onger if the skill and personality of
the speaker are kept in the background, and the audience is brought face
to face with the spirit of that which has been embodied in the lines. As
some readers go through their lines they seem to be saying, Listen to my
voice, observe my graceful gestures; isn't this a pretty gown I have?
I'll win you with my smile. Most audiences are good-natured, and enjoy
to the full such small vanities; moreover, we all like to see winning
smiles, beautiful gowns, and graceful gestures; but it is a pitiable
misnomer to call such exhibitions reading. But the more subtle forms of
insincerity in this art are even more prevalent. To exaggerate some form
of emphasis, to exaggerate a gesture or facial expression, to wrest a
passage from its meaning, these, and many other devices for forcing
immediate approval from an audience, are grossly insincere. There is
still a broader plan on which our sincerity must be judged. To present
this effectively I quote at length from Bliss Carmen's recent book, "The
Poetry of Life." The essay sets a high standard, but by no other can
enduring work be done. The fact that a reader has many engagements, or
that a teacher has many pupils is no assurance of sincerity or the high
grade of his work. "Munsey's Magazine" has a larger circulation than
"The Atlantic Monthly"; the one, "hack stuff," to be suffered only a
few minutes while waiting for a train; the other is literature. But,
to quote from Bliss Carmen. He is discussing the poetry of life, but
the same general principles apply to all art:

[Sidenote: =Quoting Bliss Carmen=]

"As for sincerity, the poetry of life need not always be solemn, any
more than life itself need not always be sober. It may be gay, witty,
humorous, satirical, disbelieving, farcical, even broad and reckless,
since life is all these; but it must never be insincere. Insincerity,
which is not always one of the greatest sins of the moral universe,
becomes in the world of art an offence of the first magnitude.
Insincerity in life may be mean, despicable, and indicate a petty
nature; but in art insincerity is death. A strong man may lie upon
occasion, and make restitution and be forgiven, but for the artist who
lies there is hardly any reparation possible, and his forgiveness is
much more difficult. Art, being the embodiment of the artist's ideal,
is truly the corporeal substance of his spiritual self; and that there
should be any falsehood in it, any