Essays On Work And Culture | Page 3

the whole range of human
interests must remain open, and such a man can never escape the
conviction that life is a unity under all its complexities; that all
activities stand vitally related to each other; that truth, beauty,
knowledge, and character must be harmonised and blended in every
real and adequate development of the human spirit. To the growth of

every flower earth, sun, and atmosphere must contribute; in the making
of a man all the rich forces of nature and civilisation must have place.

Chapter II
The Man in the Work
The general mind possesses a kind of divination which discovers itself
in those comments, criticisms, and judgments which pass from man to
man through a wide area and sometimes through long periods of time.
The opinion which appears at first glance to be an expression of
materialism often shows, upon closer study, an element of idealism or a
touch of spiritual discernment. It is customary, for instance, to say of a
man that he lives in his works; as if the enduring quality of his fame
rested in and was dependent upon the tangible products of his genius or
his skill. There is truth in the phrase even when its scope is limited to
this obvious meaning; but there is a deeper truth behind the truism,--the
truth that a man lives in his works, not only because they commemorate
but because they express him. They are products of his skill; but they
are also the products of his soul. The man is revealed in them, and
abides in them, not as a statue in a temple, but as a seed in the grain and
the fruit. They have grown out of him, and they uncover the secrets of
his spiritual life. No man can conceal himself from his fellows;
everything he fashions or creates interprets and explains him.
This deepest significance of work has always been divined even when
it has not been clearly perceived. Men have understood that there is a
spiritual quality even in the most material products of a man's activity,
and, even in ruder times, they have discerned the inner relation of the
things which a man makes with the man himself. In our time, when the
immense significance of this essential harmony between spirit and
product has been accepted as a guiding principle in historic
investigation, the stray spear-head and broken potsherd are prized by
the anthropologist, because a past race lives in them. The lowest and
commonest kind of domestic vessels and implements disclose to the
student of to-day not only the stage of manual skill which their makers

had reached, but also the general ideas of life which those makers held.
When it comes to the higher products, character, temperament, and
genius are discerned in every mutilated fragment. The line on an urn
reveals the spirit of the unknown sculptor who cut it in the enduring
stone. It has often been said that if every memorial of the Greek race
save the Parthenon had perished, it would be possible to gain a clear
and true impression of the spiritual condition and quality of that race.
The great artists are the typical and representative men of the race, and
whatever is true of them is true, in a lesser degree, of men in general.
There is in the work of every great sculptor, painter, writer, composer,
architect, a distinctive and individual manner so marked and
unmistakable as to identify the man whenever and wherever a bit of his
work appears. If a statue of Phidias were to be found without any mark
of the sculptor upon it, there would be no delay in determining whose
work it was; no educated musician would be uncertain for a moment
about a composition of Wagner's if he heard it for the first time without
knowledge of its source; nor would a short story from the hand of
Hawthorne remain unclaimed a day after its publication. Now, this
individual manner and quality, so evident that it is impossible not to
recognise it whenever it appears, is not a trick of skill; it has its source
in a man's temperament and genius; it is the subtlest and most
deep-going disclosure of his nature. In so far as a spiritual quality can
be contained and expressed in any form of speech known among
men--and all the arts are forms of speech--that which is most secret and
sacred in a man is freely given to the world in his work.
Work is sacred, therefore, not only because it is the fruit of self- denial,
patience, and toil, but because it uncovers the soul of the worker. We
deal with each other on so many planes, and have so much speech with
each other about things of little moment, that