"Of human life the time is a point, and the substance is in a flux, and
the perception dull, and the composition of the whole body subject to putre-
faction, and the soul in a whirl, and fortune hard to divine, and fame a
thing devoid of judgment. *** What then is that which is able to con-
duct a man? One thing and only one, philosophy."-ANTONINUS.

"And no man knows distinctly anything,

And no man ever will."--XENOPHANES.

MARION, IND.

E. L. GOLDTHWAIT & Co., PRINTERS AND BINDERS

1894

PN49 K4

"Pythagoras, who often teaches
Precepts of magic, and with speeches
Of long high-sounding diction draws
From gaping crowds a vain applause.”

-Timon's Silli,

M500154

DEDICATION.

To the candid and energetic Thinker who would not stultify himself for an unintelligible faith, independent without insolence, incredulous without irreverence, who prefers his judgment (conscience?) to fashionable fancies and fanatacisms, and who loathes the gilded rot with which an exclusive regime regales a reading world, the following pages are respectfully inscribed.

1

A VOICE FROM NEW JERSEY.

The applause of the thoughtless multitude is not always a safe criterion of the value of any production of human genius, whether in the field of industry, art or science, and, least of all, perhaps, in that of literature. The works of hundreds of authors which, in their day, were lauded to the skies and pronounced immortal-yet dropped out of existence as completely as if they had never aroused the ephemeral applause of confused enthusiasm-furnish a melancholy illustration of the trustworthiness of contempory criticism. Wide publicity does not establish intrinsic worth, and the rebuke of one wise man, if sincere, outweighs the frantic approval of ten thousand fools.

But while all error, prejudice and false sentiment is doomed, eo ipso, to be superseded by the recognition of truth as soon as the torch of enlightenment is carried far enough by the foremost minds of the age, yet some illusions are deliberately retained and fostered beyond their legitimate scope, for reasons which cannot well be expressed here in few words.

The exaggerated praise which is still bestowed upon authors who have produced little of intrinsic merit, or who have been put into the shade by those whom the world has but tardily deigned to recognize, must always depressingly affect minds that are capable of adding to this world's store of wisdom, and who fain would expedite the course of general advancement.

There are certain authors whose works, nowadays, are practically never read, yet whom everybody deems it his duty to eulogize inordinately. Traditional veneration, misapplied hero-worship and erroneous education are mainly responsible for this. We are taught from infancy to look upon certain writers, poets, philosophers, etc., as paragons, and never to question their genius, or subject their productions to a closer analysis, with a view of determining their real caliber. Ignoring a great mind is bad enough, but placing a poor one on a pedestal, bestowing unmerited praise upon mediocrity, and setting up a false standard of excellence, are infinitely worse.

A careful perusal of Mr. John A. Kersey's "Ethics of Literature” has brought me to the conclusion that the hour has come at last when the cobwebs of ecstatic eulogy, absurd glorification and general hoodwinking, which have gathered around some of the literary idols of the last three generations, are about to be swept away, once and forever. Let those who cannot bear the truth stand aside!

There will be a great howl raised against these essays by those who are linked to inherited notions by all the ties of interest, prejudice and conceit, but Mr. Kersey wields a formidable scimitar, and I am proud to excercise the privilege of recording my opinion that the "Ethics of Literature" will live, and of congratulating this bold and brilliant champion of the cause of truth.

Paterson, New Jersey.

HEINRICH HENSOLDT.