POETRY AND LIFE
=Poetry defined.=--Poetry has been defined as "a message from the heart of the artist to the heart of the man"; and, seeing that the heart is the center and source of life, it follows that poetry is a means of effecting a transfusion of life. The poet ponders life long and deeply and then gives forth an interpretation in artistic form that is surcharged with the very quintessence of life. The poet absorbs life from a thousand sources--the sky, the forest, the mountain, the sunrise, the ocean, the storm, the child in the mother"s arms, and the man at his work, and then transmits it that the recipient may have a new influx of life. The poet"s quest is life, his theme is life, and his gift to man is life. His mission is to gain a larger access of life and to give life in greater abundance. He gains the meaning of life from the snowflake and the avalanche; from the grain of sand and the fertile valley; from the raindrop and the sea; from the chirp of the cricket and the crashing of the thunder; from the firefly and the lightning"s flash; and from Vesuvius and Sinai. To know life he listens to the baby"s prattle, the mother"s lullaby, and the father"s prayer; he looks upon faces that show joy and sorrow, hope and despair, defeat and triumph; and he feels the pulsations of the tides, the hurricane, and the human heart.
=How the poet learns life.=--He sits beside the bed of sickness and hears the feeble and broken words that tell of the past, the present, and the future; he visits the field of battle and sees the wreckage of the pa.s.sions of men; he goes into the dungeon and hears the ravings and revilings of a distorted soul; he visits pastoral scenes where peace and plenty unite in a song of praise; he rides the mighty ship and knows the heartbeats of the ocean; he sits within the church and opens the doors of his soul to its holy influences; he enters the hovel whose squalor proclaims it the abode of ignorance and vice; he visits the home of happiness where industry and frugality pour forth their bounteous gifts and love sways its gentle scepter; and he sits at the feet of his mother and imbibes her gracious spirit.
=Transfusion of life.=--And then he writes; and as he writes his pen drips life. He knows and feels, and, therefore, he expresses, and his words are the distillations of life. His spiritual percipience has rendered his soul a veritable garden of emotions, and with his pen he transplants these in the written page. And men see and come to pluck the flowers to transplant again in their own souls that they, too, may have a garden like unto his. His _elan_ carries over into the lives of these men and they glow with the ardor of his emotions and are inspired to deeds of courage, of service, and of solace. For every flower plucked from his garden another grows in its stead more beautiful and more fragrant than its fellow, and he is reinspired as he inspires others.
And thus in this transfusion of life there is an undertow that carries back into his own life and makes his spirit more fertile.
=Aspiration.=--When he would teach men to aspire he writes "Excelsior"
and so causes them to know that only he who aspires really lives. They see the groundling, the boor, the drudge, and the clown content to dwell in the valley amid the loaves and fishes of animal desires, while the man who aspires is struggling toward the heights whence he may gain an outlook upon the glories that are, know the throb and thrill of new life, and experience the swing and sweep of spiritual impulses. He makes them to know that the man who aspires recks not of cold, of storm, or of snow, if only he may reach the summit and lave his soul in the glory that crowns the marriage of earth and sky. They feel that the aspirant is but yielding obedience to the behests of his better self to scale the heights where sublimity dwells.
=Perseverance.=--Or he writes the fourth "aeneid" to make men feel that the palm of victory comes only to those who persevere to the end; that duty does not abdicate in favor of inclination; and that the high G.o.ds will not hold guiltless the man who stops short of Italy to loiter and dally in Carthage even in the sunshine of a Dido"s smile. When Italy is calling, no siren song of pleasure must avail to lure him from his course, nor must his sail be furled until the keel grates upon the Italian sh.o.r.e. His navigating skill must guide him through the perils of Scylla and Charybdis and the stout heart of manhood must bear him past Mount aetna"s fiery menace. His dauntless courage must brave the anger of the greedy waves and boldly ride them down. Nor must his cup of joy be full until the wished-for land shall greet his eager eyes.
=Overweening ambition.=--Or, again, the poet may yearn to teach the wrong of overweening, vaulting ambition and he writes "Paradise Lost"
and "Recessional." He pictures Satan overthrown, like the Giants who would climb into the throne on Olympus. He pictures h.e.l.l as the fitting place for Satan overthrown, and in his own place he pictures the outcast and downcast Satan writhing and cursing because he was balked of his unholy ambition. And, lest mortals sink from their high estate, borne down by their sins of unsanctified ambition, he prays, and prays again, "Lord G.o.d of Hosts, be with us yet, lest we forget, lest we forget." And the prayer echoes and reechoes in the soul of the man, and the world sees his lips moving in the prayer of the poet, "Lest we forget, lest we forget."
=Native land.=--Or, again, he writes Bannockburn and the spirit is fired with patriotic devotion to native land. We hear the bagpipe and the drum and see the martial clans gathering in serried ranks and catch the glint of their arms and armor as they flash back the sunlight. We hear their l.u.s.ty calls as they rush together to defend the hills and the homes they love. We see, again, the Wallace and the Bruce inciting valorous men to deeds of heroism and hear the hills reechoing with the shock of steel upon steel. From hill to hill the pibroch leaps, and hearts and feet quicken at its sound. And mothers are pressing their bairns to their bosoms as they cheer their loved ones away to the strife. And while their eyes are weeping their hearts are saying:
"Wha will be a traitor knave?
Wha can fill a coward"s grave?
Wha so base as be a slave?
Let him turn and flee!"
=Faith.=--And after the sounds of battle are hushed he sings "To Mary in Heaven" and causes the man to stand in the presence of the Burning Bush and to hear the command "Put off thy shoes from off thy feet, for the place whereon thou standest is holy ground." And the heart of the man grows tender as the poet opens his eyes to catch a glimpse of the life of faith that the star foretells even as the Star of Bethlehem was prophetic. And, through the eyes of the lover, he looks over into the other life and knows that his faith is not in vain. And when faith sits enthroned, the music of the brook at his feet becomes sweeter, the stars shine more brightly, the earth becomes a place of gladness, and life is far more worth while. The poet has caused the scales to fall from his eyes and through them the light of Heaven has streamed into his soul.
=The teacher"s influx of life.=--And the teacher imbibes the spirit of the poet and becomes vital and thus becomes attuned to all life. Flowers spring up in her pathway because they are claiming kinship with the flowers that are blooming in her soul. The insect chirps forth its music, and her own spirit joins in the chorus of the forest. The brooklet laughs as it ripples its way toward the sea, and her spirit laughs in unison because the poet has poured his laughter into her soul.
She stands unafraid in the presence of the storm because her feeling for majesty overmasters her apprehension of danger. The lightning"s flash may rend the oak but, even so, she stands in mute admiration at this wondrous manifestation of life. Her quickened spirit responds to the roll and reverberation of the thunder because she has grown to womanhood through the poet"s copious draughts of life.
=The book of life.=--The voices of the night enchant her and the stars take her into their counsels. The swaying tree speaks her language because both speak the language of life. She takes delight in the lexicon of the planets because it interprets to her the book of life, and in the revelations of this book she finds her chief joy. For her there are no dull moments whether she wanders by the river, through the glades, or over the hills, because she is ever turning the pages of this book. She moves among the things of life and accounts them all her friends and companions. She knows their moods and their language and with them holds intimate communion. They smile upon her because she can reciprocate their smiles. Life to her is a buoyant, a joyous experience each hour of the day because the poet has poured into her spirit its fuller, deeper meanings.
=The teaching.=--And because the poet has touched her spirit with the wand of his power the waters of life gush forth in sparkling abundance.
And children come to the fountain of her life and drink of its waters and are thereby refreshed and invigorated. Then they smile back their grat.i.tude to her in their exuberance of joyous life.
QUESTIONS AND EXERCISES
1. What is poetry?
2. What is the purpose of rhyme?
3. May writing have the essentials of poetry and yet have no regular rhythm? What of the Psalms?
4. Why is poetry especially valuable to the teacher?
5. Show how some poem other than those mentioned in the chapter teaches a lesson or gives an inspiration.
6. Name, if you can, some methods of treatment that cause poetry to fail to affect the lives of the pupils as it should.
7. Suggest uses of poetry and the treatment that will insure the right results.
8. Is there danger that a teacher may become too appreciative or susceptible--too poetic in temperament? Recall observations of those who were either too much so or too little.
9. Is there danger that one may have too much of a good quality, or is the danger not in having too little of some other quality?
10. Show how a wide and appreciative reading of poetry makes for a proper balance of temperament.
CHAPTER XIX
A SENSE OF HUMOR
=An American story.=--There is a story to the effect that a certain Mr.
Jones was much given to boasting of his early rising. He stoutly maintained that he was going about his work every morning at three o"clock. Some of his friends were inclined to be incredulous as to his representations and entered into a kindly conspiracy to put them to the test. Accordingly one of the number presented himself at the kitchen door of the Jones residence one morning at half-past three and made inquiry of Mrs. Jones as to the whereabouts of her husband, asking if he was at home. In a very gracious manner Mrs. Jones replied: "No, he isn"t here now. He was around here early this morning but I don"t really know where he is now." This is a clean, fine, typical American story, and, by means of such a story, we can test for a sense of humor. The boy in school will laugh at this story both because it is a good one and because he is a normal boy. If he does not laugh at such a story, there is cause for anxiety as to his mental condition or att.i.tude. If the teacher cannot or does not laugh, a disharmony is generated at once between teacher and pupil which militates against the well-being of the school. If the teacher reprimands the boy, the boy as certainly discredits the teacher and all that she represents. If she cannot enjoy such a wholesome story, he feels that her arithmetic, geography, and grammar are responsible, and these studies decline somewhat in his esteem. Moreover, he feels that the teacher"s reprimand was unwarranted and unjust and he fain would consort with people of his own kind. Many a boy deserts school because the teacher is devoid of the saving grace of humor. Her inability to see or have any fun in life makes him uncomfortable and he seeks a more agreeable environment.
=Humor in its manifestations.=--A sense of humor diffuses itself through all the activities of life, giving to them all a gentle quality that eliminates asperities and renders them gracious and amiable. Like fireflies that bespangle the darkness of the night, humor scintillates through all life"s phases and activities and causes the day to go more pleasantly and effectively on. It twinkles through the thoughts and gives to language a sparkle and a nicety that cause it to appeal to the artistic sense. It gives to discourse a piquancy that stimulates but does not irritate. It is the flavor that gives to speech its undulatory quality, and redeems it from desert sameness. It pervades the motives and gives direction as well as a pleasing fertility to all behavior. It is pervasive without becoming obtrusive. It steals into the senses as quietly as the dawn and causes life to smile. Wit may flash, but humor blithely glides into the consciousness with a radiant and kindly smile upon its face. Wit may sting and inflame, but humor soothes and comforts. The man who has a generous admixture of humor in his nature is an agreeable companion and a sympathetic friend to grown-up people, to children, and to animals. His spirit is genial, and people become kindly and magnanimous in his presence.
=One of John B. Gough"s stories.=--The celebrated John B. Gough was wont to tell a story that was accounted one of his many masterpieces. It was a story of a free-for-all convention where any one, according to inclination, had the privilege of freely speaking his sentiments. When the first speaker had concluded, a man in the audience called l.u.s.tily for a speech from Mr. Henry. Then another spoke, and, again, more l.u.s.tily than before, the man demanded Mr. Henry. More and more vociferous grew the call for Mr. Henry after each succeeding speech until, at last, the chairman with some acrimony exclaimed: "The man who is calling for Mr. Henry will please be quiet. It is Mr. Henry who is now speaking." The man thus rebuked was somewhat crestfallen, but managed to say, as if in a half-soliloquy: "Mr. Henry! Why, that ain"t Mr. Henry. That"s the little chap that told me to holler."
At the conclusion of one of his lectures in which Mr. Gough told this story in his inimitable style, a man came to the platform and explained to him that he had a friend who seemed to lack a sense of humor and wondered if he might not prevail upon Mr. Gough to tell him this particular story in the hope that it would cause him to laugh. In a spirit of adventure Mr. Gough consented, and at the time appointed told the story to the old gentleman in his own best style. The old gentleman seemed to be deeply interested, but at the conclusion of the story, instead of laughing heartily as his friend had hoped, he solemnly asked, "What did he tell him to holler fur?"
=The man who lacks a sense of humor.=--There was no answer to this question, or, rather, he himself was the answer. Such a man is obviously outside the pale, without hope of redemption. If such a story, told by such a _raconteur_, could not touch him, he is hopeless. In his spiritual landscape there are no undulations, but it reveals itself as a monotonous dead-level without stream or verdure. He eats, and sleeps, and walks about, but he walks in a spiritual daze. To him life must seem a somber, drab affair. If he were a teacher in a traditional school, he would chill and depress, but he might be tolerated because a sense of humor is not one of the qualifications of the teacher. But, in the vitalized school, he would be intolerable. If children should go to such a teacher for spiritual refreshment, they would return thirsty. He has nothing to give them, no bubbling water of life, no geniality, no such graces of the spirit as appeal to buoyant childhood. He lacks a sense of humor, and that lack makes arid the exuberant sources of life. He may solve problems in arithmetic, but he cannot compa.s.s the solution of the problem of life. The children pity him, and no greater calamity can befall a teacher than to deserve and receive the pity of a child. He might, in a way, teach anatomy, but not physiology. He might be able to deal with the a.n.a.lytic. He might succeed as curator in a museum of mummies, but he will fail as a teacher of children.
=Story of a boy.=--A seven-year-old boy who was lying on his back on the floor asked his father the question, "How long since the world was born?" The father replied, "Oh, about four thousand years." In a few moments the child said in a tone of finality, "That isn"t very long."
Then after another interval, he asked, "What was there before the world was born?" To this the father replied, "Nothing." After a lapse of two or three minutes the child gave vent to uncontrollable laughter which resounded throughout the house. When, at length, the father asked him what he was laughing at, he could scarcely control his laughter to answer. But at last he managed to reply, "I was laughing to see how funny it was when there wasn"t anything."
=The child"s imagination.=--The philosopher could well afford to give the half of his kingdom to be able to see what that child saw. Out of the gossamer threads of fancy his imagination had wrought a pattern that transcends philosophy. The picture that his imagination painted was so extraordinary that it produced a paroxysm of laughter. That picture is far beyond the ken of the philosopher and he will look for it in vain because he has grown away from the child in power of imagination and has lost the child"s sense of humor. What that child saw will never be known, for the pictures of fancy are ephemeral, but certain it is that the power of imagination and a keen sense of humor are two of the attributes of childhood whose loss should give both his father and his teacher poignant regrets.
=The little girl and her elders.=--The little girl upon the beach invests the tiny wavelets not only with life and intelligence, but, also, with a sense of humor as she eludes their sly advances to engulf her feet. She laughs in glee at their watery pranks as they twinkle and sparkle, now advancing, now receding, trying to take her by surprise.
She chides them for their duplicity, then extols them for their prankish playfulness. She makes them her companions, and they laugh in chorus. If she knows of sprites, and gnomes, and nymphs, and fairies, she finds them all dancing in glee at her feet in the form of rippling wavelets.
And while she is thus refreshing her spirit from the br.i.m.m.i.n.g cup of life, her matter-of-fact elders are reproaching her for getting her dress soiled. To the parent or the teacher who lacks a sense of humor and cannot enter into the little girl"s conception of life, a dress is of more importance than the spirit of the child. But the teacher or the parent who has the "apt.i.tude for vicariousness" that enables her to enter into the child"s life in her fun and frolic with the playful water, and can feel the presence of the nymphs among the wavelets,--such a teacher or parent will adorn the school or the home and endear herself to the child.
=Lincoln"s humor.=--The life of Abraham Lincoln affords a notable ill.u.s.tration of the saving power of humor. Reared in conditions of hardship, his early life was essentially drab and prosaic. In temperament he was serious, with an inclination toward the morbid, but his sense of humor redeemed the situation. When clouds of gloom and discouragement lowered in his mental sky, his keen sense of humor penetrated the darkness and illumined his pathway. He was sometimes the object of derision because men could not comprehend the depth and bigness of his nature, and his humor was often accounted a weakness. But the Gettysburg speech rendered further derision impossible and the wondrous alchemy of that address trans.m.u.ted criticism into willing praise.
=Humor betokens deep feeling.=--Laughter and tears issue from the same source, we are told, and the Gettysburg speech revealed a depth and a quality of tenderness that men had not, before, been able to recognize or appreciate. The absence of a sense of humor betokens shallowness in that it reveals an inability to feel deeply. People who feel deeply often laugh in order to forestall tears. Lincoln was a great soul and his sense of humor was one element of his greatness. His apt stories and his humorous personal experiences often carried off a situation where cold logic would have failed. Whether his sense of humor was a gift or an acquisition, it certainly served the nation well and gave to us all an example that is worthy of emulation.
=The teacher of English.=--Many teachers could, with profit to themselves and their schools, sit at the feet of Abraham Lincoln, not only to learn English but also to imbibe his sense of humor. Nothing is more pathetic than the efforts of a teacher who lacks a sense of humor to teach a bit of English that abounds in humor, by means of the textual notes. The notes are bad enough, in all conscience, but the teacher"s lack of humor piles Ossa upon Pelion. The solemnity that pervades such mechanical teaching would be farcical were it not so pathetic. The teacher who cannot indulge in a hearty, honest, ringing laugh with her pupils in situations that are really humorous is certain to be laughed at by her pupils. In her work, as in Lincoln"s, a sense of humor will often save the day.
=Mark Twain as philosopher.=--Mark Twain will ever be accounted a very prince of humorists, and so he was. But he was more than that. Upon the current of his humor were carried precious cargoes of the philosophy of life. His humor is often so subtle that the superficial reader fails to appreciate its fine quality and misses the philosophy altogether. To extract the full meaning from his writing one must be able to read not only between the lines but also beneath the lines. The subtle quality of his humor defies both a.n.a.lysis and explanation. If it fails to tell its own story, so much the worse for the reader. To such humor as his, explanation amounts to an impertinence. People can either appreciate it or else they cannot, and there"s the end of the matter.
In the good time to come when the school teaches reading for the purpose of pleasure and not for examination purposes, we shall have Mark Twain as one of our authors; and it is to be hoped that we shall have editions devoid of notes. The notes may serve to give the name of the editor a place on the t.i.tle page, but the notes cannot add to the enjoyment of the author"s genial humor. Mark Twain reigns supreme, and the editor does well to stand uncovered in his presence and to withhold his pen.
=A Twain story.=--One of Mark Twain"s stories is said to be one of the most humorous stories extant. The story relates how a soldier was rushing off the battlefield in retreat when a companion, whose leg was shattered, begged to be carried off the field. The appeal met a willing response and soon the soldier was bearing his companion away on his shoulder, his head hanging down the soldier"s back. Unknown to the soldier a cannon ball carried away the head of his companion. Accosted by another soldier, he was asked why he was carrying a man whose head had been shot away. He stoutly denied the allegation and, at length, dropped the headless body to prove the other"s hallucination. Seeing that the man"s head was, in truth, gone, he exclaimed, "Why, the durn fool told me it was his leg."
=Humor defies explanation.=--The humor of this story is c.u.mulative. We may not pa.r.s.e it, we may not a.n.a.lyze it, we may not annotate it. We can simply enjoy it. And, if we cannot enjoy it, we may pray for a spiritual awakening, for such an endowment of the sense of humor as will enable us to enjoy, that we may no longer lead lives that are spiritually blind.
Bill Nye wrote: