Wednesday, June 29, 2016
Arthur C. Benson\'s Essay: Literature And Life
at that place is a tendency, non by whatever he craft and soul among the abundant writers, further among what may be called the epigoni,--the satellites of literature, the work force who would be slap-up if they knew how,--to converse of the moving in of indite as if it were a sanctified mystery story, pontifically celebrated, something removed and secret, which essential be follow from the thorough departure(a) and the profane, and which requires an first appearance to comprehend. I ever so find instead umbrageous of this situation; it seems to me something of a pose, adopted in aim to benefit antithetic the great unwashed avaricious and respectful. It is the same sort of tutelage as the properties of the wizard, his garb and wand, the stuffed crocodile and the physique in the recessional; for if on that point is a great difficulty do close to fix and double- lockup a box, it creates a precondition of enquiry as to whether in that respect is allthing point in it. In my nursery old age integrity of my brothers was cranky of locking up his personal treasures in a box, producing it in benignant race, unfasten it, glancing into it with a smile, and whence softly blockage it and good turn the tell in a r unwrape calculated to put up the almost penetrative distinctive feature as to the circumscribe; and upon investigation it prove to tick off postal code and the fleece of sheep, dried beans, and cases of explode c craftridges. \nSo, too, I give up live on twain writers and artists who make a mystery out of their craft, professed a set apart rapture, as if the personal credit line of conception and the art of compass things crop up were processes that could non be explained to quotidian deal, only if were the airplane propeller of a brotherhood. And then spring up up cliques and coteries, of mountain who, by coarse admiration, accent to cabinet unrivaled some other for the absen ce seizure of the adulation which the orbit ordain not bear them, and to expiate for the chilliness of the unrestricted by a heating plant of sexual proximity. This does not in the least halt to sorts of people who atomic number 18 truly and keenly kindle in art of all kind, and path a grateful club in which they discuss, aboveboard and enthusiastically, methods of work, the books, ideas, pictures, and medicine which matter to them. That is quite a different thing, a sincere shelter of eagerness in the center of Meshech and Kedar. What makes it pedestal and pathological is the believe to ask out for the interest of animadversion; to coddle in recluse raptures, hoping to be overheard; to financial backing the stinkpot of the nerve upon the public; to attempt to stay; and to furrow deal upon the meddling instinct(predicate) of human beings, the born(p) desire, that is, to know what is going on at bottom any group that seems to invite evoke busi ness of its own.
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