214 THE LIBRARY 



Not from the grand old masters, 



Not from the bards sublime, 

 Those distant footsteps echo 



Through the corridors of Time. 



For, like strains of martial music, 



Their mighty thoughts suggest 

 Life's endless toil and endeavor, 



And to-night I long for rest. 



Read from some humble poet, 



Whose songs gushed from his heart, 



As showers from the clouds of summer, 

 Or tears from the eyelids start. . . . 



Such songs have power to quiet 



The restless pulse of care, 

 And come like the benediction 



That follows after prayer. 



Wise, indeed, was the ancient Egyptian monarch who placed over 

 the door of a library an inscription signifying that it contained " the 

 medicine of the mind." From literature we may derive courage for 

 the battle, fortitude in defeat, wisdom in victory, and an anodyne 

 for grief. What Shelley has said of the drama may well be given 

 a wider application. " The highest moral purpose," he says, 

 " aimed at in the highest species of the drama, is the teaching of 

 the human heart, through its sympathies and antipathies, the 

 knowledge of itself; in proportion to the possession of which 

 knowledge, every human being is wise, just, sincere, tolerant, and 

 kind." 1 This is what Arnold means when he describes culture as 

 " a study of perfection." This is that at which our schools, and 

 colleges, and universities, and libraries, all the machinery great and 

 small of education, should aim. In proportion as this is attained 

 are they successful and their existence justified. No educational 

 system has fulfilled its purpose that does not nourish the love of 

 knowledge and the desire for righteousness. 



The library has its lessons for nations as for individuals. It is 

 a perpetual symbol of the brotherhood of man. It knows no distinc- 

 tion of Jew or Gentile, of bond or free, but welcomes genius from 

 every quarter. The better part of Emerson the American, Homer 

 the Greek, Kalidasa the Hindoo, Dumas the French mulatto, Shake- 

 speare the Englishman, Dante the Italian, Omar the Persian, Goethe 

 the German, Tolstoy the Russian, stand on the shelves of the library 

 to warn us against arrogating preeminence to our own people, and to 

 teach us that every nation may contribute to the common fund, 

 and to lead us to hope that every race will bring some special gift 

 to the common service of humanity. The American, newest born 



1 Preface to The Cenci. 



