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THE ATLANTA GEORGIAN
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Your Thoughts and Con
duct Make Your Face
r. r.
The Man Who Posed as Jesus and as Judas.
Leonardo Da Vinci painted his “Last. Supper’’ on-the rear
wall of a church in Milan. Napoleon stabled his horses in the
church. The horses kicked away much of the painting.
People from all lands visit the old church each year, and as
they study the beautiful faces, now grown dim, they moralize about
Napoleon, about Da Vinci’s peasant mother, about time’s ravages
and other things.
They might well moralize over the story of Da Vinci’s great
model—if they knew it.
Here is the story; it applies to every human being. You can
make it of use to yourself without going to the church in Milan.
The artist sought to express the widest possible range of char
acter study in his great painting. Laboriously, during many years,
he sought and sketched types of men.
The eleven good disciples were first painted, and then Da
Vinci began eagerly seeking for a face worthy to serve as a founda
tion for his inspired portrait of Christ.
He found a face that pleased him at last. It was that of a
young man singing in the Milan Cathedral.
It was a beautiful face, breathing a spirit of truth ami of
lofty idealism. The young man gladly accepted the honor offered
him, and posed for tin 1 face that today looks out so ealm and gentle
among the twelve disciples. t
Only one face then remained to be painted—that of Judas, the
traitor.
Throughout the jails and through haunts of crime Da Vinci
sought a face that should embody the hideous depravity, the utter
baseness of a spirit that could betray the gentlest of men.
He found his model at last ,in a prison cell in Rome. The face
was not that of an old man. But vice, evil thoughts, evil living
gave it the stamp of sunken humanity which the painter sought.
That face was painted as the face of Judas—and alter the
work was done Da Vinci learned, through an accident, that the
young man who had posed for the face of Jesus was the same as he
in the prison cell who had posed lor the face of Judas.
A few years of evil living had done the work. Such a change
had been made in those few years that the painter himself, familiar
through long work with the model’s face, failed utterly to recog
nize it.
This story is often heard with incredulity. But why should it
be heard with incredulity?
Can you recognize a stream of pure spring water after it has
run through the gutter of a city?
Can you believe that the face twitching under the black mask
as the hangman mounts the scaffold was once the face of a pretty
young child, loved by its mother ami seeming in every man s eyes
the embodiment of permanent innocence?
Each city magistrate, when be climbs to his police court seat,
sees a row of unhappy women before him. They vary in age from
twenty to sixty. Listlessly he sentences these women—sometimes
for drunkenness, sometimes for "erimes in which the responsible
criminal goes free. Would one of these miserable women be rec
ognized by those who knew her when her face reflected a pure
mind? Not one. except, perhaps, some mother whose eyes sei*
through all the marks of a hard world and into the soul that can
not be destroyed.
Have you ever seen a photograph of yourself made when you
were a child?
You have laughed at the old picture, probably, at the old
fashioned clothing, the “best suit’’ with the wide black braid, or
the funny old dress.
Look again at the picture of your childhood, and look se
riously. You will be a fortunate man or woman if you can look and
not miss anything.
Look carefully at the eyes and the mouth. Study the expres
sion. Do you find none of the frankness, freshness, truth or other
good qualities missing?
The woman who has devoted her life to pleasure, to dismal
social vanity, to eager pursuit of worthless excitement, looks bit
terly in her glass as the years go by. The peace has gone, the youth
has been replaced not by calm, self-respecting age, but by bitter
regret that stains all the expression, deadens the eyes and makes
the face look out at its owner as different from the girl of ten or
fifteen years ago as in the face of Judas from that of Jesus in the
great picture of Milan,
The moral in the story of Leonardo's model does not apply to
extreme eases alone.
It applies to the middle-aged man made hard—hard inside
and out by persistent, selfish hunting for money.
It applies to the gourmet or gourmand who has devoted his
intelligence exclusively to the service of his stomach.
It applies to the newspaper man who thinks that, "journal
ism makes men pessimistic. ’’ but who ought to know that lack of
sincere interest in other men is what "makes men pessimistic.”
When your life is ended, so far as material accomplishment
goes, you may have money, you may have fame, you may be envied
by others.
But for yourself you will only have ONE possession really
important—your opinion of yourself, based on your knowledge of
what you have really aimed at and really done
Your face will tell the story of your life at its various phases.
It will tell the whole story toward the end. as you look in the glass
and see in every line and in the whole expression whether you have
been true or false to the start and the possibilities that nature gave
you.
i
The Atlanta Georgian
THURSDAY, AUGUST 1, 1912.
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THE VIEWPOINT OF AGE
A N interviewer asked Thomas
Hardy- the other day why he
was so pessimistic, and the
great novelist replied:
"The cruelty of fate becomes ap
parent as people»grow older. At
first one may, perhaps, escape com
ing in contact with it. but after
living long enough one realizes that
happiness is very ephemeral.”
Mr. Hardy Is a very great genius,
but a very morbid and melancholy
one, and. it seems to me. he does
not see life from quite the angle
that we ordinary, common-place
folk do. In his novels there Is nev
er anything but great dots of
o
•Kloom. and misfortunes follow fast
upon the heels of his heroes and
heroines, while for most real peo
ple there is as much joy as sorrow,
as much feasting as starving.
t’ertatnly, to the normal individ
ual with the average experiences of ,
existence, age does not necessarily
bring pessimism. The lesson that
the years teach Us Is not despair
but confidence, and the proof of
this is to be found In the fact that
old people are nearly always calm
ly cheerful and untroubled.
Youth Is the time of optimism
only in the sense that it Is the sea
son of bubbling hope am! enthu
siasm, and over-weening self-eon
tidence and self-conceit. Our pow
ers are then untried, and we are
like soldiers who boast before the
battle of tlie prodigies of valor that
are going to be performed and the
medals that will be won. There is
nothing great that we do not figure
ourselves as doing, and we have no
doubt that tlie world will stop its
usual round to applaud.
Blind to Dangers.
A young man Is optimistic in that
he Is too Ignorant to perceive any
of the difficulties that lie in his
way, or to take account of any of
the obstacles he must encounter.
He shuts his eyes to the dangers, ho
pooh-poohs the strength of the ene
my. But his cheerfulness is that
of one drunk on the wine of his own
egotism, and it gives away at the
first sobering contact with the stern
reality of the struggle of life.
No old man believes in himself
as a boy believes in himself, nor
does he indulge In the rosy dreams
of effortless and sure success the
boy does. He can forecast the dif
ficulties to be encountered. He
knows that we never achieve all we
set out to do. but he also knows
that sincere and honest effort never
quite falls, and that, while we may
have missed the star at which we
aimed, we are sure to hit the barn
door.
Youth is a time of alternation
By DOROTHY I)IX.
between the seventh Heaven of joy
and the deepest hell of despair. It
plunges from the pinnacle of joy to
the blackest abyss <>f woe, because
to the young everything seems
final, every catastrophe Irrevocable,
every disaster irremedial, every
disappointment a blighting sorrow.
DOROTHY DIX.
It is the young who die of broken
hearts when some love affair goes
awry.. It is the young who commit
suicide. No rainbow of hope spans
their tears. No philosophy gives
them courage to face misfortune.
It is only the old who can smile in
the face of disappointment, be
cause they have learned that
laughter and weeping both endure
but a night, and that if we didn’t
get the thing we wanted there is
something else just as good ahead.
We are always talking about the
joys of childhood, but 1 question If
any middle-aged person is capable
of suffering as a child does. Do
you remember the black disap
pointment that filled your whole
horizon on the day of the picnic
when it rained, and how you felt
that you might as well die since
there was nothing else in life worth
living for? Do you recall the fury
of balked ambition that tore your
soul when you failed to get the
scliool prize? Do you remember
how you wot your pillow with tears
when Johnnie Jones walked home
with Sally Smith instead of you?
What could move you that way
now? Nothing.
You have learned that if it rains
today the sun will be shining to
morrow, and that picnics are messy
affairs anyway. If you didn't carry
off the first prize, you got the con
solation one, and you've lived to
see the day that you thank your
heavenly stars that you missed
Johnnie Jones and got Tommy
Smith, and so nothing fills you with
despair because you have realized
that the law of compensation never
falls. Age. that takes the keenest
edge off our enjoyment, also dulls
our capacity for suffering. It dries
up figuratively, as well as literally,
the springs of our tears.
The Real Optimist.
Youth is likewise the time of pes
simism as regards the world, be
cause youth is the time of intoler
ance, of impatience, of merciless
hard judgment. Every young man
I thinks that the country will go to
the dogs if his political candidate
is not elected, an<j that anarchy
will ensue if the theory- he advo
cates is not enforced. He believes
that everybody who does not agree
with him is a thief, a liar, and an
assassin, and that every sinner
should be brougth forthwith to jus
tice. and he is filled with gloomy
forebodings when he contemplates
the future.
it is the old man who Is optimis
tic, because he has seen so many
dark prophecies unfulfilled; he has
seen the world go on in its old
accustomed way after so many pre
dictions that the end was about to
occur: he has seen the deluge peter
out so often in a mild and benefi
cent shower. Experience has also
taught him that youth is wrong in
thinking everything black and
white, because it is mostly shaded
down into gray, with so much more
good in the bad than we believe,
and so much more bad in the good
than we expected.
Age is the time of optimism be
cause w-e have learned to trust life,
and to realize that, as the homeli
old phrase puts it, there is no use
in worrying because the things we
worry about in advance never
happen and most of our troubles
are about things that never trouble
us. IVe have seen changes that we
dreaded make our greatest happi
ness, and disappointments turn into
choicest blessings, and so we learn
to look forward with confidence to
what the morrow will bring us.
No, Mr. Hardy is wrong. Old age
is not the season of pessimism. It
is a time of calm philosophy, of
serene and hopeful confidence that
whatever is, is best. It is when
the clock strikes twelve that we
know most surely that. “God reigns
in His heaven and all’s well with
the world."
THE HOME PAPER
Elbert Hubbard *
Writes on
'WLJL
The WIT '
Elimination of the
Beggar |
Copyright, 1912, International News Service. ■
Bv ELBERT HUBBARD I
NOT beg and to dig I
am ashamed,” said the col
lege bred prodigal as he
asked for a hand-me-out.
If one wants to get a little
glimpse of the way the times are
changing, please make note of the
fact that the general government
in Spain has recently passed a law
making begging on the public
streets a misdemeanor.
Any individual so begging is lia
ble to arrest with a fine from one
dollar to ten. For second offenses
imprisonment is provided, without
the privilege of paying a fine. Third
offenders are liable to be sent to
prison for the rest of their natural
lives.
All a-down the centuries men
have been urged to give to the poor
and we have always taken the view
that poverty was a virtue and
riches a disgrace—that poor men
were good and rich men bad.
The Only Way
To Help People.
When wealth was only obtainable
by robbery, this view of things had
a certain basis in fact. But wealth
obtained by rendering a service to
humanity is a thing of which to be
justly proud.
The parable- of Dives and Laz
arus has gotten a firm grip on the
imagination. Lazarus in heaven
' and Dives in hell is a particularly
pleasing proposition for the great
family of Lazarus.
The only way to help people is to
give them a chance to help them
selves. That is all any one should
ask foi;—opportunity. Giving to the
poor is lending to the devil. Money
earned means manhood. Money
gained by an appeal to sympathy is
tainted, and it stains the soul of
him who gets it.
Now, when things are coming
around to where most everybody
owns a home who really wants to,
we are getting a new focus.
Italy and Spain are the homes of
beggardom. But now Spain penal
izes beggary and Italy is introduc
ing the Montesorri system of edu
cation. which means eventually
earning your living, not merely se
curing it.
The church has always cast a
mantle of sympathy around the
sick, the lame, the decrepit, the un
fit and the poverty-stricken.
Scientific sociology, with its
high-power lens, shows us in the
distance an ideal world. Poverty
will be done away with, disease
eliminated, crime abolished.
The Old Orchard i
§ By MINNA IRVING.
I know an ancient orchard
Where the trees are all in bloom;
You will find it if you follow
Bee and butterfly and swallow
And the wafts of rich perfume.
There the robin builds his dwelling
On a pink and dewy spray;
When the wicket clicks behind you '
Care and pain can never find you,
For the world is shut away.
Gray the broken fence around it \
(Painted by the suns and rains),
But the hand of Time embosses
With the green of velvet mosses y
Every picket that remains.
Overhead the apple blossoms
Spread a tent of rosy snow,
Marking off the golden minutes
For the thrushes and the linnets
With the flakes that fall below.
’Tis the orchard of our childhood
Where all day we used to swing.
When the winds were sweet as honey
And the hours long and sunny
In the bridal bowers of Spring.
Self-sacrifice, abnegation, affect- J
ed humility are all more or less V
forms of hypocrisy. Indiscriminate
giving pauperizes. Enlightened self
interest gives freedom. I
We have lived in two worlds at
a time. The earth has been for- ■
saken in order that we might gain ■
the good will of the skies. As Ab- H
dul Bana says. "Man must be con- £
ciliated to man—not God to man.”
God loves men who love each oth
er, dimply because no other kind
are lovable.
Begging is a bad business. The (
more the beggar succeeds the worse
off he Is. Beggars breed beggars,
and thus make beggardom perpet
ual. Spain is right—begging must
be made disgraceful.
It would be almost unkind and
indelicate to call attention to the
fact that this was one of the chief !
planks in the platform of Francisco
Ferrer. The “modern schools’*
taught that beggary should be abol
ished.
Ferrer was destroyed because hs
expressed himself in undiplomatic
language, and was ahead of his
time. But by his death and through
his death he convinced Spain that
he was 51 per cent right.
And so now, behold, Spain, as if
to make amends—for you can’t
bring back the dead—is now en
couraging the modern school and
inaugurating many of the Ferrer
ideas.
Francisco Ferrer, having gone
swimming in the water of Lethe,
certain cowled sons of Mendax, who
worked his ruin, have stolen his
clothes. Aye, verily, in actual truth
they have divided his raiment
among them, and for his vesture
they have cast lots.
Typewriter Is Greater $ $
Than the Sword.
Thus does the world move. Gali
leo was right in that remark, “It
stands still, all right—aber nicht!”
Let us hope that Galileo, Co
lumbus, Copernicus, Bruno, John
Brown and Francisco Ferrer can
get together these days at a round
table in Valhalla and talk it over,
and with Walt Whitman say,
“Death is just as good as life, and
a deal luckier.” fa
That is something the world did I
not know at the time when martyr a
fires hovered over Smithfield Mar- I
flet and when Torquemanda drove fl
the Jews from Spain. 1
The typewriter is greater than
the sword, and it is good to know
that even the Spanish hidalgos ac
knowledge It. Amen and amen!
