THE WORLD'S
PROGRESS
WITH
ILLUSTRATIVE TEXTS
FROM MASTERPIECES OF
EGYPTIAN, HEBREW, GREEK,
LATIN, MODERN EUROPEAN
AND AMERICAN
LITERATURE
FULLY ILLUSTRATED
EDITORIAL STAFF
VOL. I
THE DELPHIAN SOCIETY
Copyright 1913
by
THE DELPHIAN SOCIETY
Chicago
COMPOSITION, ELECTROTYPING, PRINTING
AND BINDING BY THE
W. B. CONKEY COMPANY
Hammond, Indiana
TABLE OF CONTENTS
PART I.
Click here for a larger size of the map
MAP OFANCIENT EGYPT
FULL PAGE ILLUSTRATIONS
PART I.
THE DELPHIAN COURSE
OF READING
As its fame spread, the number of visitors to Delphi increased. More priests were needed to counsel and advise. Although the first blind faith in earlier deities lessened, the prestige of Delphi was nevertheless preserved. Apollo's priests became better versed in the affairs of Greece and the surrounding countries; their assistants became familiar with all vital issues, and thus intelligent replies were given to unceasing inquiries. In time the Greek divinities were almost forgotten and Christianity became the state religion, yet the Oracle of Delphi continued to draw men unto it until the fifth Christian century.
Ancient writers have left us abundant accounts of journeyings made thither by potentates and kings, and have described at length the rich offerings left by them in gratitude. The humble were seldom mentioned by early writers and it remained for the last few years to bring to light little leaden tablets—valueless from the standpoint of plunderers, earth-covered and revealed only by the excavator's spade—silent testimonials of appeals made to the oracle by the common people.
It is difficult for us today to understand the powerful influence which the Delphian Oracle exercised for a thousand years in Greece. This might fittingly be compared to that wielded by the Church in the Middle Ages. Here questions of international importance were brought, policies determined, and the balance delicately turned for peace or war. Nor were questions of the humblest slighted. Any interference on the part of one state designed to deny citizens of another free access to Delphi precipitated serious trouble.
There is no doubt but that implicit faith directed the first visitors to Delphi and beyond question this faith to some extent survived. The peasant accepted literally the presence of deity as many a worshipper today regards the statue, not as a symbol, but as the very Christ. However, there have been in all ages the discerning who have distinguished between the symbol and that symbolized, and certainly the keen, alert Greeks did not remain blind adherents of antiquated conceptions. The wisdom of the Delphian priests was revered and their judgments accepted much in the same way as were those of the seers who taught the children of Israel at the city gates. The Oracle of Delphi became potent—a name with which to conjure.
We know full well today that no priestess upon a tripod can reveal to us the secrets of the future. A thorough understanding of the past must be the safest guide for coming years. No vapor can inspire sudden revelations—the result only of faithful effort and earnest thought. Yet the story of the ancient oracle charms us still and when a name was sought for a national organization, that had for its avowed purpose the promotion of educational interests in a continent, none was deemed more suitable than that which for so many years cast its gracious spell from one sea to another.
Each new decade brings new needs, and the conditions of fifty years ago were wholly different from those confronting us today. Ours is an age characterized by intensity, strenuous effort and tireless exertion. Leisure seems to have disappeared from our national life and to be remembered only when reviewing pleasant stories of other times. Educators complain that we are neglecting the wisdom of the past—that the enduring thoughts of men as preserved to us in their writings have ceased to be familiar. The thoughtful deplore the loss of culture, courtesy and old-time chivalry. Frequently the critics fail to look beneath the surface for reasons leading to the very evident result. The truth is that in no previous age have the hearts of people been more sensitive to injustice, more united for fair dealing between man and man, more eager for the best the world can offer. But we are living in a transition period; social and industrial conditions have not yet crystallized in their new forms sufficiently to permit the wider opportunity for cultivation and reflection which must necessarily overtake us in time.
At present people accumulate fine libraries and rarely read them; for their shelves they seek the best—for their diversion the lightest and most transient literature. Few are there who do not dream of a happy time when it shall be their delight to browse among their books and find companionship in them. Still the years fly by relentlessly and many who are not mere theorists are sounding a warning: This time so fondly anticipated will never come to many of the present generation; seize today; snatch a brief moment for the consideration of enduring thoughts; do not merely provide for the temporal wants and leave the soul famishing. Dr. Eliot, late president of Harvard, in repeated lectures and addresses has voiced this crying need.
"From the total training during childhood there should result in the child a taste for interesting and improving reading, which should direct and inspire its subsequent intellectual life. That schooling which results in this taste for good reading, however unsystematic or eccentric the schooling may have been, has achieved a main end of elementary education; and that schooling which does not result in implanting this permanent taste has failed. Guided and animated by this impulse to acquire knowledge, and exercise his imagination through reading, the individual will continue to educate himself all through life. Without that deep-rooted impulsion he will soon cease to draw on the accumulated wisdom of the past and the new resources of the present, and, as he grows older, he will live in a mental atmosphere which is always growing thinner and emptier. Do we not all know many people who seem to live in a mental vacuum—to whom, indeed, we have great difficulty in attributing immortality, because they apparently have so little life except that of the body? Fifteen minutes a day of good reading would have given any one of this multitude a really human life."[1]
To meet this condition, which prevails throughout the length and breadth of our land, to stimulate a deeper interest, quicken a latent appreciation and facilitate the use of brief periods of freedom for self-improvement, the Delphian Society was organized and the Delphian Course of Reading made possible.
Believing that only a comprehensive course could meet the requirements of the day and prove acceptable to a large number of people, the Delphian Society has included those subjects which are now offered in the curriculums of our leading colleges and universities—history, literature, philosophy, poetry, fiction, drama, art, ethics, music. Mathematics, being in its higher forms essential to few, has been omitted; languages, requiring the aid of a teacher, and such sciences as make laboratories necessary, are not included. None of these subjects possess purely cultural qualities. Technical information has no place whatever in such a scheme. The branches of human interest which remain are those of vital importance to everyone.
Not only is the list of subjects widely inclusive, but the method of treatment has
Correlation of topics presents wonderful possibilities. If we become interested, for example, in society as portrayed in the earliest English novels, how much more shall we then appreciate the canvases of Hogarth, which depict the same social conditions. If the age of idealism in literature be under consideration, the productions of contemporaneous artists grow to have for us a new significance.
It is a mistake to imagine that relaxation and diversion are obtainable only from reading matter of the day. Oscar Kuhms calls attention to the fact that "to spend hours over illustrated magazines, Sunday newspapers, and the majority of popular novels, has very little to do with the art of reading in its larger sense." To a far greater extent than is generally imagined, the inordinate reading of magazines accounts for the host of superficial readers of our generation. To see how temporary is their interest one needs only to examine journals three or four years old.
The pleasures of travel may be greatly enhanced by definite knowledge of countries visited—their recorded past, the manner of life of those who dwelt within them and those now populating them; ruins, old temples, surviving art, make slight appeal to those wholly unfamiliar with the ages that produced them. The enjoyment of a play is more poignant for the one who has in mind the changes which plays and playhouses have witnessed. There is something impressive in the thought that for ages audiences have been thus held spellbound. Four centuries before the Christian era imposing dramas and keenly satirical comedies were given before larger assemblies than modern theatres could accommodate. Only in modern times has a curtain separated the players and spectators. Formerly the favored sat upon the stage itself; in the Elizabethan playhouse the majority stood throughout an entire performance. Sentences in Shakespeare's plays are meaningless without taking these facts into account. Some extended acquaintance with pictures would put an end to comments made not infrequently by critics that the spectacle of groups of people today in attendance upon an art exhibit supplies an astonishing sight. The majority—so it has been stated—find a number in their catalogues, search frantically about for a picture so designated, and when they discover it, sigh with satisfaction and begin the search for another—"for all the world as though they were indulging in a simple hunting game!" Why Raphael painted so many Madonnas, why Watteau seems to have known only the gay and carefree—these are simple questions which many might find perplexing to adequately explain.
The traveler whose time in a foreign land is limited does not seek the commonplace and unattractive; he does not try to compass all a city might have to show in the brief period he can spend there; rather, he obtains the guidance of those more familiar with the locality, and gives his attention to the best it has to offer. So if our time for reading and self-improvement must be brief, we shall find small satisfaction in wasting it blindly searching for what may satisfy. Educators are usually less pressed by insidious cares and more free to give their devotion to favorite subjects.
It is a mistake to suppose one reads chiefly for information. We read to develop our insight into the mystery of life; to gain an individual viewpoint; to establish our standards of conduct and modify our standard of judgment. Reading which is mere diversion can never bestow this power.
If those adopting the Delphian Course as the basis of their reading find that with its aid they are enabled to accomplish more satisfying results; if they finally discover that with its guidance one can make more intelligent use of his own library; if a love for things worth while—the lasting and enduring thoughts and sentiments of men—increases, and the desire for wider knowledge is aroused—the hopes and ambitions of the Delphian Society shall have been largely realized.
[1] Eliot: Educational Reform.