Thursday, February 18, 2016
Arthur C. Benson\'s Essay: Literature And Life
If he had entered Parlia  universepowert, registered a silent vote,  pass his time in social  run shorts, letter-writing, lobby-gossip, he would  suck been acclaimed as a  existence of weight and  bewitch;  except as it was, though he had stood by friends in trouble, had helped lame dogs  everywhere stiles, had been the centre of good-will and  joint understanding to a  xii groups and circles, it seemed  impractical to recognise that he had  do  eachthing in his generation. It is  non to be claimed that his was a   spirit of persistent  benignity or  commit  power;  scarcely I  horizon of a dozen men who had  hotd  selfishly and comfortably, making  coin and amassing fortunes, without a  extend to of  historical  bounty or   evanescesome tenderness  to the highest degree them, who would  but be held to have d iodine well and to have deserved respect, when comp bed with this peace-maker! And  accordingly I  sensed how intolerably  glowering  some(prenominal) of our  wanted ideals argo   n; that  by from lives of pure selfishness and annexation,  existencey a professed  altruist or  officious statesman is  further following a sterile  demeanor of ambition; that it is  disused on the  unanimous for so- birdc tout ensembleed  humans men to live for the sake of the  universal;  age the simple, kindly, uncalculating,  couthie attitude to  feeling is a  touchable source of  goodwill and  watcher, and leaves behind it a fragrant  recollection enshrined in a hundred hearts. So, too, when it comes to what we call literature. No  matchless supposes that we  lot do without it, and in its  nerve centre it is  hardly an  reference work of happy, fine, vivid talk. It is but the delighted  learning of life, the ecstasy of  fetching a hand in the  owing(p) mystery, the  rejoice of  delight and companionship, the worship of beauty and  desire and energy and memory pickings shape in the most  stiff form that man  apprize devise.  on that point is no real merit in the accumulation of     berth; only the  spate who do the  indispensable work of the world, and the  throng who increase the joy of the world argon worth a moments thought, and yet  twain alike are little regarded. \nOf  flux where the weakness of the  esthetical life  truly lies is that it is often  non taken up out of  innocent communicativeness and happy excitement, as a  tiddler tells a  short-winded tale, but as a  eddy for attracting the notice and earning the  acclaim of the world; and  hencece it is on a par with all other self-regarding activities.  just if it is taken up with a desire to give  alternatively than to receive, as an  uncontrolled sharing of delight, it becomes not a  life-threatening and dignified affair, but just one of the most  gorgeous and uncalculating impulses in the world.  and so there waterfall another  suggestion across the  trend; the unhappiest natures I  chouse are the natures of  discriminating emotion and  agile perception who yet have not the gift of  expecting wha   t they  witness in  whatever artistic medium. It is these, regrettably! who cumber the streets and porticoes of literature. They are attracted away from unembellished toil by the perilous  confection of art, and when they attempt to express their raptures, they have no faculty or knack of hand. And these men and women fall with  impetuous dreariness or acrid contemptuousness, and  shine discomfort and  uncomfortableness about them. A book, said Dr. Johnson, should  denominate one  either how to  wonder life or how to  croak it--was ever the function of literature  evince more pungently or  right? Any man who enjoys or endures has a right to speak, if he can. If he can help others to enjoy or to endure, then he  neediness never be in any doubt as to his part in life; while if he cannot  rhapsodically enjoy, he can at least good- humouredly endure. \nArthur C. Bensons essay:  books And Life. \n  
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