or study, and even the criticism of novels has become a 
 specialty — almost as much as the criticism of art or music. 
 The world of Fiction in many minds overbears and out- 
 weighs the world of reality. To not a few, the creations 
 of the imagination are more interesting and absorbing than 
 those of real life. With many persons the successful conduct 
 of a plot excites more interest and elicits a more active 
 criticism than the direction of a campaign, and the de- 
 velopment of a fictitious character is watched with as keen 
 an interest as the life and fortunes of a great general or an 
 eminent statesman. The issue of a tangled story is 
 followed more anxiously than the result of an exciting 
 criminal trial, or a closely contested political canvass. 
 
 Prof. David Masson, in his very able and readable 
 work on British Novelists, divides British novels, since 
 Scott's appearance in the field, into thirteen classes, as fol- 
 lows : 1. The Novel of Scottish Life and Manners; 2. The 
 Novel of Irish Life and Manners ; 3. The Novel of Eng- 
 lish Life and Manners; 4. The Fashionable Novel; 5. 
 The Illustrious Criminal Novel ; 6. The Traveler's 
 Novel ; 7. The Novel of American Manners and Society ; 
 8. The Novel of Eastern Manners and Society ; 9 and 10. 
 The Military and Naval Novel ; 11. The Novel of Super- 
 natural Phantasy; 12. The Art and Culture Novel; 13. 
 Tlic Historical Novel. 
 
 This classification cannot be accepted as exhaustive, but 
 it may serve to impress the reader with the variety of topics 
 that are treated in modern novels, as well as be convenient 
 for reference and illustration. A broader and simpler 
 classification is that which divides all novels into two 
 groups, according as they are more or less conspicuously 
 
Chap. XV .1 Novels and Novel-Beading, 221 
 
 Novels of Incident or Novels of Character, i. e., according 
 as they are more or less occupied with pictures to the ob- 
 jective phantasy, or as they present strongly marked and 
 strikingly individualized characters. There are no novels 
 of incident in which various personages do not figure 
 largely, but there is only now and then one in which these 
 personages have the relief and reality of living men and 
 women, with a distinct personal existence and a strongly 
 marked individuality. On the other hand, there are no 
 novels of character in which there is not more or less of a 
 story or plot. But the interest in all novels which deserve 
 to be so-called, turns invariably upon the illustration or the 
 development of character. Novels of incident are especially 
 fitted for the young, because their tastes are eminently ob- 
 jective. They like an exciting and picturesque story, no 
 matter how grotesque and improbable it may be. Persons 
 are as real and objective to them as incidents and events. 
 It is what these do and suffer for which their readers care, 
 not what they are, or how their characters are expanded or 
 made known. With the analysis of their motives, their 
 inner conflicts of feeling, and the developments or changes 
 of their character, their readers have little concern. The 
 excitement of the stoiy is the chief attraction, and if the 
 story is exciting, they neither care nor inquire whether the 
 events are probable or possible, or whether the characters 
 are natural or true. Nor are they fastidious in respect to 
 either imagery or style. Indeed, provided the imagery is 
 bold, they do not care if it be coarse and highly-colored ; 
 and provided the language be strong and passionate, they 
 do not mind if it be declamatory and raving. The taste of 
 young people in respect to novels is very like their taste 
 for food. They do not totally reject the more delicate 
 fruits and dishes,, but they swallow them without discrimi- 
 nation, and without appreciating their exquisite flavor. 
 But the stronger and coarser edibles they devour not only 
 
222 Boohs and Beading, [Chap. xv. 
 
 With no offence, but often with an astonishing relish, as 
 unripe apples, squash-like melons, rank soups, and ranker 
 meats. They are not insensible to Robinson Ci^soe and 
 the Pilgrim s Progress^ and the manifold delicatesses of 
 modern fiction ; but they do not see the difference between 
 these and the Pirate's Own Book, Jack Sheppard, Beadle's 
 Dime -Novels, and the sensational stories which inflate the 
 English language till it almost bursts with the expansion, 
 and whose heroes scream out all the possible varieties of 
 hysterical passion. There is nothing which is more 
 amazing to a refined and cultured mother than the favorite 
 stories of her obstreperous boy. But all this is in the 
 course of nature, and will be outgrown in the progress of 
 time. There is hope that the boy will grow up to his 
 mother's tastes, if her tastes in reading are cultured and re- 
 fined. But what hope is there for him if her favorite 
 novels are, in point of culture, not higher than his coarse 
 and sensational stories ? As long as the savage sees lines 
 and shades of beauty in the tattooing or the war-paint that 
 makes the face hideous, and the wild African grins with 
 ecstacy at the flaunting colors which shame the noon, so long 
 will sensation novels of the vulgar sort be read with eager- 
 ness, and be written, lauded, and sold. It is well to re- 
 member that the acquisition of wealth does not necessarily 
 bring refinement in the intellectual tastes, and that much 
 which is called culture of the superficial sort, and which 
 enables a person to be self-possessed and at ease in society, 
 does not of course involve culture of the imagination or the 
 intellectual judgment. Fashionable people, and people 
 Avlio aspire to give tone to society, may delight in low and 
 vulgar novels. Even persons who are morally pure and 
 right-hearted may want the capacity to discriminate be- 
 tween what is high and low toned in fiction. It now and 
 then happens that a family rises suddenly to wealth from ab- 
 ject poverty. Its members pass in a month from rags to 
 
Chap. XV.] Novels and Novd- Reading, 223 
 
 satins, and from squalor to diamonds, and assume the airs 
 of their new position with what success they may. Usually, 
 however, some defect in their new appointments betrays 
 that their culture is not complete. Sometimes their shoes or 
 their lace or their jewelry reveal their essential vulgarity ; 
 sometimes it is the low and vulgar character of the fiction 
 in which they delight. In cases that are not so extreme 
 there are people whose aristocracy is unquestioned, and whose 
 manners have the unmistakable confidence that bespeaks 
 a well-established social position, who by the novels which 
 they habitually read, betray the essential vulgarity of their 
 intellectual tastes, and the low grade of their aesthetic cul- 
 ture. Few things are more properly offensive to the travel- 
 er than to see a second or third rate novel in the hands of 
 a well-dressed and well-mannered lady, or an intelligent 
 and otherwise well-cultured youth. Few indications are 
 more depressing than to enter a house in which wealth and 
 comfort abound, in which taste and refinement are every- 
 where manifest, and perhaps a high tone of moral and reli- 
 gious feeling is maintained, and yet to find that the library 
 of the family is made up of a score or two of third-rate 
 novels, with perhaps a few books of devotion. 
 
 If we suppose the taste for different kinds of fiction to 
 be developed in a normal way from youth to age, from 
 rudeness to culture, the novel of mere incident will 
 gradually give w^ay to the novel of character. The per- 
 sonage with a name and nothing more, who figures in so 
 many stories for children, and in so many sensational 
 novels for grown people, will be required to give some in- 
 dications of individual personality. The reader will learn 
 to look for men, and men of definite and unmistakable in- 
 dividuality, in the leading characters of any novel which 
 he tolerates or delights in. He will by and by learn to no- 
 tice that character cannot be made known with skill or suc- 
 cess, by mere description, but must be expressed in the words 
 
224 Books and Beading, [Chap. xv. 
 
 or deeds of the personages portrayed — that a long-winded 
 and elaborate setting forth of what sort of a man this or 
 that person is, attended perhaps with a commentary upon 
 the characteristics of his class, is not nearly so satisfactory 
 to the reader as the brief or pithy sayings which are put 
 into his mouth, or his characteristic actions when brought 
 into a critical position. The second step of progress in the 
 taste for fiction may be said to be attained when the reader 
 lias learned to prefer the novel of character to the novel 
 of incident, and can distinguish the one from the other. 
 
 The third stage is reached when the reader learns to 
 study and analyze the characters which he finds in fiction ; 
 when they not only enlist his sympathies by assuming dis- 
 tinct and personal being, but he can study them in their 
 motives, trace out their springs and discover their lead- 
 ing traits, and illustrate them to his own judgment by ex- 
 amples from real life. This interest is greatly heightened 
 if the characters are complex, perplexing, and apparently 
 contradictory ; and if the real secret is veiled and with- 
 held till the development of the plot is complete. Novels 
 of character must of course differ greatly in the style of 
 character which they furnish, and their adaptation to the 
 power of the reader to comprehend them, or his capacity 
 to enjoy them. The perplexities of a hero or heroine may 
 arise from speculative studies or religious difficulties, or 
 from social inequalities, or a morbid mood induced by a 
 'f^hildhood of wealth and luxury, or by some reverse of for- 
 tune. Whatever may be the occasion, if the kind of hu- 
 man being is not such as should be looked for in the 
 ordinary experience of human life, and can only be devel- 
 oped from an exceptional nature or a very rare conjunc- 
 tion of circumstances, the power to understand the charac- 
 ter will be possessed by few. Or again, if the principal 
 interest in the hero arises out of the peculiarities of his pro- 
 fession, (as of a musician or artist, like Charles Auchester,) 
 
I €hap. XV.] Novels and Nbvd-Reading. 225 
 
 the idiosyncrasies of his nature can only be fully appre- 
 ciated by a few. Then, if the habits of the novelist be 
 scientific or philosophical, and he wishes to exhibit a hero 
 occupied with his specialty, or exemplifying certain limited 
 habits, or if he sets forth the character by technical or 
 scholastic terminology, or a professional or philosophical 
 dialect, he can expect no more than a limited class of 
 readers. All the so-called novels of purpose or, as they 
 might be termed, propagandist or doctrinal novels, wheth- 
 er they be Christian or Infidel, Romanist or Geological, 
 High Church or Evangelical, Episcopal or Presbyterian, 
 Royalist or Republican, Conservative or Radical, Slavery 
 or Anti-slavery, Poor Law or Anti-poor Law, Protection- 
 ist or Free Trade, so far as they involve any properly 
 theoretic discussions, as distinguished from pictures of 
 personal or social life or public and individual tendencies, 
 — can strongly attract those readers only who have some 
 special knowledge of or interest in the subjects discussed, 
 whatever may be the interest of the plot or the individu- 
 ality of the characters. In general, novels that are in any 
 way specialized, w^hether because the topics handled are 
 necessarily limited, or because the mode of handling is not 
 adapted to the habits and tastes of men of ordinary cul- 
 ture, must necessarily be reserved for a limited class of 
 readers. 
 
 !N"o man in his senses would aspire to read all the no- 
 vels, or even the majority of the novels that are written 
 and published. It is within the limits of possibility that 
 a person who should restrict himself to this kind of read- 
 ing, and should devote to it say six or eight hours a day, 
 and allow himself no respite for sickness or holidays, 
 might, in a certain sense, read the most of the novels that 
 are now published in the English language. But who 
 would desire to do this ? Who would not refuse the task 
 with disgust and revulsion if it should be imposed upon 
 
226 Boohs and Reading, [Chap. xv. 
 
 him ? Most persons would rebel for higher reasons than 
 because the occupation would be a task. The task itself 
 would be most ungrateful. To be forced to occupy one's 
 mind with feeble or extravagant portraitures of scenes 
 and incidents, with inadequate or distorted delineations of 
 character, with false and repulsive conceptions of honor, 
 duty, and life ; to give one's self up for the waking 
 hours of every day to the control of the depraved or frivo- 
 lous taste or the prurient imagination of now a weak and 
 then a strong but corrupt nature, should be esteemed an 
 intolerable bondage. No man with a moderate endowment 
 of human feeling or manly spirit could endure it long. 
 There is a show of reason why the reader of history should 
 feel obliged to read many histories which he would prefer 
 to leave unread, or why a philosopher or critic must read 
 many weak and illogical treatises that give very poor re- 
 turns of thought. But a poor novel is very poor and un- 
 satisfying. It is not only so weak as to sicken, but it is 
 so offensive as to disgust the man who has any positive 
 tastes which he cherishes, or who sets much value upon 
 his time. We might add in the case of many, by any 
 man who has any regard for his reputation ; for the man 
 or the woman who systematically dawdles away his or her 
 time over a succession of third or fourth rate novels, weak 
 in imagination and doubtful in morality, deserves a very 
 low place in the estimate of people whose good opinion is 
 worth regarding. There is no description of filth that is 
 so filthy or so tenacious as that which comes from handling 
 an equivocal or obscene novel, A white-gloved hand is 
 for ever soiled by a smutch that cannot be drawn off with 
 the glove, if seen to hold a low-lived and trashy tale, such 
 as icany a fashionable miss and pretentious coxcomb are 
 known to handle. 
 
 If we cannot and would not read all the novels that are 
 published, we should read the best. What the best are, it 
 
: Chap. XV.] Novels and Novel-Reading, 227 
 
 is not always easy to decide. The novel which is the best 
 for the child is not the best for the youth ; the best for the 
 youth is not the best for the man ; the best for one man is 
 . not the best for another. The child and the youth, as we 
 have seen, delight in the objective novel — the novel of in- 
 cident — above the novel of character. By the same rule, 
 the man of introverted and reflective tastes not only prefers 
 the novel of character, but requires that the characters 
 delineated should themselves be of the speculative and in- 
 troverted cast, and that the plot and dialogue should turn 
 upon some recondite theme, or illustrate some important 
 speculative truth. The tastes of men in respect to the 
 novels which they prefer are as various as their tastes in 
 dress, in manners, and in companions. The only limits 
 under which this rule can be safely and wisely applied, are 
 that every man should have tastes which he can safely fol- 
 low, and that he should know what his tastes actually are ; 
 and that, having tastes that are not evil, and knowing 
 them well, he should have the courage to consult and follow 
 them, despite the rigors of conventionality and fashion. 
 
 Every man has his moods as well as his tastes. The 
 novel that is fitted for one mood is not suited for another, 
 If simple amusement or relaxation is required, a novel may 
 be just the book for a man who w^ould not care to read it 
 at a time when his aims were higher and more severe. If 
 instruction is required, the novel may be tolerated which 
 would not satisfy if it were required to amuse, elevate, or 
 enrich the imagination. A novel may be good for travel- 
 ing, which it is scarcely worth while for a busy or earnest 
 person to read at home. A reader of independent and 
 liberal spirit would also carefully avoid giving himself 
 up to the control of any single novelist. While every 
 reader ought, on the one hand to be select in his reading of 
 fiction, he should shun being so select as to limit his read- 
 ing to a single writer, even though by general consent the 
 
228 Boohs and Beading, [Chap. xv. 
 
 writer should be pronounced the best. At least it should 
 be required that the author be the best for him, by his fit- 
 ness to his individual habits and tastes,, and even to his 
 prevailing moods. The reasons for this rule are two. No 
 class of writers, except perhaps the poet, can diffuse himself 
 so completely into his writings as the novelist, and can do 
 it so insensibly to the reader. The reader may seem to 
 find nothing but a description of scenery, or a picture of 
 domestic life, or a delineation of a person, or the record of 
 conversations or the development of a plot. All these ele- 
 ment^ may be so skillfully woven together, and may stand 
 out so prominently from the canvass, as to give the impres- 
 sion of objective reality. The whole may be finished with 
 the careful minuteness of Gerard Dow, or with the defiant 
 boldness of Rubens, and still the picture, whether of nature, 
 man, or human life, will be the picture as seen by the nov- 
 elist's eyes and reflected in the novelist's mind, and it is 
 through his eyes and his mind that we must look at it, if 
 we see it at all. Or he seems to open to our inspection the 
 workings of a highly individualized character in extraordi- 
 nary circumstances of trial and perplexity, like Morton in 
 Old Mortality y or Becky Sharp in Vanity Fair, or Oliver 
 Twist as described by Dickens, or Jane Eyre by Charlotte 
 Bronte, or Mary Barton by Mrs. Gaskell, or Dinah in 
 Adam Bede, or the preacher of Salem Chapel by Mrs. 
 Olyphant. All that we seem at first view to see is the in- 
 dividual skillfully described ; at the second view we dis- 
 cern, perhaps, that this seeming individual is also a repre- 
 sentative human being, combined and created by the dex- 
 terous hand of the artist, working after the nice observation 
 of the artist's eye. It is not often that we take a third ob- 
 servation, and discern that it is some representative man, 
 not merely as discerned by the dispassionate eye, but as 
 judged by the principles and colored by the feelings, and 
 distorted, it may be, by the prejudices of the writer. 
 
■ Chap. XV.] Novels and Novel-Reading, 229 
 
 Thackeray, and Dickens, and Miss Bronte, and George 
 Eliot have each a private practical philosophy of their own, 
 even though it is unconsciously held, according to which 
 they must construct all the types of human nature which 
 they draw. It would have been morally impossible that 
 either should conceive or portray the characters depicted by 
 the other. This practical philosophy of life, this creed con- 
 cerning the ends of human excellence, and the ideal of 
 human perfection, is that which sweetens or sours many 
 superior novels, and causes them to emit the aroma of 
 health and life or the poison of disease and death. 
 
 Again, second — no class of writers exercises so complete 
 ^control over their readers as novelists do. This control 
 reaches to their opinions and prejudices, if it does not in- 
 sensibly control and reshape their entire philosophy of 
 duty and of life. The fascination which they exercise be- 
 comes of itself a spell. No enchantment is so entire and 
 delightful as that with which they invest the story which 
 they recite. It is a very glamour which they pour not 
 only over the scenes which they depict, but over the senses 
 of the beholder. With this enchantment and fascination 
 come the ready and even the forward acceptance of their 
 practical philosophy, and even of their accidental preju- 
 dices. A favorite novelist becomes, for the time being, 
 often more to his enamored and enchanted reader than 
 preacher, teacher, or friend, and indeed than the whole 
 Ivorld besides, casting a spell over his judgments, moulding 
 his principles, forming his associations, and recasting his 
 prejudices. The entranced and admiring reader runs to his 
 favorite when he can snatch an hour from labor, society, 
 or sleep. He broods over his scenes and characters when 
 alone, he quotes from him as often as he dare, he cites pro- 
 verbs and favorite phrases from his leading personages. 
 He even aspires to be familiar with his slang and his cant. 
 He warms with incensed ardor if his reputation is attacked. 
 
230 Boohs and Reading, [Chap. XV. 
 
 He defends him if he is criticised or unfavorably judged. 
 He is impatient if another is preferred to him. The parti- 
 san of Thackeray and Dickens is always ready to couch a 
 lance for his favorite. 
 
 Indeed we may go further, and say that the devoted 
 reader of a favorite novelist often becomes for the time an 
 unconscious imitator or a passive reflex of his author. Like 
 the chameleon, he takes the color of the bough and leaf 
 from which he feeds. He is more likely to absorb and re- 
 produce his defects than his excellences. The admiring and 
 passionate devotee of Dickens is in danger of copying his 
 broad caricature, his not very elevated or elevating slang, 
 and the free and easy swing of the society in which Mr. 
 Dickens delights. On the other hand, the intellectual and 
 high-toned devotee of Thackeray is lilvcly to be not a little 
 satirical, suspicious, and dissatisfied ; to affect the nil adwd- 
 rari and the air of one who is compelled to live in a world 
 of which he has already seen the hollowness, and for which 
 he is a little too good. The admiring students of George 
 Eliot take a pensive view of our human life, sympathize 
 hopelessly with its sorrows and its tragedies, and above all, 
 with its moral enigmas, seeing for it no redemption and no 
 hope. "They are as sad as night only for wantonness.'' 
 Their burden is, the times are out of joint — oh cursed spite, 
 that we were ever born to set them right Charles Kings- 
 ley's readers, on the other hand, are ready to set everything 
 right by the force of milscle and pluck, of bravado and faith. 
 The admirer of the witty O. W. Holmes is crisp, Voltairish, 
 and satirical. The devotee of Hawthorne is unrelenting 
 in certain moody prejudices, Epicurean in his tastes and aspi- 
 rations, and dreamy and uncertain in his theory of this life 
 and the next. The admirer of Mrs. Stowe is generous, 
 rash, one-sided and positive, and given to a variety of over- 
 doing. So complete a subjection to a single novelist, even 
 for a limited time, is not desirable, because its tendency is 
 
CaAP. XV.] Novels and Novel-Reading. 231 
 
 to make us one-sided and unnatural. For the same reason 
 we should not confine ourselves entirely to current and 
 contemporary novels. Strong as is the temptation to do this, 
 by reason of the greater freshness of the novel for our own 
 times, this temptation should sometimes be overcome, if for 
 no other reason than to give the reader a wide range of 
 vision, and to bring him back to his favorites of the passing 
 hour with a fresher eye and a less partial judgment. 
 
 Kor should novels constitute our sole reading. The 
 temptation is strong to make them so, especially with young 
 persons, and those who are responsible only to themselves 
 for the use or abuse of their time. It is not easy to turn to 
 a history or scientific essay when an attractive novel is lying 
 by its side, particularly for one to Avhom novel-reading is 
 new. There is no fascination connected with reading. to be 
 compared with that experienced in youth from the first few 
 novels. The spell-bound reader soon discovers, however, 
 that this appetite, like that for confectionery and other sweets, 
 is the soonest cloyed, and that if pampered too long it en- 
 feebles the appetite for all other food. The reader of novels 
 only, especially if he reads many, becomes very soon an intel- 
 lectual voluptuary, with feeble judgment, a vague memory, 
 and an incessant craving for some new excitement. It is 
 rare that a reader of this class studies the novels which he 
 seems to read. He knows and cares little for the novel of 
 character as contrasted with the novel of incident. He reads 
 for the story as he says, and it usually happens that the 
 sensational and extravagant, the piquant and equivocal 
 stories are those which please him best. Exclusive and 
 excessive novel reading is to the mind as a kind of intel- 
 lectual opium eating, in its stimulant effects upon the phan- 
 tasy and its stupifying and bewildering influence on the 
 judgment. An inveterate novel-reader speedily becomes a 
 iitej:ary roue, and this is possible at a very early period of 
 life. It now and then happens that a youth of seventeen 
 
232 Books and Reading. [Chap. xv. 
 
 becomes almost an intellectual idiot or an effeminate weak- 
 ling by living exclusively upon the enfeebling swash or 
 the poisoned stimulants that are sold so readily under the 
 title of tales and novels. An apprenticeship at a reform 
 school in literature, with a spare diet of statistics, and a hard 
 bed of mathematical problems, and the simple beverage of 
 plain narrative, is much needed for the recovery of such 
 inane and half-demented mortals. 
 
 Why, then, it may be asked, should we read novels at 
 all ? Why not set them aside altogether, especially as the 
 quantity of light literature of other descriptions is so great, 
 and the quality of it is constantly improving ? These ques- 
 tions are certainly fair questions, and merit answers as ex- 
 i:)licit and as fair. We have to answer first : The reading 
 of fiction furnishes a kind of amusement and relaxation 
 which no other reading can give. Tliere can be no ques- 
 tion that this description of "feigned history serveth 
 and conferreth to delectation,'^ No intellectual enjoyment 
 is so delightful as this. No withdrawment from one's 
 customary occupations and associations is so complete as 
 that which a good novel effects ; no breaking up of the 
 cares and the sorrows, of the weariness and the fears of the 
 ordinary life is so entire as that which an absorption in 
 its scenes and an interest in its' personages so easily accom- 
 plishes. That this indulgence is attended with special dan- 
 gers and peculiar temptations we cannot deny ; but that the 
 amusement and relaxation are innocent and desirable, 
 every rational man will acknowledge. Many of the 
 bravest workers for God and man have found this sort of 
 relaxation to be the most complete, and have used it with 
 the happiest results. Why it should be so is not difii- 
 cult to discern. Do we delight in a vacant hour to survey 
 a quiet nook, a placid river, a luxuriant valley, or an am- 
 ple and varied panorama ? We open a novel, and one scene 
 after another rises before the mental vision more rapidly 
 
Chap. XV.] Novels and Novel-Reading. 233 
 
 and in quicker succession than any which nature can pre- 
 sent. Does it rest the brain because it amuses the mind 
 to gaze upon a crowded street, and to watch the motley 
 and brilliant succession of the passers-by? But over th<^ pic- 
 tured page of animated fiction, one group follows after 
 another of men and women, of children and youth, in 
 country and town, crushing and jostling in the alleys and 
 thoroughfares of the city, lounging upon the open lawn, or 
 sauntering along the shaded lanes of the country. Tourna- 
 ments, races, hunting courses, fishing parties, rushing 
 cavalry, marching infantry, gangs of robbers, stealthy as- 
 sassins, a cavalcade of knights, a tribe of Bedouins, a gang 
 of gipsies, a band of pirates, pass and repass in swift suc- 
 cession before the mind's eye. Does it refresh because it 
 excites us in a new direction to tell and hear the news of 
 our neighbors, or of the last fire, shipwreck, or battle? 
 But it refreshes us more, because it excites us less painful- 
 ly, to follow the fortunes of a few imaginary beings with 
 whom the novelist acquaints us completely, and in whom 
 he contrives to interest us profoundly, — ^as they pass from 
 sunlight to shade, and from shade to sunlight, till, in our 
 anxious or our curious sympathy for them, we lose for the 
 hour all thought and care even for our personal joys and 
 sorrows. 
 
 The novel instructs as well as amuses the reader, and it 
 instructs him by methods and in directions in which no 
 other reading can. It instructs him in History, as has 
 already been explained in our remarks upon the historical 
 novel. It instructs him in respect to scenery as no traveler 
 ever does, and as few travelers would dare to attempt. 
 The pictures of the oriental plain, jungle, and forest ; of 
 the Irish bog, pass, and shieling ; of the Scottish heath, 
 loch, and manse, and of the English lawn, cottage, and 
 rectory ; of hedge-rows and oak vistas, of clumps of yew 
 and game preserves ; of the American prairie, forest, and 
 
234 Boohs and Reading. [Chap. xv. 
 
 the settler's clearing and log cabin ; of the Southern negro 
 quarters, rich fields, and hunting grounds, which we find 
 in countless novels, are invaluable as substitutes for views 
 of those scenes which we cannot receive by the eye, and as 
 reminders of those which we have actually seen. No man 
 with a moderate amount of curiosity can well afford to dis- 
 pense with such pictures. The cultivated person whose 
 curiosity has not yet been awakened, may need, most of 
 all, that this curiosity should be excited in ways which, 
 and for ends in respect to which, there can be no substitute 
 for the novel. 
 
 The novel instructs in respect to the domestic and social 
 life of other countries, or grades of life in our own country 
 to which few readers can have direct access, and fewer, if 
 they have such access, can observe and judge of fully. 
 The reader of Scott and Wilson, of Hogg and Macdonald, 
 learns to understand and to sympathize with Scottish life 
 and manners, and to appreciate the Scottish character, as 
 he could not possibly do in any other method. In a 
 similar way Lever and Lover have made it possible for us 
 to understand Ireland and the Irish, in their blunders and 
 their genius ; their frugality and their improvidence ; their 
 wit and their folly; their beauty and their squalor, on 
 manifold more sides of their character than any personal 
 observation or reports of fact or history could qualify us 
 to know and love them. Bulwer and George Eliot, Mrs. 
 Gaskell and Trollope, Dickens and Thackeray, enable the 
 foreigner to understand somewhat of the secret of English 
 society, with its singular contradictions of conventionality 
 and independence, of suspicion and confidence, of bland- 
 ness and gruffness. They even introduce us to the sacred 
 privacy of the English home, without the doubtful ex- 
 periment of letters of introduction, or the more questionable 
 impudence of thrusting open the door. Does not every 
 English reader of the tales of Miss Bremer and Miss 
 
Chap. XV.] Novels and Novel-Reading, 235 
 
 Carlin feel that he owes to them obligations of gratitude 
 which he cannot repay for the fresh and delightful pic- 
 tures of Swedish manners and Swedish life witli which 
 their tales abound? Have not Freytag, Tautphoeus, and 
 Auerbach and Spielhagen, done the same for German 
 life ? and have not Balzac, Paul de Kock, George Sand, 
 Eugene Sue, Alexander Dumas, and Victor Hugo taught 
 their readers more of the worst side of life in Paris and 
 in France than it is desirable or healthful for many of these 
 readers to learn? Of Italian life and manners, Manzoni 
 and Ruffini and T. A. Trollope give us delightful pictures. 
 That the wise reading of novels is fitted to enlarge our 
 acquaintance with human nature, and in this way to give 
 the most valuable instruction, is sufficiently obvious. It 
 invites, and often compels us to enter into the thoughts 
 and feelings, and to share in the experiences of men and 
 women most remote from our personal observation or our 
 possible acquaintance. It opens to us the heart of the 
 skeptic in his torments of doubt and his gropings after cer- 
 tainty. It makes us watch the tempted man as he main- 
 tains his doubtful step along the narrow and swaying bridge 
 that overhangs the fearful gulf, or to recoil with horror as 
 he makes the desperate plunge. It opens to our inspection 
 the inner being of the condemned. It enables us to over- 
 hear the fearful soliloquies of the cell, and the procession 
 that leads to the scaffold. In manifold methods does it 
 enlarge our knowledge, enlighten our personal experience, 
 and widen and make yielding our sympathies. In short, 
 it lets us into a wide range of human experiences, under the 
 greatest possible variety of conditions, of excitements, and 
 of issues. It places at our service the results of the sharp 
 observation, the subtle analysis, the earnest sympathies, and 
 the skilful interpretations of many of the most gifted stu- 
 dents of humanity, who present the products of their obser- 
 vation and their skill in a form best fitted to attract the 
 
236 Boohs and Reading. [Chap. xv. 
 
 attention of the unreflecting, and to excite the curiosity of 
 the listless — the form of an exciting and artistic tale. If 
 the representations are often too extreme and too highly 
 colored to correspond to the observations and experiences 
 of fact, and if it may reasonably be objected that for this 
 reason they are actually misleading as representations of 
 human nature as it is, it cannot be charged that they mis- 
 represent the ideal possibilities of human nature ; that they 
 either overpaint human nature as it is desirable it should 
 be in its good, or degrade its evil lower than it is conceiva- 
 ble it should sink. If either happen, it does not follow 
 that the most important results of substantial truths are not 
 attained. If stronger impressions concerning the evil or 
 the good of human nature are thereby achieved than could 
 possibly be reached in any other way, then the mind is 
 taught the most essential truth, while the imagination is 
 enriched in respect to the range and variety of conceivable 
 or ideal human experiences. 
 
 The objection may sometimes hold good against novels 
 of incident, that they excite mischievous expectations of ex- 
 traordinary turns of fortune, and beget, even in sober and 
 sensible people, a romantic and dreamy habit of mind in 
 respect to the chances of success in life, and the conditions 
 by which it is to be achieved. Nothing too severe can be 
 said against the mischievous influence of a certain class of 
 «o-called romantic stories upon uncertain, shuffling, indo- 
 lent, and brooding sort of people, with feeble energies and 
 strong self-indulgence. It is not such novels that we com- 
 mend, but novels of character. A similar objection might 
 be urged against the influence of novels of the latter class 
 — that they encourage extravagant views of what a person 
 may become in character, or of what he may demand of his 
 associates or expect from his fellow-men. If such a ten- 
 dency should now and then be observed, we may set off 
 against it the very desirable and elevating influence in the 
 
Chap. XV.] Novels and Novel-Beading, . 237 
 
 other direction, which comes from elevated ideals of char- 
 acter in ourselves and in others. If our conceptions of 
 character be correct as to their principles or elements, they 
 cannot be too elevated or noble in the scale after which 
 they are adjusted. They should be human and practical 
 and ethical and Christian, but they cannot be too unselfish 
 or aspiring. The sordid, the mean, and the prosaic; the 
 selfish, the trickish, and the bullying ; the uncultivated, the 
 sensual, and the vile, are already so rampant and unblush- 
 ing in our religion, our politics, our literature, and our 
 society, that there is little danger from excess in literature 
 in the direction of the nobly romantic and the ideal. What- 
 ever fiction can contribute to quicken and elevate the ima- 
 gination, so far as its ideals and estimates of character are 
 concerned, is only actual and positive gain to the sum of 
 good influences; and it is a gain of a kind which cannot 
 easily be spared. 
 
 It is not a trivial advantage of the novel reading; of our 
 day that it suggests elevated and quickening topics for corv' 
 versation. This advantage is not a trivial one, when we 
 reflect that conversation too readily degenerates into gos- 
 siping personalities or unmeaning twaddle about the 
 weather, or the last insignificant occurrence that happens 
 to interest any person present. For young persons espe- 
 cially it is of no little service to have topics at hand that 
 are fruitful of thought, that awaken .a warm interest and 
 call out positive opinions. The last new novel is sug- 
 gestive in all these directions. It stimulates to the analysis 
 of its characters and the criticism of its plot, and calls out 
 likings and dislikings, which the holders of either are for- 
 ward to assert and defend. These opinions, and the rea- 
 sons by which they are defended, invariably turn upon the 
 observations of actual life, characters and manner which the 
 parties may have made, and in this way stimulate to ac- 
 tivity of thought and independence of judgment. Even if 
 
238 • BooTcs and Reading, [Chap. xv. 
 
 the novel is second-rate, the incidents unnatural, and the 
 characters extravagant, the effect of discussing these is 
 u^ally good. Novel-reading is a powerful educating in- 
 fluence in whatever aspect it is regarded, and though it 
 may often educate to evil, its power to stimulate from bar- 
 renness and frivolity should never be overlooked. 
 
 Having already answered the two questions, what novels 
 we should read, and why, it may not be amiss to inquire 
 how we should read them. What we have already said 
 upon the general topic of how we ought to read all books, 
 will apply with pre-eminent propriety to the reading of 
 novels, because there is no description of reading in which 
 there is greater exposure to the worst of habits. Coleridge 
 has pungently enough described these habits : '^ As to the 
 devotees of circulating libraries, I dare not compliment 
 their pass-time^ or rather kill-time, with the name of read- 
 ing. Call it rather a sort of beggarly day-dreaming, dur- 
 ing: which the mind of the dreamer furnishes for itself 
 nothing but laziness and a little mawkish sensibility, while 
 the whole materiel and imagery of the dose is supplied ah 
 extra by a sort of mental camera ohscura manufactured at 
 the printing-office, which pro tempore fixes, reflects, and 
 transmits the moving phantasms of one's own delirium, so 
 as to people the barrenness of an hundred other brains 
 afflicted with the same trance or suspension of all common 
 sense and all definite purpose. We should, therefore, trans- 
 fer this species of amusement .... from the genus read- 
 ing to that comprehensive class characterized by the power 
 of' contrary, yet coexisting, propensities of human nature, 
 namely, indulgence of sloth and hatred of vacancy. In 
 addition to novels and tales of chivalry in prose or rhyme 
 (by which last I mean neither rhythm nor metre) this genus 
 comprises as its species, gaming, swinging or swaying on a 
 chain or gate, spitting over a bridge, smoking, snuff-taking, 
 tete-^-t§te quarrels after dinner between husband and wife, 
 
Chap. XV.] Novels and Novel-Reading, 239 
 
 conning, word by word, all the advertisements of the Daily 
 Advertiser in a public-house on a rainy day, etc., etc.'' 
 
 These remarks are pointed and explicit as to how not to 
 read novels^ and the reader can very easily infer by the rule 
 of contraries how to read them» 
 
 They also forcibly suggest the inquiries — " What is the 
 method after which children read the majority of the books 
 called tales and stories, which make up so large a share of 
 juvenile and Sunday-school libraries ? What is the aver- 
 age value of the great mass of ^juvenile ' books which are 
 prepared by the score every month to quicken the intellect 
 and elevate the imaginations of the rising generation? 
 Are not the most of these books eminently juvenile in the 
 greenness and crudeness of their authors as well as of their 
 work f 
 
CHAPTER Xyi. 
 
 POETRY AND POETS. 
 
 What is Poetry ? We ask this question, because in 
 order wisely to select the poetry which we read, as well as 
 to read with intelligence and sympathy that which we se- 
 lect, we need to know what poetry is ; so far at least as to 
 be able to discriminate the real from the factitious and the 
 counterfeit. But to answer our question we do not need to 
 construct or defend an elaborate theory of poetry. Nor need 
 we study and criticise the several theories which have been 
 proposed, from Aristotle and Horace, down to Matthew 
 Arnold and F. W. Newman. We may be satisfied to ad- 
 here to the definition of Lord Bacon, that poetry is a species 
 of feigned history. Every description of poetry may with 
 no great violence be brought under this comprehensive 
 definition. Narrative poetry of every sort, from the stately 
 epic of the ancients down to the familiar tale of the modern 
 bard — from the Iliad to Aurora Leigh — will easily be 
 classed as history. This feigned history must indeed also 
 have a human interest. Every descriptive poem, even if it 
 set forth some objective scene, supposes this human interest; 
 even though it only concerns the single human being who 
 is the looker-on, and out of w^hose experience have sprung 
 the feelings with which he colors, and the ends for which 
 he constructs the picture, of which nature furnishes the ma- 
 terials. Beneath every sonnet of Wordsworth, and every 
 description of Browning, there lies a chapter of human his- 
 tory. The Ijyric in every one of its vaned forms, from the 
 loftiest ode to the most trivial love-song, is the breaking 
 240 
 
Chap. XVI.] Poetry and Poets, 241 
 
 forth in verse — suited to song — of the feelings of some 
 human soul, under the circumstances of some real or sup- 
 posed personal history ; and these must be known or sup- 
 plied by the reader, to enable him to understand and appre- 
 ciate the ode or the song. The meditative and the moraliz- 
 ing, the didactic and the satiricaly cease to be poetry and 
 become prosaic and heavy, the moment that there falls out 
 of either some form of human life, enacted or conceived. 
 
 Every drama is eminently a story — a story acted and not 
 alone described ; dramatica poesis ist veluti spectabilis — 
 a story in which the parties are made to live again before 
 the eyes of the reader or hearer, to speak their own thoughts 
 and to pour forth their impassioned utterances, as they 
 seem to be freshly excited by the deeds and words that are 
 produced upon the pictured stage, or upon the written page 
 which the imagination dresses up as a mimic theatre. 
 
 But not every feigned history is poetry, else every novel 
 were a poem. Poetry is feigned history in verse. The 
 feigned story whether it is narrated or suggested, must be 
 told in verse ; i. e., in measured and rhythmical language. 
 Yie are accustomed to call verse an artificial structure ; in 
 contrast with prose, as more natural and obvious. If it 
 has become artificial in our less excited and more critical 
 modes of existence and action, it certainly was not so origi- 
 nally, in the earliest times, when the most literal truth was 
 framed into a poem under the excitement of love and admi- 
 ration, and was set forth with measure and cadence from 
 the lips of sages and bards. Then the prophet, the law- 
 giver, and the historian were also poets. Admonitions to 
 duty, and rules of living, and the records of the past, w^re 
 all committed to some rude or measured form of verse, out 
 of which now and then the flashing war-song would gleam 
 as the lightning, or along which the pean would thunder 
 in triumph. Whether this preference of verse in the earlier 
 
 days is owing to the predominance of imagination and feel- 
 16 
 
242 Books and Beading. [Cdap. xvi. 
 
 ing, or to tlie greater convenience which verse affords to 
 the memory when its effect depends not upon what is written 
 for the eye, but upon what is heard by the ear, the fact is 
 unquestioned, that the earliest compositions take the form 
 of verse. We know also that to the individual man in the 
 dawn of intelligence, verse is far more pleasing and easy to 
 be retained than prose. The ditty with its readily recur- 
 ring refrain, the song that suits the simplest air, are forms of 
 composition which are most pleasing to infancy. Whether 
 it be more natural in the earlier ages to compose in verse 
 than in prose, we will not inquire. Whether with the 
 poetical modes of conception which are natural at that 
 period, in the forms of affluent imagery and elevated feeling, 
 there springs up for man's use a fit medium of expression 
 in " the gift of numerous verse," we need not ask. We are 
 forced to confess that this gift is not universal when literary 
 culture is refined and matured. As, in this condition, man 
 finds it less easy to write in verse than in prose, so he re- 
 serves for this form of writing his choicest thoughts and his 
 best emotions. The constraints of verse also compel a selec- 
 tion in the words employed and a special nicety in their 
 arrangement and combinations. Hence he is insensibly led 
 to require as fit for verse, sentiments that are rare — usually 
 that are rare for their nobleness — and emotions that are 
 uncommon for their elevation, strength, and purity. So 
 far Matthew Arnold is in the right when he insists that 
 there must be something of the grand style in every com- 
 position that is truly poetic. This leads the reader or 
 critic almost instinctively to reject the trivial and the low, 
 or even the familiar and tlje homely, as beneath the dignity 
 of poetry. It was an exaggeration of this feeling that led 
 so many of the poets of the last century to adopt a peculiar 
 stilted and factitious poetic dialect as alone suited to the 
 elevated uses of poetic writing. This diction became by 
 its traditionary character not only empty of meaning, but 
 
Chap. XVI.] Podry and Poets, 243 
 
 was followed by the double evil of repressing that freshness 
 and individuality of language which are indispensable to 
 poetic power and freedom, and of appearing as a substitute 
 for thoughts and feelings which were in no sense poetic. 
 Against this Thomson and Cowper entered their practical 
 protest, by refusing to conform to the rule and example of 
 their times, and Wordsworth set up the theory of poetic 
 diction which gave so much offence and aroused so warm a 
 controversy. Moreover, the oft-recurring pauses and turns 
 of verse do not admit protracted or complicated arguments, 
 refined abstractions, or a philosophical terminology. Hence 
 there grows up the sentiment and the demand that every- 
 thing which is fit for verse should be simple in phrase, 
 should be lively with imagery, and be readily followed by 
 the common mind. 
 
 For this reason offence is taken at metaphysical discus- 
 sions, protracted reflections, labored conversations, and 
 even elaborate descriptions, as unsuited to poetry. Hence 
 the reasonableness of those criticisms and complaints which 
 are often unreasonably urged against Milton, Wordsworth, 
 Tennyson, and the Brownings, that they are abstract, 
 metaphysical, over-refined, and diflicult to read. 
 
 Simplicity, however, is neither silliness nor common- 
 place ; it does not exclude the extremest subtlety of thought 
 nor the most delicate refinement of feeling, but its rule 
 demands that the poetic diction should be direct, brief, and 
 easily followed. In this way, out of the very exigencies 
 which the use of verse prescribes, do we derive the usually- 
 accepted characteristics of poetic thought and expression. 
 These characteristics we often find abundant and conspicu- 
 ous in prose-writing. In such cases we say truly, and 
 Vvdth an intelligible meaning, this or that passage is highly 
 poetic. We call Jeremy Taylor the Shakspeare of Divi- 
 nity. We say that Milton in his prose writings surpasses 
 himself as a poet. We are amazed at the bewildering 
 
244 Books and Reading, [Chap. xvl 
 
 beauty of many a magnificent passage in Coleridge's prose. 
 We say of this or that person of our acquaintance, he has 
 a highly poetic mind, simply because his thoughts and emo- 
 tions are intensely ideal and imaginative, even though 
 he may never have written a line of verse, or even may be 
 unpractised in any form of written composition. 
 
 We ought also to add, as pertaining solely to the matter 
 of poetry, that it deals chiefly with those thoughts and 
 sentiments which are universal to the race, as distinguished 
 from those which are in any sense limited or conventional. 
 The poet speaks to the heart of man as man ; and he must, 
 therefore, speak from his own heart as that of a man ; ut- 
 tering only those thoughts and sentiments to which all 
 other men will respond, and leaving unexpressed much 
 that is peculiar to his race, his time, his civilization, or 
 even his religion, except so far as this answers to what is 
 common to the race, the time, the civilization, and the re- 
 ligion of another, and thus addresses the intelligence aixl 
 enlists the sympathies of all human kind. The truth Avith 
 which the poet deals is common and universal, in the sense 
 of being accessible to all men who have attained that de- 
 gree of culture and of thought which is supposed in the 
 use of the simple diction that poetry requires. It is, more- 
 over, truth in an attractive form, — that truth which is 
 worthy to be draped with the " singing robes " of poesy. 
 Pleasure as truly as reflection, delight as truly as impres- 
 sion, are ends which poetry may never lose sight of Tlie 
 measured cadences which soothe or excite the ear, the flow- 
 ing diction which is rippled with sparkling imagery, are 
 all unsuited to any truth but that which pleases by its in- 
 telligibleness, its weight, its liveliness, and its emotional 
 attractions. " Poetry," says Wordsworth, " is the breath and 
 finer spirit of all knowledge ; it is the impassioned expres- 
 sion which is in the countenance of all science ; emphati- 
 cally may it be said of the poet, as Shakspeare hath said 
 
Chap. x\7 I.] Poetry and Poets. 245 
 
 of man, ' he looks before and after/ He is the rock of 
 defence for human nature ; an upholder and preserver, car- 
 rying everywhere with him relationship and love. In 
 spite of diiference of soil and climate, of language and man- 
 ners, of laws and customs ; in spite of things silently gone 
 out of mind, and things violently destroyed, the poet binds 
 together by passion and knowledge the vast empire of hu- 
 man society, as it is spread over the whole earth and over 
 all time." " Poetry," says Matthew Arnold, in memora- 
 ble words, " is simply the most beautiful, impressive and 
 widely effective mode of saying things and hence its im- 
 portance." 
 
 But while the poet must invariably be universal in the 
 spheres of thought and feeling, he is none the less emphati- 
 cally an individual in both. Indeed his power and genius 
 depend entirely upon that intense individuality, which can 
 set forth that which commands universal intelligence and 
 sympathy in the form and coloring of individualized 
 thoughts and emotions. Not only must the local coloring 
 of his own race, nationality, and civilization tinge every 
 stroke of his pencil, but the private thoughts and feelings 
 of his individual self must impress themselves upon every 
 sentiment which he utters and should give direction to every 
 turn of his language and imagery. Homer is a Greek in 
 every fibre of his being, and none the less because his 
 pages move alike the stately Latin, the fierce and moody 
 Scandinavian, the sentimental German, the reserved Eng- 
 lishman and the talkative G^ul. Isaiah and David are 
 none the less Hebrew in thought and imagery because their 
 odes are the fit vehicles to express the praises and prayers 
 of men of all races and of all times. Shakspeare was 
 English of Elizabeth's time, and Milton a Puritan of the 
 times of the Commonw^ ealth, and Dryden a wit of the days 
 of Charles and William, and yet they speak to the heart of 
 every nationality. While the universality of the poet re- 
 
246 Books and Beading. [Chap, xvl 
 
 quires that he should use a language which all can under- 
 stand, his genius impels him to employ a dialect of his own 
 which no man can imitate. 
 
 The poet, especially the poet of modern times, must re- 
 flect the culture of his own generation, and in that form 
 and degree in which it has affected himself personally ; his 
 own individuality determining very largely the use which 
 he makes of it. Neither Tennyson nor George Eliot nor 
 Robert Browning could have written what or as they have 
 done, in any other than the present generation. The In 
 Memoriarrij the Spanish Gypsy y the Bing and the Book, 
 all treat of themes and follow trains of thought which their 
 authors did not wholly create. Nor could they have ima- 
 gined these had they not found them existing already in 
 the minds of multitudes of their countrymen. The so- 
 called Poets of the Lake School — Wordsworth, Coleridge, 
 Southey and Wilson — found already existing, a readi- 
 ness to be moved in the direction in which they thought 
 and wrote, much as they accomplished in giving that direc- 
 tion permanence and force. They could scarcely have 
 gained a hearing in the generation previous, however earn- 
 estly or boldly they might have striven. On the other 
 hand, Tennyson, Browning, and Eliot are no more closely 
 united by sharing in the thought and feeling of their times, 
 than they are severed by the pronounced individuality for 
 which each is distinguished. However closely the Lake 
 Poets resemble one another in certain common aims, each 
 individual poet is distinguished by features which are un- 
 mistakably his own. 
 
 It by no means follows, however, because every poet 
 must deal with those thoughts and feelings w4iich are com- 
 mon to human nature, and are as universal as tlte race, 
 that every poet should be popular in the sense of being 
 easily understood and passionately loved by men of every 
 type of thought and every shade or degree of emotion. 
 
Chap. XVI.] Poetry and Poets, 247 
 
 There are and there ought to be poets for the multitude 
 aud poets for the people, as well as poets who, while they 
 move the multitude to a certain degree of appreciation and 
 pleasure in single poems or passages, move the few far 
 more profoundly in every line which they write. Even 
 those who are called poets for the multitude — the poets in 
 whom all men delight — delight the few far more intensely 
 whose taste has been ripened by culture and has become 
 more appreciative by critical training. As culture ad- 
 vances and thought becomes more just and profound, as 
 society is in a certain sense more artificial and yet comes 
 nearer to the simplicity of nature and the frankness of 
 honesty tempered by love, we may anticipate that poetry 
 will follow in the line of culture, wherever it can find " an 
 audience fit though few.'' " If the time should ever come 
 when what is now called science, thus familiarized to man, 
 should put on, as it were, a form of flesh and blood, the 
 poet will lend his divine spirit to aid the transfiguration, 
 and will welcome the being thus produced, as a dear and 
 genuine inmate of the household of man." 
 
 It follows that a taste for poetry, especially that of the 
 highest order, is to a great extent the product of special 
 culture. It is true, as we have observed, that an ear for 
 verse and an eye for bold and brilliant imagery are natural 
 to all men, and that children even in their earliest years 
 are charmed with any measured refrain that sets forth a 
 stirring or plaintive stor}^ The " drum and trumpet " 
 lyrics of Macaulay suit the martial bravado of the storm- 
 ing boy. By and by the pictured tales of Scott will en- 
 chant his fancy while his ready ear responds to the rapid 
 lines that hurry the attention along by the simple rush of 
 their own movement. Gentler ballads of olden times, of 
 deserted children and ladies sore oppressed or captured and 
 immured by giant or robber, — plaintive tales of the Ed- 
 wins and Angelinas of later days, delight the ear and move 
 
248 Boohs and Reading, [Chap. xvi. 
 
 the heart of the little maiden, in whom the poetic sense 
 begins to stir and flutter. This is the period for reading 
 and for learning verses of all sorts, both ballads and 
 hymns, provided the ballads and hymns are fraught with 
 poetic feeling and imagery. Much of the stuff which passes 
 for poetry with young folks, and their parents also, should 
 be carefully shunned. Its rhythm is jingle, its words 
 are strained, its pictures are hazy, its sentiment is silly. 
 But if the imagery be sharp and bold, the diction concise 
 and strong, the measure be smooth and sweet, and the 
 sentiments manly, tender and correct, then the more that 
 is learned the better. It were not amiss if books of 
 ancient ballads were studiously sought for and learned 
 by heart, and by this means the leading scenes and per- 
 sonages of English history were permanently fixed in the 
 mind. There are not a few boys who are capable of en- 
 joying the Iliad in a translation, and scarcely one who 
 might not be trained to delight in Scott long before it is 
 dreamed that they can relish poetry. Certainly such read- 
 ing is greatly to be preferred to the rubbish of the sensation 
 novels, whether moral or otherwise, with which now-a-days 
 the appetites of so many are weakened or debauched. 
 
 But this early relish for poetic tales scarcely deserves to 
 be called a taste for poetry. That which is really such, 
 supposes a nicety of eye, a reflecting habit, and, above all, 
 a delicacy of feeling which are not native to impetuous 
 and objective childhood — least of all to boyhood, after the 
 gentleness of infancy has entirely given way to the storm- 
 ing and outward life of school and the play-ground. It is 
 not unfrequently observed that the sister who is younger 
 by many years than her older brother has developed a 
 taste for poetry long before he has dreamed of such an ex- 
 perience. Perhaps she is forced to endure his ill-sup- 
 pressed contempt that she is growing sentimental, because 
 she begins to delight in Cowper or Milton while as yet 
 
Chap. XVI.] Poetry and Poets, 249 
 
 he finds no interest in either. The reason is obvious. 
 The girl begins to reflect sooner than the boy, and sooner 
 finds in the poet whose verse detains her ear some transcript 
 of an observation of nature without, or of the heart of man 
 within, — such as she herself may have made, only the poet 
 has expressed them so much more fully and successfully 
 than she could have dreamed were possible. Or, it may 
 be, some romantic preference may have called into life the 
 latent poesy of her nature, and to her girlish enthusiasm 
 nature has suddenly become flushed with a roseate light, 
 and man himself transfigured with idealized perfections. 
 However it may come, and whether sooner or later, the 
 day is memorable to boy or maid when he or she begins 
 to read genuine poetry with interest, not for the tale, nor 
 the verse, but for the transcript which he finds of what he 
 himself has seen, or felt, or thought. Should perchance a 
 sensitive and thoughtful boy find a volume of Cowper 
 opened at the Winter Evening, or the Winter Walk at 
 Noon, and, caught by some striking line, read on till what 
 he has seen in nature or observed in life should seem 
 imaged as in a mirror, there is awakened within him a 
 new sense, and he has found a treasure of enjoyment of 
 which he had never dreamed. Or let Whittier's Snow 
 Bound be effectively read of an. evening to a family circle. 
 The listless boy or romping girl sits impatiently and 
 wishes the hateful task were over which defers a promised 
 sport, when all at once some striking scene from life starts 
 into view, and the recognition is waked as in a moment, 
 * that I have seen and felt myself.' Such a sense may be 
 gradually quickened and developed under the readings of 
 the school in a well-selected class-book, or be suddenly 
 called forth by some impressive recitation of descriptive or 
 impassioned poesy. 
 
 Such a taste is not, of course, matured because it has 
 sprung into being. It is simply an awakened capacity of 
 
250 Books and Reading, [Chap. xvi. 
 
 feeling which needs the direction of the judgment. Its 
 very freshness and strength may be the more misleading, 
 if its impulses alone are consulted. It may, through per- 
 verseness and conceit, remain what it was at the outset, 
 crude, coarse, and confident, or weak, silly, and sentimental. 
 It may even be degenerate in its judgments, and teach it- 
 self to prefer rant to inspiration, or weak bombast to solid 
 brilliancy, provided it refuses to defer to the guidance of 
 others or blindly gives itself up to the influence of the 
 single author who first waked its poetic feeling into life. 
 Poetic sensibility is not poetic taste, however frequently 
 the one is mistaken for the other. The capacity to be 
 pleasantly affected by poetic composition, and even the 
 capacity for a high degree of excitement under its influ- 
 ence, may coexist with a perverted taste and a misguided 
 judgment in respect to the comparative merits of an author, 
 and an almost entire absence of any just conception of 
 what constitutes poetry. It is a rash conclusion which not 
 a few admit, that because the end of poetry is pleasure, 
 therefore all writing in verse w^hich pleases must of course 
 be poetry ; or, this or that composition does not please, and 
 therefore it is not poetry. Yielding to this hasty in- 
 ference, not a few young persons never rise above the first 
 favorite author; who was well enough fitted to awaken 
 the earliest romance of youthful feeling, but should long 
 ago have given place to writers of a higher tone in senti- 
 ment and diction. Or, not pursuing poetic studies, they 
 judge of poetry by the depreciating estimate which in later 
 years they form of the authors that once enraptured but 
 now disappoint or disgust them. Or if asked to read a 
 poet of superior grade, and they fail to find the excitement 
 of their youthful readings, they conclude either that there 
 are no poets like their early favorites, or that poetry itself 
 has become one of the lost arts, and is fast dying out 
 from the world. 
 
Chap. XVI.] Poetry and Poets, 251 
 
 We may not then judge of poetry by our earliest likings 
 or our first impressions. It were as reasonable to judge of 
 color and form in nature and art, by the crudest impres- 
 sions of childhood. The coarsest tints, the most flaunting 
 hues, as well as hideous forms and violent contrasts should 
 be approved, because they attract and please the unin- 
 structed eye. This is so far from being true, that " an ac- 
 curate taste in poetry, and in all the other arts, as Sir 
 Joshua Reynolds has observed, is an acquired talent which 
 can only be produced by thought and a long-continued 
 intercourse with the best models of composition." We 
 should therefore begin our reading of poetry, or should 
 direct the reading of others, just as we should begin the 
 cultivation of the eye or the ear in drawing or in music, 
 with the distinct expectation that our capacity to feel and 
 to judge is to grow more correct and become more refined 
 by what it feeds on. We should indeed not disdain what 
 pleases us at first by idly imagining that we ought to enjoy 
 something higher. As for the pretence that we enjoy and 
 comprehend what we neither understand nor love, we 
 should shun it as a paltry affectation, if not as a mean dis- 
 honesty. But we should expect that our taste is to be ele- 
 vated and refined, as we exercise it wisely and lovingly 
 upon what the advice of others may recommend, and as we 
 strive at times to see beauty and finish in writers who at 
 first neither excite nor overwhelm us. No spirit is so hos- 
 tile to progress in any of the finer studies or the nobler arts 
 as the spirit of satisfaction and conceit with present ideals 
 of perfection, or as an obstinate unreadiness to open the 
 mind to those which are higher and nobler. With this 
 precaution, we may use the liberty of selecting our poets 
 according to our present tastes, and, if we select for others, 
 according to their prevailing tastes and capacities. We 
 should not force upon ourselves, least of all should we force 
 upon others, the works of poets whom we or they do not 
 
252 Books and Beading. [Chap. xvi 
 
 fancy, and whom we or they by any effort cannot learn to 
 enjoy. This is especially true of poetic reading, because 
 enjoyment and sympathy and heartiness are its very atmos- 
 phere and life. The miss who delights in Mrs. Hemans 
 or Miss Landon, and can find neither meaning nor music 
 in Coleridge, Jean Ingelow, or Tennyson, may be let alone 
 for a while, in the hope that perhaps her taste may ripen, 
 and in becoming mature may be changed. The objective 
 youth, whose ear is captivated with the ring of Byron's 
 verse and the boldness of his passion, should not be 
 crammed with Wordsworth or Tennyson. Whittier and 
 Longfellow are better for many a reader, at a certain stage 
 of their culture and taste, than Bryant or Dana. As age 
 advances and reflection matures, as the ear becomes more 
 delicate, the sensibility to choice and pure words is more 
 refined, and the choice of imagery is more wisely and hon- 
 estly more fastidious, the old and familiar poets will dis- 
 close new beauties, and poets before unappreciated will be 
 understood and enjoyed. With this progress in the tastes, 
 there will be some change in our favorite poets, or at least 
 in the reasons why our favorite poets are loved. 
 
 We have already sought to illustrate the truth, that al- 
 though the poet should recognize that which is common to 
 the race, and which in a certain sense attracts the sympa- 
 thies of all men, he may also reflect the thoughts and feel- 
 ings which are distinctly recognized by men in peculiar 
 circumstances or of special experiences. Tennyson's In 
 Memoriam speaks to the heart of man as man ; yet it is only 
 the man of the present century, who is acquainted with the 
 speculations of the time and has been staggered by its 
 doubts and misgivings, who can fully appreciate thousands 
 of its masterly strokes and its delicate suggestions. The 
 Princess of the same author, and the Aurora 'Leigh of Mrs. 
 Browning, can be adequately enjoyed only by one who has 
 read much and thought deeply on the social problems of 
 
Chap, xvl] • Poctry and Poets, 253 
 
 the time. But it is none the less true that the poetry is 
 genuine and excellent for all. Shakspeare and Milton, 
 and even Burns and Cowper, contain many passages of 
 which only the man of much reading and of grave reflec- 
 tion can adequately estimate the meaning or enjoy the sub- 
 tle flavor. It is most unjust to say of the works of Words- 
 worth and Tennyson, of Browning and Eliot, or of the 
 passages of Shakspeare and Milton referred to, that they 
 are not poetry, because they are not understood by men of 
 all classes and in all stages of culture and thought. The 
 mature and refined thought of an age of daring speculation, 
 and the subtle emotions which spring out of its life of 
 doubt and faith, of fear and hope, may properly be reflected 
 in its poetry. Poetry should never be technical or select, 
 in the sense of using the language of a coterie or a school, 
 but it may express the feelings and thoughts that are pro- 
 duced by an age or a generation of special culture and spe- 
 cial conflicts. 
 
 It is implied in all these hints and rules that poetry, to 
 be fully appreciated and enjoyed, must be earnestly and 
 perseveringly studied. This may seem to many like an 
 obvious and a startling paradox. How can that which is 
 chiefly designed for pleasure require study, which is uni- 
 versally associated with painful effort ? We reply : a poem 
 must be studied for the same reasons and in the same way 
 that a painting, an engraving, or a drawing must be studied, 
 in order that the refinement of its perfection may be re- 
 vealed. If the poet has a soul that is " finely touched '' 
 it is " to fine issues ;'' and in order that he should be ade- 
 quately estimated and judged, he requires a soul akin to his 
 own, a soul in some sense as fine to receive as his is fine to 
 give. How shall one sing joyous songs to him who is of 
 a heavy heart ? By this same rule, let the poet's imagina- 
 tion be ever so fertile and refined, how can it create 
 for the reader who cannot recreate after him at his suggest- 
 
254 Books and Beading. [Chap, xvl 
 
 ing words ? What are the words that speak his thoughts 
 or feelings if the reader does not translate them into mean- 
 ing by his own answering thoughts and feelings ? To re- 
 quire that the poet should inject his thoughts into a lazy 
 intellect, or kindle emotions in a torpid or stupid heart, is 
 to insult his very name and office. If the priest should 
 not be allowed to approach the altar except with unspotted 
 robes, and after many lustrations, let not the worshiper 
 enter the sanctuary with soiled feet and careless tread. 
 When it is fit to inspect a choice engraving with careless 
 eye and divided attention, or to handle a Sevres vase or an 
 exquisite chasing with a rough hand and a heedless grasp, 
 then shall it be seemly to read the choicest works of a poet's 
 inspiration and a poet's ear with a dawdling nonchalance, 
 or to answer to his thoughts and feelings with energies half 
 aroused or an attention that is slack or divided. Many of 
 the poet's best productions are so subtle as to escape the 
 notice of any other than a close and fixed attention. 
 His felicities of thought can only be appreciated by a mind 
 that concentrates its eye for subtle differences. His images 
 and allusions, his pictures and emotions, are often the more 
 beautiful because 'they do not spring into the eyes of the 
 reader, whether he will or no. Beauties that are modest 
 and even shy are often specially attractive in poetry as they 
 are in life. It is to be remembered, also, that great writers, 
 and especially poets who are great, are usually wiser than 
 their readers. They know more of the art. in which they 
 excel than many of their readers or critics. They are often 
 too proud ostentatiously to display or set oif their wares by 
 rhetorical tours deforce. If the genuine poet often require, 
 he will always bear study and repay it. That man has a most 
 dishonorable and unjust conception of poetry and the poet 
 who regards poetry as valuable only to while away a lazy 
 or listless hour. If poetry, to be appreciated and enjoyed, 
 must be studied, much more does it require to be studied 
 
Chap. XVI.] Poetry and Poets, 255 
 
 in order that it may be intelligently criticised. But the 
 study is not painful, though it must be faithful ; it brings 
 its abundant and exquisite enjoyments, though it requires 
 faithful and persevering effort. No luxury of literature is 
 so exquisite as that which comes of a really superior poem, 
 of which the diction is finished and smooth, the imagery is 
 bold and brilliant, the sentiments are inspiriting and ele- 
 vating, the pathos is tender and sweet, and the faith is 
 reverent yet bold. 
 
 It follows that it is well, at least for the time, to have a 
 favorite poet, who engrosses our chief attention, and whose 
 best works are read, and read again, till they become alto- 
 gether familiar. It may expose to a certain narrowness 
 and bigotry when our taste is crude and unformed, but it 
 is wise after this taste has become catholic and self-reliant, 
 because in this way we really master the works which we 
 have in hand. A poem, of all literary products, deserves 
 to be often read if it has superior excellence. It cannot be 
 appreciated without ; neither the diction, nor the imagery, 
 nor the allusions, nor the feeling, nor the truth. If we 
 give ourselves up for a little while to a single writer, we 
 live in his atmosphere, and form with his mind and heart 
 the sympathy of almost a personal friendship. There are 
 not a few men who make a single poet the favorite of their 
 lives, for some conspicuous fitness of his to their own tastes 
 and needs. Thus Shakspeare is cherished for his many- 
 sided fullness; or Milton for his majestic music and his 
 stately and solemn truth ; or Dryden for his comprehensive 
 common sense and ready wit ; or Cowper for his domestic 
 sympathies and habits, or his religious tenderness ; or Scott 
 for his romantic spirit ; or Wordsworth for his sympathy 
 with nature as a peace-giving and elevating friend ; or 
 Tennyson for his struggling faith in goodness and in God ; 
 or Whittier for his love of simple men and simple manners, 
 combined with a fiery enthusiasm for the right ; or Long- 
 
256 Boohs and Beading, [Chap. xvl 
 
 fellow for the clearness, the music, and the pathos of his 
 rhymes; or Lowell for the abandon of his affluent and 
 quick moving genius. It would not be difficult to show 
 that the familiar study of one of the great poets of England 
 brings an education of wider reach and higher elevation than 
 that which is often attained at the most pretentious and 
 costly schools. We have seen men and women of the olden 
 time, trained in the old-fashioned schools of " plain living 
 and high thinking," of rugged face and form, of manners 
 unstudied yet most refined, with whom Milton, or Cowper, 
 or Shakspeare, or Burns had been a life-long study, and 
 who had gained thereby a power of thought, a refinement 
 of feeling, and a sagacious insight of which many a flippant 
 Bohemian can have no conception, whose mind has been 
 inundated by the sewerage of modern poetry, made up of 
 the good, the indiiferent, and the bad. We have been told 
 of a wrathful farmer, with whom Miltonic studies were 
 always fresh, who, when selling a basket of eggs and talk- 
 ing politics, in the same breath vented his indignant im- 
 patience at the inevitable law by which bad politicians 
 unite and honest ones divide, in the words — 
 
 Devil and devil damned 
 Firm concord hold. Men only disagree. 
 
 The farmer's family, in a secluded valley in New 
 England, or on the remote prairie, in which the girls can 
 eifectively and lovingly read, and the boys can intelligently 
 and responsively appreciate Milton, or Shakspeare, or 
 Coleridge, or Whittier, may boast of a better culture than 
 many a saloon in the most pretentious avenues of the 
 wealthiest and most luxurious cities. Many a Scottish 
 cottage draws from its well-thumbed copy of Burns more 
 refinement of thought and feeling than is attained by the 
 cultivated coxcomb or the accomplished miss, whose man- 
 ners and accomplishments are consummate in everything 
 
Chap, xvi^ Podry and Poets, 257 
 
 but the nobleness and refinement of sincere and elevated 
 feeling. 
 
 Better still than to confine ourselves too long to a single 
 favorite poet, is it to read very frequently from a choice 
 selection of the best poems of a variety of authors. Very 
 busy men, who in their youthful and less occupied days 
 have become familiar with the circle of the best English 
 poets, may refresh their recollections, and deepen and 
 strengthen their best lessons, by having always at hand, 
 and frequently in hand, a good selection of the best brief 
 poems and parts of poems, in which English poetry is so 
 abundant. We know more than one such person, who 
 often takes Palgrave's Golden Treasury as a traveling com- 
 panion, and never tires — as who could possibly — of read- 
 ing again and again one of its many gems in the vacancy 
 of the crowded rail-car, or the ennui of the steamboat trip, 
 or the prolonged delays of the waiting-room. Such a re- 
 source is worth not a little if it enables one under such 
 depressions to rise in a moment by the withdrawals of 
 the imagination. 
 
 Above the smoke and stir of this dim spot 
 Which men call earth, and with low thoughted care 
 Confined and pestered in this pinfold here. 
 Strive to keep up a frail and feverish being. 
 
 Such a snatch of reading is more than refreshment ; it ele- 
 vates and purifies the imagination, and gives new spring 
 and tension to our nobler nature. It is reasonable to hope 
 that many may thus 
 
 « "by due steps aspire 
 
 To lay their just hands on that golden key 
 Which opes the palace of eternity." 
 
 Dana's Household Book of Poetry is indeed a Hausschatz, 
 as similar collections are called in Germany, from which 
 may readily be drawn the beguilement of many a weary 
 17 
 
258 Books and Reading. [Chap. xvi. 
 
 hour, rest from eating cares, and deliverance from petty 
 irritations. 
 
 We have already anticipated in part the answer to the 
 question, ^^ Why should we make much of the reading and 
 study of poetry ?" We may be more explicit and add : 
 They are valuable for the peculiar and e/evated pleasure 
 which they give. Poetry pleases the ear. The charm of 
 rhythmical verse is universally confessed. There is no- 
 thing in well-turned prose, however choice in words, or 
 weighty in thought, or eloquent in emotion or appeal, which 
 can be compared with a consummate passage of superior 
 poetry, whether it be graphic in description, or passionate, 
 intense, and elevating in lyric effect, or suggestive in re- 
 flection, or life-like in the action and emotion of the drama; 
 provided only the diction answers to the sentiment. The 
 limitations and the demands of verse require something in 
 language which cannot be enforced of prose writing. The 
 satisfaction of these demands is gratifying to the well- 
 trained ear, not with a merely sensuous effect, but with the 
 effect of sound as expressive of, and corresponding to the 
 soul of sense and meaning. The practised student of poe- 
 try may augment this pleasure if he will train his ear by 
 the hearing of poetry well read. Few accomplishments 
 are more satisfactory in the use than the skill to read with 
 effect and feeling, the poetry which we or others admire 
 and love. The gift of song may be more admired because 
 it is more rare, but the gift of reading musically and well, 
 is '^ an excellent thing '' in man, and pre-eminently in wo- 
 man. To hear good poetry well read is always pleasing, 
 and even to imagine we heard it read as we follow the 
 rhythm in appreciative and critical judgment gives no 
 trivial pleasure. 
 
 The study and reading of poetry exercises and cultivates 
 the imagination, and in this way imparts intellectual power. 
 It is impossible to read the product of any poet's imagina- 
 
Chap. XVI.] - Poetry and Poets. 259 
 
 tion without using our own. To read what he creates is 
 to recreate in our own minds the images and pictures 
 Avhich he first conceived and then expressed in language. 
 The unimaginative soul cannot enjoy poetry ; he cannot 
 understand it, because he cannot interpret its words by re- 
 sponsive pictures of his own creating. On the other hand, 
 the man who does read poetry, and with effect and appre- 
 ciation, must use his imagination, and by use make it more 
 dexterous in its power to create, and more refined in its ca- 
 pacity to judge. We do not intend that such a* training 
 involves the power of expression either in prose or verse ; 
 for the reason that this gift, and pre-eminently the gift of 
 expression in verse, is the product of another and an en- 
 tirely different species of training. But that poetry 
 strengthens and refines the imagination is evident from the 
 fact that it trains the mind to view nature and the human 
 life under poetic aspects. The student of Thomson, Cow- 
 per, of Wordsworth and Tennyson, cannot read them with 
 success without forming the habit of seeing nature under 
 poetic aspects and with poetic eyes. He cannot be taught 
 by these writers to muse upon the human life which they 
 describe in its ideal and imaginative relations, without re- 
 flecting himself upon the human life which he sees, under 
 similar lights and shades. He must inevitably view its 
 darker shades as transfigured with poetic beauty, and its 
 brighter aspects as" tinged with graver shadows. Whatever 
 he sees, however common-place or prosaic, he learns to look 
 into a picture. Whatever he thinks of he must invest with 
 ideal beauty and refinement. That these habits are favor- 
 able to purity and nobleness of feeling, and to magnanim- 
 ity and morality of word or deed, we shall not argue over 
 again. We are contented to cite a second time the words 
 of Bacon, that " Poesy serveth and conferreth to magna- 
 nimity, morality, and to delectation. And therefore it was 
 ever thought to have some participation of divineness." 
 
260 Boohs and Beading. [Chap. xvi. 
 
 What Coleridge says of the writing of poetry must be true 
 of the reading of it. " Poetry has been to me its own ex- 
 ceeding great reward ; it has soothed my afflictions, it has 
 multiplied and refined my enjoyments, and it has given me 
 the habit of wishing to discover the good and the beautiful 
 in all that meets and surrounds me." Wordsworth's lines 
 recur to us in this connection — 
 
 " Blessings be with them — and eternal praise, 
 Who gave us nobler loves and nobler cares — 
 The Poets, who on earth have made us heirs 
 Of truth and pure delight by heavenly lays." 
 
 The habitual reading and study of poetry, especially of 
 the loftier types, is eminently useful as a preparation for 
 the writer or speaker, who is required to compose in mov- 
 ing discourse on grave and elevated themes. It was the 
 counsel of a very eminent Christian preacher to one who 
 was just entering upon his profession : "Always have some 
 fine poem in hand — dramatic is to be preferred — if you 
 would keep yourself in tone for the succossfiil composition 
 of sermons ; " and the advice is pertinent to every species 
 of elevated prose composition. 
 
 That the poetry which elevates and excites the imagina- 
 tion is also favorable to religious aspiration and religious 
 faith need not be argued. It is evident from the single 
 fact, that however grievously the highest gifts of imagina- 
 tion have been occasionally abused, no great poet has ever 
 failed to express at times the semblance of high religious as- 
 piration. Every poet of the higher type has often fired his 
 imagination at the altar of religious worship. Whether 
 the aspirations and worship which he has off*ered are in- 
 consistent or not with fixed principles and high moral pur- 
 poses, or whether they are the passing flush of the excited 
 phantasy, makes little difference with our argument, that the 
 imagination cannot soar without flying upward towards 
 God, and in seeking God must approve that which is holy 
 
Chap. XVI.] Poetry and Poets, 261 
 
 and pure, as well as unselfish and self-controlled. The 
 imagination, in order to rise and soar, must at least feign 
 that she believes and worships. Shelley and Byron and 
 Goethe are memorable witnesses to this important truth. 
 
 But what poets shall we read, and in what order ? and 
 why should we select certain poets above others ? Upon 
 this topic we have sought to furnish principles rather than 
 rules ; to enable the reader to select for himself rather than 
 rely on the authority of another. But we may for a mo- 
 ment glance at a few of the leading names in the long list 
 of English poets. Chaucer leads the way — the morning 
 star of English poesy — fit leader of a host so brilliant ; for 
 we may say, without conscious exaggeration or fear of dis- 
 pute, that the poetry of England is the richest, the most 
 varied, and the most brilliant of any w^hich the world has 
 ever seen ; as it should be, reflecting as it does a manhood 
 which has been developed most variously and most nobly, 
 and a life the most heroic, the most fervent, the most affec- 
 tionate, that has marked the world^s history. Chaucer 
 must be studied in order to be read ; but when Chaucer 
 has been studied so as to be easily followed, he confronts you 
 with the dawn of a brilliant day — dewy, fresh, transparent, 
 and invigorating. He gives you the Odyssey of the Eng- 
 lish poetry, and reveals the spring-time of English life. 
 Next comes Spenser, wearisome for his meandering verse 
 laden with its wealth of bewildering imagery, but affluent 
 to excess with pictures that are clear and bright, and al- 
 ways noble, chivalrous, pure and Christian. He gives 
 English feeling in its knightly aspect, as it was exempli- 
 fied in the life of Sidney and others of the selecter spirits 
 of " great Eliza's golden time.'' Then comes Shakspeare, 
 the myriad-minded indeed, reflecting in the manifoldness 
 of his products and the power with which he lives and feels 
 in all, the fervent and manifold life of England's popula- 
 tion in his times ; the admiration of the modern world in 
 
262 Boohs and Beading, [Chap. xvi. 
 
 its height of culture and its depth of philosophy ; the chal- 
 lenger of critics, before whose mysterious power to think 
 and express they confess themselves abashed, and by the 
 unsolved enigmas of many of whose characters and whose 
 truths they continue to be dazed and overcome. Milton 
 follows, representing another type of poets, and another 
 aspect of English life ; learned, grave, and stern, bearing 
 the impress of one who had indeed been " caught up into 
 Paradise and heard unspeakable words -/' but still human 
 in his unmatched love of nature, his tender sympathy with 
 human life, and his delight in music, whether 
 
 He hears the pealing organ blow 
 
 To the full-voiced choir below, 
 
 In service high and anthems clear, 
 
 or rejoices in the sweet rising of the^earliest morn with 
 " charm of earliest birds/' Milton gives us the life of the 
 English people, when believing in God as the greatest of 
 kings, they dared in his name to vindicate the rights of hu- 
 man subjects, and showed the virtues of that stern knight- 
 hood w^hich had received such a fiery consecration. We 
 name Dryden next, the best and the manliest poet of 
 English thought and feeling at the beginning of a sad 
 degeneracy — the man of the world, frank, brave, out- 
 spoken, with a brilliant genius, but often untrue to his 
 better self through the corruption of manners and the 
 degradation of the higher imagination. Pope follows next, 
 sententious, acute, brilliant, and felicitous, the servant of 
 an age which he was content to flatter and to please, but 
 never attempted to elevate, who fixed for English poetry 
 that factitious and stilted poetic diction which was echoed 
 and re-echoed by imitators till it became ashamed and 
 vexed at its own empty reiterations. 
 
 Against this excess of factitious emptiness there came an 
 mevitable reaction. Thomson dared to follow his own 
 
Chap. XVI.] Poetry and Poets. 263 
 
 luxuriant fancy, and rose to occasional flights that remind 
 us of the earlier and better times of Milton and Spenser. 
 Cowper with no suspicion of his own genius, and often 
 homely and uncultured in his diction, was by the very un- 
 consciousness of his power left more free from the tram- 
 mels of allegiance to poets or critics, to follow the prompt- 
 ings of his love of nature, humanity, and God. Crabbe, 
 more homely even than Cowper, was also more literal than 
 he in his transcripts of the humble life with which he was 
 familiar. Burns, having no impulse and little guidance 
 except from within, sung from his own heart songs of 
 penetrating sense and wondrous tenderness. Campbell, 
 Scott, and Joanna Baillie represent types that are unique, 
 but each gave an impulse to the better spirit. Byron was 
 stirred by pride and wrath to use the genius which he 
 could not repress ; breaking other of the traditions of the 
 past besides the poetic, which he fancied he kept as against 
 his rivals, the Lake Poets. With Byron, Shelley may prop- 
 erly be connected, though in many respects more spiritual, 
 refined and noble. Meanwhile the Lake School had been 
 gathering strength, and began to act as a redeeming force. 
 Wordsworth, with his cool defiance of the prevailing 
 fashion, promulgated an extreme theory, with a practice 
 still more extreme. Coleridge, Southey, Wilson, Landor, 
 and Lamb were agreed, not in adopting the theory or fol- 
 lowing the practice of Wordsworth, but in their emancipa- 
 tion from any fashion of poetic diction, and in their fresh 
 and liberal imitation of, or rather inspiration by, the elder 
 poets. From their triumph commences the new era of 
 English poetry in England and America. Milman, Ten- 
 nyson, Barry Cornwall, Henry Taylor, the Brownings, 
 Hood, Ingelow, Arthur Clough, and Matthew 'Arnold, 
 in England ; Dana, Pierpont, Percival, Bryant, Longfel- 
 low, Lowell, Whittier, and Emerson in America, follow in 
 great or less measure the impulses of the modern school, 
 
264 ■ Boohs and Beading, [Chap. xvi. 
 
 which we need not characterize. Last of all comes Wil- 
 liam Morris, with his antique and objective spirit, as a 
 healthful and needed counterpoise to the excessively sub- 
 jective tendencies of the same recent school. 
 
 In religious poetry English literature is rich. Milton, 
 George Herbert, Watts, Doddridge, the Wesleys, Keble, 
 and Faber are examples of its different types. In poetic, 
 translators from the ancient bards we have of Homer, 
 Chapman, Pope, Cowper, Lord Derby, Sotheby, Newman, 
 Bryant and others ; of Virgil, Dryden, and Conington ; of 
 Horace, Lytton Bulwer and Conington ; of Dante, Cary 
 and Longfellow ; of Tasso, Fairfax ; and of various works 
 of the modern Germans, Coleridge, Scott, Lytton Bulwer, 
 and others. 
 
 But it is time we had ended. The golden roll of 
 English poetry is embarrassing from its wealth and tempt- 
 ing suggestions. 
 
CHAPTER XyiL 
 
 THE CRITICISM AND HISTORY OF LITERATURE. 
 
 Within the present century, there has come into beln^ 
 a new description of Books and Reading, viz. : those which 
 are devoted to the criticism and history of literature itself. 
 Our libraries and book-shops are furnished with many- 
 books which consist of criticisms of other books. Not only 
 is there a countless number of essays devoted to the criti- 
 cism and interpretation of single authors and even of single 
 works, but entire volumes are occupied with commentaries 
 on great authors or some one of their writings. We 
 have more than one series of essays, and even whole libra- 
 ries, occupied solely with critiques upon single writers, as 
 Homer, Goethe, and Shakspeare. Active controversies 
 have arisen between the partisans of opposing theories. 
 Indeed, critiques and counter-critiques are so abundant, 
 that it almost seems as though this was the age of nothing 
 but criticism, and literature were nothing if not critical. 
 It is certain there now exists a special department of litera- 
 ture which is employed in the interpretation and judgment 
 of literature itself, and that it has enlisted the services of 
 many of the ablest writers of their time, some of whom 
 have not only been distinguished as critics of the produc- 
 tions of men of surpassing genius, but have themselves 
 been known as foremost writers of their own generation. 
 We need name only Goethe^ the Schlegdsy Coleridge, 
 Wordsworth, Made, de Stael, Sainte Beuve, Professor John 
 Wilson, and Matthew Arnold. Criticism itself has become 
 a d:jp!iitmont of literature, and is justified in its claims by 
 
 265 
 
266 Boohs and Reading, [Chap.xvil 
 
 being dso historical^ j)hilosopliical, and almost creative of 
 itself. 
 
 This new criticism, in the eminent sense of the phrase, 
 may be said to be of German origin, though it has attained 
 a vigorous growth on English soil. That it should first 
 have taken form in Germany was natural. It is the natu- 
 ral outgrowth of extensive reading, joined with an appre- 
 ciative imagination and reflective sagacity. It must neces- 
 sarily have been somewhat late in its development. As 
 men must act poems before they write them, — as one 
 or many must act the hero, before others can recount their 
 exploits or celebrate their praises, so literature must be 
 created before it can be criticised. There must be brought 
 into being a considerable number of productions, in the 
 forms of poetry, fiction, the drama, history, biography, and 
 eloquence, before the materials are prepared with which 
 the critic can begin. "When we assert that the species of 
 criticism which we have in mind is comparatively of recent 
 origin, we do not say that criticism of every kind is recent 
 in its growth, nor indeed that before the present century 
 there were no profound and genial critics, who took historic 
 and philosophical estimates of the great writers who had 
 gone before them, but only that criticism as it now exists 
 has come into organized being, with distinctly recognised 
 functions and fixed principles and laws for its direction. 
 Dryden and Johnson w^ere both penetrating, and to a cer- 
 tain degree large-minded critics, but neither Dryden nor 
 Johnson rose above very narrow traditions, or personal 
 prejudices. We speak of the old and the new generally 
 when we say, that formerly, criticism confined itself almost 
 exclusively to the forms of literature, as the choice of words, 
 the rhythm of verse, the proportion of parts, the order of 
 development, the effectiveness of the introduction, the argu- 
 ment and the peroration, and these, with the illustration 
 and explanation of the meaning of a work or a writer, con- 
 
Chap, xvil] Literary History and Criticism, 267 
 
 stituted its principal aims. Now, while it does not neglect 
 the form, it thinks more of the matter, i. e. the weightiness 
 and. truth of the thoughts, the energy and nobleness of the 
 sentiments, the splendor and power of the imagery, and the 
 heroic manhood or the refined womanhood of the writer as 
 expressed in his or her works. Formerly it judged of the 
 form by the fashion of the day in respect of style and dic- 
 tion, and pronounced everything barbarous which was not 
 after the newest type, very much as the dress or hat which 
 are most becoming in themselves are declared to be dowdy 
 and frightful, if worn a year or a season too early or too 
 late. Now the form is regarded as that which in some re- 
 spects must be transient and changeable, according to the 
 shaping power of the matter itself, the temper of the 
 writer, and the temper of the times in which he lived and 
 in which he wrote. Formerly the critic was regarded by 
 others and too often regarded himself as the natural enemy 
 of the author. Now it is exacted of him that he should be 
 the expounder of the author^s thoughts and the sharer of 
 his feelings ; that he should almost see with his eyes, hear 
 with his ears, and judge with his mind. But this estimate 
 of the characteristic features of the new criticism is general 
 and superficial. A closer and more careful examination, 
 gives the following results : 
 
 First : the new criticism starts with a more enlarged and 
 profoimd conception of literature itself. The word litera- 
 ture, etymologicially considered, is necessarily somewhat 
 loose and general in its import, signifying whatever is com- 
 mitted to a permanent form by writing. When this im- 
 port is somewhat narrowed, it signifies whatever survives 
 a merely ephemeral existence, and attracts the notice ot • 
 second generation. In this sense, any book or tract would 
 come under this designation, if it be worth retaining in ^. 
 library, or if it happens to be so preserved. With the 
 older critics, literature included only those works which 
 
268 Boohs and Heading* fCHAP. xvii. 
 
 were eminent and attractive from per^:3yi^*on in style, 
 beauty and fitness of imagery, or elevation r.^ sentiment ; 
 those being preeminent which combined all these excel- 
 lencies in one. By a practice that was almost universal, 
 the word was restricted to those works whose prime ob- 
 ject was to address the imagination or to please the taste. 
 Under this usage literature was confined to poetry, fiction, 
 and the drama, also to various lighter effusions, but they 
 all must have the common characteristic of being designed 
 to amuse rather than instruct, to gratify some aesthetic in- 
 terest rather than to convince or to arouse to action. If a 
 work had any higher end than these, it was by general 
 consent excluded from literature and deemed uny/orthy of 
 the notice of the critic, as it was exempt fron^ his censure. 
 The poetry of Milton was literature, but his Are&pagitica 
 with its magnificent prose, and his Deferisio Populi AnglU 
 cani with its splendid invective were not, because they 
 were political tracts. The poems of Donne and Cowley 
 were literature, but the sermons of Jeremy Taylor, 
 thou2:h luxuriant with the wealth of an oriental imao:ina- 
 tion, were not literature, because they were composed with 
 an earnest Christian purpose. A work profound in 
 thought, if it was designed to convince of truth ; impas- 
 sioned in eloquence, if it was written to persuade ; bright 
 with humor, if it was intended for practical effect ; was ex- 
 cluded from the roll of tlie literature of the period, as too 
 severe and earnest, however finished it might be in style, 
 rich in imagery, or elevated in sentiment. A conception 
 of literature so narrow must, of necessity, be belittling and 
 trivial to author and critic. It could not but make the 
 writer trifling and heartless, and his censor fastidious and 
 flippant. 
 
 Now-a-days literature is restricted within no such nar- 
 row limits, and, as the result, both literature and criticism 
 have been elevated. While it is required that every work 
 
Chap, xvil] Literary History and Criticism 269 
 
 \vliich aspires to be called a work of literature should have 
 a certain perfection of finish and of form, none are ex- 
 cluded by reason of their solidity of matter, or earnestness 
 of aim. A history or a sermon, an oration or a political 
 tract, even a scientific essay if excellent in method and 
 style, in eloquence and imagery, takes the place as a con- 
 tribution to the literature of a period or of a nation, to 
 which its merits entitle it. As a consequence, the concep- 
 tion of literature itself is greatly elevated and ennobled. 
 Instead of being regarded as one of the accessories of cul- 
 ture and luxury, it is viewed as the best and noblest ex- 
 pression of the best powers of the ablest men of an age. 
 Instead of being judged by the mere accidents of form, and 
 according to the capriciousness of a changing taste, it is 
 both studied and tested according to its perfect ideal. It 
 follows, — 
 
 Second : that while the older was narrow and conven- 
 tional in its standards, the new criticism is catholic and 
 liberal in its spirit. The tendency of the earlier criticism 
 was to set up a single author who was supposed to be near- 
 est the ideal perfection, as the standard by which to try 
 every other. Every other author, and the literature of 
 every other period, w^ere measured by him and the litera- 
 ture of which he set the fashion. Thus, in the days of 
 Queen Anne, Dryden, Addison, or Swift furnished the 
 norm of actual and almost of possible perfection. A 
 generation later, Johnson and his imitators imposed, if 
 they did not constitute, the rule of measurement. The 
 earlier and nobler writers of the days of Elizabeth and 
 James were now depreciated for their latinized and lum- 
 bering sentences and then counted half barbarians for that 
 individual freedom which inspired their genius and con- 
 stituted their real strength and glory. 
 
 In a generation still later, literature was still more or 
 less conventional, because criticism kept it in bonds to the 
 
270 Boohs and Reading, [Chap. xvh 
 
 factitious standards which were derived from Addison, 
 Pope and Johnson ; inconsistent with one another as were 
 the examples and the teachings of the masters from which 
 she received her laws. In vain did Thomson give range 
 to the impulses of his creative imagination, and Cowper 
 plead the exemption from rule of one who claimed to be a 
 rhymester and did not aspire to be called a poet. In vain 
 did Burke give vent to the eloquence and imagery which 
 his fiery imagination could not restrain, and Scott followed 
 the bent of a romantic spirit which was inbreathed from 
 his infancy. Criticism was still inexorable, till the more 
 catholic spirit of Coleridge, Wordsworth, and others whom 
 they incited and inspired, awakened the English mind to 
 the personal and admiring study of the older writers, and 
 encouraged the young litterateurs to dare to use all the re- 
 sources of their own affluent language with the freedom of 
 the elder days, and to give utterance to their thoughts in a 
 more copious and untrammeled diction. The cumbrous 
 phraseology of the old writers, their involved sentences, their 
 learned pedantry, their disregard of neatness, directness, 
 simplicity and taste, had previously made them outcasts 
 from polite society, or if they were admitted they were 
 wondered at, rather than admired on account of ^' the bar- 
 baric pearl and gold " with which they were so richly clad, 
 because their ornaments were not in the mode and their 
 garments were out of fashion. But now these defects are 
 little thought of in comparison with the greater copiousness 
 and variety of their diction, the individuality impressed 
 upon their style, and the shaping of the diction to the 
 thought and feeling of the writer. To the victory, thus 
 achieved by this more catholic criticism, do we owe it, 
 that, in the last two generations, the range of thought in 
 our leading writers has been so greatly enlarged, the depth 
 of their researches has been proportionately increased, their 
 philosophy has been more profound, their strength and in- 
 
Chap. xvii] Literary History and Criticism, 271 
 
 tensity of emotion have been augmented, their imaginative 
 power has been more unrestrained and more creative, and 
 their diction has been more varied and powerful. 
 
 The modern criticism has not only been more catholic in its 
 tastes and judgments of native literature, but also in its ca- 
 pacity to judge fairly and to appreciate adequately the lite- 
 rature of other countries and of remote ages. In this re- 
 spect the earlier criticism was eminently bigoted and nar- 
 row. In looking upon its own narrow domain as the ce- 
 lestial empire and the flowery land, it regarded all foreign 
 writers as in a certain sense outside barbarians, who might 
 indeed be worthy of consideration for certain excellencies 
 of style or imagery, or for the purposes of grammar and 
 philology, but were thought to have no special claim to at- 
 tention as varied expressions of i'lat common Luman life 
 which " makes the whole world kin.'^ The new criticism, in 
 rising above such narrow prejudices, has not only done jus- 
 tice to its neighbor, but it has gained more than an equiva- 
 lent for itself — reaping the double benison of charity, which 
 always blesses him that gives as well as him that takes. 
 In this, it has sympathized with the general movement of 
 our times. While many of the sciences, both physical and 
 humanistic, have become liberal by becoming comparative^ 
 as anatomy, physiology, and philology, criticism has also 
 learned to compare the literatures of different ages and dif- 
 ferent nations, and to estimate them by certain fundamen- 
 tal principles. Critics now bring to the same bar of judg- 
 ment Goethe, Shakspeare and Moliere, and try them all in 
 respect of their common adaptation to express and please 
 the same human nature. Criticism concludes its examina- 
 tions and allots its sentences without respect of persons. 
 What is different in each writer, in language or nationality, 
 serves to set in bolder relief what is common ; and the va- 
 rious methods by which writers of different countries ac- 
 complish the same effect, impress the reader with the varied 
 
272 Boohs and Reading. [Chap. xviI. 
 
 resources of human genius. National peculiarities, whether 
 of matter or form, are relished with a special zest, and the 
 reader's attention is quickened as he turns from one to the 
 other with a freshened interest. This leads us to observe — 
 Third : The new criticism is more philosophical than the 
 old in its methods, and is therefore more just in its conclu- 
 sions. Indeed it calls itself, by eminence, philosophical 
 criticism. This claim is not extravagant, if the criticism is 
 at once really elevated and catholic, inasmuch as these 
 terms are almost interchangeable with profound and com- 
 prehensive. In aspiring to be philosophical, it seeks to 
 find those principles which explain and justify everything 
 that is excellent, and to expose and reject whatever proves 
 to be defective or bad. In respect of style or diction, it seeks 
 for the permanent and common characteristics of good 
 writing, in those endless and manifold peculiarities of an 
 individual writer, which spring from the constraints of lan- 
 guage, from the genius of his nation, from the temper and 
 culture of his period, and from his own individual habits 
 or circumstances. In respect of thought, it measures each 
 writer by the circumstances of his people and his time, as 
 well as by the special aims which he has in view, and the 
 capacity or attainments which the workings of his imagina- 
 tion may have showed. If it estimates a poet or novelist it 
 judges his genius by all the local and temporary influences, 
 which made him what he was, as well as by his acceptable- 
 ness to the private taste of the critic or the critic's special 
 coterie. It does not try Goethe by Moli^re, or either by 
 Shakspeare, or each and all by a living English dramatist 
 or poet, but according to a just standard for each. It does 
 not claim from Auerbach and Freitag, what it exacts from 
 George Eliot and Anthony Troll ope. In the same way 
 among English writers, it does not measure Scott by 
 Dickens or Dickens by Thackeray, or Thackeray by 
 George Eliot, or George Eliot by Hawthorne. It docs 
 
Chap. XVII.] Literary History and Oriticism, 273 
 
 not test the subjective Tennyson by the objective William. 
 Morris, nor Robert Browning by the simple William 
 Barnes of Dorsetshire, nor The Spanish Gypsy by The 
 Ring and the Booh, nor Whittier by Longfellow. It finds 
 what is good in each, and judges the good of each, by the 
 individuality of the author, the ends for which he writes, 
 the audience to whom he writes, the times in which he 
 writes, and the language through which he writes, as well 
 as the people whose genius inspires what he writes. While 
 it receives, as the rule of its judgments, the nature of man, 
 it recognizes the truth that this nature exists and manifests 
 itself under an indefinite variety of conditions, without 
 ceasing to be the same. 
 
 We add next, and — 
 
 Fourth : that this criticism, in being more just, is neces- 
 sarily more generous and genial. It cannot well be other- 
 wise. For its cardinal maxim is, the critic cannot be just 
 to an author unless he puts himself in the author's place. 
 Its comprehensive rule is, if you would understand an 
 author's meaning you must learn to think as the author 
 thinks, to feel as he feels, to look at nature and man 
 through his eyes, to respond to both with his soul, to esti- 
 mate his audience as he knew them, to measure the instru- 
 ments of language and imagery which he had at command, 
 in their several limitations, as well as their capacities. You 
 must do all these things before you can even begin to 
 judge him. This is only a special application of the prin- 
 ciple which is expressed in the golden rule, " Whatsoever 
 ye would that men should do to you, do ye even so to 
 them.'' In putting in practice this rule of simple justice 
 to any author who deserves our attentive study, there is 
 wakened toward him an appreciative sympathy. It is 
 only by seeking fairly and fully to understand a writer, 
 that we are enabled to enter fully into his feelings, to catch 
 
 his spirit, and to weigh his reasonings if we are not con- 
 18 
 
274 Boohs and Reading, [Chap. xvit 
 
 vinced by them. So complete, at times, is this sympathy 
 with a writer whom we desire to understand, that as we 
 give ourselves up to his influence, we seem to be his other 
 self; we seem with him to create, and, borne on the rushing 
 stream of his thick coming fancies, to revel in the joy of 
 exercising the gift which we have newly acquired. Criti- 
 cism thus applied wakens enthusiasm rather than represses 
 it. It teaches us to look for excellences rather than to 
 search for defects — and when it has taught us to find them, 
 it prompts to our unrepressed enjoyment of them. It 
 wakens in the mind a generous, because an intelligent de- 
 light in the beauties it reveals. It bids the reader be lenient 
 to inadvertencies and defects in a writer of positive merit, 
 because it teaches him how they are to be accounted for. 
 
 Fifth : The philosophic critic, in the very best sense of 
 the term, interprets the author to the reader. Thomas 
 Carlyle says, in his peculiar way, of Heyne, the editor of 
 "Virgil, " I can remember it was quite a revolution in my 
 mind when I got hold of that man's book on Virgil. I 
 found that for the first time I had understood him — that 
 he had introduced me for the first time into an insight of 
 Roman life, and pointed out the circumstances in which 
 the poems were written — and here was interpretation." 
 This is indeed interpretation, and such interpretation is 
 needed in a far wider and deeper sense than is commonly 
 appreciated, and of a multitude of authors whose meaning 
 seems obvious to a man of common understanding, while 
 yet it may be imperfectly understood. What Carlyle calls 
 the circumstances in which a work was written, are very 
 comprehensive in their significance. They inchide almost 
 everything which may be known about an author ; not 
 the accidents of his external life — the day of his birth and 
 death, or the number of years that he lived, — but the sort 
 of a man he was in character and the sort of people with 
 whom he had to do ; and this, not so much in their man- 
 
CaAP. XVII.] Literary History and Criticism. 275 
 
 ners and habits as in their conceptions of life, their moving 
 principles, including their prejudices and superstitions — 
 vhat they were willing to fight for and die for, what they 
 loved most heartily and hated most bitterly ; how they 
 Kept their holidays, how they spent their work-days, and 
 all else that may give a complete picture of the life out of 
 which sprung the poems or sermons or tracts which the 
 writer composed, and for which he wrote them. Matthew 
 Arnold says, very pertinently, that " creative literary 
 genius does not principally show itself in discovering new 
 ideas," but " its gift lies in the faculty of being happily in- 
 spired by a certain intellectual and spiritual atmosphere, 
 which finds itself in them.'' " This is the reason why 
 creative epochs in literature ai'e so rare," " because, for the 
 creation of a master-work of literature, two powers must 
 concur, the power of the moment and the power of the 
 man, and the man is not enough without the moment." 
 To understand the atmosphere on which a great writer de- 
 pends for the development of his genius, is not always 
 easy. It requires much study and sagacity to find it out, 
 much honesty and zeal to appreciate it, and often great 
 skill to represent it for the ready apprehension of another. 
 This is the reason why the greatest gifts of genius can be 
 so severely tasked as well as worthily employed in this 
 service of interpretation, and also why when this service is 
 successfully performed, it invests the author with manifold 
 greater attractions for the reader, and binds him to his in- 
 terpreter by heavy obligations. 
 
 There is also another sense, perhaps a higher, in which 
 the critic interprets his author, especially if he be a great 
 dramatic wi^iter who must outline his characters by a few 
 bold and masterly strokes, and manifest their inner life by 
 means of a few significant words and actions. The reader, 
 without the aid of the critic, may be astonished by bold 
 deeds and be excited by passionate words, and yet be una- 
 
276 Boohs and Reading, [Chap. xvil 
 
 ble except with this aid to penetrate their significance or 
 to fill out what the poet has only suggested. We select 
 Hamlet as a striking example of what we mean. As we 
 study this character, it seems to require some age and 
 thought to interpret its obvious import. Let us concede, 
 however, that an intelligent person however young can 
 scarcely follow the fortunes of the unlucky prince, without 
 feeling a saddened sympathy stealing over his soul, even 
 while he is more and more perplexed by the enigmatical 
 character of much that he says and does. But let the rea- 
 der study the analysis of the ideal Hamlet which Goethe 
 has given in two or three pages of Wilhelm Meister, and 
 return to the play ; he will find it invested with a new in- 
 terest, as well as enriched with a deeper significance. If 
 we suppose Goethe's conception of Hamlet to be correct, it 
 not only explains the play as a whole, but it also gives sig- 
 nificance to incidents and sayings that would otherwise be 
 unintelligible, if not oifensive. The difficulty in fully un- 
 derstanding Hamlet without such a guide is, in part, as we 
 have already intimated, that his character is rather sketched 
 than completed — that it is suggested rather than de- 
 veloped ; and also that many readers lack the experience 
 of human life, and the sagacity to interpret what they ob- 
 serve, which are requisite to comprehend a character so 
 complicated and strange. Goethe interprets Hamlet when 
 he teaches the reader to imagine some one of his own cir- 
 cle who has had an experience similar to his, and to con- 
 ceive what would be his conflicting emotions, under a 
 calamity so sudden and so sad. He goes even further and 
 teaches us to understand the almost superhuman sagacity 
 of the poet in making a word or an act, perhaps of irony 
 or bitter scorn, to express or suggest so much. For Goethe 
 to have interpreted Hamlet may not be so signal a proof 
 of genius as it was for Shakspeare to create him, but no 
 man who could not also create could have interpreted the 
 
Chap. XVII.] Literary History and Criticism, 277 
 
 character so well, if he could have interpreted it at all. 
 The acceptable service Avhich Goethe has rendered to the 
 readers of the great Dramatist is one of the most import- 
 ant which modern criticism has achieved. While it illus- 
 trates the need which the reader may feel of the critic's 
 assistance, it exalts the service to which the critic is called. 
 What Goethe did for Hamlet, has been done by other cri- 
 tics for many of the other characters of Shakspeare. We 
 know it is often said that some of the most distinguislied 
 of these critics have found more in many of his characters 
 than ever Shakspeare dreamed, and that by the extrava- 
 gance of their fancies and the boldness of their sugges- 
 tions, they have displaced the originals which Shakspeare 
 conceived. This may be conceded, and the fact still be 
 unquestioned that even where critics err by overdoing, 
 they stimulate to healthful inquiry and to wakeful earn- 
 estness. Certainly, the modern world would lose much of 
 stimulating and instructive reading, if it should lose what 
 Coleridge, and Hazlitt, and Mrs. Jameson; what Ulrici, 
 Schlegel, and Gervinus; what Henry Eeed, H. N. Hudson, 
 and Richard Grant White have written upon the great 
 English Dramatist. 
 
 If the gifted critic sometimes errs or overdoes by substi- 
 tuting his own fancies for the thoughts of his author, he 
 more than compensates for this, by making the suggestions 
 of the author a text for brilliant thoughts of his own. As 
 there is nothing more stimulating to a man of genius than 
 the works of another man of genius, so it should not be 
 surprising that the criticisms upon a great writer of such 
 thinkers as Coleridge, Goethe, and Sainte Beuve, may con- 
 tain the most valuable and inspiring original contributions. 
 The thoughts need be none the less original because they 
 are excited by the thoughts of another, any more than the 
 thoughts of two persons who are brilliant in conversation, 
 are less original or less weighty because the one stimulates 
 
278 Books and Reading. [Chap. xvii. 
 
 or arouses the other. The encounter, when the critic meets 
 his author, may not be unlike that wliich the Avitty 
 Thomas Fuller records of Shakspeare and Ben Jonson, in 
 the words which, though familiar, will bear repeating: 
 " Many were the wit-combats between him and Ben Jon- 
 son, which two I beheld like a Spanish great galleon and 
 an English man-of-war. Master Jonson, like the former, 
 was built far higher in learning ; solid but slow in his per- 
 formances. Shakspeare, like an English man-of-war, 
 lesser in bulk, but lighter in sailing, could turn w4th all 
 tides, and take advantage of all winds, by the quickness of 
 his wit and invention." 
 
 Sixth : Philosophical criticism not only interprets an 
 author by means of his times, hut it interprets the times of 
 an author hy means of his writings. In other words, 
 modern criticism is a most important adjunct to history, 
 and for that reason eminently deserves to be called histori- 
 cal criticism. Not only 'must we know something of the 
 history of an author's surroundings, — his atmosphere, as 
 Matthew Arnold calls them, — in order to appreciate more 
 justly either the man or his works, but we can also learn 
 very much of these surroundings by means of his writings. 
 The literature of a period is one of the most important ad- 
 juncts to the story of its history. It supplies certain de- 
 scriptions of information which no other sources of know- 
 ledge can yield. It stamps and fixes impressions of much 
 besides, such as no secondary or indirect information can 
 possibly imprint, giving those vivid and life-like images 
 of the men and scenes of the past which are the best substi- 
 tutes for having actually lived among them. 
 
 The Odyssey of Homer is a fresh and detailed picture 
 of the Greek life in its golden age. As we follow the story 
 of the wanderings of its hero^ we see and feel how the 
 Greeks must have lived in the times when Homer actually 
 wrote, — what they thought, how they felt, how they fur- 
 
Chap.xvil] Literary History and Oriticism, 279 
 
 nished their houses, how they supplied their tables, how 
 they entertained their guests, how they regarded tlieir 
 wives and children, and in what esteem they held their 
 horses and dogs. We learn with what thoughts they 
 looked up to the stars, with what longing and admiring 
 eyes they looked out on the neighboring azure sea as it lay 
 along their sharp horizon, ever glittering with its rippling 
 laughter, and with what a shuddering awe they thought 
 of the mysterious and unexplored ocean which extended 
 beyond, how far and whither they knew not. We are 
 made to know how the Greeks viewed the present life in 
 its wealth and friendship, its prizes and honors, its love of 
 country and of glory, its comforts of home and its delights 
 of love, and how they sought to penetrate into the life un- 
 seen, filling it with the shapes of beauty and of terror with 
 which their brilliant mythology also peopled the earth and 
 the air. We visit Greece with longing expectations. We 
 rejoice in its transparent atmosphere and delight in its 
 beautiful islands and azure sea. We admire the few rem- 
 nants of its temples and shrines. But we are appalled at 
 the misery and degradation of its present inhabitants, and 
 cannot find the lively and polished Greek whom we look 
 for among the loungers in the market places of Athens or 
 the attendants upon its university. We can only find him 
 as we study the comedies of Aristophanes. We look for 
 Socrates in the scanty and starveling groves which we 
 fancy may be haunted by his shade, but we can only find 
 Socrates where we find Alcibiades and Plato, in the dia- 
 logues written by Plato himself, and in Xenophon's sketches 
 from the life. We go to the Pnyx to hear Demosthenes, 
 and to the Areopagus to listen to Paul, but it is only in the 
 recorded words of each that we can either hear the orators 
 or see their audiences. 
 
 We visit Damascus, Syria, and Palestine. Simple his- 
 tory, even when it is the best constructed^ and the most 
 
280 Books and Reading, [Chap. xvii. 
 
 faithful, can only giv3 us imperfect impressions of the 
 people which once inhabited the now half deserted plains 
 and mountains. The brief, but graphic, annals of Jewisa 
 patriarchs and kings supply us only with the facts con- 
 cerning the external life of the tribes that once made these 
 deserts blossom as the rose. But in these records we can 
 neither find the people as they were, nor can we imagine 
 how they felt and lived. We must go to Job to find the 
 devout man of the desert, the counterpart of Abraham, the 
 father of his people ; but with Job and the Odyssey to- 
 gether, we begin to understand the monotheistic patriarch 
 of the East. When we study the code of laws which 
 Moses enacted, and the solemn counsels with w^hich he en- 
 forced these laws, we learn more of who the Hebrew peo- 
 ple were. H we proceed to study those matchless Psalms, 
 in which God was praised for the glory of the heavens, 
 the beauty of the stars, the tumult of the storm and the 
 noise of the ocean over which He thundered with His aw- 
 ful voice; the Psalms in which His holiness was extolled, 
 the victories of His leadership were recounted, the nation^s 
 feasts of thanksgiving and sacrifice were solemnized, and 
 the glory of Jerusalem was fitly set forth ; in which also 
 the prayer and praise, the penitence and thankfulness of 
 the individual worshiper were expressed in words which 
 have never been surpassed ; then, and not till then, do we 
 learn, in the spirit of Hebrew poetry, the spirit of the 
 Hebrew people. If we follow on through the sad lamenta- 
 tions of their prophets, their fierce rebukes, their faithful 
 admonitions, and their glorious predictions, we learn to 
 know this people more perfectly in their evil as well as 
 their good, in their sad perverseness, as well as their many 
 repentings and frequent returns to God. Moreover it is 
 only in all these treasures of poetic and prophetic litera- 
 ture, that we trace the rising of the star of promise, till it 
 
Chap. XVII.] Literary History and Criticism. 281. 
 
 stood at last over Bethlehem, and heralded the angelic 
 shouts of glad tidings of great joy. 
 
 We wander lingering from Bethlehem to Calvary, 
 
 — in those holy fields, 
 Over whose acres walked those blessed feet^ 
 Which, eighteen hundred years ago, were nailed 
 For our advantage to the bitter cross, 
 
 studying the path in which those footsteps lie, if perhaps 
 we may catch some vision of the present Jesus. But both 
 in Bethlehem and at the Sepulchre, we hear the answer to 
 our longings. He is not here. He is ris'en. As we read 
 the history which records His deeds, we cannot bring Him 
 back to the desolate land which He once inhabited. But 
 as we read His own words in the most precious legacy 
 which human literature has preserved, we seem to see Him 
 living — and while we worship at His feet, we rejoice .in 
 His benediction. 
 
 When we go to Rome and Italy we cannot find the old 
 Romans, however earnestly we search for them in their 
 sepulchres, in the Forum, or the Coliseum, or however 
 sanguinely we look to see them repeated in the population 
 which now inhabits the Eternal city. We cannot revive 
 them to our imaginations by the unaided force of all the 
 suggestions which haunt the Tiber or the Appian way. 
 We find them only as we consult the letters of Cicero and 
 of Pliny, and the poems of Virgil, of Lucan, and of Lu- 
 cretius, or study the treatises" of Seneca and Antoninus. 
 The old Roman life re-appears in the incidental records 
 of their thoughts and feelings, which we find in these and 
 similar writers, and in the incidental glimpses which they 
 give of the life of the people with whom they had to do. 
 As we compare ancient literature with modern, we reach 
 the confident conclusion, that the virtues of the ancients 
 were patriotism, hospitality, friendship, and honor, all re- 
 stricted in their sphere, however noble in kind, and limited 
 
282 Boohs and Reading, [Chap. xvii. 
 
 to certain external duties and elevated sentiments. We 
 miss entirely the self-denying love of man as man, which 
 Christianity sanctioned by the most characteristic act of 
 its great founder. The Christian love to enemies, the 
 Christian forgiveness of injuries, its sweet and contented 
 submission to adversity, its patience under undeserved 
 wrong, the overcoming evil with good — all being special 
 virtues of the temper, springing from charity as the bond 
 of their perfectness — were not known, we do not say in 
 the practice of the ancients, but they were not honored as 
 elements of their ideal. All this we know from their lit- 
 erature when it is critically studied as a trustworthy re- 
 presentation of the people's inner life. From the litera- 
 ture of the ancients we learn with satisfactory certainty the 
 place which woman held in the house and in society. We 
 know that in the esteem and affections of the best and the 
 purest, she did not hold the place, with the rarest excep- 
 tions, which she now holds in the confidence and love of 
 myriads of households and of hearts. The ideal man of 
 the noblest ancient schools, was immeasurably inferior to 
 the ideal man of multitudes of humble and uncultured 
 Christian communities. We learn all this from what is 
 plainly manifest in the literatures of the ancient and 
 modern worlds. 
 
 The importance of the critical study of literature as an 
 aid to the interpretation of modern history is equally mani- 
 fest. It is even more so, because the appliances which lit- 
 erature furnishes for the exposition of many periods of mo- 
 dern history are so much more varied than those wiiich il- 
 lustrate the best known of any of the ancient generations. 
 The reign of Queen Elizabeth is reflected, as in a magic 
 mirror, in the plays and letters, in the sermons and diaries 
 of her time. The times of the memorable conflict between 
 Puritan and Cavalier can be almost literally reproduced 
 from the direct and indii-cct sketches which were made of 
 
Chap. XVII.] Literary Histoi^ and Criticism, 283 
 
 its various characters and scenes, in the manifold forms of 
 literature which were photographed from the life by un- 
 conscious artists. The writings of Swift and his compeers, 
 the plays and songs of the hour, libels and street placards, 
 sermons and letters — all these were materials which en- 
 abled Thackeray, with the rarest critical discernment to re- 
 construct his admirable historical tale of the days of Queen 
 Anne. It was out of the literature of their several periods 
 that Scott was able almost to recreate these periods. 
 
 The service of the critical study of literature is as great 
 to the reader of history as it is to the writer, ^o one can 
 fully appreciate the history of any people or of any period 
 by relying on the descriptions and judgments of others. 
 He must, in a certain sense, construct this history for him- 
 self, even when he reads it as constructed by others ; at 
 least he must reinforce the assertions, and verify the con- 
 clusions of his authorities, by looking for himself, so far 
 as he may, upon the people and events described, and doing 
 this face to face. This he can in no way do so effectually 
 as by studying their literature. But in order to do this 
 with the most eminent success, most readers require the aid 
 of the philosophical critic, to explain the relations of litera- 
 ture to history. 
 
 Seventh. The critical study of literature is of service to 
 biography as well as to history. If we can read the times 
 of an author by the pictures «f them which he reflects in 
 his writings, much more can we learn the character of the 
 author himself by the sentiments and feelings with which 
 he reproduces his times, as they are seen in the shadings 
 and colors with which he represents them. If a man's pri- 
 vate letters are often the best materials out of which to con- 
 struct his biography, it should be remembered that much 
 of what he publishes as his works are in some sense his 
 public letters, his epistles to the world and to posterity, as 
 these convey, not alone what he professedly aims to produce 
 
284 Books and Reading, [Chap. xvil 
 
 and record, but often much more of what he unconsciously 
 reveals. Some books from their very nature, reveal very 
 little of their author's feelings and character. But very 
 many books communicate much more, at times, than he de- 
 signs or desires. The sonnets of Shakspeare, the poems of 
 Milton, the playful and serious essays of Cowper, the med- 
 itations of Wordsworth, the passionate outbreaks of Byron, 
 the vague aspirations of Shelley, and the prolonged lament 
 of Tennyson, when skillfiilly interpreted, enable us to pe^* 
 netrate into the secrets of their hearts, and open to us the 
 hidden springs of their character. It is ' the office of the 
 critic to discriminate between what does and what does not 
 express the man, and thus to interpret the man by many of 
 his works ; and the service which he renders to the reader 
 is often of surpassing interest. 
 
CHAPTER XYIII. 
 
 THE CRITICISM OF ENGLISH LITERATUEE. 
 
 The features of modern criticism which have been enu- 
 merated, may suffice. We may perhaps more profitably, 
 as well as more practically, proceed to consider our own 
 literature as a field for its exercise. We may aver with 
 confidence, that English literature furnishes the amplest, 
 the most varied, and the most interesting materials for the 
 critic, of any whether ancient or modern. It ought not 
 to surprise us that it should. The compound structure of 
 the language gives an advantage to the writer as well as to 
 the philologist, furnishing often a richer choice of terms, a 
 greater variety of phrases, and a wider range of structure, 
 than is possible for any other modern tongue. That this 
 structure pertains to its form alone is true, but the form in 
 this instance happens to furnish large capacities for the em- 
 bodiment and expressions of a rich and manifold material. 
 This material is rich and manifold, chiefly, because its peo- 
 ple have been free, have been bold in thought, and earnest 
 in feeling. They have been moved and stirred by the 
 largest spirit of adventure in commerce, in war, in coloniz- 
 ing, and in self-government. They have had an intense 
 religious spirit, manifested in a sufficient variety of forms, 
 and inspiring to fervent faith, to martyr-like boldness, and 
 to consistent and heroic self-denial. They have had ear- 
 nest political struggles /or the crown and against the crown 
 — -for the liberty of the commons, and the traditional rights 
 of the people, and for the divine right of kings, and the 
 dignity of the royal prerogative. They have had .sacred 
 
 285 
 
286 Booh and Beading. [Chap, xviii 
 
 and happy homes, — fireside enjoyments hallowed by domes- 
 tic love, and made doubly sacred and dear by ancestral re- 
 collections. They have had exhaustless and irrepressible 
 humor — an inborn love of noisy hilarity, an infinitude of 
 original characters to provoke this humor, and inspire the 
 songs of a people ever ready to be excited to uproarious 
 merriment. They have had a free press — a free pulpit, 
 and free newspapers, in spite of occasional censorship, 
 packed juries, and venal judges. 
 
 If we trace the history and characteristics of this litera- 
 ture we may well be amazed at its varied riches, and be 
 excited to avail ourselves of its inviting stores by a more 
 earnest as well as a more critical use of its ample resources. 
 
 We begin with Chaucer. In the Canterbury Tales we 
 have a worthy counterpart to the Odyssey, giving as they 
 do, a graphic and varied picture of the many-sided life, 
 and the strongly marked characteristics which, ev^en at this 
 very early period, were manifest among the English peo- 
 ple. Indeed we could not desire a more satisfactory illus- 
 tration of the truth and justice of all that we have said of 
 literature as a field for the study of history, than is fur- 
 nished in these tales of Chaucer. The attentive reader 
 cannot fail to observe how eminently true it is that the 
 times illustrate the author and the author illustrates his 
 times; how, through these tales, we have a direct insight 
 into the manners and the sentiments, the customs and the 
 philosophy of our ancestors, as they were, and as they lived 
 some five hundred years ago. We have only to look 
 through this magic show glass, and we are transported back 
 to the very scenes which were then transacted, and those 
 early times live again before oar eyes. It is not a lifeless 
 chronicle which we read, it is not a grave description, not 
 a careful analysis, not a logical generalization, such as the 
 annalist and the historian furnish. It is not even an his- 
 torical novel in which a writer of a later period has endea- 
 
Chap. XVIII.] The Criticism, of English Literature. 287 
 
 vored to recreate the times as he conceived them, but it is 
 an unconscious painter of the men and the manners with 
 which he was conversant. How strong and bold-hearted 
 were those men, how natural their manners, — how brave 
 and sincere, how humorous and tender-hearted, how bene- 
 ficent and devout were the sentiments which they express. 
 After a long and somewhat dreary interval, we come to 
 the age of Shakspeare, and not to the age of Shakspearc 
 alone, but to that of Spenser and Sidney, and Raleigh, and 
 Hooker, and Bacon, and Ben Jonson, and the train of dra- 
 matists of whom Jonson was the representative and the head. 
 We call this truly the golden age of English literature, 
 and we ask what agencies could have produced such writers 
 as these ? We find our answer^first in the original force 
 of the English stock, that under all the burdens of royal 
 and churchly oppression, had never been corrupted or 
 crushed, but had held its own in the halls of the gentry, 
 the farm-houses of the yeomen, and the cottages of tlie 
 laborers. This vital force was marvellously aroused by 
 the Protestant Reformation, and when after many struggles, 
 a Protestant Queen had come to the throne, it experienced, 
 as it were, a thrill of newly created energy. Foreign wars, 
 commercial adventures, romantic discoveries, all united to 
 keep this young life excited to its utmost tension, and to 
 move it by an inward ferment. The thoughts of men were 
 great in those times ; their hopes were unbounded ; their 
 feelings were fervent, their self-confidence was untram- 
 meled ; their power of expression was untamed. They had 
 at tlieir command the language not as yet shaped by critics 
 or developed into any normal structure,— a fit instrument 
 for the young giants, rejoicing in their strength, who were 
 rcxdy to use it, each as he would. Could the reader de- 
 sire a study more inviting than that to which tha literature 
 of those active and ho})eful days invites him ? Whether 
 he would study the authors or their times, or both together, 
 
288 BooJcs and Reading. [Chap, xviii. 
 
 whether he would study the matter or the form of litera- 
 ture, — thought, sentiment, and imagery, on the one hand, 
 or diction, rhythm, and periodic power on the other, — he 
 could ask for nothing more exciting or more rewarding 
 than what is furnished here. 
 
 The age of Milton follows, and not of Milton only, but 
 of Taylor and Sir Thomas Browne, of Baxter and Bunyan, 
 of Hobbes and Fuller. Here the English life — and with 
 it English literature — appears in other forms, more fixed, 
 and serious, and grave, but with not a whit of its force 
 abated, nor aught of its fiery energy repressed. Imagina- 
 tion is still as soaring as ever, and the manifold and seem- 
 ing exhaustless varieties of diction illustrate the resources 
 and the plastic capacities of the English language. This 
 period Avas marked for its political struggles and its reli- 
 gious strifes, for its intense feeling and its strong thinking ; 
 for its ardent longings and its patient endurance, and 
 above all, for its faith in God and in man ; and all these 
 influences shaped the literature, as the literature helped to 
 form the period. 
 
 The age of Dryden followed, and not of Dryden only, 
 but of South, and Locke, and Boyle, and Newton. It was 
 a tamer period, in which accuracy of thought, and exactness 
 of language, and symmetry and conciseness of style, and 
 repression of feeling, and caution in imagery, were all con- 
 spicuous. It was an age of repression and of criticism, as 
 was natural after the real and imagined excesses of princi- 
 ple and feeling which had characterized the times of the 
 Commonwealth, — an age in which religion declined and im- 
 morality was less restrained — an age of fr^e thinking and 
 unbelief which were scarcely held in check by the efforts of 
 Locke and Boyle. With an age thus characterized by the 
 life of the people, the literature of the period sympathized. 
 First of all, it was the period in which the modern and the 
 better English style was developed and fixed — ^pre-emi- 
 
Chap. XVIII.] The Criticism of English Literature, 289 
 
 nently by Dryden. Next criticism itself was first applied 
 with systematic aims and definite results. In this Dryden 
 was also conspicuous. With more accurate thinking and 
 careful writing, there were not wholly lost the fire of feeling 
 and the splendor of imagination which had distinguished 
 the earlier periods. 
 
 . Then followed the age of Pope, and not of Pope alone, 
 but also of Addison, Swift and Shaftesbury, and these were 
 closely followed by Bishops Butler, Berkeley and Warbur- 
 ton, by De Foe, Richardson, Fielding and Smollett. It was 
 an age in no wise distinguished for earnestness or for faith, an 
 age of conventionalities, gaiety, and frivolity, an age of free 
 living, and of free thinking, an age in which satire and 
 sneering criticism would be likely to flourish, and in which 
 both were abundant. As was the life, such was the litera- 
 ture of the period, with here and there an exception. For 
 the ease and felicity of its prose diction, and for the correct- 
 ness and smoothness of its verse to the ear — it has been 
 called the Augustan age of English literature, but the per- 
 fection of form to which it. brought this literature scantily 
 compensated for the loss of those higher qualities by which 
 the earlier periods had been distinguished. 
 
 In the latter half of the same century there was a change 
 for the better. This was the period of Johnson, and of 
 Burke, of Thomson, Goldsmith, and Cowper. The nation- 
 al life grew more serious. The lower classes had been 
 moved to greater religious earnestness by Wesley, White- 
 field, and others. The higher were tired by the empti- 
 ness and dissoluteness, by the heartlessness and frivolity 
 of the generations before them, — there was a longing after 
 better things, and to this longing the literature of the 
 period gave expression in manifold signs. 
 
 Then came the French Revolution, filling many hope- 
 ful and sanguine spirits with ardent enthusiasm, and stir- 
 ring their minds with inquiries which led to profounder 
 19 
 
290 Boohs and Reading, [Chap, xviil. 
 
 studies of the principles of moral, political, and theologi- 
 cal truth — then the inevitable reaction, involving strong 
 repressive measures, and dividing society into angry sec- 
 tions, — then the long and costly wars of the Allies, and the 
 exciting career of the first Napoleon. All these move- 
 ments in English thought, attended, as they were, by the 
 corrupt demoralization of the court and example of the 
 last of the Georges, were reflected in English literature as 
 it presents itself in the first thirty years of the present cen- 
 tury. This is the period of Scott and Burns, of Byron and 
 Shelley, of Coleridge and Southey, of Wordsworth and 
 Wilson, of Macaulay and Hallam, of Jeffrey and Mackin- 
 tosh. Literature is sharply divided into opposing schools 
 — expressing the divided sentiment and opinion of the 
 English nation. Foremost among them is that catholic 
 and comprehensive school which dared to free itself from 
 the fashion of the day in both thought and diction, and to 
 go back to the English writers of the earlier periods, 
 and to vindicate Shakspeare, and Milton, and Hooker, 
 and Bacon, from the neglect into which they had fallen. 
 More than all, this school dared to vindicate for itself the 
 liberty to use all the resources of the English language, as 
 well as to sound all the depths of English thought and feel- 
 ing after the ancient ways. While in one direction, as 
 with Byron, literature is passionate and Satanic, and in 
 another, as with Shelley, it is blasphemous and atheistic ; 
 while in Scott it is brilliantly romantic ; while with Hal- 
 lam and Mackintosh it is solidly earnest ; with Coleridge, 
 Wordsworth, Southey, and Wilson, it is more thoughtful 
 and affectionate, it is mindful of nature and of God, and 
 above all it dares to be true to whatever is best in hu- 
 man character and aspiration. With this school and its 
 awakened interest in all the older literature, there arose 
 also the spirit of historical and philosophical criticism, 
 which has very largely contributed to the many-sided, and 
 
Chap. XVIII.] The Criticism of English Literature, 291 
 
 in general, tlie elevated literature of the present genera- 
 tion. Of this recent literature we need not write, for to 
 attempt to characterize ifc would lead us beyond our limits. 
 
 This English literature is our heritage, and to study it 
 should be our delight and occupation. That it may be a 
 delight, it must be, in some sense, an occupation. If we 
 are to judge of it in a truly critical spirit, — if we are to 
 understand historically its authors and the times in which 
 they lived — if we are to judge of it philosophically, and to 
 read intelligently its graver w^riters of the past, or the 
 more novel and fresher of the present, — we must read it 
 earnestly and comprehensively ; we must make it our 
 study — not a study that is painful or repulsive — but one 
 that is patient, systematic, and earnest. 
 
 English literature when once it has become a familiar 
 field of intelligent study, brings this advantage, that it is a 
 field which the student will never be able aud never will 
 desire to desert. To him w^ho has learned to read aright, 
 every week will bring some fresh tale, or poem, or essay, 
 or history ; every season will introduce some fresh author j 
 summoning the reader to a new feast of delight, Avhich 
 will be none the less keenly enjoyed, because it is enjoyed 
 with a chastened taste, and is judged with critical appre- 
 ciation. All the life-long, amid its cares and its sorrows, 
 its employments and its leisure, there will be at hand a 
 capacity and a taste for those satisfying and elevating plea- 
 sures, — which instruct while they delight, — which lead us 
 upwards to heaven, while they make us content with the 
 earth. 'No class of habits that are purely intellectual can 
 possibly enter so largely into our happiness for life, as 
 those habits of reading wiMi discrimination and with ardor, 
 which are formed by abundant studies in the history and 
 criticism of English literature. 
 
 The appliances for such studies are ample and accessible, 
 
292 Boohs and Beading, [Chap, xviii 
 
 and they are likely constantly to increase. We have R. 
 Chambers^ Cyclopedia of English Literature^ which is fur- 
 nished with separate biographical sketches of the leading 
 English authors, and sufficiently copious extracts from their 
 works. This may serve as a convenient guide and refer- 
 ence book, after which to mark and map out one's journey. 
 Dr. G. L. Craik's compendious History of English Litera- 
 ture and of the English Language from the Norman Con- 
 quest, is more learned and critical, while it is unequal in its 
 character, some portions being skillfully and carefully 
 written, and others being hastily and superficially sketched. 
 Its estimates of authors and its tone are in general very 
 candid and judicious. Abraham Mills' Literature and 
 LJterary Men of Great Britain and Ireland is a well con- 
 sidered and trustworthy book. H. Morley's two volumes, 
 English Writers before Chaucer, From Chaucer to Dun- 
 bar, are far more learned, and the work when complete 
 bids fair to be an encyclopedia of learned criticism in the 
 literature of England. S. A. Allibone's Critical Dictiona- 
 pj of Eiglish Literature and British and American Authors 
 is at once the most extensive and complete reference book 
 for facts and dates and critical estimates, that can be found 
 in any language. Special editions of the earlier poets, 
 as Chaucer and Spenser, are now accessible ; also of single 
 poems and plays of the earlier writers, which are designed 
 for school purposes, and for the general reader. Cheap 
 reprints of the best single works of the older writers, as 
 Arber^s lleprints and The Bayard Series promise to dif- 
 fuse more extensively a taste for reading of this kind, by 
 making it possible for every one to gratify it. The publi- 
 cations of the early English Text Society are doing the 
 same service for scholars. B. Tauchnitz's Five Centuries 
 of English Literature is a very instructive selection. J. P. 
 Collier's Early English Literature is critical and able. E. 
 A. and S L. Duykinck's Cyclopedia of American Litera- 
 
Chap. XVIII.] The Criticisjn of English Literatare, 293 
 
 tare is carefully and faithfully prepared, and is a classical 
 work of reference and autiiority. 0. D. Cleveland's Man- 
 uals, entitled A Compendiwra of English Literature, Eng- 
 lish Literature of the Idth Century, and A Compendium of 
 American Literature, as well as his edition of Milton^ s Po- 
 etical Works with a verbal index, are very convenient and 
 useful books, which are wisely used in many seminaries, 
 and are good substitutes for the more bulky works of re- 
 ference which we have cited. Thomas B. Shaw's Complete 
 Manual of English Literature, with a volume of selections 
 from English authors, may be confidently recommended as 
 compact and well prepared volumes ; also Wm. Spalding's 
 History of English Literature. The same is true of An- 
 Qus^s Hand-book of English Literatui^e, and Specimens of 
 English Literature. Prof. Henry N. Day's Lntroduction to 
 English Literature may be safely trusted as scholarly and 
 ingenious. Thomas Arnold's Manual of English Literature 
 Historical and Critical, is a solid and judicious history, such 
 as we should expect from a son of the genial and loving 
 critic who was once master of Rugby. H. Hallam's Ln- 
 troduction to the Literature of Europe is always judicious 
 and often full in its notices of English authors. In all the 
 general Encyclopedias, the biography and bibliography and 
 criticism of English and American authors is usually co- 
 piously given. 
 
 In what is called the higher criticism of literature, as has 
 been already intimated, our own language is in some re- 
 spects deficient. In others it is abundantly supplied. Sir 
 Pliilip Sidney's Defence of Poesie is worthy of a writer 
 who had a poet's phantasy and a critic's delicacy of discrim- 
 ination. With the exception of Sidney, Dryden is the ear- 
 liest critic who rose above the mere technics of form and 
 aimed to be at once just and genial, but Dryden's criticisms 
 are too brief and limited to render any satisfactory service. 
 AddisQu's Papers in The Spectator upon Milton's Paradise 
 
294 Boohs and Reading. [Chap, xviir. 
 
 Lost are examples of a well intended attempt to attain to 
 something higher in criticism than could easily be achieved 
 in those times. Samuel Johnson was an omnivorous as well 
 as an appreciative reader and a discriminating critic. His 
 Lives of the Poets, his remarks upon writers in the Ram- 
 bler, and his familiar talks concerning them which are 
 recorded by Bos well, are fraught with good sense and not 
 wanting in discrimination, but his comprehension of the 
 aims of criticism was limited, and his standard was in many 
 respects conventional. The so-called British Essayists con- 
 tain more or less of criticism upon standard and current 
 writers, which certainly did not rise above that of Johnson 
 and Addison. The Gentleman^ s Magazine and the other 
 monthlies, with Dodsley's Annual Registei', neither aimed 
 at, nor attained to anything better. 
 
 The establishment of the Quarterly Reviews within the 
 present century gave a powerful impulse to the critical ex- 
 amination of books and the critical study of literature, 
 opening as they did an opportunity for some of the ablest 
 critics of their time, to express their opinions upon the lead- 
 ing authors of the day. The time of the establishment of 
 the first was nearly coincident with the awakening in 
 Great Britain of the new and better criticism, and tliese re- 
 views were at once the cause and the effect of this awak- 
 ened spirit. Sir Francis Jeffrey, Sydney Smith, Sir James 
 Mackintosh, Lord Brougham, Lord Macaulay, Robert 
 Southey, and Sir Walter Scott, Sir James Stephen and 
 many others have contributed critical papers of surpassing 
 ability to. some one of the leading British Reviews. But 
 most of these reviews were conducted in a political as well 
 as a literary spirit, and many of their best critical papers 
 are written in a tone that is ambitious of smartness and 
 effect in the forms of expression, rather than of justice and 
 candor in their estimates of authors and their works. 
 
 In later years this partisan feeling has been greatly 
 
Chap, xviii.] TJie Criticism of English Literature, 295 
 
 softened, and many of the critical papers in these reviews 
 have been composed in the spirit of eminent fairness and 
 honor. A general feeling of homage to public justice has 
 gained a strong hold of many of the leading minds in Eng- 
 land and America, and the trenchant and slashing charac- 
 ter of a review does not always save its injustice and par- 
 tiality from general reprobation ; much less does it com- 
 mand as formerly almost universal praise. While it is true 
 that at present the leading English Quarterlies do not 
 maintain that exclusive prominence in the field of criti<?ism 
 which they formerly held, they are still very ably conducted 
 and contain many papers of masterly superiority from the 
 foremost men of the present time. 
 
 The better criticism of England and America, as we 
 have already explained, was either inspired from Germany, 
 or it grew up Avith that interest in German literature 
 which forced the English critics to confess that in some 
 things England might learn from the continent. The 
 writings of the Schlegels were early translated and read in 
 the English language. Previous to this time, however, 
 Wordsworth had written the profound, and in many re- 
 spects, just criticisms upon Poetry which are found in his 
 prefaces, appendix and postscript to the earlier editions of 
 his Lyrical Ballads. Coleridge also, soon began to astonish 
 the literary world by his public lectures upon Shakspeare, 
 and by the bold and comprehensive criticisms which are 
 to be found in his Biograpkia Liter aria y and his occasional 
 contributions to periodical literature. His conversations 
 with many of the leading writers and critics of his time, 
 were stimulating and attractive, and did much to create a 
 new school of sympathetic and enlightened admirers for the 
 best, and till then, much neglected older English writers. 
 The Retrospective Review, a quarterly devoted exclusively 
 to the criticism and history of the earlier English writers 
 exercised a powerful influence for good. The series is an in- 
 
296 . Books and Blading, [Chap. xviii. 
 
 valuable acquisition to English critical literature. Walter 
 Savage Landor, in his Imaginary Conversations , taught a 
 few select but admiring readers what it is to seek to put 
 one's self in the place of a great writer and a great mind 
 of another nation, and of other times. Prof. John Wilson, 
 better known as Christopher North, invested criticism it- 
 self with the dignity and interest of original creation, by 
 filling his Nodes Amhrosiance, and other papers in Black- 
 wood's Magazine with the most enthusiastic and genial 
 criticisms that ever proceeded from an English pen. W. 
 Hazlitt, in spite of his prejudices, gave many examples of 
 a discriminating appreciation of the older and of contem- 
 poraneous writers. Leigh Hunt did the same with a far 
 more loving spirit. Mrs. Jameson wrote a whole theory 
 of the varieties of female character in her criticisms of the 
 female personages of Shakspeare, entitled Characteristics 
 of Women, Thomas Carlyle almost began his literary life 
 by a delightful article on Burns, in the Edinburgh Review, 
 in which, for once, he wrote English as other people do. 
 Thomas De Quincey through his multitudinous papers of 
 a critical and gossiping character, has done much to stimu- 
 late and to gratiiy interest and curiosity in the literary men 
 of his times. Hartley Coleridge has, if possible, surpassed 
 his father in his sagacious and well-balanced, yet w^arm 
 and hearty judgments of his favorite authors. Thackeray's 
 Lectures on the English Humorists has the double merit of 
 opening a new vein and workrng it successfully. The 
 elder DTsraeli has done not a little to interest the public 
 in literature and in authors by the miscellaneous contribu- 
 tions contained in his Curiosities of Literature^ his Amenities 
 of Literature, and his more methodical essay on the 
 Literary Character. N. Drake's Essays, Memorials of 
 Shakspeare, and Shakspeare and his Times, are worth 
 consulting, at least, as showing one step in the transition 
 to a better style of criticism. Meanwhile, the excellent 
 
Chap. XVIII.] The Crltieism of English Literature. 297 
 
 work upon Shakspeare of the estimable and industrious 
 Hermann Ulrici has been made known to the English peo- 
 ple. Goethe has been extensively read by English littera- 
 teurs who have imbibed his spirit, and been taught by his 
 example. The extensive school of German historians and 
 critics of their native literature, has also become familiar 
 to not a few English and Americans, and inspired them 
 with a laudable desire to imitate their example in dealing 
 with their own writers. 
 
 The French have also taught something in respect to 
 criticism. The comprehensive work of H. Taine upon 
 English Literature, and his other works of art-criticism 
 are genial, and almost recreative. The appreciative and 
 subtle, the acute yet always civilized Sainte Beuve has en- 
 forced by abundant and attractive examples, the impression 
 of what criticism may and ought to become. Matthew 
 Arnold has inculcated these same lessons in his Essay in 
 Criticism; Culture and Anarchy ; On the Study of Celtic 
 Literature, better sometimes by his precepts than by his own 
 practice. Interesting examples of what criticism may and 
 ought to be are to be found in the Hours with the Mystics by 
 the lamented R. A. Vaughan, in the Prefaces and notes of 
 Henry Taylor, as well as in his Notes on Books, and in the 
 Lublin Afternoon Lectures upon Literature and Art which 
 have now reached their fifth annual volume. Indeed there 
 are few volumes in the English language which are better 
 fitted to inspire and instruct the student of literature and 
 of criticism, than the volumes of this series, or which de- 
 serve to be more generally known. Prof. David Masson is 
 deserving of especial notice for his excellent volume The 
 British Novelists J etc.jto which we have previously referred. 
 His Life of Milton, of which one volume only has been 
 published, is a mine of critical and historical research on 
 its illustrious subject and his times. His Recent British 
 Philosophy is a contribution to literary as well as philoso- 
 
298 Boohs and Heading, [Chap, xvill. 
 
 phical criticism. Prof. J. C. Shairp's Studies in Poetry 
 and Philoso'pJiy are genial and discriminating. E. S. Dal- 
 las, under the enigmatical title of The Gay Science, has 
 published a work, which though it contains many caprices 
 and oddities, is yet of rare interest so far as it treats of 
 the principles which are fundamental to the critical en- 
 joyment of literature. F. W. Newman On Homeric 
 Translation and Matthew Arnold's papers on the same 
 topic, are instructive and stimulating. F. \Y. Newman's 
 Miscellanies contains a series of Lectures on Poetry to which 
 we have referred. Guesses at Truth, The Oxford, Cam- 
 bridge and Edinburgh Essays, Peter'' s Letters to his Kins- 
 folk, Dr. J. Brown's Horce Subsecivce — better known 
 among us as Spare Hours — contain much that is suggestive 
 and inspiring to the critic. To a very large extent the 
 Biographies of literary men include criticisms on their 
 works and those of their contemporaries, and some of the 
 most interesting criticisms in the language are found in 
 the familiar letters of distinguished persons concerning the 
 works and authors of the season and the week while each 
 was the novelty of the hour. 
 
 In the United States, literary activity has to a large ex- 
 tent taken the form of literary criticism. We have had 
 critics of the old school and of the new. Among those of 
 the old are the prominent contributors to the North Amer- 
 ican Review, as Alexander and Edward Everett, the 
 brothers W. B. O. and 0. W. B. Peabody, also Rev. Pro- 
 fessor A. P. Peabody, Prescott the historian, George El- 
 lis, Francis Bowen, and scores of others. Of the nev/ 
 or modern school the following are prominent: Henry 
 Reed, Horace Binney Wallace, Orestes, A. Brownson, Mar- 
 garet Fuller Ossoli, George Ripley, H. T. Tuckerman, 
 E. P. Whipple, Richard Grant White, Henry N. Hud- 
 son and James Russell Lowell. Mr. I:eed is conspicu- 
 ous for his labors on Wordsworth and Shakspeare-^ 
 
Chap. XVIII.] The Criiicism of English Literature. 299 
 
 Mr. Wallace for his spirited criticisms upon art and phi 
 losophy — Mr. Ripley for the very elaborate and genial lit- 
 erary notices which have formed so conspicuous a feature 
 in the New York Tribune for so many years — Mr. Brown- 
 son for the trenchant and aggressive review which was for 
 so many years sustained by his name — Margaret Fuller 
 Ossoli for an enthusiasm which was almost genius — Mr. 
 Tuckerman for the faithful and patient labor which has 
 been bestowed on so many literary and art topics — Mr. 
 Whipple for the careful research and elaboration of his 
 analyses and delineations, especially those in his Lectures 
 on the Literature of the Age of Elizabeth — Mr. Hudson for 
 his knowledge of, and his enthusiasm for Shakspeare and 
 his vigorous way of putting his thoughts — Mr. White for 
 his many explorations into curious literary facts, and his 
 nice discriminations — Mr. Lowell for his masterly though 
 personal Fahle for Critics^ as also for his discriminating 
 and kindling literary papers. We have by no means 
 named all who deserve notice, but these may suffice. The 
 reader who has followed us thus far, will have learned still 
 farther to seek and find for himself, and to judge what 
 he requires better than we can judge for him. 
 
 We ought not in this connection to omit all notice of the 
 history and criticism of the Fine Arts, inasmuch as a critical 
 interest in Art is nearly allied to a taste for literature. 
 The standard English authors in English literature before 
 the days of Ruskin and the Germans, were Alison on 
 Taste, Burke On the Sublime and Beautiful^ Price On the 
 Picturesque, Sir Joshua Reynolds' Discourses, Horace 
 Walpole's Anecdotes of Painting^ Lanzi's History of 
 Painting, Vasari's Lives of the Painters, Fuseli's Sculp- 
 tors and Architects, and Hogarth's Analysis of Beauty. 
 But since the German criticism began to make itself felt 
 in Art as well as Literature, we have J.Winckelmann's His- 
 tory of Ancient Art, C. O. MUller's Ancient Art and its 
 
300 Boohs and Reading. [Chap.xviii. 
 
 Remains J F. T. Kugler's Hand-book of Painting, {German, 
 Flemish^ and Dutch Schools), also Hand hook of Painting 
 in Italy, More recently W. LUbke's History of The 
 Arts, J. Ferguson's Illustrated History of Architecture, 
 J. H. Parker's Glossary of Terms of Architecture, all of 
 the last four being abundantly illustrated. Following in 
 the footsteps of the Germans we have A. W. Lindsay's 
 Sketches of Christian Art, Mrs. Jameson's Memoirs of 
 Early Italian Painters, Sacred and Legendary Art, His- 
 tory of our Lord in Works of Art, C. L. Eastlake's Con- 
 tributio7is to the Literature of the Pine Arts and other kin- 
 dred works. We ought not to omit to name Dunlap's His- 
 tory of the Arts of Design in the United States and H. T. 
 Tuckerman's Book of The Artists; nor G. W. Samson's 
 Art Criticism and S. Spooner's Art Dictionary. 
 
 Since John Ruskin first took the modern world by 
 Btorm in his 3Iodern Painters, and began to follow the first 
 impression by a succession of stimulating volumes, the 
 subject of art and criticism generally has been invested 
 with new interest to a multitude of readers who never 
 thought before earnestly concerning either. There is little 
 danger that a very considerable number of Ruskin's readers 
 will adopt his theories in full, or would be injured by them 
 if they should. Tlie exciting, and at the same time ele- 
 vating character of all his writings, has been acknow- 
 ledged with enthusiastic appreciation by the great number 
 of readers who feel that they have been wisely taught by 
 him many valuable lessons in the observation of nature as 
 well as in their judgments of art and literature. His 
 works or selections from them, cannot be too warmly re- 
 commended for their moral as well as their aesthetic excel- 
 lence. Now and then a young person may be overborne 
 ^nd swallowed up by Ruskin, but there are very few who 
 have read him with ardor who have not been greatly bene- 
 fited. 
 
Chap. XVIII.] Tlie Criticism of English Literature. 301 
 
 Books on the English Language, and on language in 
 general deserve a passing notice in this place inasmuch as 
 reading on these subjects comes legitimately within the 
 scope of the general title of this chapter. The number of 
 school grammars is well nigh boundless, and among them 
 there is a great variety in respect of excellence. Of Philoso- 
 phical Grammars of the English language there is a lamen- 
 table deficiency. It is in the German language only that we 
 find those which are at all satisfactory and truly scientific. 
 The worlis of R. G. Latham, and the grammar of W. C. 
 Fowler are perhaps the best. George P. Marshes Lectures 
 on the English Language and Origin and History of the 
 English Language^ stand prominent as treatises adapted for 
 general reading. R. C. Trench On the Study of Words, 
 English Past and Present, and Select Glossary of English 
 Words are instructive and popular books. W. Swinton's 
 Rambles among Words, and Scheie De Vere's Studies in 
 English are books which excite and gratify curiosity. The 
 attention which has everywhere been given to the study of 
 Anglo-Saxon and of the early English, promises to yield 
 large contributions to this class of works. 
 
 In General Philology, which is a subject that interests 
 very many general readers, the following books may be 
 named : Max Mliller's Lectures on Language, Chips from a 
 G-erman Workshop, W. D. Whitney's Language and the 
 Study of Language, F. W. Farrar On the Origin of Lan- 
 guage, B. AY. Dwight's Modern Philology, and J. Stod- 
 dart's Glossology. The study of words in their general 
 aspects and of language is very nearly akin to literary 
 criticism, and careful and critical attention to the style of 
 the authors we read, is itself a most important means of 
 culture, as well as a source of high enjoyment. For this 
 reason such works as Dean Alford's The Queen s English, 
 G. W. Moon's Bad English and The Deans English, and 
 E. S. Gould's Good English arc well worth reading. The 
 
302 Books and Reading. [Chap. xviir. 
 
 habit of consulting an English Dictionary in reading is not 
 maintained as commonly as it should be by intelligent 
 persons. No single habit is at once so eminently the cause 
 and the indication of careful attention to the language 
 which we use, and an efficient training to the best kind of 
 culture. It involves daily and hourly criticism, of the use 
 of an instrument which cannot be correctly and felicitously 
 applied without accurate and careful thinking ■9>ad active 
 and refined sensibility. 
 
CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 BOOKS OF SCIENCE AND DUTY* 
 
 Phiix)sophical and ethical reading next claim our at- 
 tention, and those books which aim to enlarge or confirm 
 our convictions of Truth or to convince and incite us with 
 respect to Duty. We use the words philosophical and 
 ethical in a very liberal sense — to define all those works 
 whether longer or shorter, whethei graver or less serious, 
 Avhich have for their direct object conviction or action in 
 the light of permanent principles, in contradistinction from 
 those books which narrate facts or address the imagination. 
 We do not include Theological and Religious reading, but 
 reserve these for a separate chapter. We exclude all books 
 and reading in technical or special science, because our de- 
 sign contemplates only a general course of reading, and be- 
 cause, for obvious reasons, the teachers and manuals of the 
 several sciences may be relied on to direct to courses of 
 special and technical study. 
 
 We begin with the sciences of Nature, ^. e., physical na- 
 ture — for we hold that the universe of Nature includes the 
 spiritual as truly as the material, and that it is inaccurate to 
 restrict the word nature to matter, whether it be hard mat- 
 ter or soft matter, whether it be solid and fixed as ada- 
 mant or as impalpable and evanescent as the most dif- 
 fused and diffusible of the gases. Most of the books 
 upon these sciences which are of the highast authority are 
 necessarily technical. They require careful study and 
 exact knowledge. Of these standard treatises there is a 
 very large number, and they are constantly displacing one 
 
 303 
 
304 Books and Beading, [Chap.xix. 
 
 another, with the verj progress of science itself. A few 
 books only come within the range and scope of our discus- 
 sion, but these few should not be omitted. For the 
 general reader Alexander von Humboldt's Cosmos is the 
 best single book which gives what was known concerning 
 the physical universe or was regarded as established by 
 scientific methods and scientific evidence, at the time when 
 the illustrious author finished the work which was so 
 splendid a. finale to his laborious life. This work is very 
 concisely written and is often abstract and technical, but it 
 will well repay slow and careful reading. The History of 
 the progress of the sciences of nature, to the man of philo- 
 sophical tastes is in the highest degree exciting and instruc- 
 tive, especially when followed in the more recent stages 
 of their rapid and brilliant development. William Whe- 
 welFs History of the Inductive Sciences from the earliest to 
 the present time, is the best if not the only compendious 
 work upon this general topic which is accessible. It meets 
 all the wants of the general reader up to the time when it 
 was written. J. F. W. Herschel's Preliminary Discourse 
 on the Study of Natural Philosophy, is a clear and popular 
 position of the methods of studying nature and of the 
 grounds of our confidence in the processes of induction. 
 W. WhewelPs Philosophy of the Inductive Sciences, after- 
 wards re-wrought and published under the title of History 
 of Scientific Ideas, etc., is much more ambitiously metaphy- 
 sical and entirely beyond the reach of the general reader. 
 John Stuart MilFs System of Logic Ratiocinative and In- 
 ductive, treats in Book Third of the processes and laws of 
 induction, more carefully and exhaustively than any other 
 work. The defective philosophical system taught in it 
 diminishes very little from its practical value. The sub- 
 stance of Mill's work may be found in abridgements, as W. 
 Stebbing's Analysis of MilVs Logic, and T. Fowler's Ele- 
 ments of Inductive Logic, L. Agassiz's Essay on Classifi- 
 
Chap. XIX.] BooJcs of Science and Duty, 305 
 
 cation is a treatise often referred to in respect to the phil- 
 osophy of the inductive processes. His Methods of Study 
 in Natural History^ and Geological Sketches are at once 
 popular and scientific. Arnold Guyot's Earth and Man 
 comes within our rule, for though it treats in special of 
 physical geography it discusses it very largely in its general 
 relations to the history and development of the race. 
 Many of the* writings of the lamented Hugh Miller are 
 very attractive to the unscientific reader, even when they 
 are strictly technical, for the interest with which they invest 
 physical research and the light they throw upon its pro- 
 cesses. The same is true of many of»the writings of Sir 
 Humphry Davy, Sir Charles Bell, of Richard Owen, 
 Michael Faraday, and of J. Tyndall. It is to be borne 
 in mind that the press is literally oppressed by the number 
 of superficial books in which the attempt is made to popu- 
 larize science and to set forth its relations to the imagi- 
 nation and to faith. To uninstructed minds and to those 
 who have only a smattering of knowledge many oT these 
 writings are attractive just in proportion to their superfi- 
 cialness and pretension. The style in which they are 
 written is often vicious and inflated, and overloaded with 
 tawdry ornaments. It is not wise either to trust the science 
 taught in such books or to follow the imaginative flights 
 to which they would exalt and inspire, unless their authors 
 are known among scientific men to be men of requisite 
 knowledge and of sound judgment. Although the physi- 
 cal sciences are in their nature severe and in their requisi- 
 tions exacting, they afibrd the amplest room for all grades 
 of sciolists and pretenders as well as the widest range for 
 every species of imaginative romancing. Science run mad 
 is the maddest and the most uncontrollable of all forms of 
 madness, as the steadiest and most trustworthy of horses is 
 the most stiff-headed and unmanageable when he goes off 
 in a fright or indulges in an escapade. It is a safe 
 20 
 
306 Boohs and Reading. [Chap. xix. 
 
 rule not to waste one's time or money on any of these pre- 
 tentious travesties of scientific truth, or works of science poe- 
 tically treated. Among standard books of science in. gen- 
 eral and on some of the special sciences, may be named, 
 Mary Somerville's The Connection of the Physical Sci- 
 ences, The Mechanism of the Heavens^ and Physical Gf-eo- 
 graphy, L. Euler's Letters on Natural Philosophy^ D. 
 Olmsted's Letters on Astronomy^ E. Loo mis's 'Progress of 
 Astronomy y J. Liebig's Familiar Letters on Chemistry, J. 
 P. Cooke's Religion and Chemistry, G. P. Marsh's Man 
 and Nature, also J. Tyndall's Heat as a mode of Motion, 
 Sound, H. F. Roscpe's Spectrum Analysis, E. L. You- 
 mans', (edr.) Correlation and Conservation of Forces, E. F. 
 Burr's Ecce Coelum. 
 
 Natural History differs from Natural Science, in that it 
 is limited to descriptive classifications of living things and 
 beings, and excludes reasoned theories of the laws and prin- 
 ciples of the inorganic agencies and elements of the physical 
 universe. The reading of works of this description is usu- 
 ally fascinating to children and youth, and should be culti- 
 vated assiduously in order i6 stimulate to the careful study 
 of Botany and Zoology as the powers of observation are 
 matured. In all these branches of study, as in Geology, 
 we have manuals and authors of the highest rank and trust- 
 worthiness, as L. Agassiz, J. D. Dana, A. Gray and A. A. 
 Gould, and many others. That observation of Nature 
 which is within the reach of every person of active mind 
 and curious tastes may be greatly stimulated by reading 
 such books as Gilbert White's Natural History of Sel- 
 borne, W. Howitt's Book of the Seasons, G. B. Emerson's 
 Forests and Shrubs of Massachusetts, Samuel's Birds of New 
 England, T. W. Harris' Insects of Massachusetts, L. H. 
 Morgan's TJie American Beaver, J. G. Wood's Illustrated 
 Natural History, etc., all which are attractive and trust- 
 worthy. Such works as those of J. L. Michelet, The Bird, 
 
Chap. XIX.] Boohs of Science and Duty. 307 
 
 and the many prepared by L. Figuier — those published in 
 The Libr^ary of Wonders from the French, The Universe by 
 L. A. Pouchet, never cease to attract and reward the 
 reader, whether young or old, and they render a most im- 
 portant service when they stimulate a family of children, 
 especially if they have a home in the country, to use their 
 eyes and ears in the observation of nature. If rightly 
 used they furnish the happiest illustration of the remarks 
 which we have made, that reading becomes most interesting 
 and instructive when it is interpreted by, as well as when 
 it directs the employments and amusements of the daily 
 life. 
 
 We are reminded by this of the important use which 
 may be made of books and reading by those who cultivate 
 the soil. The old and stupid prejudice against '^book- 
 farming" has almost entirely passed away. No person 
 who reads this volume will be likely to retain the least 
 remnant of it. A sense of the value of agricultural books 
 and periodicals is now generally diffused throughout the 
 community. It were difficult to decide what are the best 
 books* upon the many topics comprehended undei this ex- 
 tensive department. Every part of the country has those 
 which are thought to be the best. Every leadiiig journal 
 and newspaper is usually interested in certain favorite 
 writers. Should we attempt to furnish a seleot list which 
 might be approved for the present year, it would probably 
 be soon displaced in part in the year following. The list 
 which we subjoin has been carefully studied by a compe- 
 tent and discriminating authority who is endorsed by an 
 author who stands high in favor with the farming as well 
 as with the literary world. S. W. Johnson, How Crops 
 Grow. How Crops Feed. G. E. Waring, Draining for 
 Profit. J. J. Thomas, i^arm Implements. A. GrsLj, Field, 
 Garden and Forest Botany. W. Darlington, American 
 Weeds and Useful Fhnts. C. L. Flint, Grasses and For^ 
 
308 Booh and Reading. [Chap. xix. 
 
 age Plants, F. Burr, Field and Garden Vegetables of 
 America. P. HeDderson, Gardening for Profit. J. J. 
 Thomas, Fruit Culturist. G. Husman, Grapes and Wine 
 Making. A. S. Fuller, Small Fruit Culturist. J. A. 
 Hoopes, Forest Tree Culturist. Booh of Evergreens. F. 
 Parkman, 5oo^ of Roses. E. S. Eand, Jr. Bulbs. Sev- 
 enty-five Flowers. S. Tenney, Natural History. E,. L. Al- 
 len j Domestic Animals. C L. Flint, Milch Cows and Dah^y 
 Farming. H. W. Herbert, Hints to Horse-keepers. W. 
 Youatt, Tlie Horse. Harris, On the Fig. H. S. Randall, 
 The Practical Shepherd. T. W. Harris, /wsecfe of 3fassa- 
 chusetts. A. J. Downing, Landscape Gardening. L. L. 
 Langstroth, The Hive and Honey Bee. D. G. Mitchell, 
 My Farm at Edgewood. Wet Days at Edgewood. 
 
 From Agriculture to Psychology and Speculative Phil- 
 osophy seems a long stride. It is a wide leap which car- 
 ries us from the most concrete to the most abstract of 
 topics. And yet the stride is by no means so long, nor 
 the leap so wide as would appear at first view. The cul- 
 ture of the earth forces us to consider life in the plant and 
 the animal, and we find ourselves before we know it as- 
 cending from the soil and the clod into the fascination and 
 mystery of that life which nature sustains by the earth and 
 from the air. The study of life carries us up to finer and 
 ipaore subtle processes and powers so that before we are 
 aware, we are confronted by the presence of spirit with its 
 wondrous capacities and gifts and its still more wonderful 
 intuitions and beliefs. The analysis of these implicates 
 us in psychological inquiries and metaphysical researches. 
 Ethical principles spring out of the souFs inner being, and 
 conscience and duty are seen to be clothed with authority 
 by the soul and to be enforced by all the indications and 
 utterances of the universe. God himself looks out upon 
 us from all the windows of heaven and is felt by us to be 
 
Chap. XIX.] Boohs of Science and Dvty, 309 
 
 the strength and stability of the fabric of Nature and the 
 institutions of human society. 
 
 The mental and moral sciences are often abstruse, but 
 they are not technical and special as are the so-called 
 sciences of Nature, for the reason that the principles and 
 facts with which they have to do are more within the reach 
 of common minds and have a nearer relation to many of 
 the higher interests and feelings of the race. They require 
 less technical preparation in special studies, and hence are 
 more accessible to the judgment and interest of any thought- 
 ful and studious person. An intelligent reader, it is true, 
 is not likely to be destitute of curiosity respecting mechanics 
 or astronomy. But he is still less likely to be devoid of 
 interest in those speculations which concern the nature of 
 the soul, the sanctions of conscience, the rights and duties 
 of men, the limitations of government and the destiny of 
 the race. All men as soon as they begin to reflect, begin 
 a course of metaphysical activity whether they know or 
 not, and many a plain man whose reading is very limited 
 is ready to be aroused to excited interest in speculative 
 studies and in the history of such inquiries as conducted 
 by others. AYherever men have been made earnest thinkers 
 by theological discussions, political excitements or moral 
 revolutions, there has it been uniformlv true that the sub-, 
 ject matter of speculative and moral philosophy has 
 awakened a profound and excited interest in the minds of 
 the common men of the community. A great social con- 
 vulsion, like the so-called Great Rebellion of 1640, the 
 English Revolution of 1688, the American Revolution.of 
 1776, the French Revolutions of 1789 and 1848, or our 
 own Civil War of 1861, forces even the ignorant and un- 
 thinking to fall back upon the ultimate principles of politi- 
 cal and social obligation and to discuss them with excited 
 interest. It turns a nation of farmers and artisans into a 
 Bchool of acute and disputatious philosophers. The din of 
 
310 Boohs and Beading. [Chap. XIX. 
 
 preparation for physical conflict in the field is usually inter- 
 spersed with the hum of excited if not angry discussion and 
 debate. The questions of the suffrage of women, of blacks 
 and whites, of natives and foreigners, cannot be settled 
 without an intelligent reference to the principles of ethical 
 and political pliilosophy. The occurrence of strikes, tlie 
 organization of tradas unions, the demands of the laborer, 
 and the retorts of the employer, force all parties to examine 
 the doctrines and definitions of political and social science. 
 Earnest religious excitements and controversies, whether 
 they end in faith or in unbelief, compel every man who is 
 interested, to a profound philosophical inquiry. All men 
 who think earnestly upon fundamental questions must so 
 far be philosophers. In this way is the fact to be ex- 
 plained, that plain and even unlettered men are so often 
 acute philosophical reasoners and are interested so profound- 
 ly in books and reading of a speculative character. This is 
 especially true in a country like ours, so receptive of ideas 
 and so quick to transmit them, all over which so many 
 persons of active minds are profoundly interested in great 
 practical questions and are finding themselves as constant- 
 ly forced to decide these by a reference to fundamental 
 principles. Hence we explain the fact that there are mul- 
 titudes of men making no pretence to extensive literary 
 culture who not only take a strong interest in books on 
 these subjects but are qualified to read and judge them 
 with intelligence and discrimination. AVe do not consult 
 the wants of the learned class, but provide for the occa- 
 sions of the general reader when we suggest a course of 
 reading in Philosophy. 
 
 We begin with the History of Philosophy. While there 
 is no general history in the English language which meets 
 all the wants of the general reader there are several which 
 deserve to be named as worthy of perusal. F. D. Maurice^s 
 Hutory of Moral and Metaphysical PhiloBcphy is perhaps 
 
Chap. XIX. j BooJcs of Science and Duty. 311 
 
 the most readable of any. A. Scliwegler's History of Phil- 
 osophy translated from the German by Prof J. H. Seelye, 
 and a later edition with large additions by J. H. Stirling, is 
 a very good brief manual. An Epitome of the History of 
 Philosophy from a French manual translated by Prof. C. S. 
 Henry, which is published in Harper's Family Library, 
 is a convenient but rather dry book of reference. Mr. G. 
 H. Lewes' History of Philosophy is in some respects more 
 erudite and acute than the work of Mr. Maurice, but it is 
 written too decidedly in the negative spirit of the positive 
 school to inspire entire confidence, especially as it is a car- 
 dinal doctrine of this school that philosophical speculation is 
 vain and profitless. A translation from the very learned and 
 comprehensive manual of F. Ueberweg is now in course of 
 publication, from which much may be expected of accurate 
 statement and intelligible information. For modern phil- 
 osophy J. D. MorelPs Historical and Critical Vieiv of the 
 Speculative Philosojyhy of Europe in the 19^/i Century is a 
 very comprehensive and convenient though not always sat- 
 isfactory treatise. For the history of the modern German 
 Philosophy H. M. Chalybaus's Historical Survey of Specu- 
 lative Philosophy from Kant to Hegel is perhaps as good, 
 ^. e. as intelligible an account as could be expected from 
 a German historian, of the progress of a series of specula- 
 tions which are confessedly dark and abstruse. In ancient 
 philosophy in particular W. A. Butler's Lectures on the 
 History of Ancient Philosophy are the most satisfactory as 
 they are the most eloquent history which "the language can 
 show. Mr. George Grote in his History of Greece gives a 
 very attractive sketch of Socrates and the Socratic school, 
 while in his veiy elaborate work on Plato, and the other 
 companions of Socrates, he has drawn out a careful outline 
 of each of his works. Mr. Grote is in many cases unjust 
 to Plato, so far at least as he interprets and judges him by 
 the tenets of the narrow and superficial school of philoso- 
 
312 Boohs and Reading, [Chap. xix. 
 
 phy to which he himself belongs. Mr. G. H. Lewes has 
 devoted a special volume to the contributions of Aristotle 
 to physical science. B. F. Cocker's QlirutianiVj and Greek 
 Fhilosoj^hy is a valuable discussion of the themes and the 
 achievements of ancient speculation and a comparison of 
 both with those of modern thought and the positive teach- 
 ings of Christianity. For the history of speculative phil- 
 osophy in Great Britain nothing better can be named than 
 Dugald Stewart's General View of the Progress of Meta- 
 'physicaly Ethieal and Political Philosophy^ which as Avas 
 natural is specially devoted to British metaphysicians, and 
 Sir James Mackintosh's- General View of the Progress of 
 Ethical Philosophy. Both of these works are very incom- 
 plete and imperfect, though containing much valuable his- 
 tory and criticism. All mere histories of philosophy, are 
 necessarily unsatisfactory by reason of the narrow limits 
 within which the writer is confined. It not unfrequently 
 happens that these defects are supplemented by articles in 
 Encyclopedias or by special treatises of a biographical or 
 critical character. 
 
 Leaving the History of Philosophy and proceeding to 
 Philosophy itself, the general reader will find translations 
 of the following works ample for the direct knowledge 
 which they give of the teachings and modes of thinking of 
 the most distinguished of the ancient philosophers. W. 
 WhewelPs Select Platonic Dialogues. R. W. Browne, Ark- 
 toiled Nicomachean Ethics. T. Hobbes and T. Buckley's 
 Ilhetoric and Poetics. Cicero's Offices, Letters, Tusculan 
 Disputations and De Finibus, translated by different wri- 
 ters ; also the writings of Seneca, Epictetus, Antoninus and 
 the poet Lucretius. Coming to modern times we name 
 the following works as pre-eminently worthy to be read. 
 R. Descartes, Meditations and Essay on Method. J. Locke's 
 Essay on jthe Human Understanding, with V. Cousin's 
 Lectures on Locke, known in one translation as Cousin's 
 
Chap. XIX.] Books of Science and Duty. 313 
 
 Psychology. T.^.Wehh, Tlie InteUedualism of LocJce. D. 
 Hume, Philosophical Treatises. G. Berkeley, The Minute 
 Philosopher ; The Principles of Human Knowledge. T. 
 Reld, Inquiry and Essays. T. Brown, Lectures on the 
 Philosophy of the Human Mind. Dugald Stewart, Pki- 
 losophical WorJcs. I. Kant, Oi%ue o/Pitre i^eason, trans- 
 lated by Meiklejohn. J. G. Fichte, The Science of Know- 
 ledge; The Destination of Man. Sir William Hamilton, 
 Lectures on Metaphysics and Logic, also Discussions on Phi- 
 losophy and Literature. H. Calderwood, Philosophy of the In- 
 finite. H. L. Mansel, Limits of Religious Thought; The 
 Philosophy of the Conditioned ; Prolegomena Logica, 
 Goldwin Smith, Letter to H. L. Mansel. J. H. Stirling, 
 The Secret of Hegel. David Hartley's Observations on 3Ian, 
 J. Mill, Analysis of tlie Human Mind. J. S. Mill, A Sys- 
 tem of Logic Ratiocinative and Inductive ; Examination 
 of Sir William Hamilton's Philosophy. J. M'Cosh, Ex- 
 amination of Mr. J. S. MilVs Philosophy, being a Defence 
 of Fundamental Truth ; The Intuitions of the Human 
 Mind, etc. J. F. Terrier, Institutes of Metaphysics. Her- 
 bert Spencer, First Principles, and Principles of Psy- 
 chology. A. Bain, The Senses and the Intellect; The Emo- 
 tions and the Will; Mental and Moral Science; A Com- 
 pendium of Psychology and Ethics ; Logic, Inductive and 
 Deductive. D. Masson, Recent British Philosophy. F. 
 Bowen, Essays. J. Martineau, Essays, Philosophical and 
 Theological. These works with the Histories of Philoso- 
 phy and the numerous critical papers which many of them 
 have occasioned would give the reader a reasonable know- 
 ledge of the various schools of opinion which have pre- 
 vailed in modern Philosophy. 
 
 Of Manuals of Psychology we name as in more or less 
 extensive use, those of T. C. Upham, F. AYayland, L. P. 
 Hickock, Dugald Stewart, Thomas Brown, Sir William 
 Hamilton, J. Haven, A. Mahan, J. T. Champlin, N. Por- 
 ter, J. Bascom and A. Bain. 
 
814 Books and Reading, [Chap. xix. 
 
 To Psychology, Physiology has close relations because 
 of the intimate connection between the human body and 
 the human soul. The interest in this science has also of 
 late been greatly increased as the result of materialistic 
 views in respect to life and spirit. The study of life in any 
 of its forms is indeed the best introduction to the study of 
 spirit in any of its manifestations. W. B. Carpenter^s 
 General Physiology and Human Physiology are very gen- 
 erally accepted as of the highest authority. They are 
 characterized by their encyclopediac character more than 
 by acuteness of discrimination, force of reasoning or 
 comprehensiveness of thought. J. Muller's Human Phy- 
 siology is in all these respects incomparably the supe- 
 rior. Very able Manuals have been produced by E. C. 
 Dalton, W. Draper and T. H. Huxley. A more compre- 
 hensive treatise is in process of publication by A. Flint. 
 A brief and plausible argument for materialistic views may 
 be found in a tract by T. H. Huxley, Tlie Physical Basis 
 of Life and a reply of great ability As regards Protoplasm 
 by J. H. Stirling. 
 
 Vegetable Physiology is usually treated in works upon 
 Botany. A. Gray's How Plants grow, L. H. Grindon's 
 Phenomena of Plant Life, H. von Mohl, The Vegetable 
 Cell, J. Marcet's Vegetable Physiology, J. M. Schleiden's, 
 The Plant a Biography, C Darwin's Origin of Species, P. 
 W. Roget's Animal ^nd Vegetable Physiology are all works 
 of authority. 
 
 In Ethics the contributions to English literature are very 
 numerous, but are almost universally deficient in precision, 
 method and philosophical completeness. We name the 
 most significant writers, and they may be advantageously 
 read in connection with the following critical histories, J. 
 Mackintosh's Progress of Ethical Philosophy, W. Whe- 
 well's History of Moral Philosophy in Eiigland, R,. 
 Blakey's History of Moral Science, Th. Jouffroy's Intro- 
 
Chap. XIX.] Boohs of Science and Duty. 315 
 
 duction to Ethics. The leading' writers are : T. Hobbes' 
 The Leviathan^ R. Cudwortli's Treatise concerning Eter- 
 nal and Immutable Morality^ E,. Cumberland's De Legibus 
 Waturce, F. Hutcheson's Inquiry into the Origin of our 
 Ideas of Beauty and Virtue; Moral Philosophy, D. Hume, 
 Inquiry into the Principles of Morality, Jonathan Ed- 
 wards', A Treatise on the Nature of True Virtue, R. 
 Price's Review of the Principal Questions in Morals, A. 
 Smith's Theory of 3Ioral Sentiments, \i. Paley's Manual 
 of Moral and Political Philosophy j J. Bentham's Princi- 
 ples of Morals and Legislation; Deontology, J. S. Mill's 
 Essay on Utilitarianism, Alex. Smith's On the Philosophy 
 of 3Iorals, I. Kant's Metaphysics of Ethics, (tr. from the 
 German), F. P. Cobbe's Essay on Intuitive Morals, an 
 eloquent exposition of the Kantian system, W. Adams' 
 Elements of CJiristian Science, S. S. Laurie's On the Phil- 
 osophy of Ethics, M. Hopkins' Lowell Lectures, .also Law 
 of Love and Love as Law, D. Metcalf's Nature Founda- 
 tion and Extent of Moral Obligation, A. Bain's Compen- 
 dium of Ethics, 
 
 Of manuals of the theory and practice of ethics, we name 
 W. Whewell's Elements of Morality including Polity, W. 
 Fleming's 3Ianual of Moral Philosophy, F. Way land's 
 Moral Philosophy, L. P. Hickock's System of 3Ioral 
 Science, J. Haven's Moral Philosophy, J. H. Fairchild's 
 Moral Philosophy, or the Science of Obligation, A. Ale-x- 
 ander's Moral Philosophy, 
 
 Politics and Jurisprudence are akin to ethics, and the 
 principles of both these sciences are generally discussed in 
 manuals of duty. The principles of the science of govern- 
 ment should be thoroughly considered by every reading 
 man in a republican government. The attempt has been 
 made to introduce the study of the elements of this science 
 into our public schools but with no flattering sucoess, for 
 the reason that the study in its own nature is too abstract 
 
316 Boohs and Reading, [Chap. xix. 
 
 and requires too much reflection to be suited for very 
 young persons. The Political Class Book by W. Sullivan, 
 a very clear-headed writer, was prepared for use in schools. 
 Blaehstones Coynmentaries is the text book which intro- 
 duces every student to the common law of England. It is 
 eminently instructive to every general reader who is not 
 repelled by its length and terminology. J. Kent's Com- 
 mentaries on American Law in its extended or its abridged 
 form is a work of the highest authority. H. S. Maine's 
 History of Ancient Law is a work of a decidedly philoso- 
 phical character, and traces many of the principles and 
 rules of positive legislation back to their first beginnings; 
 so to speak to their rudimental germs. J. Austin's Lec- 
 tures on Jurisprudence is a work of eminent interest and 
 value. J. N. Pomeroy's Introduction to 3Iunicipal Law 
 is a popular and thorough treatise. 
 
 Of works in political science, the following are worth 
 attention. F. Lieber's Civil Liberty and Self-government 
 is a comprehensive and trustworthy manual which ought 
 to be mastered by every intelligent reader. J. Mackintosh, 
 On the Law of Nature and of Nations^ J. S. Mill, On 
 Liberty and On Representative G-overnment, J. C. Calhoun, 
 On G-overnment, J. Locke, On G-overnment, S. Nash, 
 Morality and the State, E. Mulford, The Nation are 
 works of greater or less interest and authority. A. De 
 Tocqueville's Democracy in America is universally ac- 
 knowledged to be the most sagacious and profound work 
 on American Institutions and American society that has 
 ever been produced. The Federalist is a classical work 
 upon the nature and origin of our general government, as 
 are the so-called Madison Papers, which contain a sketch of 
 the debates in the convention which formed the constitution. 
 With this should be connected J. Elliot's Debates on the 
 adoption of the Federal Constitution in the several State 
 Conventions, also Geo. T. Curtis' Origin of the Constitu- 
 
Chap. XIX.] Boohs qf Science and Duty. 317 
 
 tion of the United States, also Marshall's Decisions of 
 Cases which concerned the interpretation of the same. T. 
 JeSerson's 3Iemoirs, Correspondence and 3IisceUanies, 
 with his Life by S. Randall are invaluable to a right 
 understanding and a just estimate of parties in this country. 
 The life and works of Alexander Hamilton give the views 
 of a leader on the opposite side. "VY. Sullivan's Letters on 
 Puhlic Characters, T. Dwight's The Character of Jeffer- 
 son as shown hy His Writings and History of the Hartford 
 Convention may be consulted with great profit. The wri- 
 tings and speeches of John C. Calhoun and Daniel Web- 
 ster which relate to the doctrines of nullification and seces- 
 sion are also of the first importance. M. Van Buren's 
 History of Parties in the United States, J. A. Hamilton's 
 Reminiscences, T. H. Benton's Thirty Years' View of the 
 United States Government, J. Buchanan's President 
 Buchanan's Administration are all instructive concerning 
 our more recent political history. The treatises and speeches 
 elicited by the recent civil war on both sides, are too recent 
 and too well-known to require to be named, if indeed a 
 selection from such a multitude could easily be made. The 
 publications of the National Loyal League association pre- 
 sent the national view with great force and varied ability. 
 
 Of treatises upon the English government and constitu- 
 tion W. Bagehot's The English Constitution is foremost in 
 thoroughness and authority. E. S. Creasy's Rise and Pro- 
 gress of the English Constitution, Lord John Russell's Eng- 
 lish Government and Constitution, I. L. De Lolme's Consti- 
 tution of England, are all good books. 
 
 The histories of H. Hallam and E. May have been al- 
 ready noticed. E. Burke's Reflections on the Revolution in 
 France and other writings, J. Mackintosh's Vindicice Gallicce, 
 Guizot's History of the English Revolution and Causes of 
 Success of the English Revolution of 1640 and 1688 are 
 publications of the first rank. The reader moreover who as- 
 
318 Boohs and Reading, [Chap, xix- 
 
 pires to pursue an extended course of reading m political 
 science or political history will find no difficulty in select- 
 ing the best works upon every topic in either of these de- 
 partments. 
 
 In International Law, H. Wheaton's History of In- 
 ternational LaiOy and Elements of International Law 
 are of the highest authority. T. D. Woolsey's Manual and 
 Text Booh on this topic is universally commended and is 
 brought down to the latest decisions. G. Bemis' Precedents 
 of American Neutrality and Hasty Recognition of Rebel 
 Belligerency ; Betters On International Law by " Histori- 
 cus " and M. Bernard's British Neutrality should be con- 
 sulted on this much vexed topic. 
 
 Political Economy is a science much attended to in our 
 country and indeed in all civilized countries. The science 
 of wealth and questions of Exchange and Finance must 
 necessarily be thought of by every intelligent man. The 
 newspapers abound in discussions upon these topics, and 
 the destinies of great political parties hinge upon them. 
 Adam Smith's Wealth of Nations is the first in time and 
 almost first in importance. J. S. Mill's Principles of Po- 
 litical Economy is a more modern authority. J. Ricardo, 
 N. W. Senior, E. Whately, H. Fawcett, J. R. McCul- 
 loch, among others, are all very able writers. H. C. Ca- 
 rey, in Essays and his other writings is the able and in- 
 domitable advocate of a decided Protective system, while 
 F. Bastiat, in Popular FallacieSy etc., Sophisms, etc., is its 
 scientific foe. F. Bowen, Political Economy, and American 
 Political Economy is the moderate defender of Protection and 
 A. Perry, Elements of Political Economy, is its ingenious 
 and apt opponent. Sociology is a new name for a so-called 
 science which proposes to investigate those social conditions 
 and arrangements whether natural or artificial, which af- 
 fect the well-being of the community as a whole and that of 
 the individual through the community. It treats of ques- 
 
.gpAP. xrx,] Boohs on Science and Duty, 319 
 
 \ tions of the public health, the public morality and popular 
 education. Active and efficient societies are formed for 
 the furtherance of these objects, and the reports and 
 treatises which they will produce must soon become an im- 
 portant part of our litemture. Treatises upon education both 
 special and popular are very abundant in our country, and 
 are brought before the notice of all readers of newspapers. 
 There remains to be considered a very large class of 
 works of a more or less decidedly practical character, 
 which in the language of Bacon come home " to men's 
 business and bosoms." Many of these works are more or 
 less Ethical in their influence and character, and may be 
 classed under treatises or suggestions relating to the minor 
 morals. They must almost of necessity be Ethical, for 
 all those writings which propose to teach men how they 
 ought to think and act in respect to any matter whatever 
 must recognize more or less distinctly some standard of 
 duty or some obligation enforced by duty. But these 
 works treat of the minor rather than of the greater morals, 
 of the lesser interests and ends of life, rather than of those 
 commanding objects and aims which are universally and 
 seriously enforced by morality and religion. Lord Bacon's 
 Essays, Qivil and Moral , stands confessedly at the head of 
 all works of this class in English literature. It is in a 
 sense properly taken as a model for all, and is one of the 
 wisest and most thoughtful books for men of every con- 
 dition and every age. It has been edited by Archbishop 
 Whately with abundant comments, all of a solid and in- 
 teresting character. Whately's edition may be fitly called 
 Bacon adapted to modern times, by a writer of marked good 
 sense. Whately's comments are never unworthy of Bacon. 
 Of books of the class we have in mind, there are hundreds 
 if not thousands in the English language. They are in a 
 sense the legitimate and most characteristic product of the 
 practical tendencies of the English people. They reflect 
 
320 Boohs and Reading, [Chap. xix. 
 
 that freedom in criticism and discussion which for so many 
 ages has been asserted by English writers, enforced by 
 public opinion and secured by the laws. We can only set 
 down a few of the best, somewhat after the order of time, 
 and shall doubtless omit scores if not hundreds of great 
 value. Roger Ascham, The Schoolmaster ; Toxophilus, 
 T. Fuller, Holy and Profane State; Good Thoughts in 
 Bad Times. Sir T. Browne, Religio Medici, O. Feltham, 
 Resolves, Moral and Political, etc. Earl of Shaftesbury, 
 Characteristics. Daniel De Foe, The Family Instructor, 
 Political and other Tracts. D. Hume, Essays. The Bri- 
 tish Essayists from Addison to V. Knox. M. Montaigne, 
 Essays. I. AYatts, On the Improvement of the Mind. 
 B. Franklin, Essays. William Cobbett, Miscellaneous 
 Works. W. Irving, The Sketch Book, etc., etc. J. Den- 
 nie. The Lay Preacher. E. Sampson, The Brief Remark- 
 er. S. T. Coleridge, The Friend and other works. J. Wil- 
 son, Nodes Amhrosianoe and other works. C. Lamb, Essays 
 of Elia. Leigh Hunt, The Indicator and other works. 
 T. Hood, Whims and Oddities, and other works. W. 
 Hazlitt, Essays and Criticisms. T. De Quincey, Confes- 
 sions of an Opium Eater and a score of works besides. T. 
 Carlyle, Critical and Miscellaneous Essays, Sartor Resar- 
 tus, etc. J. Foster, Essays. Isaac Taylor, Home Educa- 
 tion and other works. W. Channing, On Self -Culture and 
 other writings. Anon., Self-Formation or History of the 
 Growth of an Individual Mind. H. Taylor, The States- 
 man and other writings. Arthur Helps, Friends in Coun- 
 cil and other works. Mrs. Ellis, Women of England, etc. 
 Anon., Small Books on great Subjects. John Ruskin's 
 W^^itings. C. J. and A. Hare, Guesses at Truth. C. C. 
 Colton, Lacon. H. Davy, Consolations in Travel, Salmo- 
 nia. L. Withington, The Puritan. H. Coleridge, Essays 
 and Marginalia. John Brown, Horce Subsecivce, or Spare 
 Hours. H. B. Wallace, Papers in Art and Criticism. F. 
 
Chap. XIX ] BooJcs 071 Science and Duty. 321 
 
 Saunders, Salad for the Solitary y ete. G. Mogridge, (Old 
 Humphrey) various works. D. M. Mulock, A Woman^s 
 Thoughts abovi Woman, M. Fuller Ossoli, Papers on Lit- 
 erature and Arty etc. N. P. Willis, Various ivories. W. 
 Legget, Writings. P. Bayne, Essays. H. Bushnell, Work 
 and Play. H. W. Beecher, Life Thoughts; Star Papers. 
 R. W. Emerson, Conduct of Life and other works. E. P. 
 Whipple, Essays and Reviews. D. G. Mitchell, (Ik. Mar- 
 vel) Beveries of a Bachelor and other writings. J. A. Froude, 
 Short Studies on Great Subjects. A. R. Hope, Book 
 about Dominies. Book about Boys. D'Arcy Thompson, 
 Day Dreums of a Schoolmaster and other works. A. H. 
 Boyd, {The Oninfry Parson) Miscellaneous Ytlumes. 
 William Smith, Thorndalcy or the Conflict of Opinions; 
 Crravenhurst. J. G. Holland, Letters of Timothy Titcomb, 
 
 etc. 
 
 21 
 
CHAPTER XX. 
 
 RELIGIOUS BOOKS AND SUNDAY READING. 
 
 We approach both these topics with some hesitation. 
 We do not expect that what we write will be understood 
 by all our readers, or will be accepted by all who under- 
 stand it. Very many persons who are intelligent upon a 
 variety of other subjects never think or read with earnest- 
 ness upon religion, although in the words of Daniel Web- 
 ster, "the noblest theme that can occupy the intellect of man 
 is man's relations to God.'* Lord Bacon also says in sober 
 earnestness that " Theology is the haven and Sabbath of al) 
 man's contemplations." E-eligion and its truths, its theolo- 
 gies and its ethics, its histories and its biographies, its poetry 
 and its criticism, are despised by many otherwise well and 
 even highly cultured persons as the offspring of a fond ima- 
 gination, a credulous superstition or a timid traditionalism. 
 Or all these are disliked as imposing unwelcome restraints 
 upon the pursuits and passions by which too many are 
 controlled ; perhaps they are scorned with passionate con- 
 tempt from some inherited or conventional associations. 
 There are not a few skeptics or rejectors of Christianity who 
 if honest would be forced to confess with Hume, that they 
 had never read the New Testament through with intelli- 
 gent attention. On the other hand, there are not a few 
 earnestly and actively religious people who rarely read 
 earnestly upon the very subject which occupies their best 
 emotions and inspires their best activities, either because they 
 never read upon any subject with intelligence and effect, 
 or because they have been trained to conceive that the ex- 
 322 
 
Chap. XX.] Beligious Boohs and Sunday Reading, 323 
 
 ercise of a very active intelligence upon religious topics is 
 inconsistent with warm emotion or a confiding faith. Hence 
 the religious reading which they allow themselves is be- 
 low their intelligence, and done rather for the purpose of 
 exciting devotional feelings or spending a half hour over a 
 quantum of religious phraseology than for the ends of in- 
 telligent conviction and reasonable emotion. 
 
 They read history, biography, novels, poetry and criticism 
 on the most liberal scale and with excited wakefulness, but 
 their religious reading is limited to one or two books of de- 
 votion or a few second-rate biographies of second-rate and 
 goodish people. Others perhaps never care or never dare 
 to read any religious book unless it has the imprimatur of 
 their own religious communion. The Romanist is by ne- 
 cessity almost precluded from any other than Catholic lite- 
 rature. If the reader is a Methodist he is likely to read 
 only such books as are issued by the " Book Concern," if 
 a Presbyterian, to believe only in the blue-backed volumes 
 of "the Board of Publication," if an Episcopalian he ignores 
 all works except those written or sanctioned by Churchmen, 
 or if he is a Liberal Christian he may have a traditional 
 and very illiberal contempt for every literary production 
 that proceeds from the so-called Orthodox. A very large 
 class of Christians are so intensely practical or evangelical 
 as to be conscientiously jealous of the exercise of earnest 
 thinking upon religious truth or duty, and are offended by 
 every book which would either awaken or stimulate the in- 
 telligence, or requires its vigorous exercise in order to be 
 understood. It must be confessed that religious emotion 
 as such, like every other description of emotion, is not of 
 itself friendly to or promotive of, the exercise of intellectual 
 energy. The fact has been noticed by Coleridge that the 
 fond indulgence of religious feeling has often brought a 
 species of dry rot into a noble intellect by the force of sim- 
 ple stagnation. We hold that this is unnatural and abnor- 
 
324 Books and Beading, [Chap. xx. 
 
 mal — nay more, that this happens not only by error but by 
 sin, and that as a consequence the religious character itself 
 becomes one-sided and degenerate. We contend that if a man 
 dwarfs or blinds or stupefies his intellect in order to attain 
 to earnest and sustained religious feeling — especially if he 
 uses vigorous thinking and earnest reading upon other top- 
 ics and dares not to do it or is disinclined to do it upon re- 
 ligious themes — he will sooner or later suffer lamentably 
 in his religious faith and fervor. We assert that it is the 
 duty of every one who reads with zest and curiosity upon 
 other subjects, to read with earnestness and with freedom 
 upon religious themes. We would even go farther and as- 
 sert that the cause of the decline in the fervor of very many 
 persons of active and imaginative minds is that they do not 
 give to religious subjects the same activity which they be- 
 stow upon subjects of inferior interest. The injunction 
 " give attention to reading " has a wader reach and is sup- 
 ported by a greater variety of reasons than is usually thought. 
 
 If what we have said should have disturbed the feelings 
 of any, we hasten to relieve them by adding that we do 
 not propose to discuss any questions which relate directly 
 to special theological creeds or to ecclesiastical or denomi- 
 national divisions. We assume indeed, as we have already 
 explained, that the Christian History is true and that Christ 
 is the proper object of confidence, reverence, and gratitude. 
 This being premised, we proceed to speak respecting the 
 selection and reading of religious, i. e. Christian books. 
 
 Keligious books may be divided into four classes : good 
 books, i. e. books which are very good — goodish books — 
 books which are good for nothing — books which are worse 
 than nothing. 
 
 Good books are such as are positive and conspicuous for 
 one or all of three merits — merits of thought, feeling, and 
 diction. Every good book can show a raison d^etre. There 
 is some occasion for its being produced and read. Good 
 
Chap. XX.] Beligious BooTcs and Sunday Reading. 325 
 
 books invariably bear marks of having originated in a 
 gifted mind — in a mind set apart by nature or called of 
 God to speak to one's fellow-men by reason of the gift 
 of genius or of earnestness. They show the signs of this 
 calling and these gifts, and awaken a response in the ear and 
 the hearts of the truly earnest or the truly cultured of 
 those who hear them, and thus prove there was an occasion 
 for their being written. 
 
 Goodish books are books of second-hand goodness — books 
 tliat are consciously or unconsciously imitated from good books 
 — books that repeat old thoughts, by stupid and servile 
 copying, or with such original variations as despoil them 
 of their freshness and life — books which seek to express 
 simple and familiar emotions without just or real feeling — 
 books which strain out affected conceits, or extravagant im- 
 agery with some empty ambition of originality — books 
 whose authors are willing to gain the admiration of 
 the uncultured and the half cultured by any extrava- 
 gance of thought or diction. Above all, they are books 
 which utter the words of religious feeling, when the writer 
 does not really possess it, or possessing it describes the ob- 
 jects of his excited emotion in borrowed or stereotyped 
 phraseology. Such books are deformed by more or less of 
 cant in the strict and proper acceptation of that term, vj.i 
 characterizing an unsuccessful attempt to sing what another 
 sings heartily and sings well. Goodish books 'may have 
 more or less positive merit, with all their strained and fac- 
 titious untruth — they may be eminently useful to readers 
 who do not observe their defects or are not offended by 
 them, who do not require anything better, or who may 
 have a taste so perverted as to prefer them to good books, 
 even though good books would be far better for them. 
 There is unhappily, in the religious world, a very large 
 class of books of whom the remark of a shrewd observer 
 will hold, " men who are simply and earnestly goodj I like 
 
326 Books and Reading. [Chap. xx. 
 
 exceedingly, but goodisli men or those who put on airs of 
 goodness, not at all/^ 
 
 Religious books which are good for nothing are such as 
 are stupid in thought, feeble in emotion, false in imagery, 
 vulgar in illustration or uncouth and illiterate in diction, 
 and which are so deficient in all these particulars as to be 
 incapable of doing good to any one which might not be done 
 far more efficiently by books that are better or those less 
 open to objection. Books of this description are very nu- 
 merous. They are produced by the ton. They thrust them- 
 selves in your face in every bookseller's shop. They are 
 obtruded upon your notice by weak but well-meaning peo- 
 ple at every corner. That they serve some useful purpose 
 to very many people does not disprove that they are good 
 for nothing, provided we can show that a good or a goodish 
 book would have answered the same purpose better or 
 equally well. 
 
 Religious books that are worse than nothing are such as 
 are positively offensive from defects so gross as to be obvi- 
 ous to people of very moderate cultivation. All books 
 belong to this class which are false in sentiment, fraudulent 
 by over-statement or by suppression, wooden or scholastic 
 in phraseology and conception, dishonest in the caricature 
 or misrepresentation of opponents whether infidel or fellow- 
 Christian, unsound in reasoning, hysterical in emotion, 
 doggerel in verse, or sensational and extravagant in prose. 
 These all dishonor true religion either by conspicuous errors, 
 a bad spirit, bad taste, bad manners or bad English. What- 
 ever partial or occasional good they . may seem to effect 
 among people who are not aware of their falsehood, or are 
 not offended by their extravagance, would be done more 
 effectually by other books, while the positive evil they 
 occasion to the bigoted, the undevout and the scoffer is 
 fearful to think of. 
 
 Two questions here suggest themselves as worth the ask- 
 
Chap. XX.] Religious Boohs and Sunday Reading, 327 
 
 ing. Why is the number of inferior religious books propor- 
 tionately so great? and why are such books treated with 
 greater consideration than inferior books upon other sub- 
 jects? The first of these questions is easily answered. 
 The reasons which explain tlie production and use of in- 
 ferior books of any description explain with especial signi- 
 ficance the demand for religious books. The demand 
 accounts for the supply. Incompetent men will write 
 mean books on religious topics, as they do upon all topics, 
 with the best intentions and with intentions which are 
 none of the best, and incompetent judges will read such 
 books without being aware of their inferiority, and may 
 even prefer the inferior to the superior. The goodness of 
 the aim often hides from the well-intentioned author and 
 reader the essential inferiority of the author and critic. The 
 public teachers of religion are also by the necessities of 
 their profession, more or less practised in literary composi- 
 tion. Very many are surrounded by circles of kindly- 
 disposed and even admiring friends, who feel a special in- 
 terest in everything which comes from them. Many a 
 preacher becomes an author who has no other call to this 
 vocation than the call of an admiring congregation for a 
 volume of discourses, or of sermons turned into lectures or 
 essays. He yields to the call, either because he mistakes 
 it for the call of a wider circle, or because he desires to 
 gratify the kindly preferences of his friends, or because he 
 knows that they will read with a special interest a tract or 
 book written by himself; 
 
 The reasons why inferior books upon religious topics are 
 treated with especial forbearance are the following : 
 
 First of all, there is the general disposition to consider 
 the goodness of the end which every such, book contem- 
 plates, and to overlook the question, whether the book in 
 hand is fitted to promote the end. Even though the book 
 is painfully weak or commonplace, or bristles with shock- 
 
328 Books and Beading. [Chap, xx. 
 
 ing extravagances of style and conception, it is charitably 
 said of it, " perhaps it may do good with some people ; " and 
 therefore is it exempt from the criticism which it deserves. 
 Those who see its weakness allow it to pass — if they sym- 
 pathize with its aims, from charity — if they despise its ends, 
 from simple disdain. Many fail to. see that the book is 
 weak, because of their interest in or their contempt for these 
 ends. In view of such considerations criticism is either 
 unconsciously disarmed, or distinctly repressed, when it is 
 called for. 
 
 It is in place here to notice, that motives which are far 
 from being worthy often present themselves under the 
 guise of an appeal to the religious feelings. A book that 
 is written in the interest of a religious sect or party, a book 
 that is published by our favorite publishing society or 
 which is in any way identified with our church or denomi- 
 nation may lead the critic and the public for whom he 
 writes to be tolerant of defects which in the books of 
 another party or society or church he would be sharp- 
 sighted to observe and foremost to expose. 
 
 It is also to be observed that not a few good or goodish 
 people, in their conceptions and judgments of religious 
 literature, seem conscientiously and even religiously to dis- 
 regard the relation of means to ends. They reason that 
 because now and then a weak book or a w^eak and oifensive 
 passage in a book has caught the attention, or wakened a 
 response of feeling in some person who was without re- 
 ligious thought or feeling, — therefore no relation is re- 
 cognizable between argument and conviction, persuasion 
 and assent, eloquence and impression, or genius and edifi- 
 cation. Some religionists seem to labor under the impres- 
 sion that too great a measure of logic, eloquence or genius 
 is not to be desired, lest they should usurp the place of 
 mysterious and undiscerned agencies of a higher character. 
 For this reason, though they, in all cases, somewhat in- 
 
Chap. XX.] Religious Boohs and Sunday Reading, 329 
 
 consistently require that the English should be grammati- 
 ciil, they contend that the diction should not be too fine or 
 too eloquent ; though they would think it well that there 
 should be a certain degree of logical coherence and eloquent 
 exposition, they are religiously offended if these excellencies 
 are too conspicuous. That such an attitude is purely sancti- 
 monious and in so far irreligious, we shall waste no words 
 to prove. The conditions of success are as truly observed 
 in the sphere of religious thought and feeling as in any 
 other, although they are at times dispensed witli or over- 
 borne by special interpositions. Such interpositions are not 
 furnished to sanction intellectual laziness, or careless Eng- 
 lish, or inapt logic, much less to justify those enormities of 
 platitudinous commonplace and sensational inflation which 
 are so largely represented in some departments of religious 
 literature. For man to crown his indolence or unculture 
 with the aureole of superior spiritual sanctity is to dishonor 
 his Creator in the most sacred of operations, as well to 
 dishonor his own human powers by one of the most de- 
 basing of untruths. If there is no connection between un- 
 cleanliness and godliness there can be none between care- 
 less diction, blundering logic, and tumid eloquence, and 
 the special power or presence of the divine Spirit. 
 
 So far is it from being true that earnest feeling requires 
 or tends to promote an inferior literature, it may be shown 
 that the quality of religious literature degenerates, in con- 
 nection with the decay of religious earnestness. While it 
 must be conceded that the ends immediately proposed by 
 religious orators, poets, and essayists, are practical rather 
 than literary, it is also as true, that it is only when faith is 
 earnest and zeal is ardent, that eloquence is overpowering, 
 poetry sublime, and argument irresistible, because it is only 
 at such times that the noblest human energies are strongly 
 aroused by the highest objects. It is only by men thor- 
 oughly aroused and inspired that the great works of reli- 
 
330 Books and Reading. [Chap. xx. 
 
 gious literature have been produced. But when faith and 
 fervor decline, then twaddle and cant take their place, reli- 
 gious books abound in imitated thoughts, in solemn forma- 
 lisms, in sanctimonious utterances and tiresome platitudes. 
 It is at such times that books are manufactured to order, 
 not produced by inspiration. They are brought into being 
 because godliness tends to reputation or to " gain,'^ not be- 
 cause the writer " believes and therefore speaks." No mis- 
 take can be more serious than to suppose that the production 
 of shoals of inferior religious books is a sign of religious 
 progress. The exact opposite may be true. 
 
 But enough of this fault-finding : It were wiser and 
 more useful to notice some of the signs or tests by which 
 good religious books can be distinguished from those which 
 are inferior or worthless. 
 
 Good religious books should have the stamp of individu- 
 ality. They should express the writer's individual 
 thoughts and feelings. They should come from a person 
 who has something to say which is his own, and is neither 
 the affected nor the unconscious repetition of the thoughts 
 of another. This is the true conception of w^hat we call 
 originality and freshness, which are closely allied to genius. 
 An author may be defective in respect to literary culture, 
 and range of knowledge, and yet if he has these, he is 
 usually worth reading. The sources of fresh and individual 
 thoughts on religious themes, are more universally ac- 
 cessible to all men, than in respect to any other, because they 
 are all found in God and nature, in Christ and the Scrip- 
 tures; and in the soul of man as moved by each and all of 
 these objects. A devout thought if it is a writer's own, is 
 often a stroke of genius. Hence the power of such writers 
 as Bunyan and Defoe. But real originals should be distin- 
 guished from the factitious and imitated. As real origi- 
 nality in religion is always fresh and dewy, and is always 
 greatly to be desired — so the factitious is to be avoided 
 
Chap. XX.] Heligious Books and Sunday Reading. 331 
 
 and rejected. The sensational, the strained, and the bizarre 
 are often present in religious writing for the reason that 
 many authors seek to shun the common place, by running 
 into a variety of unnatural extravagances and excesses. 
 Hence the intellectual antics and vulgarities of every de- 
 scription which infest the pulpit and degrade religious books 
 and newspapers. A fresh writer like Coleridge, Carlyle, 
 Emerson, Robertson or Ruskin, cannot appear without ex- 
 citing a host of imitators in style and illustration. Many 
 in almost every religious congregation are agape for what 
 they call or conceive to be originality in a preacher. It 
 should ever be remembered that while in all departments 
 of writing, sincerity, (and, therefore, simplicity,) is a sign 
 of genius, this is emphatically true in religious writing. 
 
 Another sign of a good religious book is its freedom from 
 phraseology that is needlessly technical and stereotyped. 
 Theology and religion must certainly have their appropriate 
 terms ; truths and emotions that are so marked and uniform 
 must necessarily shape for themselves certain w^ords with a 
 fixed and definite import. To those persons to whom this 
 import is unfamiliar or distasteful these terms must seem 
 strange. As the terms that are necessary in music or art or 
 any of the sciences are strange and even uncouth to those 
 who concern themselves with neither — as the language of 
 the lover is an unknown speec^h to those who have never felt 
 his emotions, so must the language of the humble and de- 
 vout be offensive to the proud and the godless. The in- 
 cubus upon religious literature is not the use of such terms 
 when they do express thought and feeling, but when they 
 fail to express either. The same evil ensues when terms 
 of thought are used simply to manifest feeling with little 
 or no intelligence, and when customary phrases are repeated 
 with little or no significance. The repetition of " stock 
 phrases " such as are taken from the Scriptures out of all 
 proper connection, or are borrowed from the current private 
 
332 Booh and Reading. [Chap. xx. 
 
 dialect of any religious communion, is what we have already- 
 noticed, as the offense of multitudes of religious books to 
 men of culture and good sense. The sensitive and sensi- 
 ble John Foster was so painfully affected by this feature of 
 much of the religious literature of his time that he made it 
 the theme of one of the ablest of his Essays. An important 
 point will be gained when this conventional and factitious 
 religious dialect is discarded by all good writers. This re- 
 sult will be hastened if buyers and readers make it a test 
 of a good religious book that it is free from technical or 
 canting phraseology. 
 
 A good religious book is always stimulating to thought 
 and ele\^ating to the imagination. A book that does not 
 make us think and feel and aspire — that does not exalt us 
 by the grandeur of its objects and ennoble us by the aspi- 
 rations of duty, that does not aid us to soar upwards to- 
 wards God is not a good religious book however pious its 
 tone or pretentious its phraseology. It is the appropri- 
 ate function of a good religious book to accomplish all 
 these objects, and whatever book fails of these ends cannot 
 be good of its kind. When we say that a good book should 
 stimulate thought we do not mean that it should be 
 scholastic or theological or obtrusively intellectual ; least 
 of all that it should swell with the meretricious airs of 
 what is called originality ; but we do intend that it should 
 offer thoughts Avhich are fitted to stir and quicken while 
 they overawe and sober the intellect. We do not mean that 
 these thoughts should be other than practical, for truths of 
 practice and duty especially when they search the heart 
 and purify the motives are of all truths the most quicken- 
 ing, but we do intend that they should take hold of the 
 mind with a strong and definite grasp. When we say a 
 good book should elevate the imagination we do not intend 
 that it should make man proud, but that it should make 
 him humble. This it will do most effectually if it confronts 
 
Chap. XX.] Rdigious Boohs and Sunday Reading. 333 
 
 him with ideas that take away the thoughts of self, that 
 subdue him to repentance while they encourage him to 
 faith. It is also eminently fitting that a good religious 
 book should have all the accessories which are found in a 
 pure and elevated diction ; that it should suggest no offen- 
 sive or degrading associations ; that it should be free from 
 all suggestions of coarseness, egoism or vulgarity. It is 
 natural to add that a book may be a good book for one 
 man which is not good for another, and that no man is 
 bound by religious duty to make a book seem good to him- 
 self which reasonably offends his judgment, his taste or 
 his imagination. 
 
 Of the few classes of religious books of which we may 
 venture to speak, we name first those which relate to 
 Theism and the Christian History. With subjects of this 
 class every reader should be more or less conversant, and 
 inasmuch as the methods of discussing them have materi- 
 ally changed within the present century, there is occasion 
 for careful selection if we would read the books which 
 are best fitted for the present generation. While in one 
 sense it cannot be conceded that scientific Atheism, Pan- 
 theism or Infidelity are more formidable at present than 
 formerly, inasmuch as true science and a thoroughly scien- 
 tific spirit are favorable to neither, it cannot be denied 
 that not a few are shaken in their faith in both Theism 
 and Christianity, by what they regard as the teachings and 
 deductions of Science. Upon the existence and moral 
 Government of a Personal God may be consulted, the so- 
 called Burnett Prize Essays of 1854, i. e. R. A. Thomp- 
 son's Christian Theism and J. Tulloch's Theism. To these 
 may be added J. Buchanan's Modern AtJieism. The so- 
 called Bridgewater Treatises are all very able works of their 
 kind, although their science is a little antiquated. 
 
 C. Babbage, Ninth Bridgewater Treatise^ F. Wharton, 
 Theism and Skepticism, W. Whewell, Indications of a 
 
334 Boohs and Beading, [Chap. xx. 
 
 Creator, McCosh and Dickie, Typical Forms and Special 
 Ends in Creation, W. Paley, Natural Theology, Lord 
 Brougham, Discourses on Natural Theology, G. Berkeley, 
 The Minute Philosopher, F. Bowen, Lowell Lectures, I. 
 Kant, Critique of Pure Reason, T. Chalmers, Natural 
 Theology, B. Pascal, Thoughts on Religion, F. Burr, Ecce 
 Caelum, J. Butler, Analogy of Natural and Revealed Reli- 
 gion, N. W. Taylor, On the Moral Government of God, J. 
 McCosh, On the Method of the Divine Government, H. L, 
 Mansel, The Limits of Religious Thought, F. D. Maurice, 
 What is Revelation, Goldvvin Smith, Rational Religion, H. 
 Caldervvood, Philosophy of the Infinite, A. T. Bledsoe, 
 Theodicy, J. Young, Evil not from God, A. S. Farrar, 
 Science and Theology, The Duke of Argyll, The Reign of 
 Law, J. D. Morell, The Philosophy of Religion, S. T. 
 Coleridge, Aids to Reflection, are all worth reading. 
 
 Upon the evidences of Christianity may be named "W. 
 Paley, The Evidences of Qhristianity, T. Chalmers, Chris- 
 tianity, from the Ed. Encyclopedia, W. L. Alexander, 
 Christ and Christianity, " Ecce Homo^ J. R. Beard, Voices 
 of the Church in reply to D. F. Strauss, G. Uhlhorn, 
 Modern Representations of the Life of Jesus, T. Erskine, 
 Remarks on the Internal Evidence of Revealed Religion, 
 (very good), G. P. Fisher, Essays upon Supernatural Chris- 
 tianity, (good on modern critical objections,) J. Young, 
 The Christ of History, (very good), C. Tischendorf, When 
 were our Gospels written f K. Whately, Historic Doubts,, 
 J. B. Walker, Philosophy of the Plan of Salvation ; Phil- 
 osophy of Skepticism, A. Norton, The Genuineness of the 
 Gospels, (clear and solid),W. E. Channing, The Evidences 
 of Christianity, A. P. Peabody, Christianity the Religioji 
 of Nature, J. Freeman Clarke, Steps of Belief, J. B. Moz- 
 ley. Lectures on Miracles, R. C. Trench, Notes on 3Iira- 
 cles, Aids to Faith, Tracts for Priests and People, H. Bush- 
 nell, Nature and the Supernatural, (eloquent and eleva- 
 
Chap. XX j Religious Books and Sunday Reading, 335 
 
 ting), B. F. ^yestcott, The Cfospel of the Resur7'ection, O. 
 Gregory, Evidences of Revealed Religion, D. Wilson, 
 Evidences of the Christian Religiony M. Hopkins, Evi- 
 dences of Christianity, W. Palej, Horce Paulince, J. J. 
 Blunt, Undesigned Coincidences, H. Rogers, Eclipse of 
 Faith ; Defence of do. (against F. W. Newman), Albert 
 Barnes, Evidences of Christianity in the VMh Century, E. 
 Dodge, Evidences of Christianity, Isaac Taylor, The Re- 
 storation of Belief, R. Yaughan, The Way of Rest, C. Wal- 
 wortli. The G-entle Skeptic, N. Wiseman, Lectures on 
 Science and Revealed Religion, J. Leland, Deistical Wri- 
 ters, A. S. Farrar, Critical History of Free Thought, The 
 Boston Lectures on Christianity and Skepticism. 
 
 Christian believers of all sects and all shades of opinion 
 agree in recommending the critical and historical study of 
 the Scriptures as of the highest interest and importance. 
 Indeed many, not to say most of those even who reject the 
 claims of the Scriptures to a supernatural origin and 
 authority, do not hesitate to accord the highest significance 
 to these books as literature and as movers of opinion and 
 feeling in all ages. Whatever in books or reading promises 
 to cast any light upon the history and antiquities, the sen- 
 timents and opinions, the facts and characters which we 
 find in these books, is generally acknowledged to be of the 
 highest significance and interest. This estimate is neither 
 vague nor superficial, nor is it held as a tradition or a truism. 
 It is not the result of a blind or fond preference, but of 
 enlightened and rational judgment. The attacks of unbelief 
 upon the Christian history, the movements of a negative 
 jinti-supernaturalism against the positive acceptance of the 
 Bupernatural and the miraculous, have involved the sharp- 
 est historical criticism of every point pertaining to the Scrip- 
 ture narratives and have invested with deep interest every 
 d;s3U3sion and every treatise that relate to subjects of this 
 Bort. Who was Moses? Whence came the Jewish 
 
336 Boohs and Reading. [Chap. xx. 
 
 economy? Who was David? How did it happen that 
 he wrote such wonderful poetry and anticipated so great a 
 successor in his own lineage ? Who were the Prophets ? 
 Whence came their insight into the moral and religious im- 
 port of passing events and their capacity to exho^rt and 
 rebuke with such penetrating truth and startling energy ? 
 Whence their foresight into the future and their rapt 
 anticipations of the emergence and the triumphs of a spirit- 
 ual kingdom of God ? Again, who was Jesus ? What were 
 His estimates and His assertions concerning Himself? How 
 did He justify and enforce these claims ? At what points 
 did He touch, and how did He adapt Himself to the great 
 movements that preceded His own times ? By what means 
 did He lay hold of the thought and feeling of all succeeding 
 generations ? These questions are not to be set aside by 
 the intelligent reader as the hackneyed themes of pulpit 
 harangues, nor as truisms that are become familiar to every 
 Sunday-school child, nor as convenient topics for shallow 
 platitudes, or the croaking jeremiads of morbid or one-sided 
 devotees, but they are inquiries which are fitted to arouse 
 tlie curiosity and to hold the attention of every manly 
 thinker and reader. " 'Tis true, 'tis pity, and pity 'tis, 
 'tis true" that multitudes who read intelligently and 
 thoughtfully upon other subjects, thrust aside these ques- 
 tions with contemptuous disdain, or accept with a grateful 
 and silly confidence the oracular dicta of extemporizing 
 dogmatists. It is also true that many who believe in a 
 supernatural Christ do not appreciate the intellectual reach 
 and import of their faith. The Scriptures are perused by 
 multitudes in a negligent, mechanical and traditional spirit 
 which involves little intelligence and less curiosity. Even 
 the great mass of those who aspire to interpret them to 
 others have limited conceptions of tlie historical and intel- 
 lectual wealth of the wonderful writings which they at- 
 tempt to expound. Of books relating to the Scriptures 
 
Chap. XX.] Religious Books and Sunday Heading, 337 
 
 it is emphatically true that there are a few which are books, 
 and multitudes which are no hooks, but mere copies and 
 dilutions of those which are books indeed. Of the best of 
 them it may be said that they require a more awakened 
 intelligence and a more vivid imagination than often 
 accompany their use, however diligent and well intended 
 this may be. 
 
 The following may be named as useful aids for the Eng- 
 lish reader in the general study of the Scriptures. We 
 omit the notice of commentaries of every kind for the rea- 
 sons already given. W. Smith's Bible Dictionary y 4 Vols., 
 is a work which stands foremost as an encyclopedia of 
 biblical history and criticism. The edition by H. B. 
 Hackett and E. A. Abbot is the best. S. W. BarnurCi's 
 Comprehensive Dictionary of the Bible is an extensive and 
 excellent dictionary founded on Smith with many valua- 
 ble additions. Either of these works may take the place 
 of many separate treatises on the separate books of the 
 Scriptures, as well as upon Scriptural Geography, History 
 and Antiquities. J. McClintock and J. Strong's Encyclo- 
 pedia of Biblical Literature^ when complete will be an ex- 
 cellent book of reference, P. Fairbairn's Imperial Bible 
 Dictionary, and J. Kitto's Cyclopedia of Biblical Literatu7'e 
 (edited by W. L. Alexander) are of the highest authority. 
 Wc have named already the histories by Ewald and 
 Stanley, also Melon's Pilgrimage, and Herder's Spirit of 
 Hebrew Poetry, all of which are as relevant to the student 
 of the Scriptures as to the reader of history. Robinson's 
 Biblical Ceography, Stanley's Sinai and Palestine, and 
 Thomson's The Land and the Booh should be named also in 
 this connection. H. C. Conant's History of the English 
 Bible, and B. F. Westcott's History of the English Bible, 
 are books of authority. G. F. Townsend's The Bible in 
 Chronological order, H. Alford's How to Study the New 
 Testament, B. F. "Westcott's Study of the Gospels, S. J. 
 
 22 
 
338 Books and Heading. [Chap. xx. 
 
 Andrews' Life of our Lord, A. Neander's Life of Christ 
 and Planting and Training of the Church^W, J. Conybeare's 
 and J. T. Howson's Life and Epistles of St. Paul, E. H. 
 Plumptre's Christ and Christendom, E. De Pressense's Je- 
 sus Christ and The Religions before Christ, C. Hardwick's 
 Christ and other Masters, T. Lewis, The Divine Human in 
 the Scriptures are all works of interest and authority. The 
 Psalms chronologically arranged hy Pour Friends. J. Mur- 
 dock's The New Testament from the Syriac, The Transla- 
 tions of the Psalms and other books of the Old Testament 
 and of the whole of the New, by G: E.. IN'oyes, are valuable 
 auxiliaries in the study of the Bible. 
 
 In respect to books of edification and devotion a few 
 hints may be allowed without overstepping the rules w^hicli 
 we have prescribed to ourselves, or offending the preposses- 
 sions of any religious communion. No man need, we 
 would almost say no man should, read books which contain 
 few clear and definite thoughts or whose thoughts are not 
 elevating and quickening. There is nothing more deaden- 
 ing to the religious sensibilities or more depressing to the 
 whole character than the attempt to arouse spiritual feeling 
 by a devotional book which is stupid, weak or belittling. 
 It is difficult 'enough for the soul when it is aided by every 
 accessory to rise in spiritual flights or to keep those heights 
 which it is competent to gain. It is doubly foolis^ for it 
 to encumber or degrade itself by any superfluous hindran- 
 ces. A devotional and practical manual should have an 
 intellectual as well as a spiritual tone, for in order to gain 
 edification and elevation for the feelings the intellect must 
 be quickened and refreshed. Next, devotional works 
 should not only be stimulating to thought, but they should 
 be elevating in style and imagery. This is eminently true 
 of hymns and sacred poetry. Poundell Palmer's Booh 
 of Praise, and many choice collections from Latin and Ger- 
 man hymns have brought within the reach of every earnest 
 
Chap. XX.] Religious Boohs and Sunday Reading, 339 
 
 Christian the means of satisfying his taste while they culti- 
 vate the spiritual feelings or express them in acts of wor- 
 ship. Watts, Doddridge, Ken, Cowper, and Heber, C. 
 Wesley, Bonar, C. Elliott, R. Palmer and many others 
 have given us too many pure and high-toned hymns to 
 make it necessary now to resort to religious doggerel. The 
 most elevated moods and attitudes of the soul should be 
 honored as well as sustained by the choicest accessories of 
 language and rhythm. Good religious poetry and biogra- 
 phy usually serve most effectually the purposes of edifica- 
 tion and devotion. The Confessions of St. Augustine, 
 The Imitation of Christ, Taylor's ffoli/ Living and Dy- 
 ing, Bp. Wilson's Sacra Privata and Maxims of Piety 
 and Christianity, The Whole Duty of 31a7i, Baxter's 
 Saints^ Best, Howe's Blessedness of the Righteous, and 
 W. Law's Serious Call have stood the test of time. Av- 
 no\di's>' Sermons on the Christian Life, BushnelFs Sermons 
 for the New Life, C. J. Yaughan's well known Vol- 
 umes Clirist the Light, etc, Hopkins' Lessons from the Cross, 
 Taylor's Christian Aspects of Faith and Duty are speci- 
 mens of varied types of modern practical works. 
 
 A word or two may be added touching reading for 
 Sundays. We trust we shall offend none of the advocates 
 for the strictest religious use of the Lord's Hay, when we 
 suggest that every reader should make a business and a 
 conscience of having his Sunday reading intellectually pro- 
 fitable and stimulating as well as spiritually devout. 
 Laziness and dawdling have no affinity with true worship 
 or the girding up of the inner man for the moral and re- 
 ligious conflicts of the succeeding week-days. Mysticism, 
 pietism and asceticism all weaken the manhood and so briiig 
 insidious poison into the ethicaj and religious life. The 
 exercise of the intellect on some question in tlicology, 
 some scriptural exposition, or Christian history, some 
 quickening biography or Christian poem, and doing this 
 
340 Boohs and Reading, [Chap. xx. 
 
 earnestly and systematically is greatly to be recommended 
 in place of the desultory meditation, the reading of goodish 
 books, and the sometime? not even goodish religious news- 
 papers, or the meaningless religious gossip which use up 
 and degrade so many bright hours of so many Sundays. 
 The mechanic and laborer, the clerk and the apprentice, 
 the merchant and the professional man, every one who is so 
 far subjected to task work as to find little time for contin- 
 uous reading on week-days ought to make his Sundays as 
 available as possible for intellectual excitement and en- 
 larged information upon religious themes as well as for 
 simple edification. Let such seek in their religious reading 
 on Sundays for invigorating thoughts, for valuable informa- 
 tion, for elevating impressions of character, for lofty senti- 
 ments of resolve and aspiration, with which to store the mind 
 for the week of conflict and worldliness, of temptation and 
 meanness to which they will certainly be exposed. No classes 
 of subjects are so suitable for Sunday reading in combin- 
 ing rest and refreshment with elevating and stimulating 
 influences as good religious biography, enlightened and 
 liberal church history and superior religious poetry. 
 No subject needs attention so much from the more gifted and 
 best cultured minds, as the preparation of religious books for 
 Sunday use, that the day may be set apart from other days 
 not only by its appropriately religious duties, but may 
 become more effec^ ually a day for spiritual culture in its 
 more Cilarged and highest signification. An attempt has 
 been made to provide a Sunday Library, on this theor, •> 
 by the publishers Macmillan, which may enable the read- 
 er to understand our ideal. This ideal other publishers and 
 writers may more perfectly realize. These 'hints are all 
 that we dare allow ourselves upon a subject in regard to 
 which opinions differ so widely and suspicions and offense 
 may be so easily aroused. 
 
CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 NEWSPAPERS AND PERIODICALS. 
 
 The rapid growth and the enormous increase of News- 
 papers and Periodical journals make it necessary to discuss 
 them separately, freely and at some length. With very 
 many persons they have very largely taken the place of 
 books and have induced peculiar habits of reading and of 
 thinking, which modify the estimate and the use that are 
 accorded to the books which continue to be read. There are 
 many persons now living, who were bred in the wealthiest 
 and most accessible country towns even of New-England, 
 who can remember when the most intelligent families were 
 content with a single weekly newspaper, issued from the 
 nearest city or shire town. Perhaps a religious weekly was 
 added, after religious newspapers began to be published. 
 One or two households besides that of the clergyman or 
 lawyer might take a Monthly as the Analectio Magazine^ 
 or possibly a Quarterly as the newly initiated North 
 American lieview ; or perhaps one family read the Lon^ 
 don Quarterly and another the Edinburgh, which were 
 then reproduced, the one in drab, and the other in blue and 
 yellow. A daily newspaper except in the large commer- 
 cial citiep was unknown and unthought of, and a copy 
 rarely found its way into the most accessible towns of the 
 largest size. A Semi- weekly New York or Boston Adver- 
 tiser , or a Philadelphia Gazette, was the height of luxury 
 in the country towns. 
 
 But all this is now bravely changed in England and 
 America — ^so hx as newspapers are concerned, more em- 
 
 341 
 
oi2 Boohs and Beading, [Chap. Xxl 
 
 pliatioally in America than in England. The United 
 States is the paradise of newspapers, if a rank and rapid 
 growth indicates a paradise. A daily newspaper has be- 
 come a necessity of life to every city and every extem- 
 porized village on the extreme frontiers of civilization. As 
 a medium for learning and telling news and for the manu- 
 facture and the retail of gossip, the newspaper has taken 
 the place of the fountain and the market-place of olden 
 times ; and in times more recent, of the town-pump, the 
 grocery and the exchange ; as well as of the court-house 
 and the cross-roads of a more scattered population. We 
 cannot finish our breakfast without the local daily, whether 
 it be metropolitan or provincial. If we do business in the 
 city and sleep in the country, we must despatch two or 
 three dailies on our way to the office or the counting-room, 
 and we reconsider and review the day by a glance at the 
 evening journals. Instead of reading books, many read 
 reviews of bookg ; instead of patiently perusing history, 
 many cram from summaries or digests in the form of 
 partisan or critical articles. Every leading monthly has 
 its serial novel with which to tantalize the reader and to 
 prolong the tale; which frequently breaks off at an exciting 
 crisis, in order to hold the tale and the periodical promi- 
 nently before the minds of the greatest number of readers. 
 Brilliant poems are secured to sell a single number. Tell- 
 ing articles on politics, finance and theology are no longer 
 published in pamphlets as formerly, but they are soug^ht for 
 to give character to a Quarterly. Editors' " book tables," 
 "easy chairs," "quarterly or monthly summaries" are relied 
 upon to indicate, or regulate, the current of public opinion, 
 as well as for the circulation of a variety of gossip and the 
 discharge of any redundant editorial humor, which is 
 various in the quality of its effervescence and pungency. 
 The shy girl of the country, and the bold girl of the town, 
 the fast girl of the period and the brassy girl of the pro- 
 
Chap. XX I.] Newspapers and Periodicals, 343 
 
 menade all study the fashions in some newspaper or maga- 
 zine, to which are appended a flashy poem, a sensational 
 tale and a flaunting essay. To meet the wants of those 
 whose intellectual digestion is weak, but whose moral sense 
 is scrupulous, newspapers of a very light pabulum are 
 furnished, strongly flavored with a tremendously exciting 
 story and several highly exalted essays and extracts of 
 wonderful adventures; and these papers penetrate all parts 
 of the country, by the force of enterprise and effrontery. 
 The fast life which we are rightly accused of living is 
 rendered trebly fast by the number of newspapers and 
 journals, which allow us no repose when we seem to be at 
 leisure either for a cheerful conversation with our fellows, 
 or for a quiet chat with ourselves or with quiet and elevat- 
 ing books. The Home Library has become a place in 
 which to read newspapers and periodicals, and sometime-s 
 its shelves contain little more than the bound volumes of 
 the quarterlies or monthlies which a few years have ac- 
 cumulated. 
 
 Inasmuch as people will read newspapers and journals 
 as well as books, and often in the place of books, it seems 
 worth the while and almost necessary to offer some hints in 
 respect to their value, and the best or least harmful way 
 in which they can be used. We begin with the Quarterly! 
 and Monthly journals. 
 
 The modern Quarterlies when they came into being were 
 an inevitable necessity. The Edinburgh Review appeared 
 as the organ of a liberal and progressive literary and politi- 
 Ciil party, and it fitly ushered in the present century. The 
 zeal and boldness of the Edinburgh as the organ of the 
 Whigs, called forth from the Conservatives The London 
 Quarterly and BlaclcwoodJs 3Iagazine, Then followed the 
 quarterlies and monthlies which were made the organs of 
 religious parties and denominations and also of special phil- 
 osophical and theological opinions. The primary object of 
 
344 Boohs and Reading. [Chap. xxr. 
 
 the most of these magazines was to furnish thorough criti- 
 cisms of books of current literature, and well-considered 
 articles upon the various topics of politics and reform in 
 which the public were interested. In process of time, the 
 scope of these reviews was somewhat enlarged, and they re- 
 ceived papers of a general character upon any subjects to 
 which certain writers had devoted special attention. In 
 this way they became in part nothing more than a periodi- 
 cal vehicle for the issue of pamphlets or brief treatises. In 
 consequence, many a writer who in earlier times would 
 have published his book, which might be longer or shorter, 
 now publishes a labored article. The convenience and the 
 regularity of the review stimulates to the production of 
 many treatises which would not otherwise have been writ- 
 ten. Its limits and its popular character requires that, the 
 article should be condensed and spirited. This has created a 
 peculiar style of writing — bold, trenchant, and antithetic, 
 often eloquent and able, but always positive and unqualified. 
 Condensed summaries take the place of long disquisitions ; 
 brief and pithy statements, of expanded argumeiits; and 
 bold and square assertions, of guarded and qualified induc- 
 tions. In the Edinburgh Review, Sydney Smith, Jeffrey 
 and Macaulay were representative writers ; in the London 
 Quarterly y Gifford, Southey and Croker; in Blackwood, 
 Lockliart and Wilson were master spirits. The North 
 American Review aspired at a purely literary character and 
 inflLience with no pronounced political sympathies. The 
 Peabodys, Ticknor, Sparks, and the Everetts were its cha- 
 racteristic writers. 
 
 The influence of these reviews upon the intellectual 
 liabits of their readei*s, especially of those who have read 
 them from their youth, has been not inconsiderable. With 
 many, they have displaced not a few of the books which had 
 previously been considered essential in the reading of every 
 well-informed man. Instead of reading a history with 
 
Chap. XXI.] Newspapers and Periodicals. 345 
 
 care and in detail, many have been content to learn from a 
 review its chief positions, its general aims and some of its 
 more striking passages. In place of reading the original 
 papers or documents on both sides of a controversy on 
 politics or finance, it has been found more expeditious and 
 convenient to read the summing up of a reviewer even 
 though it was notorious that he wrote in the spirit of an 
 advocate. The mastery of a distinguished author, which 
 by the old-fashioned method could only be achieved by 
 long and laborious processes is now seemingly achieved at 
 a few hours' sitting, by the aid of the able and exhaustive 
 critic who has condensed the chief results and principles 
 into a brief essay. Instead of going to original sources of 
 evidence, or hearing both sides of a contested question, it is 
 more convenient to take the impressions of a writer who has 
 volunteered to perform the labor for the reader. If the 
 reader is not satisfied with reading a single article, he can 
 find two or more on opposite sides, of nearly equal ability 
 and research, and in this way form his own conclusions 
 with comparative facility. 
 
 It must be acknowledged that periodicals are in many 
 respects a great intellectual convenience. They abbreviate 
 labor and place the results of the research of a few at the 
 service and disposal of the many. They sometimes facili- 
 tate the research of the student by directing him to the ori- 
 ginal sources of which he may desire to avail himself. 
 Oftentimes an article is better than a book. Especially is 
 this the case when the subject is out of our line and we 
 have time ^neither to look up authorities nor to study them. 
 Many of the most intelligent of readers are remote from 
 libraries and are unable to borrow or to purchase the books 
 which furnish the information or the estimates which they 
 desire. In a multitude of instances similar to these, the 
 modern review or journal serves the most important pur- 
 poses. It has greatly diffused information, abbreviated 
 
T 
 
 346 « Books and Beading. [Chap. xxr. 
 
 labor, and quickened thought. No man of sense would 
 think of dispensing with its aid or of depriving himself of 
 the gratification and stimulus which it furnishes. On the 
 other hand : 
 
 The excessive or even the constant reading of the best 
 reviews exposes to certain special dangers. First of all, ifc 
 tends to make the reader superficial so far, at least, as it 
 accustoms him to take up with second-hand information 
 and authorities. In respect to history and argument — 
 whether testimony concerning facts or reasoning to conclu- 
 sions are required — the man who does not go to original 
 sources, is liable in spite of himself to receive inadequate or 
 one-sided impressions. The habit of taking one's know- 
 ledge or opinions at second-hand induces the feeling of sub- 
 mission and dependence, which can neither be hindered nor 
 disguised by the excessive confidence not to say effrontery 
 with which the habit is usually accompanied. 
 
 It tends to make a man a partisan in hiG opinions and 
 feelings. The attitude of the writers whom he reads is 
 more frequently a partisan attitude, and it is natural that it 
 should be. The habitual reader of one-sided arguments — 
 especially if he be himself devoted to the general views of 
 the journal in which he most confides — will be likely to be 
 formed and fixed insensibly to partisan ways of looking at 
 every subject. It can hardly fail to be true that one 
 should be moulded to partisan habits who is familiar with 
 one-sided and partisan literature. 
 
 Again : the exclusive reading of this species of literature 
 may expose to skepticism or indifference concerning trutli 
 of every kind. To avoid narrowness and bigotry the 
 reader seeks to study a subjeot on every side. By doing 
 this he incurs the opposite danger of losing his confidence 
 in positive truth and earnestness in his own convictions. No 
 evil should be more earnestly deprecated than the evils of 
 intellectual libertinism or skepticism in respect to the 
 
 C^ 
 
Chap. XXI.] Newspapers and Periodicals, 347 
 
 great principles of moral, political and religious truth. 
 But to none is the quick-minded and susceptible reader 
 more exposed, who runs rapidly over the arguments on 
 both sides of great questions, all of which are second-hand 
 so far as authorities are concerned, all of which are parti- 
 san, all of which are contemptuous of their opponents, while 
 all are equally confident and pronounced. The reader who ^ 
 begins the study of all sides through the medium of op- 
 posing periodicals, may at first be ingenuous, simple and 
 earnest. Reading rapidly as he may because the articles 
 are brief, passing quickly to the counter-article without 
 having given to the first sufficient reflection, and so to the 
 next, he finds himself dazed, confused and uncertain. If 
 he goes no farther, he will at least be in danger of conclud- 
 ing that no truth can be an established truth, on both sides 
 of which so much can be said, and may finally rest in the 
 desperate and despicable attitude of having no opinions 
 whatever in respect to the most important questions^ 
 Meanwhile he baptizes his weakness with a name of 
 strength. He calls that liberality which Ls truly libertin- 
 ism. No single agency has been more efficient in the pre- 
 sent century in diffusing this spirit among reading circles 
 than the habits induced by the extensive and many-sided 
 reading of second-hand literature. Men who are quick- 
 witted and curious withal, and who desire to know all sides, 
 rush through reviews and books which are nothing better 
 than extended journalistic articles — books which are writ- 
 ten in the bold, unfair .and declamatory style which review 
 writing has bred, and the habit of review reading demands 
 — and return with the report : " We have gone everywhere 
 with the inquiry, What is truth ? and have not yet found 
 an answer ; there is no truth except, perhaps, in some blind 
 instincts or scanty intuitions which are as blind ; the struc- 
 tures which law-givers and priests and teachers bid us re- 
 ceive and which the experience of other generations had 
 
348 Books ami -^^ac/m^. [chap. xxr. 
 
 confirmed are all built upon the sand." The flippant dog- 
 matism of most of the sophists jof our time who so freely, 
 so confidently and apparently so learnedly, dispose of the 
 old philosophies, the old religions, the old laws, the old 
 educations, the old manners, and even the old decencies of 
 life, finds its readiest converts in the litterateurs who have 
 been inflated with conceit or paled with skepticism from 
 feeding exclusively on the second-hand literature which the 
 modern review has engendered. 
 
 The influence of the style and diction which the modern 
 review has required and cultivated, should not be passed 
 over. This diction is shaped too exclusively for immedi- 
 ate effectiveness to be altogether salutary in its influence. 
 The pungent and pithy antitheses, the slashing and un- 
 qualified assertions, the biting satire, and the caustic humor, 
 no less than the laudatory panegyrics, the ambitious rhe- 
 toric and the studied periods, which many very successful 
 reviewers have employed, are all bad examples of style, 
 even if they are not positively ofiensive to any one who 
 seeks to retain his intellectual integrity or a candid and 
 truth-loving spirit. Any community or generation of 
 readers must be in a bad way which gives itself up too ex- 
 clusively to a school of writers who value effectiveness 
 more highly than truth. It would not be diflicult to show 
 that no little demoralization of thought has come in as the 
 indirect result of the demoralization of style which the re- 
 view has effected, — that it has infected books of history, 
 philosophy and physics with a vicious rhetoric, that is es- 
 sentially superficial and sophistical, glazing not merely the 
 forms of expression with a false brilliancy, but making the 
 matter rotten to the core. 
 
 If it is not wise to allow our grave reading to be given 
 exclusively or in large proportion to the reviews, it follows 
 that too much of our lighter reading should not be devoted 
 to the less solid magazines. With all the ability by which 
 
Chap. XXI.] Newspapers and Periodicals, 349 
 
 they are distinguished and the variety of excellence which 
 they have achieved, they cannot be the staple of one's 
 reading without serious evil. Brilliant and various as 
 they are, often profound and sagacious, abounding as they 
 do with the choicest productions of the most gifted writers, 
 they are too desultory, their subjects are treated too briefly 
 and superficially, their tone is often too flippant and sensa- 
 tional, their judgments are too uncertain .and unsound, to 
 furnish the principal reading of any person ; least of all, 
 of any young person. The young man or the youn'g lady 
 whose solid reading is limited to the very- best of these 
 mao-azines will doubtless find in them much intellectual ex- 
 citement and no little good, but not without attendant evil. 
 The knowledge and education may be varied and useful, 
 but the school remains superficial and narrow. If on the 
 other hand they find their best reading in the magazine of 
 a lower grade their reading must be poor indeed; little bet- 
 ter than a showy flippancy can come of it, if nothing 
 worse. 
 
 But what shall he said of the newsjn^apers^ f ^.^ 
 
 First, that they vary widely, from the very good down 
 to those which are contemptibly poor. Among these 
 various grades there is ample room for selection, from 
 the leading metropolitan or provincial newspaper which 
 is characterized by more or less of ability and principle, 
 down to the sheet — whether in city or country — which 
 reflects the vulgar illiteracy of a low or uncultured 
 community, as well as flatters its self-conceit and pan- 
 ders to its interests ; from the high-toned religious or lite- 
 rary journal down to one that is desperately partisan in 
 either of these spheres. 
 
 Second, newspapers are not only a grest convenience 
 but an absolute necessity of modern life and civilization. 
 The overwrought and jaded brain may conipel its posses- 
 sor to escape from the news and their excitements by a voy- 
 
350 Books and Reading, [Chap, xxl 
 
 age that parts him from the mail and the carrier, or he 
 may phiiige into the wild retreat into whicli neither pene- 
 trate, but the call for the last newspaper is the first symp- 
 tom that the brain is slightly refreshed by its rest. The 
 comprehensive survey which the morning news gives us of 
 what happened yesterday in every part of the world en- 
 larges immensely our intellectual vision; training us to the 
 habit of thinking habitually of the concerns of all the 
 world besides — and not only to the habit of thinking of 
 them but of comparing and adjusting one with another. 
 It sends the imagination round the world " in less than 
 forty minutes/' bringing before it Englishman and Arab, 
 French and Tartar, Prussian and Chinese with their varie- 
 ties of interest^ and civilization. This frequent and com- 
 prehensive review of the whole world stimulates the intelli- 
 gence to discriminate and compare, as well as to search for 
 principles and laws. It induces tolerance for the principles 
 and w^ays that differ from our own, charity towards the 
 whole family, of man, despite of intellectual differences, 
 conflicting interests and hostile passions. 
 
 Third, the newspaper wherever it is free, is at present 
 very largely the educator and controller of public senti- 
 ment, and hence has become a most potent instrument and 
 depositary of power. The editor is at this moment ap- 
 parently more influential than preachers, judges or legisla- 
 tors. He is mightier than all these united. The confi- 
 ding reader of a favorite newspaper often tests the sermons 
 of Sunday by the chapter and verse of the leading articles 
 of the week. He tries his elected rulers and judges be- 
 fore the bar of the newspapers. He accepts and rejects 
 his lawmakers and the laws which they make according to 
 the revision of the editorial court of appeals. The news- 
 paper press makes war and peace, writes up and down the 
 value of property and destroys or defends reputation. 
 
 It may be said indeed that this power is not unlimited. 
 
Chap. XXI.] Newspapers and Periodicals. 351 
 
 because the press can regulate public opinion only so far as 
 it reflects it and adapts itself to it. It may be urged that 
 the editor controls and directs the great agencies of modern 
 life only as he skillfully anticipates and interprets them, 
 that he can command these only as man commands the 
 laws of nature, by first understanding and then obeying 
 them. This to a certain extent is true, but it is also true 
 that the press can inflame and excite agencies which but for 
 its influence would have slumbered forever, that it can 
 unite and concentrate forces which would have been feeble 
 so long as they were scattered, that it can give courage and 
 boldness to men and to causes which but for its inspiriting 
 influence, would have been perpetually cowed and re- 
 pressed. It may also be said that whenever the press is 
 free it ciinnot mislead, for falsehood can be met by truth, 
 sophistry can be refuted by sound reasoning, party tricks 
 can be exposed, dishonesty can be made public, and in the 
 long run the truth and the right will prevail. This may 
 be true in the long run, but the time required may be too 
 long for the public good. Meanwhile, so far as the individ- 
 ual and a single generation are concerned the press has am- 
 ple room to delude, to degrade and to destroy. It can delib- 
 erately and persistently flatter the vile, and hoodwink honest 
 men. It can act the part of the demagogue and the seducer 
 and the venal advocate. It can suppress the truth by con- 
 scious villainy and it can set off* error in false colors and 
 Avitli factitious rhetoric. It can low^er education and de- 
 bauch public and private morals. It can dishonor the 
 noblest characters among the dead and the living. It can 
 induce skepticism in whatever is sacred or venerable, by 
 sneering and sophistry, and can adroitly conceal both. In 
 the name of science and taste and progress it can vulgarize 
 and degrade and put back all these for a century. 
 
 Fourth, many newspapers whose influence is not incon- 
 siderable ar^ low in their intellectual tone. While there 
 
352 Books and Beading, [Chap, xxl 
 
 is room in the editorial profession for the exercise of the 
 most consummate power and the jnost varied qualifications, 
 it is possible to be what is called a successful editor with 
 scanty knowledge and limited abilities. Application is 
 necessary and a certain energy of endurance in small work. 
 If to this be added the tact at knowing what will please, 
 and what is called the knack of writing an editorial, success 
 is certain under circumstances ordinarily favorable. That 
 a multitude of newspapers do not exhibit any considerable 
 intellectual power or knowledge is too obvious to require 
 proof. Their readers recognize the indications of dullness 
 and incompetency. Feebleness of judgment and the want 
 of discrimination and intellectual force betray themselves 
 in every column. Silliness and bad taste sometimes break 
 out in oppressive manifestations, and general impotency are 
 everywhere exhibited. And yet for all these weaknesses, in- 
 dustry, business talent, and tact in understanding the de- 
 mands of the public and skill in supplying these demands 
 may so far compensate for these glaring defects as to gain for 
 the paper an extensive circulation and no little influence. 
 Fifth, many newspapers are animated by a spirit that is 
 more or less insincere. Their editors and leading writers 
 have few convictions, i. e., few opinions which they hold 
 with earnestness and regard as of pre-eminent importance. 
 They profess to hold the principles of their party whether 
 political or religious. But all they mean by this is that 
 their paper is pledged as the organ of the party or its plat- 
 form, and is thereby committed to the duty of publishing 
 those facts and arguments wdiich favor these opinions, and 
 of suppressing or skillfully managing those which make 
 against them. Public opinion is to a large extent regarded 
 as an effect which can be moulded and manipulated. The 
 influence of a paper is cast in favor of a particular move- 
 ment or is thrown against it, by arts which are perfectly well 
 understood in the editor's closet. The habit of thus mani' 
 
Chap. XXI.] Newspapers and Periodicals. 353 
 
 pulating public opinion, if it never leads to trading in it, — 
 the consciousness of laying plans and of executing them to 
 arouse public sentiment in a given direction or to give it a 
 dexterous turn in favor of a measure or a man — is not over 
 friendly to that solidity and ardor of sentiment which 
 usually characterizes strong convictions or earnest princi- 
 ples. The necessity of writing upon many subjects m-^ 
 which the writer cannot feel a special interest induces the 
 habits and temper of the advocate with his factitious simu- 
 lations and artificial excitements. The discerning reader 
 finds only now and then a "leader'' which bespeaks the solid 
 convictions of a high-toned and earnest man, which is 
 written because these cannot be repressed, and which seizes 
 hold of the mind with that power which earnestness always 
 excites. In other articles there mq,y be ability, research 
 and strength ; the subjects may be fairly treated and ex- 
 haustively presented, but the impression is not of a strong 
 nature thoroughly aroused. 
 
 This insincerity is manifested in its extremcst form when 
 it produces the modern Bohemian^ or the soldier of fortune 
 in the service of the newspaper press, who is ready for an 
 engagement whenever it oifers, provided the pay is sure and 
 good, and sometimes when it is neither, provided the 
 "provant" — as the famous Dugald Dalgetty, an illustrious 
 member of the fraternity termed it — is ample and well- 
 moistened. He is a person of no mean qualifications, but 
 smart rather than solid and apt rather than trustworthy. He 
 has received an education more or less accomplished from 
 the finished classical culture of the English university down 
 to the scanty but stimulating curriculum of the printing 
 and editorial room. He has a facile command of the pen, 
 a good memory, a ready wit and infinite volubility. His 
 assurance is unbounded and his principles and his sense of 
 consistency never stand in the way of any engagement. 
 He does not hesitate to write leaders at the same time in 
 28 
 
354 Books and Beading. [Chap. xxi. 
 
 tlie organs of two opposing parties — for and against protec- 
 tion or national banking, or whatever doctrine divides the 
 parties of the day. He is ready to applaud and to defame 
 any man for hire and to extol and depress the same man in 
 two successive weeks according to his engagement. lie is 
 a regular Swashbuckler ; the instrument of his power is 
 what is called a trenchant style, with ready command of 
 images, allusions and historic parallels, and a capacity 
 for hlatliersldte which is inexhaustible. He is, of course, 
 thoroughly insincere. He has no convictions except upon 
 a single point, and that is that those who pretend to have 
 any, are either weakly self-deceived or self-conscious knaves. 
 And yet no class of writers use the vocabulary of earnest- 
 ness and honesty more fervently and impressively than he. 
 The Bohemian whom we have described is one of the ex- 
 tremest type. There may be few examples of one who is 
 so thoroughly consistent, but so far as the modern news- 
 paper is insincere, so far is it animated by his spirit. We 
 do not assert that all newspapers are insincere. On the 
 contrary, there are not a few in w^hich earnest convictions 
 and positive opinions are everywhere conspicuous. The 
 tone of such journals is unmistakable. One feels the pre- 
 sence of real, not pretended sincerity the moment he takes 
 up such a sheet. Sincerity not only rings through the edi- 
 torials but it controls the selection and is apparent in the 
 very arrangement of its articles. 
 
 Sixth, the modern newspaper so' far as it is insincere is 
 immoral and demoralizing. There are other reasons why 
 it is exposed to this charge. It is confessed that new^s- 
 papers are often unscrupulous in their statements of fact, 
 that they suppress the truth when it makes against them 
 and overstate that which would be in their favor. It is 
 notorious that the partisan temper and partisan tactics 
 very largely regulate the conduct of many so-called organs 
 not only of political but of religious parties* The news- 
 
Chap. XXI.] Newspapers and Periodicals, 355 
 
 paper descends to inexcusable personalities, — both the 
 pure and indecent and the trivial and belittling. It often 
 delights in vituperation. It even makes this to be its duty. 
 No sooner is a man conspicuous by holding a public posi- 
 tion or is named as a candidate for it, than his private 
 character and affairs are made matters of public comment; 
 either to flatter his vanity or to gratify the insane passion 
 for gossip which rules the public taste, or to excite the 
 prejudice and contempt of his opponents. Vituperation 
 of one's antagonist in politics or religion is esteemed one of 
 the cardinal virtues, if we may judge from the practice of 
 many journals. The more freely it is indulged the more 
 satisfactorily is the writer thought to discharge his duty 
 and the more completely is homage paid to public justice. 
 
 If a newspaper is devoted to some public reform in the 
 service of morality or freedom, or in vindication of the 
 rights of some class which is thought to be oppressed, it 
 takes the largest liberty of vituperation and discharges its 
 energetic denunciations in the manner of a brawling pro- 
 phet. The end sanctifies the means. " Are not the enemies 
 of the proposed reform, enemies of all truth and does not 
 fidelity to our cause require us to denounce them as such ? '' 
 Of not a few of these self-asserted and conspicuous cham- 
 pions of reform it is eminently true that their habit of 
 deliberately and persistently denouncing their opponents in 
 terms of unlicensed vituperation has become so much a se- 
 cond nature as to vitiate all their other excellences, and to 
 make the very organs of moral and political reform to be 
 the instruments of private and public demoralization. Of 
 ipany of these advocates and organs it is not easy to de- 
 cide whether the devil has in fact taken orders among the 
 reformers or whether the reformers have taken " to serving 
 the Lord as if the devil were in them." 
 
 It is not an unheard of thing that a paper edited with 
 consummate ability and that promised to be of high tone in 
 
356 Books and Reading, [Chap. xxi. 
 
 respect of manners and morals, has with apparently cool 
 and deliberate resolve given itself to the project of forcing 
 itself into notoriety by a variety of sensational devices, and 
 pre-eminently by dragging before the public scandalous 
 rumors and more scandalous transactions, as well as by 
 grossly assailing the characters of public men, and follow- 
 ing them and their friends with persistent slander. 
 
 The influence of a new^spaper cannot but be demoraliz- 
 ing, however able its correspondence, or prompt and trust- 
 worthy its news, if the presiding genius of its editorial 
 sanctum be a grinning, sneering Mephistopheles, and the 
 tone of the articles composed under this inspiration be that 
 of persistent banter of everything which honest men 
 reverence and brave men are ready to die for; the auda- 
 cious drollery of which moves the whole community to 
 laughter, even when it moves honest men to virtuous 
 wrath. A harlequin may be allow^ed in his place, but 
 we cannot welcome him in our churches or our oratories, 
 to sneer when we desire to worship ; or find him congenial 
 to those sober moments when life at least is real and 
 earnest, even if conscience and God are not. 
 
 Seventh, that some newspapers conspicuously rejoice in 
 bad examples of English style need hardly be added. 
 This might be inferred if it were not so notorious. Where 
 there is insincerity, untruth and defect of principle there 
 must be more or less of bad English. While a few are 
 models of clear, unpretending, direct and nervous Eng- 
 lish, not a few are representatives of every description of 
 excess and over-doing, of carelessness and pretension, of 
 extravagance and " blatherskite," which are an offence to 
 the lovers of a pure and simple diction. 
 
 From these facts, the following may be derived as rules 
 in respect to the use of newspapers. 
 
 First. It is worse than unwise to allow newspapers to be 
 one's sole reading. The temptation to do this is very 
 
Chap. XXI.] Newspapers and Periodicals, 357 
 
 strong, and many yield to it. Men immersed in business 
 seem often shut up to this by necessity. Even professional 
 men who read or consult not a few books in the way of 
 duty allow the newspapers to take the place of other reading. 
 The merchant reads the money articles of the newspaper, 
 but rarely if ever a book upon banking or political econo- 
 my. The farmer reads his agricultural journal, but never 
 a treatise. As to the politicians, both small and great, it is 
 enough for them to consult the current histories of domes- 
 tic campaigns and foreign entanglements which the papers 
 furnish, without looking into books for the history of the 
 remoter past which has prepared the way for the present 
 and alone can explain it. Even if the leader is more in-, 
 structive and more to the point than any book could be,! 
 the book may be better because it opens a wider range of ' 
 considerations and so tends to enlarge the mind. The 
 newspaper is written more in the spirit of an advocate than 
 even a very one-sided book. ^The writer for the newspa-\ «- 
 per usually dogmatizes more and is more positive than the^ 
 author. The standard of manners and of temper is usually 
 far lower in the one than in the other, v The style of the ^ 
 book is ordinarily better. The best newspaper style suffers 
 under the necessity of compression or it abuses the liberty 
 of indefinite expansion and verbiage. yThe newspaper deals ^- 
 with the present, and is hurried, narrow, confident and bust- 
 ling. The book has to do with all times — the past, the pre- 
 sent and the future, — and is in so far more calm, elevated 
 and sagacious. For these and other reasons it is observed that 
 the reader of newspapers only is more usually positive, con- 
 ceited and flippant than the man who is also a reader of books. 
 Second. One should read good newspapers in preference. 
 We mean not only those which are able in thought and 
 pure in style, but those whose principles are pronounced and 
 whose manners are elevating. Many say and think : " It 
 is only a newspaper; of what consequence is it? We only 
 
358 Boohs and Reading, [Chap. xxi. 
 
 glance at it for a moment or run through it for an hour 
 and then lay it aside. If its bad logic, its unsound doc- 
 trines, its vile insinuations and its profane banter were 
 in a book, we would not tolerate the book for a moment, 
 but I and my children know, it is only the so or so, and 
 we let its unwisdom and its foulness pass for what they 
 are worth." Mr. A. would not tolerate slander or mean 
 personalities for a moment in conversation at his table, and 
 yet Mr. A. takes a paper for himself and his children 
 which distribute both as freely and as maliciously as an 
 audacious villain ejects vitriol into the eyes or upon the ap- 
 parel of passers by. He would not allow his family to read 
 a book that should gravely attack or sneeringly scoff at 
 his faith lest it should leave some unfavorable impres- 
 sions, but he allows the daily slime of an insinuating 
 newspaper to hold their thoughts and to possess their ima- 
 gination by a daily lesson and for a much longer time than 
 the lessons of Scriptures which are allotted to the morning 
 and evening devotions of his household. 
 
 Third. One should use the newspaper as a servant and 
 not as a master. Many confiding souls believe all that 
 the newspaper tells them and think it their duty to justify 
 and defend all its statements, because forsooth it is the pa- 
 per which they subscribe for or which is the organ of their 
 party. In like manner some go so far as to feel bound to 
 read every paper through. Neither is wise nor even safe. 
 No obligation rests upon any man to read or to believe the 
 whole of what any, even the best of new^spapers may con- 
 tain. The haste with which its news is gathered and its 
 opinions are expressed, the very great extent to which the 
 most honest and best qualified managers are dependent 
 upon the fidelity of others, to say nothing of the force of 
 the passions and prejudices of the hour and the demands 
 of the party or the public whose good will the paper is de- 
 sirous to secure, all these constitute it an unsafe guide to 
 
Chap. XXI.] Newspapers arid Periodicals. 359 
 
 be implicitly believed or followed. If it is often wise to 
 regard our books with a kind of suspicion and to guard 
 against their excessive influence, much more should we do 
 the same with respect to our newspapers, even if they are 
 the best. 
 
 We have questioned whether the saying were altogether 
 true that, " No man is the wiser for his booJcs until he is 
 above them.'' We cannot question that it is true of news- 
 papers. 
 
 Fourth. Every one should remembor that he is to some 
 degree responsible for the character of the issues from the 
 newspaper press. The newspapers of a country it should 
 never be forgotten are no worse or better than the people 
 would have them to be. They are a reflex of the know- 
 ledge and tastes of the majority of their readers. We can- 
 not resist this inference however humiliating at times it 
 may be. More than one intelligent defender of our 
 country in Europe has been arrested and disturbed in his 
 argument by the question, " How do you explain the fact 
 that such and such a newspaper has so extensive a circula- 
 tion among your people?" It would be well if every man 
 who buys or reads a newspaper would think of this ques- 
 tion and of the lessons of duty and honor which it suggests. 
 
CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 THE LIBRARY. 
 
 Readers of books desire to become the owners of books. 
 The pleasure and advantage Avhich are derived from the use 
 of a volume, prompt to the wish that it may be constantly 
 within reach. Hence, books like everything else which is 
 desirable come to be sought for and valued as property. 
 The child is not satisfied with using a picture-book, he 
 must call t\iG book his own. The persistent litterateur and 
 the veteran scholar value no purchase or gift so highly as 
 a rare or elegant volume. The enthusiastic and devoted 
 reader, if he has the means and the spirit of independence, 
 usually be^'omes the buyer and owner of books. Every 
 reader gathers about himself something of a library. Every 
 community so soon as it rises above the most pressing and 
 immediate wants, feels the need of a collection of books 
 which may supply its higher necessities. We cannot there- 
 fore properly dismiss our theme of Boohs and Reading 
 without also considering Tlie Library. 
 
 We begin with the personal or private Library/. The 
 thought which first suggests itself is the very obvious one, 
 that the size of a library when collected by a single person 
 for his private use depends on his means, his liberality, his 
 feeling of independence, his duties and relations to others, 
 and the comparative estimate which he places upon books; 
 not upon any one of these, but upon all united. A man 
 comparatively poor, may contrive to acquire a larger collec- 
 tion of books than a man who is rich, simply because he cares 
 more for them, and in order that he may possess them is 
 360 
 
Chap, xxil] The Library. 361 
 
 willing to forego many other possessions and enjoyments. 
 On the other hand a man of ample means and of decided 
 literary tastes may deny himself the convenience and lux- 
 ury of a library for such reasons of duty as would lead 
 him to forego other conveniences or luxuries. 
 
 It is the quality not the size of the private library in 
 which we are most nearly interested. Some persons buy 
 books chiefly for use, and the library which they collect is 
 conspicuously professional. The physician must at le^&t 
 have his treatises on physiology, surgery and the materia 
 medica; the lawyer cannot dispense with a copy of the 
 Statutes or with a book of legal forms; the clergyman, pro- 
 vided he can read, must own a Bible, a commentary and a 
 concordance. These indispensables naturally expand into 
 those formidable libraries which are strictly professional ; 
 libraries which are ^^ caviare to the general;" but which to 
 the individual worker with the brain, are literally his "tools 
 of trade." However unintelligible and uninteresting such 
 a library is to a layman, it is full of interest and import- 
 ance to the artist, the mechanic, or any other professional 
 worker. 
 
 Often persons collect books for enjoyment. It is to them 
 a luxury and delight to read history and biography, fiction 
 and poetry, eloquence and criticism. To have a large col- 
 lection of books of all these descriptions constantly within 
 their reach, is to have at hand treasures and luxuries with 
 which nothing else deserves to be compared. They say with 
 another, " I no sooner come into the library but I bolt the 
 door to me, excluding lust, ambition, avarice, and melan- 
 choly herself, and in the very lap of eternity, amongst so 
 many divine souls, I take my seat with so lofty a spirit and 
 sweet content that I pity all our great ones, and rich men 
 that know not this happiness." 
 
 Still other persons buy books for show. They like the 
 sight of elegant books in substantial and costly bindings. 
 
362 Books and Reading. |;Chap. xxii. 
 
 The show itself is pretty to the eye and the associations are 
 grateful to the mind that knows enough of the use and 
 value of books to be flattered by the company with which 
 the possession of books connects the owner. It is gratify- 
 ing to gaze upon the stately folios as they support the 
 elegant yet substantial octavos, and these the compact and 
 genteel duodecimos, and these the daintier sizes — to behold 
 some in polished calf, skilfully tooled in figures of arabesque; 
 others in levantine turkey, rich with its deeply grained col- 
 ors ; others in the gayer hues of the French chagrin, bright 
 with red and green and blue; and others still in the many 
 varieties of German finish ; and others distinguished by the 
 Roman vellum, delicately set off with its tracery of gilt. It 
 is a proud 'act for the owner of such an expensive collection 
 to introduce a friend or a guest to his treasures with their 
 appropriate accessories of illustrated works, choice engrav- 
 ings, illuminated 'missals, etc., and to count up his expendi- 
 tures in honor of letters and art. 
 
 Others still, buy for curiosity and for rareness. Learned 
 and sharp-cut Elzevirs, elegant Aldines, much sought In- 
 cunabula, Editiones principes, books with autographs or an- 
 notations of former owners famous in literature, books 
 made up by mosaic handicraft of illustrations collected far 
 and near, tall paper copies, survivors of scanty or exhausted 
 editions, all these are bought with princely liberality and 
 are exhibited with natural pride to the select few who can 
 judge and estimate them as only diamond fanciers esti- 
 mate diamonds. 
 
 Others buy a library for the convenience of their fami- 
 lies or friends; being themselves too busy to have much to 
 do with books or having no decided taste for books, but 
 desiring to cultivate their tastes or enlarge their know- 
 ledge and usefulness. 
 
 The personal library is often in a sense the embodiment 
 of the spirit of its collector and owner. It certainly is a 
 
Chap. XXII.] The Library, 363 
 
 striking manifestation of his taste^., habits, character and 
 pursuits. This is always true if the library is collect- 
 ed with any special zeal, and the owner is free to indulge 
 his special proclivities. We can usually interpret the tastes 
 and principles of a man, — often we can discover his 
 crotchets and prejudices by simply inspecting his library. 
 The mass of his collection may be such books as "no 
 gentleman's library should be without ; " but the discern- 
 ing eye will spy out here and there a volume or a series — 
 perhaps in some private corner — which reveal his peculiar 
 tastes and his inmost feelings. Very often the indications 
 are so obvious as to need no special sagacity for their in- 
 terpretation. Even if the library is not prevailingly pro- 
 fessional, it will reveal to the hasty observer of its shelves, 
 whether its owner is mathematician, physicist or linguist, 
 and in what specialty of each ; and this whether he is a 
 proficient or amateur. If he is devoted to history, his 
 library will show it, and will also make known the kind 
 of history in which he delights. The lover of poetry, or 
 fiction or literary criticism, and the man of many-sided and 
 universal tastes will be as distinctly revealed. The domi- 
 nant tastes, the ruling aims, the controlling principles can 
 often be gathered from the presence or absence of certain 
 classes of books. With equal distinctness the fact is pro- 
 claimed whether he is a believer in God or in Nature, in 
 Christ or in Humanity. If he is a Christian believer, his 
 theological creed and his religious earnestness may be con- 
 jectured with similar confidence. 
 
 By the same rule the growth of a library when it is un- 
 constrained by hindrances or influences from without, is a 
 record and memorial of the growth and changes of the 
 owner's intellect and tastes, and perhaps of sudden or gradu- 
 al transformations in his aims and principles. If he has re- 
 tained his early school books and with them the tales and 
 lives which delighted his childhood, these well thumbed 
 
364 Books and Beading, [Chap. xxii. 
 
 and tattered volumes will tell to him at least, a story of the 
 delight with which he read and re-read Robinson Crusoe, 
 the Arabian Nights, the adventures of Philip Quarles or the 
 memoirs of Baron Trenck ; or perhaps of the ardent zeal for 
 knowledge which led him to labor with his own hands that 
 he might buy his first Greek Grammar or a better Greek 
 Lexicon. It is often a wonder to the fastidious observer 
 or the careful housekeeper, who look at books with the bod- 
 ily eye, why in an expensive and luxurious library there is 
 often carefully preserved some shelf of these worthless and 
 battered volumes which they would consign to the paper 
 maker or the flames. They little know what precious mem- 
 ories^are stored upon that shelf and gather about each of 
 those soiled and damaged books. But the books which 
 most vividly bring back to the owner his youthful self 
 will be those few favorite authors, which he longed so ear- 
 nestly to possess when he first conceived the idea of form- 
 ing a library of his own. How often did he ponder the 
 questions, What book or books did he care most to possess? 
 or Which could he afford to buy? How often did he go 
 into the book-shop and gaze upon and handle the much 
 coveted volume ! It may have been some work of a poet 
 like Byron or Scott, who had first waked in his soul the 
 feeling for poetry, or an old philosopher like Butler or 
 Berkeley, or a new philosopher like Coleridge, or a newer 
 sage like Carlyle or Emerson. Wliat fresh and fervid as- 
 sociations are wakened within him as the identical volumes 
 are taken in hand which twenty or forty years before he 
 carried home without weariness and installed upon his emp- 
 ty shelves with such positive delight. Upon these shelves 
 they still remain. Though they have been almost crowded 
 out by other favorites they never can be thrust wholly 
 aside, for they hold their place as witnesses and memorials 
 of tastes and moods which can never be forgotten, though 
 they may have been long outgrown. Other shelves testify 
 
Chap, xxil] The Library, 365 
 
 to later passages in his lifers progress ; one to an awakened 
 passion for history, anotlier to a newly kindled zeal for 
 literary criticism. In one division stand the sopiiists who 
 weakened the faith of the owner in the fixed principles and 
 the severe moralities of his childhood's faith. In another 
 the Avise teachers who recovered him from these sophistries 
 and bewilderments. The field of the intellectual activities 
 and the objects of the prevailing tastes of one decade of his 
 life are here. Those of another are there. One group of 
 books was purchased in the excitement of a zeal and of 
 ardent purposes which were soon dissipated into irresolu- 
 tion and sloth. As the eye of the industrious reader runs 
 along the shelves of his library in an hour of musing, it 
 can read upon them the successive passages that make up 
 the history of his life. In view of facts like these it is not 
 in the least surprising that so many have cleaved to their 
 libraries with so fond an affection, and have learned to con- 
 ceive of them as parts of themselves, as in a sense visible 
 and tangible embodiments of their own being ; or that they 
 part from their beloved books with especial tenderness 
 when they part from their lives. Many a student will 
 understand and appreciate the desire of Prescott the his- 
 torian that when arrayed for the grave he might be left 
 alone .in the library which had been so long the scene of 
 his labors and the object of his zealous care. 
 
 The transmission of a library to another generation, espe- 
 cially if it was carefully selected or was the object of its 
 owner's special affection, is to many a matter of no little im- 
 portance — with no less reason surely than the preservation 
 of silver or other heirlooms which belonged to a parent or 
 near relative. The latter witness to the taste of the owner 
 as to material form or workmanship, or perhaps are inter- 
 esting memorials of the arts of another generation. The 
 other is a memorial of the intellectual and moral tastes of 
 the spirit as well as an image of the culture and the pro- 
 
366 Boohs and Reading. [Chap. xxil. 
 
 ducts of the generation in which he lived. The haste and 
 apparent heartlessness with which the libraries of students 
 and literary men are often broken up after their death is 
 something surprising and offensive. To know that the 
 library of Scott still stands in Abbotsford, that the library 
 of Daniel Webster remains unsold in Marshfield, that the 
 library of Theodore Parker is kept intact and unbroken in 
 the Boston city collection^ that the library of Charles 
 Jidius Hare stands by itself in the library of Trinity Col- 
 lege at Cambridge, is far more satisfactory to our feelings 
 than it is to hear that the libraries of Thackeray and 
 Dickens were sold and distributed within a few months after 
 the death of each. The extravagant prices at which many 
 of their books were sold must have been more satisfactory 
 to their heirs than the fact that they were willing to sell 
 the books at all, is pleasing to the admirers of their former 
 owners. It would seem, at least, that the disintegration of 
 a beloved library which has been the outgrowth of a read- 
 ing life and^ is itself a transcript of its history might some- 
 times be delayed a few months longer, out of decent respect 
 to the associations with which it is hallowed. It not unfre- 
 quently happens that it passes unbroken into the library of 
 some public institution, and remain as an honored memo- 
 rial of the individual and his times ; of his own liberality 
 or that of his family. The library of a reading clergyman, 
 which has been consecrated alike by his love of books and 
 his love of his people, if he dies among them, should never 
 be disposed of except to become the permanent possession 
 of the parish. 
 
 Thoughts of the personal library suggest those of its 
 natural enemies, the hoolz-horroiver, who delays or forgets to 
 return the books which he borrows — and the hooh- stealer^ 
 Avho never intends to restore the books which have come 
 into his possession by accident or design. Wide lacAinm 
 gaping for months or years testify to the carelessness of the 
 
Chap. XXII.] Tlic Library, 367 
 
 book-borrower, and the impatient and sometimes indignant 
 reflections of the owner as these unfilled places and broken 
 sets meet his eye, testify to his sense of abused kindness 
 and confidence. May the shadow of the book-borrower 
 very soon be less or may his habits speedily be reformed ! 
 May the succession speedily be broken and his lineage be 
 altogether cut off! As to the book-stealer; the enormity of 
 his offense cannot be expressed in language. Words would 
 fail altogether to set forth his ill-desert and infamy. The 
 Book-collector and the Biblio-maniac have been too often 
 commemorated to receive more than a passing tribute of 
 respect. We honor their zeal and admire their eccentri- 
 cities, for we see in their excesses only the luxuriance of 
 noble impulses and worthy aspirations. They are the 
 anchorets of literature, the devotees whose very excesses re- 
 proves and puts to shame the coldness and negligence of 
 ordinary worshipers. 
 
 From the library of the individual we pass to the library 
 of the household ; from the private to the home library. 
 Every home should have its library even if it does not 
 comprise a score of volumes. " A house without books," 
 says H. W. Beecher, " is like a room without windows. 
 No man has a right to bring up his children without sur- 
 rounding them with books if he has the means to buy 
 them. A library is not a luxury but one of the necessaries 
 of life. * * A book is better for weariness than sleep ; — 
 better for cheerfulness than wine ; — * * * it is often a 
 better physician than the doctor, a better preacher than the 
 minister, a better sanctuary than the drowsy church." The 
 presence of good books in any house is a sign of elevation 
 and a perpetual reminder of the wants and aspirations of 
 the higher nature. Books lay hold of the intellect and 
 character in ways that can neither be anticipated nor traced. 
 The child that grows up in the presence of books will feel 
 their power almost before he is allowed to open them. If 
 
368 Boohs and Reading. [Chap. xxii. 
 
 books are provided in a house, some one, at least, of the 
 family will develop a taste for reading them. The entire 
 household will by degrees form the habit of consulting 
 books, and of answering from books the many questions 
 suggested by conversation or the newspapers. The irre- 
 pressible zeal for reading manifested by a single member 
 of the family will excite the envy or the emulation of the 
 remainder. Leisure hours which might have been wasted 
 in indolence or worse than wasted in sin will be beguiled 
 by the tale or instructed by the history. The conversation 
 of the household will concern more profitable themes than 
 the gossip of the hour. Higher aims and ideals will be 
 proposed. Contentment, industry and frugality may be 
 learned from books. The lessons of duty are taught and 
 the aspirations of piety evoked by a good home library. 
 Such a library will stimulate and direct the desire to em- 
 bellish the house and decorate the grounds. It will en- 
 courage intelligent skill in the management of one's trade 
 or profession and even in regulating the economies of the 
 household. By its presence and influence the family will 
 rise to a higher plane of true culture and the realization of 
 a more intelligent moral and Christian life. There is no 
 good economy in dispensing with a library. It is almost 
 better to dispense with a carpet. It is certainly cheaper to 
 do without a new set of fashionable furniture. " I should 
 like of all things to spend from three to five hundred dol- 
 lars in a library,'' said a gentleman in active business, with 
 some thousands of capital at his command, " but I cannot 
 afford the interest of the investment." He did not reflect 
 that the house, the furniture and the equipage which he 
 could not forego, were all an investment of capital, return- 
 ing no rents in money, but manifold in comfort and civili- 
 zation. It may not be wise to spend a large amount of 
 money at once upon a library, but it is wise to regard books 
 among th6 necessaries of life and to allow the library to 
 
Cjap. XXII.] The Library, 369 
 
 come in for its share of the outfit of the household, as well 
 as for its portion of the yearly expenses. A few books, at 
 least, should be found in every home, and be kept constantly 
 within reach, however ample the facilities furnished by 
 the public library. These books no family should be con- 
 tent to be without for a day. They are so to speak the 
 foundation stones of the library. An English dictionary, 
 a good atlas, an encyclopedia of some sort are among these 
 books. We assume that the house will have a Bible and 
 some kind of a commentary or Bible dictionary. Beyond 
 these no directions can be given in respect to the home li- 
 brary which cannot be gathered from the discussions of the 
 several topics of which we have treated. )Brief Suggestions 
 for HouseJiold Libraries is the title of a aseful tract issued 
 in 1867 by G. P. Putnam & Son, to which are appended 
 specimen catalogues of libraries of different sizes, the first of 
 350 volumes, the second of 500 additional volumes, and 
 the third of 450 more ; to which are appended the titles 
 of "a collection of 50 volumes of useful and desirable books 
 in economical and compact editions for a young man's book 
 shelves." This tract was a useful guide for the time when 
 it was issued, and with additions from books since pub- 
 lished, may do good service. 
 
 The Home Library should have a place for its contents^ 
 even if it no more than fills a candle-box or occupies only a 
 single shelf. The light of the house should stand upon a 
 candlestick. The household Penates should be honored with 
 a shrine, whether the home be hired apartments, a rude cabin 
 ofr a contracted cottage. The fountain of intelligence and 
 refinement should be found in a place that is convenient, 
 neat and tasteful, whether this place is a tidy corner of the 
 kitchen, a tasteful recess in the sitting room or a separate 
 apartment. If the library has a room by itself, this should 
 be suitably furnished and decorated, not too daintily for 
 common and comfortable use, but cheerfully and attrac- 
 
370 Boohs and Reading, [Chap. xxil. 
 
 tively to the eye and the mind. It should at times be the 
 resort of the children and the gathering-place of chosen 
 friends, that books and the use of books may be associated 
 with innocent pleasures and common duties. 
 
 The books of the Home Library should be choice books 
 and in general select and standard volumes. The books of 
 one house, whether there is a score or a thousand, often reveal 
 the fact that they have been picked up by chance, either 
 at the solicitations of the persistent book agent or the sug- 
 gestions of a vagrant fancy. Those of another indicate at 
 a glance that they were chosen with definite purposes and 
 by a discriminating judgment. If the home remains to 
 the second or third generation, let not the library be scattered, 
 but let the books of the preceding generation testify to the 
 intelligence and the refinement of those whose spirits are 
 gathered with the dead. With the portraits of the persons of 
 parents and relatives, there should always be connected the 
 books which represent their inner life. Manifold are the 
 thoughts and instructive the musings which are suggested 
 by the family library in the few homes in which it is re- 
 tained in the ownership of successive generations. 
 
 The Home Library suggests the library of the com- 
 munity, whether this community be a neighborhood, a 
 school, a parish, a viiiage, a city, a college or a State. 
 
 The establishment of a neighborhood or a village library 
 is as natural and almost as necessary as the setting up of a 
 grist mill or a town pump. When individuals and families 
 sensibly feel the want of books and cannot supply them 
 from their separate resources, they proceed to provide a 
 common supply. \ The social library indicates an advance 
 in civilization in respect to the development of wants and 
 the capacity to supply them. It was an epoch in the history 
 of certain of the older States when such libraries began to 
 be common. This was not far from that awakening into 
 life which terminated in the war of independence. The 
 
Chap. XXH.] The Library, 371 
 
 new communities that went out from those of the older states 
 -which had school-houses and social libraries, established 
 both, long before their log houses disappeared. Daniel Web- 
 ster's intellectual growth was nourished from the little li- 
 brary which his father started in the beginnings of a pioneer 
 settlement, when books were few and costly. Dr. Franklin 
 contributed largely to the establishment of these social libra- 
 ries. In 1731 he and some few of his friends in Philadel- 
 phia procured fifty subscribers of forty shillings each as cap- 
 ital, and ten shillings a year for forty years. In 1742 a 
 charter was obtained, and the number of subscribers was 
 increased to one hundred. "This was the mother of all the 
 North American subscription libraries now so numerous." 
 "These libraries," Franklin adds, "have improved the gen- 
 eral conversation of the Americans, made the common 
 tradesmen and farmers as intelligent as most gentlemen in 
 other countries, and perhaps have contributed in some de- 
 gree to the stand so generally made throughout the colonies 
 in defence of their privileges." In 1786 Dr. Franklin made 
 a present of 116 volumes to the town of Franklin in Massa- 
 chusetts which took his name ; on occasion of which gift, 
 the Pastor preached a sermon upon the text " Show thyself 
 a man." Eighty years ago it was observed by a traveler, of 
 the people of this country, " It is scarcely possible to con- 
 ceive the number of readers with which every little town 
 abounds. The common people are on a footing in point 
 of literature with the middle ranks of Europe." Subscrip- 
 tion or share-holders' libraries existed in almost all the 
 towns of New England at the beginning of the present cen- 
 tury. The consequences were that there was no little 
 activity of thought, especially in regard to history, politics 
 and theology. The curiosity of the youth of both sexes 
 was stimulated as well as their taste for imaginative litera- 
 ture. Those wlio were especially fond of reading had ample 
 leisure. The books in these libraries were solid and sub- 
 
372 Boohs and Beading, [Chap. xxir. 
 
 stautial. Though their number was not great and their 
 contents not over exciting, yet they awakened such a mea- 
 sure of solid and thoughtful intelligence as has been known 
 in but few other communities in the world's history. One 
 of these village libraries the writer has abundant occasion to 
 remember. It was founded in 1795, and still survives, num- 
 bering with all its losses by use and sale and distribution 
 nearly two thousand, among which are several of the orig- 
 inal well-worn volumes. At the time referred to it consisted 
 of some seven hundred books all bound in leather and care- 
 fully protected by an additional cover of brown sheep skin. 
 The books were kept in substantial and locked cases, in the 
 front and rear halls of an old-fashioned square dwelling- 
 house. The meetings for drawing and returning books 
 were held on the first Sunday evening of every month. 
 The share-holders or their representatives assembled in the 
 ample kitchen which was always made tidy and cheerful 
 for this grave assembly of the chief personages of the vil- 
 lage. As one and another dropped in, each with his month- 
 ly load of books (three was the quota) and saw them credited, 
 he took his place in the circle which speedily numbered 
 some twenty or thirty. Conversation had already started 
 in knots or in common, upon the topics of fresh interest at 
 home or abroad, in which the freest interchange of opinion 
 was indulged. This exchange was immeasurably superior 
 to that of the modern newspaper for the vividness and 
 interest of the impression. To boyish ears and minds, the 
 revelations of character and the utterances of novel thoughts 
 were most instructive and exciting. When the hour for 
 receiving books arrived, the names were drawn by lot, and 
 the person whose name was first had the choice from the 
 library. The newest books were naturally preferred. Every 
 book as it was drawn was set up for a bid, which rarely in 
 those frugal times exceeded or reached eight or ten cents, after 
 the sharpest competition even for the last of the Waverly 
 
Chap. XXII.] The Library, 373 
 
 series. But all this has gone by. The library now stands 
 in the office of the Town Clerk, is open at all hoars, and the 
 excitements of the "library meeting" have vanished forever. 
 
 In many of the cities, these subscription libraries have 
 grown to very expensive and valuable collections. The 
 Boston Athenaeum, and the Society Library of New York^ 
 are of this character. Some of these have been opened to 
 the public on payment of annual subscriptions. More 
 recently, public libraries in cities and large villages have 
 been founded by public-spirited individuals who have sub- 
 scribed liberally for a building and the purchase of books, 
 which have been made accessible to any one by the pay- 
 ment of an annual fee. Young Men's Institutes and simi- 
 lar Associations, have formed libraries substantially upon 
 this plan, with the addition of courses of lectures, at first 
 for instruction and improvement, more recently for amuse- 
 ment and pecuniary gain. Circulating or lending libra- 
 ries have usually been individual enterprises. Free Public 
 Libraries : Suggestions on their Foundation and Manage- 
 ment, is a valuable pamphlet issued by the American Social 
 Science Association. 
 
 Book clubs are often a good substitute for a social li- 
 brary where none exists, or a supplement to it when a few 
 neighbors wish to read a special class of books which the 
 library cannot furnish or cannot furnish readily. It is easy 
 to organize a book club with no more than five persons if 
 they will agree 'to pay in an annual subscription and buy a 
 few books. Attach to the fly leaf of each the following 
 directions, with the names of the subscribers arranged in 
 the order of their residence, with blank columns for enter- 
 ing the date when the book was received and when it was 
 sent to the. next neighbor. " Books to he forwarded on 
 Saturday. Books may he retained 1 i days for the first 
 reading, 28 days for the second reading. Five cents fine 
 for each day^s detention over 14." When the book has 
 
374 Books and Heading. [Chap. xxii. 
 
 gone the round it should be sent to the librarian, and wlien 
 the company please to order it, the books can be disposed of 
 by lot or by sale. The volume from which these regula- 
 tions were copied is numbered 1481, and the club has ex- 
 isted for some thirty years. 
 
 An important impulse has been given to the establish^- 
 ment of libraries in connection with the increased interest 
 awakened in our Public Schools. In some of the states the 
 effort has been made to provide every school district with 
 a library which should not only be adapted to the wants 
 of those attending upon the schools but to the necessities 
 of the whole community. In the State of New York par- 
 ticularly, considerable appropriations have been made by 
 the legislature with the design of establishing libraries 
 '^ not so much for the benefit of children attending school, 
 as for those who have completed their common school edu- 
 cation. The main design was to throw into school dis- 
 tricts, and to place within reach of all the inhabitants, a 
 collection of good works on subjects calculated to enlarge 
 their understandings and store their minds with useful 
 knowledge.'^ The suggestion was very natural that the 
 school system which furnished elementary instruction for 
 the young might properly continue to minister light and 
 knowledge with the advancing years of successive school 
 generations. It was also believed that the money and organ- 
 ization required for the sustentatioa of a school might be 
 advantageously used for the support of a public library. 
 The plan has been tried with varying success. The ob- 
 jections are obvious. School teachers and school com- 
 mittees are not necessarily the most suitable trustees for 
 the management of a library for all classes of readers. 
 They would naturally be tempted to devote too large a 
 share of the library to books required by teachers 'and 
 adapted to young persons. In ordinary school distri(its 
 sa;ys a competent witness, " Experience proves that it is 
 
Chap, xxiio ^^^ Library. 373 
 
 impracticable to maintain libraries for general reading. 
 They are usually too feeble to awaken popular interest, or 
 claim proper care or protection. By uniting the interests 
 and resources of a whole town, suitable cases, room otr 
 building, and a responsible librarian are secured. Among 
 a dozen districts, each library grows diminutive, and at 
 length the books are scattered beyond recall." (Rev. B. G. 
 Northrop, School Report for Conn. 1868.) An experi- 
 ment made to establish public libraries in the State of 
 Rhode Island as an auxiliary to, but not as a part of the 
 public school system, was successful in every town except 
 four. It was backed by the liberal contributions of in- 
 dividuals, but its success was owing to the untiring zeal for 
 four years, 1846-1849, of the then school commissioner, 
 Hon. Henry Barnard. 
 
 Out of this movement for school libraries another has 
 grown into form, the establishment of free Town Libraries 
 by the action ()f the towns themselves. Its history is not 
 uninteresting. In 1847, Rev. Francis Wayland, doubtless 
 excited by the movement then in progress in Rhode Island, 
 tendered five hundred dollars to the town in Massachusetts 
 which bore his name, ^' on condition that its citizens should 
 secure an equal amount for a town librar}\" More than 
 the sura required was raised by subscription. But as 
 doubts were raised about the right of a town to tax its 
 inhabitants for a library building, Rev. John B. Wight, a 
 representative from the town in 1851, procured the enact- 
 ment of a law authorizing cities and towns to establish 
 and maintain public libraries. This has led to the forma- 
 tion and enlargement of many libraries, some of which have 
 been generously endowed by private munificence as well 
 as by public taxation. In not a few cities and villages 
 of several states the library is established in the aifec- 
 tions of the community. Not only is it generously sup- 
 ported, but the books which it contains are extensively 
 
376 Boohs and Reading. [Chap. xxil 
 
 used by a large number of the inhabitants. In Boston the 
 Public Library is pointed out to the visitor as the pride of 
 the city. In Springfield a handsome building has been 
 erected containing a valuable library, which is maintained 
 by the city and is free to all. In Stockbridge and Lenox, 
 buildings appropriate and substantial contain the village 
 libraries which private generosity and public taxation have 
 provided and sustained. In not a few of the cities and 
 large towns the name of some public-spirited citizen 
 or former resident is remembered by the library which is 
 called after his name. The name of Logan is thus honored 
 in Philadelphia, the name of Astor in New York, the name 
 of Watkinson in Hartford, of Bronson in Waterbury, of 
 Otis in Norwich and of Cheney in South Manchester, the 
 names of Jackson and Goodrich in Stockbridge, and the 
 name of Peahody in Danvers and Baltimore. There is 
 scarcely a village in the older settlements from which some 
 citizen has not gone forth who has acquired a fortune more 
 or less ample. If he would be honorably remembered 
 among the scenes of his childhood and youth he can ac- 
 complish his desire in no way so usefully as by erecting a 
 simple fire-proof building, and founding a village library. 
 We have already observed how hard it is for the student 
 to part from his books — and how painful the thought that 
 his library must be scattered. This can be avoided by giv- 
 ing one^s library to the collection of the parish or the town, 
 or by depositing it in the care of some public institution. 
 The learned library of the Mathers still remains in the 
 Antiquarian Hall at Worcester to testify to the learning 
 of its collectors and the lore of their times. The library 
 which Eev. Thomas Prince gathered with such pains and 
 expense for fifty years, was kept by the church of which he 
 was pastor for more than three quarters of a century, and 
 is now committed to the public library of Boston. A choice 
 library carefully collected by a country clergyman in New 
 
Chap. XXII.] The Library, 377 
 
 England was given by his widow to an infant university 
 in Oregon. 
 
 It will be thought, perhaps, that we ought not to over- 
 look the Sunday-School Library. We had designed to 
 speak of this and of juvenile literature in general, but the 
 subjects are too important to be disposed of in a chapter. 
 That children are over-stimulated with reading we do not 
 doubt. That the quality is often as objectionable as the 
 quantity of their books is no less clear to our minds. 
 We are equally well satisfied that the Sunday-School and 
 juvenile library too often take the place of the home 
 and the public library; and indeed, that children are 
 pampered to so great an excess that their appetite for good 
 reading is not infrequently ruined. It becomes of less con- 
 sequence that the supply of wholesome books for such 
 adults is often cut short by the expenditure required to 
 still the imperious cries of the young Olivers for " more.'' 
 
 The college and university library must not be left with- 
 out notice. We offer no argument for their utility. It is 
 self-evident that without a complete library no institution 
 of learning can attain the highest rank, or continue to at- 
 tract or educate scholars of finished culture. 
 
 We began these papers by introducing a savage to a 
 public library. We cannot more appropriately conclude 
 them than by imagining a thoughtful scholar to take his 
 place. The same objects meet the bodily eye, but very 
 different are the thoughts which the books awaken in the 
 soul that has been refined and enriched by the culture 
 which books impart. They recall the history and achieve- 
 ments of the forgotten past. Every volume suggests a 
 living author who thought and toiled in history, or spec- 
 ulation, or experiment ; in eloquence, or poetry, or fiction. 
 At the reading of the titles the scholar thinks of these 
 
378 Boohs and Beading. [Chap. xxii. 
 
 men as still living, then of the generation of men among 
 whom they labored, then of their honorable fame or their 
 deserved infamy, of their pure aspirations or their de- 
 basing passions, of their greatness or their meanness, of 
 their precious legacy of solid truth and quickening emo- 
 tions or of pernicious sophistry and vile suggestions. The 
 topic has been often treated of, but by no writer more 
 briefly and effectively than by Southey in the lines which 
 a house filled with books and a life devoted to reading 
 were fitted to inspire. 
 
 My days among the dead are past; 
 
 Around me I behold, 
 "Where'er these casual eyes are cast, 
 
 The mighty minds of old. 
 My never-failing friends are they, 
 With whom I converse day by day. 
 
 With them I take delight in weal. 
 
 And seek relief in woe ; 
 And while I understand and feel 
 
 How much to them I owe, 
 My cheeks have often been bedew*d 
 With tears of thoughtful gratitude. 
 
 My thoughts are with the dead; with them 
 
 I live in long-past years ; 
 Their virtues love, their faults condemn. 
 
 Partake their hopes and fears ; , 
 
 And from their lessons seek and find 
 Instruction with an humble mind. -^ 
 
 My hopes are with the dead : anon 
 
 My place with them will be, 
 And I with them shall travel on 
 
 Through all Futurity : 
 Yet leaving here a name, I tras^ 
 That will not perish in the dust. 
 
INDEX. 
 
 Albbott, History of Austria, 178 ; Histo- 
 ry of Russsia, 178. 
 
 Adams, Samuel, life of, 200. 
 
 Adams, W., on ethics, 315. 
 
 Addison, J., critical papers, 293. 
 
 Advice respecting books and reading, 
 desired by many classes, 6, 7; value 
 of, 7, 13, 14 ; liow minutely can it be 
 given ? 8 ; often deemed impertinent 
 and unwelcome, 13. 
 
 Agassiz, L., on classification and other 
 works, 304, 305, 306, 307. 
 
 Agriculture, etc., works on, 307, 308. 
 
 Aids to faith, 334. 
 
 Alford, H., the Queen's English, 301; 
 how to study the New Testament, 337. 
 
 Alexander of Macedon, life of, 198. 
 
 Alexander, A., Moral philosophy, 315. 
 
 Alexander, W. L., Christ and Christiani- 
 ty, 334. 
 
 Alison, history of Europe, 179 ; on taste, 
 299. 
 
 Allen, R. L., domestic animals, 308. 
 
 AUston, Ufe of, 204. 
 
 American history, 189-192 ; political 
 writers, 191-192 ; Revolution, history 
 of, 192; poets of the Modern school, 
 263; critics, of the Old school and 
 New, 298. 
 
 Anacharsis, Travels in Greece, 170. 
 
 Aualectic magazine, 341. 
 
 Ancient poets, singular purity of the 
 best, 94; history, works on, 167 ; lite- 
 rature, history of, 172, '3. 
 
 Angus, hand-book and specimens of Eng- 
 lish literature, 293. 
 
 Andrews, S. J., Life of our Lord, 338. 
 
 Andrew Marvel, 44. 
 
 Antichristian literature, extent of its in- 
 fluence, 122, '3 ; its prospects, 124, 
 
 Antoninus, M., 312. 
 
 Aristophanes' representation of Socrateg, 
 55 ; translation of, 172. 
 
 Aristotle, translations from, 172. 
 
 Arnold, Matthew, grand style in poetry, 
 242; definition of poetry, 245; on 
 creative literary genius, 275 ; his cri- 
 tical works, 297. 
 
 Arnold, Thomas, 24, 32 ; remarks on 
 Christ's place in the mind of a Chris- 
 tian critic, 122 ; history of Rome, cri* 
 tical, 132 ; on the Christiau miracles, 
 
 and Strauss, 135 ; a Christian historian, 
 146 ; his history of Rome, etc., charac« 
 terized, 171; his lectures on modern 
 history, 193; the life of, 208, '9, 213; 
 sermons on the Christian life, 339. 
 
 Arnold, T., 2d, manual of English litera> 
 ture, 293. 
 
 Allibone, Critical dictionary, etc., 292. 
 
 Anti-Christian literature, 122, 123. 
 
 Arbor's reprints, 292. 
 
 Arkwright, life of, 204. 
 
 Argyll, duke of. The reign of law, 334* 
 
 Art and architecture, works on, 299, 300. 
 
 Ascham, R., the schoolmaster, etc., 320. 
 
 Atheist, the ancient compared with the 
 modem, 109, '10. 
 
 Attention in reading, chapter on III., 28- 
 36 ; first and foremost rule, 31 ; should 
 not be applied with uniform intensity, 
 32; great energy at times of, 32, 33; evils 
 of neglecting, 33 ; rules for enforcing, 
 34; dependent on excited interest,36, 38. 
 
 Augustine, Confessions of, 339. 
 
 Auerbach, pictures of German life, 236. 
 
 Austin, J., on jurisprudence, 316. 
 
 Author, brought into communication 
 with the reader, 20; in his best or 
 worst condition, 21, '2 ; the spirit and 
 influence of, lives after death, 22 ; who 
 writes to amuse, 26; his indirect influ- 
 ence important to be considered, 27; 
 relation of the reader to, chapter on 
 V, 48—62. 
 
 Autobiographies, 210 ; of du Barri, Cel- 
 lini, Franklin, Gibbon, Lord Herbert, 
 Hume, Vidocq, Voltaire, Wolf Tone, 
 211 ; a collection of, 212. • 
 
 Babbage, C, ninth Bridgewater treatise, 
 333. 
 
 Bacon, Lord, on studies, 10 ; referred to, 
 20 ; his estimation of the imagination, 
 75 ; life of, 199 ; on poetry, 259 ; essays 
 (Whately's edition), 319 ; his estimate 
 of Theology, 322. 
 
 Bad scenes and characters must some- 
 times be described, 95. 
 
 Bagehot, W., English constitution, 367. 
 
 Baillie, J., poetry, 263. 
 
 Bain, A., phil. works, 313 ; psychology, 
 313 ; on ethics, 315. 
 
 Balzac, pictures French life, 235. 
 
 379 
 
380 
 
 Index, 
 
 Bancroft, G., 24; his indirect influence, 
 68 ; exaggerating style of, 130 ; parti- 
 san liabit of, 130 ; sometimes romances 
 in history, 162 ; defects of his history, 
 190. 
 
 Barnum, S. W., Bible Dictionary, 337. 
 
 Barnes, A., Evidences of Christianity, 
 etc., 335. 
 
 Bascom, J., Psychology, 313. 
 
 Bastiat, F., on pol. economy, 318. 
 
 Barrow, 20. 
 
 Baxter, R,, 20 ; his life and times, 184; 
 his saint's rest, 339. 
 
 Bayard series, the, 292. 
 
 Bayne, P., essays, 321. 
 
 Beadle's dime novels, 222. 
 
 Beard, J. R., Voices of the church, 334. 
 
 Becker, W. A., Charicles, 170; Gallus, 
 171. 
 
 Beecher, H. W., 63; his life thoughts, 
 etc., 321 ; on home library, 367. 
 
 Beecher, L., life of, 208. 
 
 Belial, Milton's, 78. 
 
 Bell, Sir Charles, life of, 203, 204 ; writ- 
 ings of, 305. 
 
 Ben Jonson and Shakspeare, encounters 
 between, 278. 
 
 Bemis, on International questions, 318. 
 
 Benton, T. H., Thirty years' view, 191, 
 317 ; abridgement of debates, 192 ; life 
 of, 201. 
 
 Bentham, J., on ethics, 315. 
 
 Berkeley, G., phil. works, 313 ; his min- 
 ute philosopher, 334. 
 
 Bernard, M., on British neutrality, 318. 
 
 Bible, the study of, 335, 338. 
 
 Bibliomaniac, the, 367. 
 
 Biographical dictionaries, 217; Lip pin* 
 cott's, 217 ; Hole's brief, 217; Wheeler, 
 editor of, 217 ; Thomas's, 217. 
 
 Biographia literaria, its influence, 295. 
 
 Biographical value of works of Shak- 
 speare, Milton, Cowper, Wordsworth, 
 Byron, Shelley, Tennyson, 284. 
 
 Biographies of Englishmen vehich are 
 historical, 189. 
 
 Biography, (and biographical reading), 
 chapter on, XIV., 195-217; relations to 
 history, 195 ; may be considered in two 
 relations, 195 ; is unattractive to many 
 persons, 195 ; reasons why, 196; differ- 
 ent classes of, 196-204 ; biographies of 
 incident and adventure, 19G-198; of 
 great generals and captains, 198; of 
 historical personages, 198-9 ; of great 
 statesmen, etc., 199-201 ; of great re- 
 formers, 201-202; of self-made men, 
 202-204; biography interesting to 
 those who analyze the character, 
 205 ; psychological, 206 ; interesting to 
 a limited class of readers, 207 ; over- 
 done sometimes, 207 ; made up of dia- 
 ries and letters, 208-9 ; of men of sci- 
 ence and letters, 209-210; autobiog- 
 raphies, 210-212; B. attractive, 212; 
 ethically profitable, 212-213; even of 
 bad men, 214 ; should be liberally read, 
 214 ; two rules for selection of, 215 ; 
 lumbering and indiscriminate, 216, 
 217; lines on, 217. 
 
 Blackstone's Commentaries, 316. 
 
 Blackwood's magazine described, 69; 
 its influence on the principles, 69; 
 
 language on indecency of modern wri- 
 ters, 92 ; referred to, 296, 343. 
 
 Blakey, R., Hist, of moral science, 314. 
 
 Blacksmith, the learned, life of, 204. 
 
 Bledsoe, A. T., Theodicy, 334. 
 
 Blunt, J.J., Undesigned coincidences,335. 
 
 Boeckh, A., Public economy of Athens, 
 
 Bohemian, the, not earnest, 26 ; of the 
 modern newspaper, 354-5. 
 
 Bronte, C, life of, 208. 
 
 Brougham, life of, 200. 
 
 Bolingbroke on the study of history, 193. 
 
 Book, influence of one, 4, 6. 
 
 Book^ what it is, chapter on II, 18-27 ; 
 dennition of, 18; importance of defini- 
 tion, 27 ; if stupid worse than a stupid 
 man, 50 ; if diflicult, none the lees 
 valuable, 57 ; if bad religiously may be 
 worse than a bad man, 103 ; though 
 irreligious must often be read, 104. 
 
 Book borrower, the, 366. 
 
 Book clubs, see library. 
 
 Book collector, the, 367. 
 
 Book farming, 307. 
 
 Book stealer, the, 366. 
 
 Books inexplicable to a savage, 2, 3 ; mul- 
 tiplication of, 6 ; fewness of in other 
 times, 5 ; classes of, can be described, 9 ; 
 carelessness concerning the quality of, 
 19 ; always written by men, 19 ; repre- 
 sent the best or worst parts of an au- 
 thor, 21, 22 ; in every case, 23 ; should 
 be read first which supply a want, 38 ; 
 and relate to our business or profes- 
 sion, 39; that amuse are often useful, 
 49 ; that give us nothing are worthless, 
 49 ; often are worse, 50 ; moral influ- 
 ence of chapter on VII., 72-80 ; tested 
 by Southey's rule, 72, 73. 
 
 Books on the English language, 301. 
 
 Books on ethics, 314. 
 
 Books on the Fine Arts, 299, 300. 
 
 Books on the history and criticism of 
 English literature, 292, 299. 
 
 Books on Moral Philosophy, 314. 
 
 Books on Philology, 301-2. 
 
 Books on Physiology, 313. 
 
 Books, Religious, good, 324; goodish, 
 325; good for nothing, 326; worse 
 than nothing, 326. 
 
 Books of science and duty, chapter on 
 XIX., 303-321; how far treated, 303; on 
 natural science, 303-306 ; natural his- 
 tory, 306-7; agriculture, 307-8; psy- 
 chology, philosophy, and ethics, 308- 
 315; on speculative philosophy, 308- 
 314 ; on veg. physiology, 314 ; politics 
 and jurisprudence, 315-318; political 
 economy, 318; minor and social mor- 
 als, 318-321. 
 
 Books and reading as a theme, 5; increas- 
 ing influence of, 5 ; their influence on 
 the opinions and principles, chapter 
 on VI, 62-71 ; when avowed, 62, 63 ; 
 cautions concerning, 63; when indi- 
 rect and unconscious, 64 ; illustrated 
 by Gibbon's history, 64-67 ; by Hume's 
 history, 67, '8 ; by Bancroft and Hil- 
 dreth, 68, '9 ; by Blackwood's Maga- 
 zine and the Westminster Review, 69, 
 70 ; by Carlyle, 0. W. Holmes, Emer- 
 son, Hawthorne and Thcrcau, 70 ; the 
 
Index, 
 
 381 
 
 moral Influence of, chapter on VIT, 72- 
 80 ; their religious character and in- 
 fluence, chapter on IX, 101 — '10. 
 
 Boston lectures, 335. 
 
 Botta, history Am. Revolution, 192. 
 
 Bowen, F., as critic, 298 ; his Essays, 
 313 ; his Political Economy, 318 ; his 
 Lowell lectures, 334. 
 
 Bovd, A. H., Miscellanies, 321. 
 
 Brace, C. L., Races of the Old World, 
 167. 
 
 Bremer's (Miss) novels, picture Swedish 
 life, 234. 
 
 Bridgewater Treatises, the, 333. 
 
 British Essayists, 320. 
 
 Brougham, Lord, as critic, 294 ; Natural 
 Theology, 334. 
 
 Brown, John, life of, 202. 
 
 Brown, John, Spare Hours, 298, 320. 
 
 Brown, T., Philosophical Works, 313; 
 psychology, 313. 
 
 Browne, Sir Thos., quotation from, 85 ; 
 Essays, 320, 
 
 Browne, R. W., translation of Nicoma- 
 chean ethics, 312. 
 
 Browning, Mrs. E. B., lines about read- 
 ing, 52 ; a favorite, 53 ; her poetry, 253. 
 
 Brownson, 0. A., as critic, 298, '9. 
 
 Bryce, J., the Holy Roman empire, 176. 
 
 Buchanan, J., History of administration, 
 192, 317. 
 
 Buchanan, Rev.Dr., modern atheism, 333. 
 
 Buxton, T. F., life of, 202, '8, '9, '13. 
 
 Buckle, a necessitarian in history, 141 ; 
 his philosophy of history, 193. 
 
 Bulwer, E. L , expresses his own personal 
 thoughts and feelings, 25, 53; moral 
 influence of, 81, 87 ; Athens, etc., 170 ; 
 Rienzi, 177 ; last of the Barons, 187 ; 
 his novels picture English society, 234. 
 
 Bungener, Preacher and king, 179. 
 
 Buonaparte, Nap., life of, 197, '8. 
 
 Burke, Edmund, report concerning hia 
 attention in reading, 32; reflections, 
 179 ; history of European settlements, 
 190; life of, 200; on the sublime and 
 beautiful, 299; reflections on the 
 French revolution, 317. 
 
 Bunsen, life of, 208. 
 
 Bunyan, life of, 207. 
 
 Burnett, the prize essays on theism, 333. 
 
 Burnett, G., unconsciously partisan, 130 ; 
 history of his own time, 184. 
 
 Burns, Robert, 77 ; how esteemed by his 
 countrymen, 80; moral influence of, 
 81 ; life of, 208 ; his poetry and his 
 times, 263. 
 
 Burr, Aaron, life of, 201. 
 
 Burr, E. F., Ecce Coelum, 306, '34. 
 
 Burr, F., Field and garden vegetables, 
 308. 
 
 Burleigh, life of, 199. 
 
 Burton, diary of, 44, 186. 
 
 Bushnell, H., Work and play, etc., 321 ; 
 Nature and the Supernatural, 334; his 
 B3rmons, 339. 
 
 Butler, Charles, a saying of, 52, '3. 
 
 Butler, Hudibras, 18*4. 
 
 Butler, J., Analogy, 334. 
 Butler, W. A., History of ancient philo- 
 sophy, 311. 
 Buxton, T. F., anecdote of Sir E. Sug- 
 den, 86 ; a reformer, 202. 
 
 Byron, expresses his personal thoughts 
 and feelings, 25, 53 ; moral influence of, 
 81 ; representation of Lucifer, 84 ; his 
 Manfred contrasted with Hamlet, 85-6; 
 F. D. Maurice on, 87 ; freedom of allu- 
 sions in, 89 ; relation to the Lake Poets, 
 263 ; poetry and his times, 268. 
 
 Calcott, Mrs., History of Spain, 177. 
 
 Calderwood, H., Phil, of the Infinite, 313, 
 337. 
 
 Calhoun, J. C, life of, 201 ; on govern- 
 ment, 316 ; writings and speeches of, 
 317. 
 
 Cambridge Essays, 298. 
 
 Campbell's poetry and his times, 263. 
 
 Canterbury Tales, 251, 286. 
 
 Carey, H. C, on political economy, 318. 
 
 Carlen's, Miss, novels picture Swedish 
 life, 234. 
 
 Carlyle, T., on the choice of books, 10, 
 53 ; his influence on the principles, 70 ; 
 romances in history, 162 ; Frederic the 
 Great, 178; French Revolution, 178 ; on 
 Cromwell, 184 ; on Ileyne's Virgil, 274 ; 
 as critic, 296 ; essays, 320. 
 
 Carpenter, W. B., Physiologies, 314. 
 
 Castle of Otranto, 47. 
 
 Catalogue of good books not easily given, 
 8 ; furnished by Dr. Johnson, 9, 10 ; by 
 two New England clergymen, 11, 12. 
 
 Chalmers, T., life of, 208, 334 ; Nat. the- 
 ology, 334; his Christianity an argu- 
 ment, 334. 
 
 Cesars, the lives of, 198. 
 
 Chalybaus, H. M., philosophy from Kant 
 to Hegel, 311. 
 
 Chambers' Encyclopedia of English liter- 
 ature, 292. 
 
 Channing, W. E., essays, 320; his evi- 
 dences of Christianity, 334. 
 
 Charlemagne, life of, 198. 
 
 Charles, Mrs,, English historical novel% 
 188. 
 
 Charles I., life of, 199, 
 
 Charles V., life of, 199. 
 
 Charles XII., life of, 197. 
 
 Chatham, life of, 200. 
 
 Chaucer, the age of, characterized, 261, 
 285. 
 
 Chevy Chase, sample of early history, 
 126. 
 
 Children, their deference for books, 18. 
 
 Christ has the right to regulate our read- 
 ing, 104 ; has influenced the greatest of 
 poets and novelists, 105 ; his commands 
 liberal but uncompromising, 106 ; posi- 
 tive faith in his person not yet died 
 out, 116; must be reverenced if the 
 literature is Christian, 117 ; emphasis 
 of his personality not ceased, 117 ; 
 pictured in his words, 281 ; the imita- 
 tion of, 339. 
 
 Christus consolator and Christus re- 
 demptor, illustrate Christ's place in 
 literature, 118. 
 
 Christian ethics should pervade Christian 
 literature, 115; evidences, the books on, 
 334-5; historians, examples of, 141; 
 literature misconceived, 16; antirf- 
 
3S2 
 
 Index. 
 
 pated, 100; how conceived and defined, 
 chapter on X., 111-124 ; involves two 
 questions,- 111 ; what it is not, 111-114 ; 
 not necessarily theological, but may 
 be, 111, 112; does not include all doc- 
 trinal writing, 112 ; usually not secta- 
 rian, 113, 114; need not be formally 
 religious, 114; what it should be, 114- 
 117; must be controlled by Christian 
 ethics, 114, 115 ; must have faith in 
 Christ's person, 116; must reverence 
 Him, 117 ; these criteria reasonable, 
 118 ; historically just, 119 ; not intoler- 
 ant, 120 ; not discourteous, 121 ; not 
 proscriptive, 121 ; antichristian lit., the 
 extent of its infldience, 122, 123. 
 
 Christianity not r<»8ponsible for doggerel 
 and drivelling, 113; more than an 
 ethical system, 116 ; Histories of, 173-4. 
 
 Church History for Sunday reading, 339. 
 
 Cicero, letters of, 171 ; phil. works of, 
 translated, 312. 
 
 Civil war in America, works on, 192. 
 
 Clay, speeches of, 192 ; life of, 201. 
 
 Clarendon, history of the rebellion, 183. 
 
 Clarke, J. F., Steps of belief, 334. 
 
 Cleveland, C. D., Manuals of English 
 literature, 298. 
 
 Cobbe, F. P., on ethics, 315. 
 
 Clinton, Dewitt, life of, 201. 
 
 Cobbett, W., miscellanies, 320. 
 
 Clive, Lord, life of, 198. 
 
 Cocker, B. F., Christianity and Greek 
 philosophy, 312. 
 
 Cobden, life of, 200. 
 
 Coleridge, Hartley, as critic, 296; his 
 essays, 320. 
 
 Coleridge, S. T., criticisms, 10: cannot 
 hide his feelings, 26, 53 ; his descrip- 
 tion of novel reading, 238 ; his prose 
 poetic, 244 ; on poetry, 260 ; as critic, 
 295 ; essays, 320 ; aids to reflection, 334. 
 
 Collier, earlier English literature, 292. 
 
 Colton, C. C, essays, 320. 
 
 Colman, H., European life and manners, 
 199. 
 
 Commonplace, danger of, 9, 12, 13. 
 
 Comus, Milton's, 79. 
 
 Conant, H. C, History of the Eng. Bible, 
 337. 
 
 Coningtou's Virgil, 173. 
 
 Conybeare and Howson, Life, etc , of St. 
 Paul, 338. 
 
 Cooke, J. P., Religion and chemistry, 
 306. 
 
 Cordelia, Shakspeare's, 79. 
 
 Compromise between literary taste and 
 Christiiin principle, 107. 
 
 Country Parson, the, miscellanies, 321. 
 
 Course of reading, a, is a picture of the 
 times, 11. 
 
 Courses of reading, defects of, 10. 
 Cousin, lectures on Locke, 312. 
 Cowper, W., 77 ; effect of the reading 
 of, 249 ; his poetry and his times, 263. 
 Cox, G. W., mythological treatises, 172. 
 Coxe, History of the house of Austria, 
 
 178. 
 Crabbe's poetry and his times, 263. 
 Craik, History of English literature, 292. 
 Creasy, E. S., English constitution, 307. 
 Critical books on single writers, 265. 
 Critical method in history shaped by 
 
 Niebuhr, 131, '2 ; followed by Arnold 
 and Grote, 132 ; judges wisely of the 
 ancients, 133 ; defends the supernatu' 
 ral, 134. 
 
 Criticism of English literature, books 
 on, 292 — 299 ; and history of litera- 
 ture, chapter on XVII, 265—283 ; a 
 special depai'tment, 265 ; the new — 
 see New criticism ; of English litera- 
 ture, chapter on XVIII, 285 — 302 ; has 
 an admirable field, 285 ; by the lan- 
 guage and the lite of the peoi)le, 285, 
 '6 ; in the time of Chaucer, 286 ; in 
 the age of Shakspeare and the drama- 
 tists, 287; in the age of Milton, etc .288 ; 
 ofDryden,288; of Pope, 289 ; of John- 
 son, etc., 289; of the French revolu- 
 tion, 289, '90 ; of Byron and the lakers, 
 291 ; appliances for the study of, 291 — 
 299; of art, 299—306. 
 
 Critics, distinguished modern, 265 ; of 
 Shakspeare, 277 ; sometimes overdo, 
 277, '8 ; but always stimulating, 278. 
 
 Croly, G., Salathiel, 174. 
 
 Cromwell, life of, 199. 
 
 Cudworth, R., Eternal Morality, 815. 
 
 Cumberland, R., De legibus naturae, 315. 
 
 Curtis, G. T., origin of the constitution, 
 191, 316. 
 
 Curtius, E., manual history of Greece, 
 170. 
 
 Dalton, the chemist, life of, 204. 
 Dalton, E. C, physiology, 314. 
 Dallas, E. S., his gay science, 298. 
 Dana's household-book of poetry, 257. 
 Dana's, J. D., manuals in nat. history, 
 
 306. 
 Dante, expresses his personal thoughts 
 
 and feelings, 25. 
 Dandy, Noah Webster's definition of, 24. 
 Darlington, Am. weeds, etc., 307. 
 Darwin, C, origin of species, 314, 
 Dates of history, how instructive, 150. 
 Davy, Sir H., life of, 204 ; Salmonia, etc., 
 
 320. 
 Day, H. N., Introduction to English lite- 
 rature, 293. 
 D'Aubigne, history of the Reformation, 
 
 176. 
 De Foe, D., political and other essays, 
 
 320. 
 De Imitatione Christi, 112. 
 D'Israeli's Critical and Miscellaneous 
 
 works, 296. 
 De Lolme, J. L., English constitution, 
 
 317. 
 Dennie, J., essays, 320. 
 De Pressens6's, Jesus Christ, etc., 338. 
 De Quincey, T., as critic, 296 ; essays, 
 
 320. 
 Descartes, R., Meditations, etc., 312. 
 Desdemona, Shakspeare's, 79. 
 De Retz, memoirs of, 179. 
 De Stael, Mad., French Revolution, 180. 
 De Tocqueville, Democracy in America, 
 
 316. 
 De Vere, Scheie, Studies in English, SOI. 
 D(?votional works, not always literature, 
 
 112 ; devotional books and reading, 
 
 338. '9. 
 
Index, 
 
 383 
 
 Dickens, C^ 21, 53; cannot hide his feel- 
 ings, 25; ethical truth of, 88; influ- 
 ence on his readers, 230 ; his novels 
 picture English society, 234. 
 
 Dictionary, a, represents the feelings of 
 its author, 28 ; the English, uses of, 
 302. 
 
 Doctrinal novels, 95, 225. 
 
 Doctor, the, extract from, 72, '3. 
 
 Dodsley's annual register, 188, 294. 
 
 Doggerel, religious, not to be imputed 
 to Christianity, 113. 
 
 Douglass, Jfred., life of, 197. 
 
 Downing, A. J., landscape gardening, 
 308. 
 
 Dublin afternoon lectures, 297. 
 
 Dunlap, arts of design in the U. S., 300. 
 
 Dumas, pictures French life, 235. 
 
 Dunlop, History of Roman literature, 
 173. 
 
 Dutch history, works on, 178. 
 
 Duty, books on, 314. 
 
 Duykinck, cyclopedia of American lite- 
 rature, 292. 
 
 Drake, N., critical works, 296. 
 
 Di-amatist, the, expresses his own opin- 
 ions and feelings, 24. 
 
 Draper, W., a physiological historian, 
 140, '1 ; his philosophy of history, 193; 
 his physiology, 314. 
 
 Drivelling, religious, not chargeable to 
 Christianity, 113. 
 
 Dryasdust, Dr., astonishes a savage, 3 ; 
 blessings on, 165. 
 
 Dryden, J., 44 ; poetry of his time, 262, 
 268 ; as critic, 266. 
 
 Dwight, B. W., modern philology, 301. 
 
 Dwight, T., history of the Hartford con- 
 vention, 191 ; on JefiVrson and the 
 Hartford convention, 317. 
 
 Eastlake, C. L., on the Fine arts, 300. 
 
 Ecce Homo, 334. 
 
 Edinburgh Essays, 298; Review, 341, 
 343, '4. 
 
 Edwards, Jonathan, on ethics. 315. 
 
 Egyptian history, works on, 167, '8. 
 
 Eliot, George, 21, 53 ; cannot hide his 
 feelings, 25 ; Dinah, 118, '19 ; Romola, 
 177 ; influence on his readers, 230 ; 
 novels picture English society, 234. 
 
 Eliot, J., debates on the constitution, 
 316. 
 
 Ellen, ladv, Scott's, 80. 
 
 Elliot, Sir John, life of, 200. 
 
 Ellis, G., as critic, 298. 
 
 Ellis, Mrs., essays, 320. 
 
 Elizabeth, Queen, life of, 199; ago of, 
 2S7. 
 
 Emersop, G. B., forests and shrubs of 
 Mass., 306. 
 
 Emerson, K W., on books, 10 ; his in- 
 fluence on the opinions, 70 ; alleged 
 pantheism compared with that of tlio 
 ancients, 108: estimate of Christ's 
 Personality, 117, '8, '9; Conduct of 
 Life, and other works, 321. 
 
 Emotion in religion, not always favor- 
 able to thought, 323. 
 
 England, its history and career deter- 
 
 mined by its geographical position, 
 155, '6 ; histories of, 180-189. 
 
 English history, importance and in- 
 terest of, 180, '1 ; books on, 180—189: 
 poets of the modern school, 263 ; lan- 
 guage and its literature, 285 ; people 
 and life, 285, '6 ; literature, books on, 
 292 — 299; humorists, Thackeray's, 296; 
 language, the books on, 301; gram- 
 mars, 301 ; use of, 302. 
 
 Englishmen whose biographies are his- 
 torical, 189. 
 
 Epicureanism, modern, in literature, 123. 
 
 Epictetus, 312. 
 
 Erckmann-Chatrian, novels, 162, 179. 
 
 Errand boy at a book-stall, 34. 
 
 Erskine, T., internal evidence, 334. 
 
 Essayists, the British, 320. 
 
 Essays, moral and social, etc., 318—321. 
 
 Esse^, life of, 199. 
 
 Ethics, books on, 314. 
 
 Ethics, Christian, pervade and control 
 Christian literature, 114, '5 ; are dis- 
 tinguished from Pagan ethics, 115. 
 
 Ethical value of biography, 212. 
 
 Eugene, Prince, life of, 198. 
 
 Eugene Sue, pictures French life, 235. 
 
 Euler, L., letters on natural philosophy, 
 306. 
 
 Eustace, J. C, classical tour in Italy, 171. 
 
 Evelyn, diary of, 44, 164, 184. 
 
 Everetts, the, as critics, 298. 
 
 Evidences of Christianity, books on, 
 334, '5. 
 
 Ewald, history of the people of Israel, 
 168. 
 
 Excise, Johnson's, definition of, 23. 
 
 Fairbairn, P., Bible-dictionary, 337. 
 
 F'airchild, J. U., moi-al philosophy, 315. 
 
 Faraday, M., life of, 204 ; writings of; 
 305. 
 
 Falkland, Lord, Ufe of, 200. 
 
 Farmer, the, his interest in books of 
 agriculture, 40. 
 
 Farrar, A. S., Science and Theology, 334; 
 critical history of Free Thought, 335. 
 
 Farrar, F. W., on language, 301. 
 
 Faith, religious, should be founded on 
 reason, 102. 
 
 Ferrier, J. F., Institutes of Metaphj'sics, 
 313. 
 
 Fawcett, H., on political economy, 318. 
 
 Federalist, the, 316. 
 
 Feltham, 0., Essays, 320. 
 
 Felton, C. J., Greece, ancient and mod- 
 ern, 170. 
 
 Ferguson, life of, 204. 
 
 Fei-guson, J., history of architecture, 300. 
 
 Fichte, J. G., phil. treatises, 313. 
 
 Fiction, reading of proscribed by many, 
 73; unwisely, 74; defended as inno- 
 cent and positively useful, 74 — 80; 
 (prose) of recent origin, 219 ; new era, 
 of. 219 ; rapid growth of, 219, '20. 
 
 Figuier, the library of wonders, 307. 
 
 Filthy novels, 225. 
 
 Fine arts, books on, 299. 300. 
 
 Finlay, G., books on ancient and modem 
 Greece, 171. 
 
384 
 
 Index, 
 
 Fisher, G. P., on supernatural Christian- 
 ity, 334. 
 
 Five centuries of English literature, 292. 
 
 Fleming, W., Manual moral phil., 315. 
 
 Flint, C. L., grasses and forage plants, 
 307 ; milch cows, etc., 308. 
 
 Forsyth, W., life of Cicero, 171. 
 
 Foster, J., lite of, 208 ; essays, 320. 
 
 Founders of libraries — see library. 
 
 Forbes, Edward, life of, 20i. 
 
 Fowler, T., Inductive logic, 304. 
 
 Fowler, W. C, English grammar, 301. 
 
 Fox, C. J., James II, 18.5 ; life of, 200. 
 
 Fox, George, life of, 202. 
 
 Franklin, B., read with interest, 42 ; life 
 of, 201, '3, '4 ; his essays, 320 ; hia in- 
 terest in libraries, 371. 
 
 Francis I., life of, 199. 
 
 Frederick the Great, life of, 198, '9. 
 
 Freeman, Norman conquest, 187. 
 
 Frere, J. II., translation of Aristophanes, 
 172. ' 
 
 French history, 179, '80. 
 
 French revolution, histories and tracts, 
 179, '80. 
 
 Freytag, pictures German life, 235. 
 
 Frithiof s saga, 126. 
 
 Froude, A., 24 ; believes in human free- 
 dom, 141 ; sometimes romances in 
 history, 162 ; history, merits of, 183 ; 
 short studies, etc., 321. 
 
 Fuller, A. S., small fruit culturist, 308. 
 
 Fuller, Thos., account of Shakspeare and 
 Ben Jonson, 278 ; essays, 320. 
 
 Fuller, Margaret, life of, 208. 
 
 Fuseli, sculptors and architects, 299. 
 
 Fulton, life of, 204. 
 
 G. 
 
 Gainsborough, life of, 204. 
 
 GaskelFs (Mrs.) novels, pictures English 
 society, 234. 
 
 Geijer, history of the Swedes, 178. 
 
 Geography, its importance to history, 
 153, '4 ; to the philosophy of history, 
 154. 
 
 Gentleman's magazine, etc., 294. 
 
 German history, woiks on, 178. 
 
 German critics, influence in England, 295 
 
 George III., life of, 199. 
 
 Gibbon, E., 24, 32 ; his histojry charac- 
 terized, 64, '5 ; its influence on the 
 principles, 65, '6, '7 ; partisan, 130 ; 
 captain of Hants militia, 158 ; decline 
 and fall, etc., 174, '5; annotated edi- 
 tions, 174 ; abridgement of, 174. 
 
 Gladstone, W. E., Juventus Mundi, 172. 
 
 Godwin, history of England, 183. 
 
 Goethe, expresses his personal thoughts 
 and feelings, 25; moral influence of, 
 81 ; Faust, the devil in, 85 ; his confes- 
 sions of a beautiful soul, 118 ; on Ham- 
 let, 276 ; as critic, 296. 
 
 Golden treasury, by Palgrave, 257. 
 
 Goldwin Smith— see Smith. 
 
 Good books, how defined, 324; signs of, 
 330—333; individual, 330; free from 
 cant, ;W1 ; stimulating. 332. 
 
 Goodish books, how defined, 325. 
 
 Goodrich's British elotjuence, 186. 
 
 Qoodjrear, life of, 204. 
 
 Gould, E. S., Good English, 301. 
 
 Gould, A. A., manual in nat. history, 306 
 
 Grammars, English, 301. 
 
 Grammont, memoirs of, 184. 
 
 Grandison, Charles, 219. 
 
 Grant, Gen'l, life of, 198 
 
 Grattan, history of the Netherlands, 178. 
 
 Gray, A., manuals in nat. history, 306 ; 
 field, garden and forest botany, 307 ; 
 how plants grow, 314. 
 
 Gregory, 0., Evidences of revealed reli- 
 gion, 335. 
 
 Greece and Greek history, works on, 169 
 —171. 
 
 Greeks, the ancient, can be found only 
 in their literature, 278, '9. 
 
 Greeley, H., American conflict, 192 ; his 
 autobiography, 204. 
 
 Greene, G. W., Lectures on the middle 
 ages, 17 ; lectures on the American 
 Revolution, 192. 
 
 Griffith Gaunt contrasted with Peg 
 Wofflngton, 93. 
 
 Grindon, H. L., plant-life, 314. 
 
 Grossness of language in older writers 
 explained by F. W. Newman, 91, '2 ; 
 in modern writers partially excused 
 and explained, 93. 
 
 Grote, G., 32 ; history of Greece, how 
 read by a lady, 45 ; history of Greece 
 critical, 132 ; characterized. 170 ; ana- 
 lysis of Plato's writings, 172 ; on So- 
 crates and Plato, 311. 
 
 Guesses at Truth. 298. 
 
 Gustavus Adolphus, life of, 198. 
 
 Guizot, HistOKy of civilization in Europe, 
 176 ; history of civilization in France, 
 179; Revolution of 1648; on Cromwell ; 
 on Monk, 185 ; on English revolutions, 
 317. 
 
 Guyot, A., Earth and man, 157. ' 
 
 H. 
 
 Hallam, H., middle ages and literature 
 of Europe, 176 ; constitutional histo- 
 ry of England, 185; introduction to 
 literature of Europe. 293. 
 
 Hamilton, A., life of, 201. 
 
 Hamilton, Sir Wm., phil. works; psy- 
 chology, 313. 
 
 Hamilton, J. A., reminiscences, 317. 
 
 Hamlet, Shakspeare's, 79 ; contrasted 
 with Byron's Manfred, 85, '6 ; inter- 
 preted by Goethe, 276. 
 
 Hampden, John, life of, 200. 
 
 Hansard, debates, 186. 
 
 Hardwick, C, Christ and other mastei-s, 
 338. 
 
 Hare, C. J. (and A.), Guesses at Truth, 
 320 ; preservation of his library, 306. 
 
 Harleian miscellany, 186. 
 
 Harris, T. W., insects of Mass., 306 — 
 308 ; on the pig, 308. 
 
 Hartley, D., on man, 313. 
 
 Harvard biographies, 198. 
 
 Havelock, Gen'l, life of, 198. 
 
 Haven, J., psychology, 313 ; moral phil- 
 osophy, 315. 
 
 Hawthorne, N., 53; his influence on the 
 opinions, 70 ; power over his readers, 
 230. 
 
Index, 
 
 385 
 
 Haydon, life of, 204. 
 
 Hazlitt's critical essays, 10; as critic, 
 296; essays, 320. 
 
 Hickock, L. P., psychology, 313 ; moral 
 philosophy, 315. 
 
 Hildreth, R., 21; his influence on the 
 principles, 69 ; more or less partisan, 
 130; his history characterized, 190. 
 
 Hired lad, reads with interest, 34. 
 
 Historic sense, the, 138, '9 ; imagina- 
 tion, the, 138, '39. 
 
 Historical maps, 153 ; plays, poems and 
 novels, 160 ; sometimes partisan, 161 ; 
 dangers of, 161 ; reading a course of, 
 chapter on XIII, 166-194 ; personages, 
 lives of, 198, '9. 
 
 Histories of special interest, as commerce, 
 etc., 141. 
 
 History and historical reading, chapter 
 on XI, 125 — 142 ; taste for, early de- 
 veloped, 215 ; H., the first form of 
 writing, 126 ; at first imaginative 
 and credulous, 127 ; narrative, 127 ; 
 the so-called dignity of, 128 ; style of 
 ancient writers, 128 ; imitated by the 
 modern, 128 ; exaggerations of, 129 ; 
 more or less partisan, 130; has had 
 two stages, 131 ; the uncritical, 131 ; 
 the critical, shaped by Kiebuhr, 131- 
 132; examples in Grote and Ar- 
 nold, 132 ; formerly extolled the an- 
 cients excessively, 133 ; is now more 
 sober, 133 ; defends the supernatural, 
 134, '5 ; attaches less importance to 
 great events, 136; is more imagina- 
 tive, 136; attends to little things, 
 136; studies tlie thoughts and feel- 
 ings of the past, 137, "8 ; more imagina- 
 tive than fomerly, 136 — 139; more 
 philosophical, 139-140; the philoso- 
 phy of, 140; varies with the philoso- 
 phical system of the writer, 140 ; phy- 
 siological, necessarian or Christian, 
 141. 
 
 History, how to read, chapter on XII, 
 143 — 165 ; requires the study of years, 
 143 ; requires age to be understood and 
 enjoyed, 144, '5 ; how to dispatch the 
 study briefly, 145, "6 ; should be com- 
 menced at the right starting-point, 
 147 ; sliould be read after the laws of 
 the individual habits, 148—153; may 
 be useful to the forgetful man, 149 ; 
 how its dates and facts may be interest- 
 ing, 150 ; should be studied with geo- 
 graphy, 15:3 — 158 ; aided by the ima- 
 gination, 1.^8, '9 ; by novels, plays and 
 poems, 1(30 — 162 ; incidental evils of, 
 161, '2; sometimes becomes romance, 
 162 ; supplemented by biography, 163. 
 
 History, course of, chapter on XII, 166- 
 195 ; general works on, 166 ; ancient, 
 167 ; Egyptian, 167. 168 ; Jewish, 168, 
 169 ; Greek, 1G9, 171; Roman, 171, '2 ; of 
 Greek and Roman literature, 172, '3 ; 
 of Christianity, 174, '5 ; modei-n his- 
 tory compends, etc., of, 175, '6 ; of 
 Italy. 177 ; of Spain, 177, '8 ; of Hol- 
 land, 178 ; of Germany, 178 ; Russia, 
 178 ; Sweden, 178 ; of France, 179, '80 ; 
 of England, 180—189; of America, 
 189—192 : works on the philosophy of, 
 193 ; of England, importance and in- 
 
 25 
 
 terest of, 180, '1 ; of literature, 265 — 
 
 283 ; of philosophy, books on, 310, '11. 
 Hebrew life, pictured in the Scriptures, 
 
 280. 
 Heeren, A. H. L., politics, etc., of Asiatic 
 
 nations, and of Carthaginians, etc., 
 
 167. 
 Helena's household, an historical tale, 
 
 174. 
 Helen's pilgrimage, 837. 
 Helps, A., essays, 320. 
 Henderson, 1'., Gardening for profit, 308. 
 Hengstenberg, Egypt, etc., 168. 
 Henry IV, of France, life of, 198. 
 Henry VIII, life of, 199. 
 Henry, P., life-of, 200, 203. 
 Henry, C. S., epitome of history of phi- 
 losophy, 311. 
 Herbert, II. W., Hints to horse-keepers, 
 
 308. 
 Herder, J. G., Spirit of Hebrew poetry, 
 
 108, 337. 
 Herodotus, credulous and fanciful, 127 ; 
 
 Fawlinson's, 167. 
 Herschel, preliminary discourse on, 304. 
 Hervey, memoirs of George II., 185. 
 Hobbes and Buckley, translations of 
 
 Arist. rhetoric and poetics, 312. 
 Hobbes, T , the leviathan, 315. 
 Hogarth, analysis of beauty, 299. 
 Hogg's tales, picture Scottish life, 234. 
 Holland, J. G., letters of T. Titcomb, etc., 
 
 321. 
 Holmes, 0. W., his Evangel, 70; com- 
 pared with Lucian, 108 ; influence on 
 
 his readers, 230. 
 Holy living and dying, the, 112. 
 Home library — see library. 
 Homer, translations from, 172. 
 Hood, T., his earnestness, 26 ; his es- 
 says, 320. 
 Hooper, J. A., forest-tree culturist ; 
 
 book of evergreen, 308. 
 Hope, A. R., book about dominies, etc., 
 
 321. 
 Hopkins, M., on ethics, 315 ; Evidences 
 
 of Christianity, 335. 
 Hopkins, S., Ledsons from the Cross, 
 
 339. 
 Hoppin, J. M., Old England, 189. 
 Horner, F., life of, 2tK), 203 ; on life of 
 
 Sir Matthew Hale ; on Condorcet's 
 
 Eloge of Haller, 213. 
 Household book of poetry, 257. 
 Howe, J., Blessedness of the Righteous, 
 
 339. 
 Howitt, W., Rural life in England, 189; 
 
 book of the seasons, 306. 
 Hudibras, an aid to historv, 184. 
 Hudson, H. N., as critic, 298, '9. 
 Humboldt, Cosmos, 
 Hume, D., 24; essays, 320; his history 
 
 characterized, 67 ; influence on the 
 
 principles, 68, 182, 193; a partisan, 
 
 130 ; philosophical works, 313 ; ethics, 
 
 315. 
 Humphrey Clinker, 219. 
 Humphrey, Old (G. Mogridge) essays, 
 
 321. 
 Hunter, J., life of, 204. 
 Husman, G., grapes and wine-makin^ 
 
 308. 
 Hutcheson, F., ethical woiks, 315- 
 
386 
 
 Index, 
 
 Hutchinson, Col., memoirs of, 44, 164 
 
 183, 200. 
 Huxley, T. H., physiology, 314 ; hasis of 
 
 life, 314. 
 Hymns and hymn writers, 338, '9. 
 
 I. 
 
 Imaginative literature vindicated, 9; 
 its representations of moral evils, 
 chapter on VIII., 80-100; its relations 
 to purity and female reserve, 88, 94; 
 imaginative literature necessarily ethi- 
 cal, 97. 
 
 Imagination the, characterized by Lord 
 Bacon, 75. 
 
 Imitation of Christ, the, 339. 
 
 Induction, writers on, 304. 
 
 Inductive sciences, history of, .304. 
 
 Individualized characters in fiction, ex- 
 amples of, 228. 
 
 International law, books on, 318. 
 
 Interest in reading is created by reading, 
 
 Introductory chapter, 1-17. 
 Italian history, works on, 177. 
 Irving, E., life of, 208. 
 Irving, W., 53 ; life and voj-age of Colum- 
 bus, 177 ; Essays, 320. 
 
 J. 
 
 Jahn, history of the Hebrew Common- 
 wealth, 168. 
 Jack Sheppard, 222. 
 James TI., life of, 199. 
 James, G. P. R., 53; the Huguenot, 
 
 179. 
 Jameson, Mrs. as critic, 296 ; her works 
 
 on art, 300. 
 Jay, John, life of, 201. 
 Jetferson, T., writings and life, 317. 
 JeflFerson. T., life of, 201. 
 Jeffrey as critic, 21)4. 
 Jews and Jewish history, works on, 168, 
 
 lt>9. ' ' 
 
 Johnson, Dr., list of books prepared by, 
 
 9 ; remarks on books and reading, 10; 
 
 his definitions of excise, pension and 
 
 oats, 23. 
 Johnson, Dr., life of, 208 ; as critic, 266, 
 
 2.!4; with his imit.itors the standard, 
 
 269. 
 Johnson, S. W., how crops grow, etc. 
 
 307. t- t. . , 
 
 JoulTroj-, T., ethics, 314. 
 Julius Cesar, life of, J 98. 
 
 Kane, B. K., life of, 197. 
 
 Kant, I., critic, of pure reason, 313, 334; 
 
 on ethics, 315. 
 Keble, J-, life of, 208. 
 Kemble, works on Anglo Saxon history. 
 
 187. 
 Kenilworth, Scott's, 80, 
 Kent, J., commentaries on Am. law, 191, 
 
 316. 
 
 Kingsley, English historical novels, 187? 
 
 influence on his readers, 230. 
 Kitto, J., Cyc. of Bib. literature, 337. 
 Knight, history of England, 182. 
 Koch, revolutions of Europe, 175. 
 Kohlrausch, history <if Germany, 178. 
 Kugler, F.T., hand-book of painting, 300. 
 
 li. 
 
 Ladies desire and need advice in respect 
 to reading, 7. 
 
 Lady Macbeth, Shakspeare's, 79. 
 
 Lamartihe, histories, 180. 
 
 Lamb, Charles, on books and reading, 10; 
 his earnestness, 26 , saying of, 50: life 
 of, 208 : essays, 320. 
 
 Lake school of poets, 263. 
 
 Laud, life of, 199. 
 
 Landor, imaginary conversations, 296. 
 
 Langstroth, L. L., the honey bee, 308. 
 
 Lanzi, history of painting, 299. 
 
 Latham, R. G., grammatical works, 301. 
 
 Laurie, S. S., on ethics, 315. 
 
 Law, W., serious call, 339. 
 
 Layard, A. H., discoveries at Nineveh and 
 N. and its remains, 167. 
 
 Leggett, W., papers. 321. 
 
 Leicester, life of, 199. 
 
 Leigh Hunt, essays, 320 ; as critic, 296 
 
 Leland, J., Deistical writers, 385. 
 
 Lenormant and Chevalier's history of 
 Oriental nations, 167. 
 
 Lever's novels picture Irish life, 2.34. 
 
 Lewes, G. H., history of philosophy, 311 ; 
 Aristotle, 312. 
 
 Lewis, G. C, on the credibility of early 
 Roman history, 193. 
 
 Library the, chapter on XXII., 3G0-378 ; 
 naturally connected with books and 
 reading, 360; the private and personal, 
 360, 367 ; for use and for enjoyment, 
 361 ; for show, 361, 362 ; for curiosity, 
 362; for friends, 362; represents the 
 owner, 362, 363 ; records his progress, 
 363, 365; its preservation, 366; its 
 natural enemies, 366, 367 . the home 
 library, 367,370; II. W. Beecher on, 
 367 ; economy and cultivating influ- 
 ence of, 368; should have books of 
 reftjrence, 369 ; suggestions for, 369 ; 
 should have a place, 369, 370 ; should 
 be select and be preserved, 370; social 
 libraries, 370, 373 ; history of in the U. 
 S.. 371; the writer's recollections of, 
 372; city libraries, 373; book clubs, 373; 
 school libraries, 374, 375 ; free town 
 libraries, 375, 376; founders of, 376; 
 Sunday school L., 377 ; thoughts in a 
 library, 379. 
 
 Liddell, H., abridged Roman history, 
 171. 
 
 Lieber, F., civil liberty, etc., 316. 
 
 Liebig, J., letters on chemistry, 306. 
 
 Lincoln, A., lives of, 192. 
 
 Lindsav, A. W., sketches of Christian 
 art, 300. 
 
 Lingard. 24; partisan, 130; history of 
 England characterized, 183. 
 
 List of books prepared in 1792, 11 ; do. 
 prepared a few years later, 12. 
 
 Literary history and criticism, 265, 283. 
 
Index, 
 
 387 
 
 Literature must be imaginative, 97; 
 cheap L. 97, 100 ; moral evil of, 98, 99 ; 
 attracts readers, 98 ; not brilliant, 99 ; 
 contrasted with a better and Christian 
 literature, 99, 100. 
 
 Literature should be catholic and liberal- 
 izing even in matters of religion, 105; 
 has been of the greatest service to reli- 
 gious thinking, 105, 106 ; furnishes a 
 neutral and deleotable ground for all 
 parties, 106; can be mischievously 
 unchristian, 107 ; should not be exempt 
 from religious restraints, 107 ; a Chris- 
 tian, how conceived and defined, chap- 
 ter on X., 111—124:; importance of this 
 subject, 111; involves two questions, 
 111 ; what it is not. 111, 114 ; not neces- 
 sarily theological, but may be, 111, 112; 
 does not include every devotional 
 work, 112 ; does not include religious 
 doggenel or drivelling, 113; not usually 
 sectarian, 113 ; need not be formally re- 
 ligious, 114 ; what it should be, 114, 117 ; 
 should be pervaded by Christian ethical 
 faiths and feelings, 114, 115 ; must 
 reverence Christ's person, 117 ; positive 
 • criteria of, reasonable, 118 ; historically 
 just, 119; not intolerant, 120; not 
 discourteous, 121 ; not prescriptive, 
 121 ; anti-christian L., extent of, 122, 
 123 ; Paganism in modern, 123, 124:. 
 
 Literature, history and criticism of, 265 — 
 284 ; how conceived formerly, 267 ; 
 how at present, 268. 
 
 Literature, the, of the Greeks depicts 
 their life, 278, '9. 
 
 Literature of the Hebrews, 280, '1 ; of 
 the Romans, 281, '2 ; of the moderns, 
 282, '3. 
 
 Literature interprets modem history, 
 282, '3. 
 
 Lives of great criminals, why attractive, 
 197. 
 
 Lives of great generals, 198. 
 
 Lives of great histcyrical personages, 
 198, '9. 
 
 Lives of incident and adventure, 196— 
 198. 
 
 Lives of statesmen, 199 — 201. 
 
 Livy, style of, 128 ; some of his narratives 
 rejected, 132. 
 
 Liibke, history of the arts, 300. 
 
 Lucifer in Byron's Cain, 84 ; contrasted 
 with Milton's Satan, 84. 
 
 Lucretius, 312. 
 
 Luther, M., life of, 202. 
 
 Local histories, important and numerous, 
 190, '1. 
 
 Locke, J., on reading, 10 ; his essay, 312 ; 
 on government, 316. 
 
 Lockhart, J. G., Valerius, 174; life of 
 Burns, 208. 
 
 Lonilon Quarterly Review, 341, '3, '4. 
 
 Longfellow, H. W., 53. 
 
 Loomis, E., progress of astronomy, 306. 
 
 Lossing, Field-book of the Revolution, 
 192 ; Pictorial history of the civil 
 war in America, 192. 
 
 Lover's novels, picture Irish life, 234. 
 
 Lowell, J. R., 53 ; as critic, 298, '9. 
 
 Lowth on Hebrew poetry, 168. 
 
 Loval league a^isociation, papers of, 317. 
 
 Loyola, I., life of, 202. 
 
 Macaulay, T. B. 24 ; sometimes romances 
 in history, 162 ; History of England, 
 182; on writing history', 193; life of, 
 200; as critic, 294. 
 
 Macdonald's novels picture Scottish life, 
 234. 
 
 Mackintosh Vindiciaa Gallicas, 179, 317 ; 
 History of England, 182 ; Revolution 
 of 1688, 185 ; life of, 200 ; as critic, 294; 
 history of ethical philosophy, 312; His- 
 tory of ethics, 314 ; law of nature and 
 nations, 316. 
 
 Madison papers, the, 191, 316. 
 
 Mahon, Lord, as historian, 183. 
 
 Maine, J. S., History of ancient law, 316, 
 
 Mahan, A., psychology, 313. 
 
 Manfred, contrasted with Hamlet, 85 ; 
 F. D. Maurice's estimate of, 87. 
 
 Mansel, H. L., phil. works, 313 ; limits of 
 religious thought, 334. 
 
 Mann, H., Ufe of, 208. 
 
 Manuals of reading often unsatisfactory, 
 9. 
 
 Manzoni, pictures of Italian life, 235. 
 
 Marcet, J., veg. physiology, 314. 
 
 Marlborough, life of, 198. 
 
 Marion, life of, 197. 
 
 Marsh, G. P., works on the English lan- 
 guage, 301 ; his man and nature, 306. 
 
 Marshall, J., decisions, 317. 
 
 Martin, History of France, 119 ; History 
 of the ColoUies, 177. 
 
 Martineau, History of England, 187. 
 
 Martineau, J., essays, 313. 
 
 Miisson, on novels, 220; as critic, 297; 
 his British philosophy, 313. 
 
 Maurice, F, D., on Byron's Manfred, 87 ; 
 his history of moral and metaphysical 
 philosophy, 310 ; his work on revela- 
 tion, 334. 
 
 Mazarin, Cardinal, Ufe of, 200. 
 
 May, continuation of Hallam, 185. 
 
 McClintock, and Strong, eye. of Bib. li- 
 terature, 337. 
 
 McCosh, J ., phil. works, 313 ; moral gov- 
 ernment, 334. 
 
 M'Cosh and Dickie, special types, etc, 334. 
 
 McCulloch, J. R., on pol. economy, 318. 
 
 McFingal, lines from, 76 ; historical 
 value of, 192. 
 
 Mechanic, his interest in books concern- 
 ing his trade, 40. 
 
 Memory bad for history, remarks on, 
 148-151. 
 
 Mental and moral science near to all 
 men, 309, '10. 
 
 Menzel, History of Germany and the 
 Germans, 178. 
 
 Merivale, C, 32 ; Rome under the Empe- 
 rors, 171; Conversion of the Roman 
 Empire, 173. 
 
 Metcalf, D., on ethics, 315. 
 
 Michaud, History of the crusades, 176. 
 
 Michelet, History of Frapce, 179 ; The 
 Bird, 306, 
 
 Mignet, French Revolution, 179. 
 
 Miller, H.,mv schools and schoolmasters, 
 204 ; writings of, 305. 
 
 Mill, C., Historj' of the crusades, 177, 
 
 Mill, J., Analysis of \\xq human mijid, 
 
 aia, ' 
 
388 
 
 Index. 
 
 Mill, J. S., system of logic, and abridg- 
 ments of, 304; phil. works, 313; on 
 ethics, 315; political writings, 316; 
 political economy, 318. 
 
 Mill, A., British India, 187. 
 
 Mill, literature, etc., of Great Britain, 
 292. 
 
 Milman, H. H., History of the Jews, 
 168; History of Christianity in the 
 first three centuries, 173; of Latin 
 Christianity, 175. 
 
 Milton, J., definition and opinion of a 
 book, 21, 22 ; expresses his personal 
 feelings, 25, 32, 44, 77 ; lines about the 
 reader and his author, 52; his crea- 
 tions of living beings, 78 ; Paradise lost 
 and regained, 78 ; lines on Athens, 78 ; 
 Satan — how represented, 83, '4; con 
 trasted with the Lucifer of Byron's 
 Cain, 84; and the devil in Goethe's 
 Faust, 85 ; freedom of language, 88, 
 '9, 90; his prose poetic, 243; his 
 poetry and his time, 262. 
 
 Minstrelsy of the Scottish bards, 126. 
 
 Minor morals, works on, 318. 
 
 Miscellanies, 319-321. 
 
 Mitford, W., a partisan historian, 130; 
 his History of Greece, 170. 
 
 Mitchell, D. G., Edgewood books, 308; 
 Reveries, etc., etc., 321. 
 
 Modern critics, distinguished, 265. 
 
 Modern history, compends of, 175, '6. 
 
 Mv)loch, Milton's, 78. 
 
 Montaigne, M., on books, 10; essays, 320. 
 
 Moon, C. W., Bad English, etc., 301. 
 
 Moore, F., American eloquence, 192. 
 
 Moore, T., 53 ; freedom of allusions in, 89. 
 
 Moral Evil in books does not flow from 
 the representation of evil characters,82, 
 but from the manner in which it is 
 done, 82 , moral influence of books 
 and reading, etc., chapter on VII., 72 
 -81. 
 
 Moi-al lessons not always to be obtruded, 
 95. 
 
 Moral philosophy, books in, 314. 
 
 Moral standard for books and reading, 
 14. 
 
 Moral truth, importance of, t© the high- 
 est achievements in literature, 15; of 
 Scott, Thackeray, and Dickens, 88. 
 
 Morell, J. D., historical and critical view 
 of modern philosophy, 311 ; his phil- 
 osophy of religion, 334. 
 
 More, Sir Thomas, life of, 199. 
 
 Morgan, L. H., The American Beaver, 
 306. 
 
 Morley, English writers before Chau- 
 cer ; from Chaucer to Dunbar, 292. 
 
 Morris, W., life and death of Jason, 173 ; 
 as a poet, 2G4. 
 
 Motley, romances in history, 162, '3 ; his 
 histories, 177, '8. 
 
 Mozely, J. B , on miracles, 334. 
 
 Miihlbach, Mrs., historical novels, 161. 
 
 Miiller, C. 0„ Attica and Athens, 171; my- 
 thology, 172 ; history of Greek litera- 
 ture, 173 ; ancient art, 299. 
 
 Miiller, J., human physiology, 314. 
 
 Miiller, Max, philological works, 301. 
 
 Mulford, E., the nation, 316. 
 
 Mulock, M., essays, 321. 
 
 Muir,W., history of Greek literature, 173. 
 
 Napier, peninsular war, 178. 
 
 Napiers, the lives of, 198. 
 
 Nash, S., morality and the state, 316. 
 
 Natural history, works on, 306. 
 
 Natural science, works on, 304-306. 
 
 Neal, D., partisan historian, 130. 
 
 Nelson, life of, 197. 
 
 Neander, A., general history of the Chris- 
 tian religion, etc., 174 ; life of Christ, 
 etc., 338. 
 
 " New America," 94. 
 
 New criticism, of German origin, 266; 
 conditions of; 266; contrasted with 
 the old, 266; esteems matter above 
 form, 267 ; has a better conception of 
 literature, 267 ; characteristics, 267- 
 287 ; is more Catholic than the old, 
 269; in judging of writers of difl"erent 
 periods, 267 ; and of different nations, 
 and remote ages, 271, '2 ; is eminently 
 comparative, 271 ; is more philosophi- 
 cal, 272 ; is more generous and genial, 
 273 ; its cardinal maxim, 273 ; inter- 
 prets the meaning of an author, 274 ; 
 illustrated by Carlyle and Matthew- 
 Arnold, 274, '5: especially of a dra- 
 matic author, 275 ; also the times of a 
 writer, 278-283; aids biography, 283, '4. 
 
 Newman, F. W., on moral influence of 
 poetry, 82; remarks on grossness of 
 language and allusion, 91. '2 ; as crit- 
 ic, 298. 
 
 Newspapers and periodicals, chapter on 
 XXI., 341-359; growth and increase 
 of, 341-343 ; United States the paradise 
 of, 342 ; quarterly and monthly jour- 
 nals, 343-349; at first a necessity, 
 growth of, 343, '4; value of, 344, '5; 
 evils of, 346-349 ; their reading often 
 superficial and partisan, 346; skepti- 
 cal and libertine, 346, '7 ; vitiate the 
 style, 348 ; should not be sole reading, 
 348; newspapers, 349-359; unequal, 
 349; convenient, 349, '50; powerful 
 educators, 350, '51 ; often intellectually 
 bad, 351, '2; insincere, 352; their wri- 
 ters often Bohemians, 354; often de- 
 moralizing, 354-356; even when re- 
 formatory, 355 ; som.etimes slanderous 
 and personal, 356 ; bad in style, 356 ; 
 rules respecting, 356-359; should not 
 be our sole reading, 356; the good 
 should be preferred, 357 ; should not 
 master us, 358 ; the reader is respon- 
 sible for his newspaper, 354. 
 
 Newton, life of, 204. 
 
 Niebuhr, services in reforming history, 
 131, '2; testimony concerning Christ 
 and Christianity, 134; on the Christian 
 histories, 141 ; lectiires on ancient his- 
 tory, 167 ; life of, 208, '9. 
 
 Noctes ambrosianfB, 296. 
 
 North American Review, its prominent 
 contributors, 298. 
 
 North American Review, referred to, 
 341, 344. 
 
 North, Christopher, as critic, 296. 
 
 Norton, A., genuineness of the gospels, 
 334. 
 
 Novels of purpose, 95. 
 
Index, 
 
 389 
 
 Novels (and novel reading), chapter on i 
 XV., 218-239 ; are " feigued histories," i 
 218; their end is truth, 218; those 1 
 read by our grandparents, 219: the : 
 new novels, 219 ; subsequent progress, 
 219, '20; Masson's classification of : 
 British, 220 ; novels of incident and of 
 character, 221 ; taste of young people | 
 in, 221 ; of uncultured people, 222, '3 ; 
 change of taste for, 223, '4; second 
 stage of, 224; third do.. 224; of pur- 
 pose, 225 ; cannot all be read, 2-'5 ; not 
 desirable th-it they should be, 225, '28 ; 
 filthy novels, 226; should be adapted 
 to the taste of the reader, 227 ; and 
 varying moods, 227 ; represent the 
 author, 228; individualized char- 
 acter of, 228 ; show the practical 
 philosophy of their authors, 229; 
 power over readers, 229; novel writers 
 control their readers, 229 ; favorite au- 
 thors of, 229; influence on their readers, 
 230 ; should not be one's sole reading, 
 231 ; reasons for reading them at all, 
 232-239 ; novels amuse, 232 ; instruct 
 in history, scenery, domestic and so- 
 cial life, 233, '4; teach human na- 
 ture, 235 ; furnish topics for conversa- 
 tion, 237 ; how not to read novels, 238 ; 
 how to read them, 239 ; juvenile nov- 
 els, 239. 
 
 Novelist, the, expresses his own opinions 
 and feelings, 24; the novelist difiFuses 
 himself in his work, 228. 
 
 Noyes, translations, 338. 
 
 o. 
 
 Oats, Johnson's definition of, 23. 
 
 Odyssey, the, pictures the times and life 
 of the Greeks, 279 ; and the Canter- 
 bury tales, 280. 
 
 Oliphant, Mrs., 21. 
 
 Olnistead, D., letters on astronomy, 306. 
 
 Ophelia, Shakspeare's, 79. 
 
 Osburn, monumental history of Egypt, 
 1G8. 
 
 Ossoli, F. M., as critic, 298, '9 ; papers, 
 321. 
 
 Otis, James, life of, 200. 
 
 Our English Homes, 187. 
 
 Ow^n, Richard, writings of, 305. 
 
 Oxford essays, 298. 
 
 Oxford tables of historj', 151. 
 
 P. 
 
 Pagan spirit, the, in modern literature. 
 115; nut universal among cultivated 
 men, 116. 
 
 Paganism in literature, 123; its influ- 
 ence and prospects, 124. 
 
 Paine, T., rights of man, 180. 
 
 Paley, W., moral philosophy, 315 ; his evi- 
 dences of Christianity, 334; Iloras Pau- 
 lin£e, 335; his natural theology, 334. 
 
 Palfrey, history of New England, 190. 
 
 Palgrave, England during the Anglo- 
 Saxon period, 187 
 
 Palgrave, golden treasury, 257. 
 
 Pantheist, the ancient, compared with 
 the modern, 109, '10. 
 
 Pardoe, Miss, Louis XIV., 179. 
 
 Park, Mungo, life of, 197. 
 
 Parke Godwin, history of France, 179. 
 
 Parker, J. H., glossary of terms of archi- 
 tecture, 300. 
 
 Parker, T., life of, 208 ; preservation of 
 his library, £66. 
 
 Parkman, P., Book of roses, 308. 
 
 Parkmau's histories, 100. 
 
 Parry, Capt , life of, 197. 
 
 Pascal, B., Thoughts on religion, 334. 
 
 Paul Jones, life of, 197. 
 
 Paul de Kock, pictures of French life, 
 235. 
 
 Pausanias, Greece, 170. 
 
 Peabody, A. P., Christianity the religion 
 of nature, 334. 
 
 Peabodys, the, as critics, 298. 
 
 Peg Woffington contrasted with GriSith 
 Gaunt, 93. 
 
 Pension, Johnson's definition of, 23. 
 
 Pepys, S., diary of, 44, 104, 184. 
 
 Periodicals and newspapers, 341-259. 
 
 Perils incident to preparation of this 
 volume, 9. 
 
 Perry, A., on pol. economy, 318. 
 
 Perthes, F.. life of, 208, '9. 
 
 Peter's letters, 298. 
 
 Philadelphia Gazette, 341. 
 
 Philip II., life of, 199. 
 
 Philology, books on, 301, '2. 
 
 Philosophical criticism, see new criti- 
 cism. 
 
 Philosophical history, 139 ; will be writ- 
 ten from the standpoint of each wri- 
 ter, 140. 
 
 Philosophy of every subject attempted, 
 55. 
 
 Philosophy of histoiy, works on, 193; 
 books on, 310,' '11. 
 
 Philosophical readfng, 303. 
 
 Philosophy, speculative, books on, 308- 
 314. 
 
 Physiology, books on, 313. 
 
 Physics, how rightly conceived, 303; 
 works on, 304-30C. 
 
 Pickering, T., life of, 201. 
 
 Pictorial History of England, 182. 
 
 Pilgrim's Progress, 112, 222. 
 Pirates' own book, 222. 
 
 Pitt, W., life of, 200. 
 
 Plato, translations from, 172. 
 
 Plumptre, E. 11., translations from Soph, 
 ocles, 172 ; his Christ and Christendom, 
 330. 
 
 Plutarch, influence of, 34 ; style of, 128, 
 '9 ; his lives, 171 ; their strong hold on 
 boys and men, 197. 
 Poet, the, often expresses his own opin- 
 ions and feelings, 24 ; is an individual, 
 245 ; represents also his own time 246 ; 
 not necessarily vopular, 246; poets for 
 children, 247, '8 ; for special and lim- 
 ited classes of readers, 252, '3 ; to be 
 enjoyed must bo studied, 253, '4 ; one 
 should be made familiar and absorbing, 
 255. 
 Poets, American, of modem school, 263. 
 Poets. English, of the modern school, 
 
390 
 
 Index. 
 
 Poetry (and poets), thaptert)n 5CVI., 241- 
 '264 ; defined in words of Lord Bacon, 
 240 ; a species of feigned history, 240 ; 
 the narrative, descriptive and lyric, 
 240 ; meditative, didactic, satirical and 
 dramatic, 241 ; versified, 241 ; elevated, 
 242 ; grand style, 242 ; easily perverted 
 to the factitious, 243; protest of 
 Wordsworth against, 243; should be 
 simple, 243 ; prose writing poetic, 243 ; 
 should be human, 244 ; poetry defined 
 by Wordsworth, 244, '5 ; by M. Arnold, 
 245 ; individualized, 245 ; examples of, 
 245 ; reflects the culture of a genera- 
 tion, 246; not necessarily popular, 
 246 ; taste for cultivated, 247 ; poetry 
 suitable for children, 247, '8 ; how a 
 better taste for it may be awakened, 
 249 ; and matured, 250 ; reader's likings 
 not to be trusted, 251 ; should not be 
 forced, 251, '2; reflects special feelings 
 and culture, 252, '3; often must be 
 studied, 253, '4 ; a single work should 
 be absorbing, 255 ; poetry educates of 
 itself, 256 ; selections from, 257 ; special 
 reasons for reading, 258-261 ; it pleases, 
 258 ; it imparts imaginative power, 258, 
 '9 ; elevates, 259, '60 ; favors religious 
 aspiration, 260 ; Bacon on, 259 ; Cole- 
 ridge on, 260 ; Wordsworth, lines on, 
 260 ; sketch of English poetry and 
 poets, 261-2G4 ; religious poets, 264. 
 
 politics and jurisprudence, books on, 
 315-318. 
 
 Political writers in England named, 188. 
 
 Powell, Mary, maiden and married life 
 of, 188. 
 
 Political economy, books on, 318. 
 
 Pomeroy, J. N., Introduction to munici- 
 pal law, 316. 
 
 Pope's poetry and his times, 262. 
 
 Porter, N., psychology, 313. 
 
 Pouchet, L. A., the univei-se, 307. 
 
 Prescott, Ferdinand and Isabella, 177 ; 
 as critic, 298 ; his interest in his libra- 
 ry, 365. 
 
 Price, R., on ethics, 315. 
 
 PHce on the picturesque, 299. 
 
 Prideaux's Connections not the best book 
 to begin with, 146. 
 
 Priestly on the study of history, 193. 
 
 Principles influenced by books and read- 
 ing, 72 ; chapter on VI., 62-71. 
 
 Prose writing, sometimes poetic, 243. 
 
 Psalms chronologically arranged, 338. 
 
 Psychological biography, 206. 
 
 Psychology, manuals of, 313. 
 
 Public librarj', see library. 
 
 Purity, relations of imaginative litera- 
 ture to, 88-94; of the best ancient 
 poets, 91 ; of Scott, 92. 
 
 Putnam, G. P., suggestions for house- 
 hold libraries, 369. 
 
 Pym, William, life of, 200. 
 
 Quarterly Reviews, see Newspapers and 
 periodicals^; their influence, 294 ; their 
 l)resent character, 295. 
 
 Queen Anne, writers under, formerly the 
 standard, 269. 
 
 Raaz, taap t)f Palestine, 169. 
 
 Robinson, H. C, saying of, 18; life of, 
 208. 
 
 Railway libraries noticed, 6. 
 
 Raleigh, Sir W., life of, 199. 
 
 Rand, E. S., Bulbs ; Seventy-five flowers, 
 308. 
 
 Randall, H. S., the practical shepherd, 
 307. 
 
 Randall's life of Jeff"erson, 317. 
 
 Randolph, J., life of, 201. 
 
 Ranke, History of the Popes and History 
 of the Reformation, 176. 
 
 Raphall, Post-biblical history of the 
 Jews, 168. 
 
 Rasselas, 219. 
 
 Raumer, von, History of Italy, etc., 177. 
 
 Rawlinson, ancient monarchies, 167 ; 
 Herodotus, 172. 
 
 Reynolds' discourses, 299. 
 
 Read, what it is to, chapter on, 18 ; is 
 to communicate with an author, 20; 
 with the author in his best or worst 
 condition, 21, '2 ; how to read, chapter 
 on III., 28-36 ; a great thing for a 
 child to learn to, 28; is to converse with 
 a man, 29 ; should be accompanied with 
 attention, 31 ; how to read with inter- 
 est, chapter on IV., 37-47 ; should be- 
 gin with what we need or care to know 
 about, 38 ; with whatever respects our 
 calling, 39 ; with definite aims, 41 ; 
 with a book always on hand, 42; is 
 best done upon definite topics, 43; 
 impossible and unwise to read every- 
 thing that is published, 60, '1. 
 Reader, the relations of, to his authors, 
 chapter on V., 48-61 ; should defer to 
 his author, 51 ; and yet be independ- 
 ent of him, 52; but not entirely, 52; 
 should be able to understand him, 54; 
 should not falsely pretend to, 65; 
 should be in a state to appreciate him, 
 56 ; author, the relations of a reader 
 to, 48-61 ; should be one who can give 
 something, 49 ; sliould be respected by 
 his reader, 51; and yet not entirely 
 control him, 52; influence of a favor- 
 ite, 53 ; should be understood by his 
 reader, 54, '5 ; should be suitable to the 
 present state of a reader, 56. 
 Readers, class of, contemplated in this 
 volume, 16; many have an indefinite 
 sense of what they need, 38. 
 Reading, time devoted to at present, 5 ; 
 one method better than another, 29 ; 
 neglect of the manner or matter of, 30 ; 
 good or evil influences from, 30 ; ought 
 never to be aimless, 31 ; of two persons 
 should not be the same, 31 ; why it is 
 ever dull, 31; passive reading, 33; 
 concerning our calling elevates our 
 conceptions of it, 41 ; should be prose- 
 cuted with definite aims, 41 ; should 
 always be kept in hand, 42 ; should be 
 given to definite topics, 43 ; how re- 
 tained, 45 ; religious, neglected by op- 
 yosite classes, 322, '3; sectarian with 
 many, 323 ; a duty, 323,'4 ; of devotional 
 books, 338, '9 ; on Sunday, 339, 340. 
 Rebellion, the great in England, under- 
 
Index, 
 
 391 
 
 Btood by novels, diaries and pamphlets, 
 44. 
 
 Rebellion Record, 192. 
 
 Recollections of a busy life, H. Greeley, 
 204. 
 
 Reed, Henry, on English History, 193 ; as 
 critic, 298. 
 
 Reference, books of, 369. 
 
 Reid, T., phil. worlvs, 313. 
 ' Religion offensive to some persons, 322; 
 
 neglected as a subject for reading by 
 others, 322, '3. 
 
 Religious influence of books and reading 
 general maxim, 101 ; applies to faith 
 and feeling, 102; is very general, 102 ; 
 rule for affirmed, 103; faith and feeling 
 affected more by a bad book than by a 
 bad man, 103 ; duty does not forbid 
 the reading of an irreligious book, 104. 
 
 Religious books and Sunday reading, 
 ch.ipter on XX., 322-340 ; delicacy of 
 the topic, 322 ; its dignity and interest, 
 322 ; neglected by two cl.asses, 322-3 ; 
 narrow with others, 323; the duty of all, 
 324 ; R. books of four classes, 324 ; the 
 ^ good, 324 ; the goodish, 32.5 ; the good- 
 
 for-nothing, 326; tlie worae than noth- 
 ing, 326; two questions about religious 
 books, 327 ; reasons why they are so 
 numerous, 327 ; why treated with es- 
 pecial forbearance, 327-330; signs of 
 good books, 330-333; B. on Theism 
 and evidences of Christianity, and the 
 Christian history, 333-335 ; B. on the 
 Scriptures, 335-338 ; interest, of, 335-6; 
 B. of devotion, 338, 'D. 
 
 Retention in reading, difference with 
 different persons, 45-6; no special 
 rules can be given for, 46-7. 
 
 Retrospective Review, its influence, 295. 
 
 Retz, Cardinal de, memoirs of, 179. 
 
 Revolution in England of 1648 and '88, 
 works on, 185-6. 
 
 Revolution, American histories of M'orks 
 on, 192. 
 
 Reynolds, life of, 204. 
 
 Ricardo, J., on political economy, 318. 
 
 Richelieu, life of, 200. 
 
 Ripley, G., as cnitic, 29S, '9. 
 
 Ritter, Carl, his services in geography, 
 157. " 
 
 Robertson, History of Charles Y., 177. 
 
 Robertson, F. W., life of, 268-9, 213. 
 
 Robinson, E., Biblical researches, 103; 
 Geography of Palestine. 169; maps of 
 Palestine, 169 ; Bib. geography, 337. 
 
 Robinson Crusoe, 222. 
 
 Robinson, U. Crabb, storv of his respect 
 for books as true, 18 ; life of, 208. 
 
 Roderick Dhu, Scott's, 80. 
 
 Roget, P. W., An. and Vcg. philosophy, 
 314. 
 
 Rogers, H., eclipse of faith, etc., 3.35. 
 
 Rollin, C.,34; style of, 128 ; his history 
 of the arts and sciences of the ancien ts, 
 173. 
 
 Roman old life, only pictured in its 
 literature, 281, '2. 
 
 Roman History, works on, 171, '2. 
 
 Romilly, S., life of, 200, 203, 208. 
 
 Roscoe, H. F., Spectrum analysis, 306. 
 
 Roscoe, H., Historical works, 177. 
 
 Ruffini, pictures Italian life, 235. 
 
 Rules for reading with interest, 37-47. 
 Rules for selecting biographies, 215. 
 Russell, Lord John, life of, 200 ; on the 
 
 English constitution, 307. 
 Russell, W., Modern Europe, 175. 
 Russian History, 178. 
 Ruskin, J., modern painters and other 
 
 works, 300 ; his essays, 320. 
 
 fS. 
 
 Sainte Benve, as critic, 297. 
 
 Sampson, E., The brief remarker, 320.' 
 
 Samson, G. W., Art-criticism, 300. 
 
 Samuel, birds of New England, 306. 
 
 Sand, G., pictures of French life, 235. 
 
 Satan, Milton's, 78. 
 
 Savonarola, life of, 202. 
 
 Saunders, F., Salad for the solitary, etc., 
 321. 
 
 Scheffer, Ary, Christus Consolator and 
 Chr. Redemptor, 118. 
 
 Schiller, F. C, expresses his personal 
 thoughts and feelings, 25 ; his thirty 
 years' war, 178. 
 
 Schlegel, A. W., philosophy of history, 
 193. 
 
 Schlegel, F., on modern history, 193. 
 
 Schlegels, the. as critics, 295. 
 
 gchleiden, J. M., The plant, 313-4. 
 
 Schonberg Cotta series, 162. 
 
 School libraries, see library. 
 
 Schools, my, and schoolmasters, by Hugh 
 Miller, 204. 
 
 Schwegler, A., history of philosophy, 311. 
 
 Science, books of, 303. 
 
 Science, superficial books on, 305 ; stand- 
 ard works on, 306. 
 
 Scott, W., 21; expresses his own thoughts, 
 25, 32, 53, 77; his creations, living beings 
 79-80; moral influence of, 81, 87, 88; ethi- 
 cal and religious truth of, 88 ; singular 
 purity of, 92 ; historical novels of, 101 ; 
 Ivanhoe, 177 ; novels illustrative of 
 English History, 187; life of, 208; 
 novels pictures of Scottish life, 234 ; 
 poetry and his times, 290 ; as a critic, 
 294 ; preservation of his library, 366. 
 
 Scriptures the, freedom of language in, 
 89, 90. 
 
 Scriptures, picture the Hebrew life, 280 ; 
 study of and books on, 335-338. 
 
 Self-culture, this volume an aid to, 9. 
 
 Self-educated men read with interest, 42. 
 
 Self-formation, etc., 320. 
 
 Self-help by Smiles, 202. 
 
 Seneca, 312. 
 
 Senior, N. W., on political economy. 318. 
 
 Seward, W. U., speeches, 192; life of, 
 201. 
 
 Shakspcare expresses his personal feel- 
 ings, 25, 32, 77 ; his creations living 
 beings, 79; moral influence of, 81, 88- 
 90 ; Ilamlet, and Byron's Manfred, 85, 
 '6 ; freedom of language of, 88, '9, 90 ; 
 The family, design of, 89; S. novels, 
 187 ; and the poets of his time, 261 ; crit- 
 ics of, 277 ; sometimes overdo, 277, '8; 
 but stimulating, 278; and Ben Jon- 
 son, controversy between, 278. 
 
 Shaftesbury, A. A., essays, 320.' 
 
 Shairp, J. C., as critic, 298. 
 
392 
 
 Index, 
 
 Shaw, manual of English literature, 293. 
 
 Shelley ; his atheism compared with 
 that of Lucretius, 108 ; his relation to 
 Byron, 263. 
 
 Sherman, Genl., life of, 197, '8. 
 
 fehuckford's connection not the beet book 
 to begin with, 146. 
 
 Sidney, Algernon, life of, 200. 
 
 Sidney, P., defence of I'ocsie, 293. 
 
 Sismondi, decline and fall of Roman 
 empire, 174; history of the Italian 
 republics, and the literature of the 
 south of Europe, 177. 
 
 Small books on great subjects, 320. 
 
 Smedley, history of the Reformed 
 Church in France, 179. 
 
 Smith, Sydney, as critic, 294. 
 
 Social relations, works on, 318-321. 
 
 Socrates, in a basket, 65, '6. 
 
 Fomers' tracts, 18G. 
 
 Somers Lord, life of, 200. 
 
 Somerville, Mary, works of, 306. 
 
 Sophocles, translations of, 172. 
 
 South, R., 20. 
 
 South-sea islander introduced to a public 
 library, 2; his interpretation of a ca- 
 thedral, 2 ; of a military parade, 2 ; of a 
 festive gathering, 2; of a gallery of 
 paintings, 2; incapable of understand- 
 ing a library, 2; or its ramates, 3; 
 posed by Dr. Dryasdust, a scientific 
 reader, a poet, a reader of fiction, 3 ; 
 bewildered by attempts to explain the 
 nature of a book, 3. 
 
 Southey, R., cannot hide his opinions 
 and feelings, 26, 53; his test of the 
 moral influence of a book, 72 ; life of, 
 208; as critic, 294; lines on his libra- 
 ry, 378. 
 
 Spalding, history of English literature, 
 293. 
 
 Spanish history, writers on, 177, '8. 
 
 Spencer, II., Phil, works, 313. 
 
 Spenser, E., 20 ; times of, 287 ; charac- 
 terized, 201. 
 
 Spielhagen, pictures German life, 235. 
 
 Spiritual wives, 94. 
 
 Spooner, S., art dictionary, 300. 
 
 Spriiner's historical atlas, 154. 
 
 Smiles' Huguenots, 179 ; self-help, 202. 
 
 Smith, Adam, on ethics, 315 ; wealth of 
 nations, 318. 
 
 Smith, Alex., on ethics, 315. 
 
 Smith, Goldwin, a Christian historian, 
 141 ; on the study of history, 193 ; Ire- 
 land, the Empire, three English states- 
 men, 186; letter to Mansel, 313; ra- 
 tional religion, 334. 
 
 Smith, H. B., chronological tables, 151. 
 
 Smith, Philip, History of the world, 
 166—175. 
 
 Smith, W., abridgment of Grote's his- 
 tory, 170; dictionaries of antiquities, 
 etc., 173; Bible dictionary, 337. 
 
 Smith, "William, Thorndale", etc., 321. 
 
 Smyth, W., on the Fr.-nch revolution, 
 ISO; on the study of history, l't3. 
 
 Snow Bound, effects of the leading of, 
 
 249. 
 Sugden, Sir Edward, habits of reading, 
 
 36. 
 Sullivan, "W., letters on public charac- 
 ters, 191, 317 ; Pol. class book, 316. 
 
 Sully, Duke of, memoirs of, 179, 200. 
 
 Sunday School Library, see library. 
 
 Sunday school libraries, books in, 239. 
 
 Sunday library, MacMillan's, 339. 
 
 Sunday reading, 339, 340. 
 
 Swedish History, 178. 
 
 Swinburne, A., his offences against pu' 
 rity, 92. 
 
 Swinton's Rambles among words, 301. 
 
 Stanhope, Earl, History of, 183. 
 
 Stanley, A. P., Sinai and Palestine, etc., 
 169, 337. 
 
 State Trials, 186. 
 
 Statesmen, lives of, 199-201. 
 
 Stebbing, W., analysis of Mill's logic, 
 304. 
 
 Stephens, Jas., Lectures on the history 
 of France, 179 ; as a critic, 294. 
 
 Stephenson, life of, 204. 
 
 Sterling, John, life of, 208. 
 
 Sterling, J. H., the secret of Hegel, 313 ; 
 as regards protoplasm, 314. 
 
 Stewart, Dugald, progress of philosophy, 
 312 ; Phil, works, 313 ; psychology, 313. 
 
 Stoddart, J., Glossology, 301. 
 
 Stoicism in professedly Christian writers, 
 116 ; in modern literature, 123. 
 
 Stonewall Jackson, life of, 197. 
 
 Story's Commentaries, 191. 
 
 Stowe, Mrs., 53 ; her historical novels, 
 161 ; her influence on her readers, 230. 
 
 Strafl'ord, life of, 199. 
 
 Strauss, F., Helon's pilgrimage, 168. 
 
 Students at school and college desire ad- 
 vice respecting reading, 7. 
 
 Students' History of France, 179. . 
 
 Style, the, of a writer, 57 ; different judg- 
 ments of, 58 ; the barbaric, the civil- 
 ized, as in manners, 58 ; not of the 
 highest consequence, not to be disre- 
 garded, 59 ; current faults of, 60. 
 
 T. 
 
 Tacitus, force of his epithets, 24. 
 
 Taine, H., as critic, 297. 
 
 Tautphoeus, pictures German life, 235. 
 
 Tasso, Jerusalem delivered, 177. 
 
 Taste for poetry product of culture, 247 ; 
 of children, 247, '8 ; how a better taste 
 is awakened, 248, '9 ; needs to be ma- 
 tured, 250. 
 
 Taylor, Henry, as critic, 297; essays, 
 320. • 
 
 Taylor, Jeremy, holy living and dying, 
 339. 
 
 Taylor, J. J., Christian aspects, etc., 339. 
 
 Taylor, Isaac, on Hebrew poetry, 168; 
 restoration of belief, 335. 
 
 Taylor, Jeremy, 20 ; poetic, 243. 
 
 Taylor, N. W., moral government, 334. 
 
 Taylor, W. C, manual of modern his- 
 tory, 175 ; natural history of society, 
 193. 
 
 Tcndenz-Roman, 95. 
 
 Tennyson, A., cannot hide his feelings, 
 26-53. 
 
 Thackeray, W. M., cannot hide his feel- 
 ings, 25, 53; ethical truth of. 88; 
 Henry Esmond, 160, 187; his influ- 
 ence on his readers, 230; his novels 
 
Index, 
 
 picture English society, 234 ; as critic, 
 
 296. 
 
 Theism, books on, 333, '4, 
 
 Theologians and preachers, 'Who have 
 had a high place in literature, 112. 
 
 Thierry, Norman conquests, 187. 
 
 Thiers, A., histories, 179. 
 
 Thirlwall, C, history of Greece, 170. 
 
 Thomas, J. J., farm implements, 307; 
 fruit culturist, 308. 
 
 Thompson, D'Arcy, day dreams, etc., 
 321. 
 
 Thompson, J. P., Egypt, etc., 168. 
 
 Thompson, R. A., Christian theism, 333. 
 
 Thomson, the land and the book, 337. 
 
 Thoreau, his influence on the opinions, 
 70 ; is he Pagan or Christian ? 119. 
 
 Thrupp, Anglo-Saxon homo, 187. 
 
 Tickuor. G., history of Spanish litera- 
 ture, i77. 
 
 Tischendorf, when were the Gospels writ- 
 ten, 334. 
 / Titian's last supper, remark on, referred 
 ' to, 78. 
 
 Tom Jones, 214. 
 
 Townsend, G. F., bible in chronological 
 order, 3o7. 
 
 Tracts for priests and people, 334. 
 
 Translations of Greek and Roman au- 
 thors, 172. 
 
 Trenck, liaron, life of, 197. 
 
 Trench, R. C, as critic on English lit- 
 erature, 297 ; on language and words, 
 301 ; on miracles, 334. 
 
 Trollope, A., cannot hide his opinions 
 and feelings, 25; his novels picture 
 English society, 234. 
 
 Trumbull ; McFingal, lines from, 76, 192. 
 
 Tuckerman, H. T., as critic, 298, '9; 
 book of the artists, 300. 
 
 Tulloch, J., Theism, 333. 
 
 Turner, life of, 204. 
 
 Tyndall, J., M'ritings of, 305, '6. 
 
 Tytler, A. F., modern history, 175. 
 
 u. 
 
 Ueberweg, F., history of philosophy, 311. 
 
 Uhlemann, Three Days in Memphis, 167. 
 
 Uhlhorn, G., representations of Jesus, 
 334. 
 
 Ulrici, H., as critic on Shakspeare, 297. 
 
 Uncultured people fancy coarse nov- 
 els, 223. 
 
 Universal history, the, superseded, 131. 
 
 Upham, T. C, psychology, 313. 
 
 Van Burcn, M., life of, 201 ; history of 
 parties, 191, 317. 
 
 Van de Velde, map of the holy land, 169. 
 
 Vane, Sir Harry, life of, 200. 
 
 Vaughan, C. J., Sermons, 339. 
 
 Vaughan, R., revolutions of English his- 
 tory, and England under the Stuarts, 
 185 ; the way of rest, 235. 
 
 Vaughan, R. A., hours with the mystics, 
 297. 
 
 Vasart's lives of painters, 299. 
 
 Vegetable Physiology, books on, 314. 
 
 Vicars, Hedley, life of, 198. 
 
 Victor Hugo, pictures of French life, 
 
 235. 
 Virgil, translated by Conington, 173. 
 Von Mohl, H., the vegetable cell, 314. 
 
 w. 
 
 Wallace, H. B., as critic, 298, '9 ; his pa- 
 pers, 320. 
 
 Walker, J. B., philosophy of the plan of 
 salvation, etc., 334. 
 
 Walt. Whitman, his offences against 
 purity, 92. 
 
 Walpole, Horace, letters, 164; letters 
 and journal, 185; anecdotes of paint- 
 ing, 2.^9. 
 
 Walworth, C, the gentle sceptic, 335. 
 
 Ware, W., Zenobia, Aurelian and Julian, 
 174. 
 
 Warren, life of, 200. 
 
 Waring, G. E., draining for profit, 307. 
 
 Watt, life of, 204. 
 
 Watts, I., on the mind, 120. 
 
 Watson's Philip II., 177. 
 
 Waverly, 219. 
 
 Wayland, F., psychology, 313; moral 
 phil., 315. 
 
 Webb, T. E., intellectualism of Locke, 
 313. 
 
 Webster, D., 32 ; an earnest reader, 35 ; 
 love for English poets and essayists, 
 read his few books so as to repeat 
 tbem, his views of Chevy Chase, his 
 hi-bits when a student, 35, '6 ; sayings 
 of, 50 ; political speeches of, 192 ; life 
 of, 201-203; on religio^ as a theme 
 for thought, 322 ; preservation of his 
 library, 336 ; pol. writings, 367. 
 
 Webster, Noah, his definition of a dandy, 
 24. 
 
 Weslev, John, life of, 202. 
 
 West, B., life of, 204. 
 
 Westcott, B. F., gospel of the resurrec- 
 tion, 335 ; history of the English Bible, 
 study of the gospels, 337. 
 
 Westminster Review, the, its indirect 
 influence, 70. 
 
 Wharton, F., Theism and scepticism, 333. 
 
 Whately's, R., remarks on reading, 10. 
 
 Whately, Archbishop, life of, 208 ; on po- 
 litical economy, 318 ; his historic 
 doubts, 334. 
 
 Wheaton, H., works on international 
 law, 318. 
 
 Whewell, W., translations of Plato, and 
 dialogues, 172 ; Platonic dialogues, 312; 
 history of ethics, 314; elements of mo- 
 rality, 315 ; indications of a creator, 
 333. 
 
 Whipple, E. P., as critic, 298, '9 ; essays, 
 321. 
 
 White, Blanco, life of, 208. 
 
 White, G., Natural History of Selborne, 
 306. 
 
 White, James, eighteen Christian centu- 
 ries, 175 ; his history of France, 179. 
 
 White, R. G., as critic, 298, '9. 
 
 Whitney, life of, 20 i. 
 
 Whitney, W. D., on language, etc., 301. 
 
394 
 
 Index, 
 
 Whole duty of man, 339. 
 Wirt, life of, 204. 
 William III., life of, 199. 
 William tiie Silent, life of, 199. 
 Willis, N. P., miscellanies, 321. 
 Wilberforce, life of, 202. 
 Willoughby, Lady, diary of, 188. 
 Wilkie, remark reported by, 78; 
 
 life of. 
 
 Wilkinson, J. G., works on Egypt, 167. 
 
 Wilson, Bishop, Sacra Privata and Max- 
 ims, 339. 
 
 Wilson, 0., evidences of the Christian 
 religion, 335. 
 
 Wilson, George, life of, 204. 
 
 Wilson, Prof. John, life of, 208; his 
 novels pictures of Scottish life, 234; 
 as critic, 296 ; essays, 320. 
 
 Winckelmann, Hist, of ancient arte, 299. 
 
 Wiseman, N., on science and revealed 
 religion, 335. 
 
 Withington, L., the Puritan. 320. 
 
 Wolsey, life of, 199. 
 
 Wood, J. G., natural histoi-y, 306. 
 
 Woolsey, T. D., on international law, 31& 
 
 Wordsworth, C, Greece, etc., 170. 
 
 Wordsworth, W., cannot hide his per' 
 sonal feelings, 26, 53 ; definition of 
 poetry, 244, '5 ; lines on poets, 259 ; 
 a poetic reformer, 263 ; as critic, 295. 
 
 Woolman, John, life of, 207. 
 
 Wright's History of Dress, 187. 
 
 the horse, 308. 
 J. L., correlation of forces, 
 
 Youatt, W. 
 Youmans, 
 
 306, 
 
 Young, E., the poet, 77. 
 Young, J., evil not from God, 334 ; the 
 
 Christ of History, 334. 
 Young persons' taste for coarse novels, 
 
 222. 
 
I 
 
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