Importance of Literature
Dublin Core
Title
Importance of Literature
Subject
literature, education
Creator
[Unknown]
Source
http://addison.vt.edu/record=b1775388~S1
Publisher
Virginia Polytechnic Institute and State University
Date
February 1884
Contributor
Kayla McNabb, Joel Sprinkle
Rights
Permission to publish images from The Gray Jacket must be obtained from Special Collections, Virginia Tech.
Format
Text
Language
English
Type
article
Identifier
LD5655.V8 L4, ser.2, v.1, no.1 (February 1884), p.1-2
Text Item Type Metadata
Text
Literature is the only enduring marble that will perpetuate the triumphs of human greatness. The ancients sought to perpetuate their glory in magnificent structures of stone and brass—but while some few of these remain, the very names of their projectors are lost. The Pyramids of Egypt rise amid the sands of the desert, the same as when they were completed, three thousand years ago; but through whose folly and tyranny were they erected? While the court and splendor of Egyptian kings, who have sought through these magnificent undertakings to perpetuate the glory of their fame in the monuments that rise over their dust, to the admiration of all future generations, are lost in the shades of oblivion, magnificent Troy, though her ancient site can scarcely be found, still lives in song and poetry, and in all the life of her high-souled heroes and stirring and gallant population.
From the fact that certain places on the globe have been distinguished for the cultivation of literature, and have been the radiating points from which pure and exalted intellectual illumination has beamed forth, the notion has been imbibed by some that genius has chosen these places as her favorite retreats, or that they have given birth to her holy fires. But such a distinction does not belong to them. Mind is the peculiar distinction of no people, though it may be modified in its development by surrounding circumstances; it honors alike the sands of torrid deserts and the mountains of frozen climes.
When intellectual darkness began to gather over the scenery sacred to Grecian and Roman story, the wild Saracen, as he bestrode his courser, and by the starlight of evening pursued his journey over the desert, began to scatter in his pathway the light of science, and plead his claim to intellectual greatness.
It is the record of her glory preserved in the pages of literature, that confers honor upon the people who make them. There was as much intellectual power developed, doubtless, in the construction[italics] of the magnificent works of antiquity as in the records[italics] which describe their history; but were it not for these latter, they might have been lost like the forsaken Tadmor of the desert, and a wondering world would scarcely have been attracted to the site of their ruins, or the fragments of their fallen columns and broken statues would have only furnished occasion for amazement and wild speculation as to their origin. If these were the only monuments of the ancient world, the traveller would no longer fancy the breathing of classic fire as he surveyed the mutilated statues of the Cæsars, or wandered over the battle-fields where the blood of millions purchased the laurels of ancient warriors. Leonidas would sleep on 'til the morn of the resurrection in his quiet grave, while the wild bird's song, heard in the vicinity of Thermopylæ, would never be associated with the memory of this Grecian hero.
When intellectual darkness began to gather ove the scenery sacred to Grecian and Roman story, the wild Saracen, as he bestrode his courser, and by the starlight of evening pursued his journey over the desert, began to scatter in his pathway the light of science, and plead his claim to intellectual greatness.
Scotland, with all her beautiful scenery, her wild glens, sunny lakes, and romantic mountains, might have enjoyed the obscurity of Siberian landscapes to the present day, had not the records of her literature associated her scenery with the changes of human fortunes and incorporated her natural interest with the refined and delicate breathing of the intellectual soul. The wild woods of "Morvin" would have possessed no more interest than the timber lands of Maine, had not the gifted Ossian spread before us the battles and various fortunes of her warrior chiefs. To the visions of this celebrated bard, colored so unique by his impressions from the dark wilderness and by the peculiar superstitions of his kindred, and to other like records, Scotland is indebted for the foundation of that literary distinction which she claims. Were it not for these, the history of the Caledonians would be shrouded in oblivion as dark and impenetrable as that which rests on the ancient history of America.
Ages ago the fires of genius doubtless burned in the bosom of the Red Man as he pursued the wild deer through the valley and over the hills of New England, but these had not the pages of literature to preserve the records of their glory. The dark tides of the wilderness-clad rivers rolled on as classically as the waves of the Tiber, and the clangor of war was as often mingled with their murmurs; but no Virgil was here to write the spirit-stirring description of these scenes, and nothing is preserved of the history of a continent for ages.
And may it be the chief end and aim of the rising generation to raise literature—the glory of the past and the hope of the future—to a plane of still higher moral excellence, sublimity and purity: for in the hands of the youth of to day rests the destinies of future nations.
In man there is an inner soul which asks for the daily bread of some high impulse, and when that impulse is poured into it its life-motion begins, as a harp-string waits for some sweeping hand.
A watch set right will do to try many by; but one that goes wrong may be the means of misleading a whole neighborhood; and the same may be said of the example we set to those around us.
From the fact that certain places on the globe have been distinguished for the cultivation of literature, and have been the radiating points from which pure and exalted intellectual illumination has beamed forth, the notion has been imbibed by some that genius has chosen these places as her favorite retreats, or that they have given birth to her holy fires. But such a distinction does not belong to them. Mind is the peculiar distinction of no people, though it may be modified in its development by surrounding circumstances; it honors alike the sands of torrid deserts and the mountains of frozen climes.
When intellectual darkness began to gather over the scenery sacred to Grecian and Roman story, the wild Saracen, as he bestrode his courser, and by the starlight of evening pursued his journey over the desert, began to scatter in his pathway the light of science, and plead his claim to intellectual greatness.
It is the record of her glory preserved in the pages of literature, that confers honor upon the people who make them. There was as much intellectual power developed, doubtless, in the construction[italics] of the magnificent works of antiquity as in the records[italics] which describe their history; but were it not for these latter, they might have been lost like the forsaken Tadmor of the desert, and a wondering world would scarcely have been attracted to the site of their ruins, or the fragments of their fallen columns and broken statues would have only furnished occasion for amazement and wild speculation as to their origin. If these were the only monuments of the ancient world, the traveller would no longer fancy the breathing of classic fire as he surveyed the mutilated statues of the Cæsars, or wandered over the battle-fields where the blood of millions purchased the laurels of ancient warriors. Leonidas would sleep on 'til the morn of the resurrection in his quiet grave, while the wild bird's song, heard in the vicinity of Thermopylæ, would never be associated with the memory of this Grecian hero.
When intellectual darkness began to gather ove the scenery sacred to Grecian and Roman story, the wild Saracen, as he bestrode his courser, and by the starlight of evening pursued his journey over the desert, began to scatter in his pathway the light of science, and plead his claim to intellectual greatness.
Scotland, with all her beautiful scenery, her wild glens, sunny lakes, and romantic mountains, might have enjoyed the obscurity of Siberian landscapes to the present day, had not the records of her literature associated her scenery with the changes of human fortunes and incorporated her natural interest with the refined and delicate breathing of the intellectual soul. The wild woods of "Morvin" would have possessed no more interest than the timber lands of Maine, had not the gifted Ossian spread before us the battles and various fortunes of her warrior chiefs. To the visions of this celebrated bard, colored so unique by his impressions from the dark wilderness and by the peculiar superstitions of his kindred, and to other like records, Scotland is indebted for the foundation of that literary distinction which she claims. Were it not for these, the history of the Caledonians would be shrouded in oblivion as dark and impenetrable as that which rests on the ancient history of America.
Ages ago the fires of genius doubtless burned in the bosom of the Red Man as he pursued the wild deer through the valley and over the hills of New England, but these had not the pages of literature to preserve the records of their glory. The dark tides of the wilderness-clad rivers rolled on as classically as the waves of the Tiber, and the clangor of war was as often mingled with their murmurs; but no Virgil was here to write the spirit-stirring description of these scenes, and nothing is preserved of the history of a continent for ages.
And may it be the chief end and aim of the rising generation to raise literature—the glory of the past and the hope of the future—to a plane of still higher moral excellence, sublimity and purity: for in the hands of the youth of to day rests the destinies of future nations.
In man there is an inner soul which asks for the daily bread of some high impulse, and when that impulse is poured into it its life-motion begins, as a harp-string waits for some sweeping hand.
A watch set right will do to try many by; but one that goes wrong may be the means of misleading a whole neighborhood; and the same may be said of the example we set to those around us.