EDITOR’S OUTLOOK.

The C. L. S. C. as a Substitute for the Public Library.

Reading in a desultory manner, without system, plan, or purpose, as is the habit of many people who patronize public libraries, is productive of but little benefit. One may go through many volumes, and acquire much information, but it will be in a crude, unsystematic state, and can not be utilized in many practical ways. In public libraries the people are almost wholly devoted to reading works of fiction. This is the testimony of librarians. Its truthfulness may also be seen by any one who will casually examine the books of any library open to the public. Works of fiction bear the marks of almost constant perusal, while the standard works of history, science, philosophy and literature show signs of but little use and remain uncalled for upon the shelves for weeks at a time. The constant reading of fiction is deleterious in the extreme, as it not only gives the individual addicted to it false and distorted views of life, but it is also sure to render the mind unfit for the consideration of all serious and weighty subjects, and begets a distaste for solid reading of any and every kind.

In many respects the C. L. S. C. is a great improvement on the reading-room or the public library, and may prove, in a good degree, a valuable substitute for both. There can be little doubt but that the time spent in reading the course prescribed for its members will be productive of much better results than if given up to reading in a hap-hazard manner. The increased advantages to be obtained may be briefly summed up as follows:

In the first place, the books prescribed in the C. L. S. C. course of study have been selected after the most careful consideration by persons well qualified for the task. A number of the works have been prepared expressly for the use of the C. L. S. C., and are models of compactness, brevity and style. The course of study is not confined to any one department of literature, but comprises works of history, and science, philosophy and poetry, and a wide range of literature and topics of general interest. Works of fiction are reduced to a minimum, and those admitted to the course are unobjectionable both in character and matter.

Second—The course of reading is pursued in a methodical and orderly manner. A portion of each day is to be set apart for the required reading, and though the allotted time is brief, it is sufficient to secure habits of systematic study. A regular plan is insisted upon. Each work is to be read in the order assigned to it and written examinations are conducted on the portions read. Thus the evils resulting from careless and desultory methods of reading are counteracted and wholesome and systematic habits of study are inculcated.

Third—The solitary reader often finds his task monotonous and tiresome, and at times his perusal of books is unproductive because his faculties are not aroused to their highest state of action. But in the C. L. S. C. such a condition of things is largely avoided. A number of persons in common pursue the same course of reading, with frequent meetings for conversation concerning the books and topics under consideration. By this means they are afforded frequent opportunities for mutual interchange of ideas on the subjects to which their minds are simultaneously directed and they are thus stimulated to greater mental activity, and their work is freed from all tedium and weariness. While the C. L. S. C. has many benefits to offer to people in cities and large towns, even though they may possess the advantages of reading-rooms, libraries and lecture courses, it is of especial profit to those who dwell in small towns and in the rural districts. In but few of such communities are libraries of any kind to be found, and means for self-culture are often meagre in the extreme. The C. L. S. C. offers a course of reading adapted to their wants. It is extensive and yet not costly, and may be pursued by the busiest men and women if they are only economical of time.

Let any one who sighs for the advantages to be derived from reading-rooms, enter upon the studies prescribed for the C. L. S. C., and at the end of his four years’ course, compare notes with any one who has spent his leisure in that kind of reading that is common in public libraries, and he will find he has made great gain.

“Dr. Grimshawe’s Secret.”

Nathaniel Hawthorne was, without doubt, the most powerful writer in the field of romance which our country has produced. His fame was of slow growth, but as the years have passed it has been continually swelling and widening, and his name is certain to long hold a foremost place in American literature. He lived long enough to see some recognition of his genius, but since his death, in 1864, he has been read and praised as he never was in his life. Various editions of his works have been published, and whatever products of his pen, not published in his life-time, from time to time have come to light, have been put into print and have been eagerly read. Undoubtedly much, if not all, of the posthumous Hawthorne literature would never have been given to the public if his own wishes had been carried out. His shy and sensitive nature is well known. It could not have been grateful to him to have his personality brought before the world as it has been since his death. It was his request that his life should not be written, but already there are no less than four Hawthorne biographies, and two more are in preparation. And who doubts that if he could have foreseen the publication of the notes, fragments, and studies for stories which were written simply as memoranda, suggestions and helps to be used in the preparation of his works, he would have taken good care that they should not be left behind him? No writer ever elaborated his works with greater care. Each story which he himself gave to the world is perfect in style, and a finished work of art. And to have such crude and hasty work made into books, as much published with his name since his death is, is almost enough to cause this exquisite literary artist to turn in his grave.

Soon after Hawthorne’s death the opening chapters of “The Dolliver Romance,”—a story which he left unfinished—were published. Later came the publication of his “American Note Books,” “English Note Books,” and “French and Italian Note Books.” In 1872 the story “Septimius Felton, or the Elixir of Life,” which had been found among his manuscripts, was edited by his daughter and published. It seems quite clear that it was Hawthorne’s intention to merge this story in “The Dolliver Romance,” and that, if he had lived to complete the latter work, no “Septimius Felton” would ever have seen the light. But this was not the last of the fragmentary work of this author which the world was to see. Not long since it was announced that another work from Hawthorne’s pen had been found, and would be published. We now have it—“Dr. Grimshawe’s Secret.” Recently, also, The Atlantic Monthly and The Century have given us, under the titles, “The Ancestral Footstep,” and “A Look Into Hawthorne’s Workshop,” certain Hawthorne fragments in which this story is sketched. And the question now for the critics to decide is whether in “Dr. Grimshawe’s Secret” we have the fulfillment of the studies in these fragments, or whether this published story is itself but a sketch and study, to be fulfilled with the others in a romance which was long germinating in the great author’s mind, but which death came too soon for him to execute. Certainly “Dr. Grimshawe’s Secret” Hawthorne himself would never have published as it is. It is no finished work of his own. There has been incredulity on the part of some as to his having written any part of it. But it is in part his work, clearly enough; and how much of it is his and how much the editor’s—who is his son, Julian Hawthorne—readers must conjecture for themselves. When asked to take this as substantially a complete work of Nathaniel Hawthorne’s, we decline. Evidently it is not so. His hand of power is seen in it at times, but it is very unequal, and as a whole it is unsatisfactory.

We have not the space to give an analysis of the book. It will be widely read. Of the lovers of Hawthorne the name is legion, and nothing to which his name is attached is likely to be passed by unnoticed. But that it can add nothing to his fame goes without saying. Indeed, if it could be believed that it is really Hawthorne’s work, that he wrote it as a whole, to publish substantially as it is, it might have the opposite effect. But it will doubtless be very generally regarded as one among the many posthumous Hawthorne fragments. A much more powerful story than “Dr. Grimshawe’s Secret,” as we have it, was struggling in the brain of this rare literary genius, and in the course of time would have come forth had not death stepped in with the inevitable summons. For this unwritten romance, what we have been reading in the magazines, and what we have in this recent book, were but the studies. These various Hawthorne fragments are interesting, as showing his methods of work, but again we say he would not have wished them published.

The Joseph Cook Lectureship.

The seventh annual course of the Boston Monday Lectureship by Rev. Joseph Cook is once more in progress. The whole number delivered by the lecturer from this platform has reached, up to this date, the remarkable count of one hundred and fifty-four. Add to these the preludes, each of which is a lecture in itself, upon the most vital and interesting questions of the times, and we have an aggregate of twice the original number. It is with unabated interest and delight that the vast audience of readers of these lectures resumes their perusal. It is, perhaps, not too much to say that no platform or pulpit has so vast or so intelligent an auditory. Before and during Mr. Cook’s recent absence he was subjected to the rigid, and sometimes personal, criticism of the free-thinking and rationalistic critics, but he returns to find his old audience already in their pews waiting to receive the riches of thought and criticism which he has gathered and matured during his sojourn abroad.

These lectures by Mr. Cook are reassuring in many ways, in nothing, perhaps, more than in the evidence they furnish of the interest which the masses feel in orthodox Christianity. If the croakers, who moan and groan at the prospect of an expiring faith in the Gospel of Christ, will take the trouble to compare the numbers and character of the readers of these lectures with the same of those who read the scoffing and infidel publications of the day, they will feel better. And besides those who read and ponder for themselves, and profit by the thoughts and facts announced from this platform, there are many pulpits to which they are a sort of tonic, stimulating to greater faith and reliance, in public teaching, on the old truths and methods of the Gospel.

Mr. Cook’s lectures give evidence of indefatigable industry aided by marvelous powers of memory. Though scarcely reached the prime of life as measured by years, he has traversed the field of thought and investigation as few men in a whole lifetime have done, and has brought with him the facts and conclusions which he has found, all classified and subject to his command. An omnivorous reader, he is the largest living library in the world, and thoroughly indexed almost to the page and line. All these conditions of fitness and qualification for the work are supplemented by the genius and qualities of the orator. As such, Mr. Cook is entitled to the foremost rank. Magnetism, rhetoric, voice, physique, strength, striking metaphor, apt and classic illustration, all in a high degree are possessed by this colossus of the platform.

Many of our readers have had the pleasure of seeing and hearing him at Chautauqua. They will be glad to know that he will stand again in the Amphitheater the coming summer.

Gustave Doré.

This celebrated French artist died at his home in Paris January 23. His illness was very brief, and his death entirely unexpected. He was cut down in the midst of his years, having just passed his fiftieth birthday. His life was one of remarkable industry. No busier pencil than his was ever stopped by the hand of death.

He was born at Strasburg, January 6, 1833, and came to Paris while very young, where he received his education. He began his work as an artist in boyhood, furnishing designs at first for cheap illustrated books and papers. When he was about fifteen years of age, some of his pen and ink sketches and paintings were put on exhibition at the Salon. Not long after he had gained a reputation and did not want for abundance of remunerative employment.

Doré was designer, painter, etcher, and sculptor, all. It is said that he made nearly 50,000 different designs during his life; and some one has estimated that all his works of different kinds, placed in line, would reach from Paris to Lyons.

It was as a designer that he was most successful and popular. His illustrations of “The Wandering Jew”—first published in 1856—made him famous the world over. It is the judgment of critics that these illustrations he never excelled. He began at his best, it has been remarked. Some of his first important works were equal to any he ever executed. Among other books which he illustrated, may be mentioned, Rabelais, Montaigne’s “Journal,” Taine’s “Voyage aux Pyrenees,” Dante’s works, Chateaubriand’s “Atala,” “Don Quixote,” “Paradise Lost,” the Bible, Tennyson’s “Idyls of the King,” La Fontaine’s “Fables,” and Coleridge’s “Ancient Mariner.” For some time before his death he was engaged in illustrating Shakspere, and it is understood that Harper and Brothers will shortly issue an edition of Poe’s “Raven,” with illustrations of his designing. Among Doré’s many paintings, his “Christ leaving the Prætorium”—which measures thirty feet by twenty—and “Entrance of Christ into Jerusalem”—also a colossal picture—are perhaps the most celebrated. Of the latter it has been said that over it “the critics smiled and Christians wept.” Other of his well-known pictures are “The Triumph of Christianity,” “The Neophyte,” “The Gambling Hall at Baden-Baden,” and “The Rebel Angels Cast Down.”

Doré was the most popular of modern designers. His illustrations, original, weird, grotesque, have gone all over the world. They are found in every library. The people enjoyed his work, and publishers eagerly sought it. He believed in himself, labored hard for wealth and fame, and was very successful. Like many artists, he struggled with poverty at the first, but the time came when all luxury was his to command and his name was a household word in every land. It mattered little to him what the work was upon which he employed his powers, if it only brought returns in money and applause. We see him at one time illustrating the filthy “Contes Drolatiques” and at another the Holy Bible. But a true estimate of this man of splendid gifts and wonderful versatility does not put him in the rank of great artists. Perhaps, if in quantity his work had been less, in quality it would have been better. He succeeded in the beginning, and that may have been unfortunate. He was always very well satisfied with his work, and he failed to improve upon himself. Those who study him in his works see possibilities in him which were never realized. He produced nothing great in art which will live as a monument to his genius. A great painting was what he always intended to execute, but he died with the purpose unfulfilled. The contrast between Millet and Doré has been remarked. The former was devoted to art from motives high and noble, while the other’s devotion was for the sake of what he could make art pay him in money and fame. He gained his ends, but it was in his power to do better, and his career after all was not a success.

Personally Doré was frank and simple, and at times—with his intimate friends—full of geniality. He had no affectation, and was as ready as a child to speak his mind about himself or others. He was sensitive to criticism, but the opinion of others never changed his own good opinion of himself. He was a man of moods. He said of himself that sometimes he was mastered by a demon. He had fits of melancholy and gloom which nothing could banish. But at other times no one was more delightful as a companion. He never married, but lived at his mother’s house in the Rue St. Dominique, St. Germain. Here he had a small studio, but in the Rue Bayard he had another larger one which perhaps was the finest in Paris. Among his many accomplishments was that of music. He sang well, and played on a number of musical instruments. He was not a society man, and spent but little time away from home. His passion was for work, and with this thirty-five years of his life were well filled. Early and late he labored, and with astonishing rapidity. But his last picture is painted, his last design made; and the things unseen and eternal, in picturing which his pencil was sometimes employed, have now become to him things seen and known.