Here's to you, Janny

[Anonymous No.20299330]

last thread >>20276028
I was granted another 3 day break, got some more reading done. Even studied a little. And I'm a terrible student. Tell me /lit/, what have you been up to these last few days...

The weather was overcast, so I didn't go to the park or the bookstore. When it's a nice day and I have the time I feel it's my obligation to read some lovely prose but when the weather is shit, YAHWEH demands I make the pretense of studying. So I studied the GRAMS as Ezra would say. I learned that 殿, usually meaning (palace) hall, is made up of two components, one means strike and the other means buttocks. So I guess the palace hall was the place where offenders or perhaps perverts got their bare cheeks paddled or whipped by the emperor's dickless goons.

[Anonymous No.20299337]

I also read some 19th century journalism about the Cockney School controversy which led to some guy getting killed in a duel. Reading writers BTFO each other is fun but ultimately kinda hollow as the countless X refutes Y threads on /lit/ amply demonstrate, I'm less a fan of writers saying X is le bad than reading them enthuse about lit they love, which is why Powys's Suspendent Judgments and Visions & Revisions are my favorite books about books, enthusiasm is infectious. But anyway I thought this was a great passage of vitriol directed at some gay cunt named Leigh Hunt, which has way more power to it than the snarky productions of modern journos,
>Our hatred and contempt of Leigh Hunt as a writer, is not so much owing to his shameless irreverence to his aged and afflicted king—to his profligate attacks on the character of the king’s sons—to his low-born insolence to that aristocracy with whom he would in vain claim the alliance of one illustrious friendship—to his paid panderism to the vilest passions of that mob of which he is himself a firebrand—to the leprous crust of self-conceit with which his whole moral being is indurated—to that loathsome vulgarity which constantly clings round him like a vermined garment from St. Giles’—to that irritable temper which keeps the unhappy man, in spite even of his vanity, in a perpetual fret with himself and all the world beside, and that shews itself equally in his deadly enmities and capricious friendships,—our hatred and contempt of Leigh Hunt, we say, is not so much owing to these and other causes, as to the odious and unnatural harlotry of his polluted muse. We were the first to brand with a burning iron the false face of this kept-mistress of a demoralizing incendiary. We tore off her gaudy veil and transparent drapery, and exhibited the painted cheeks and writhing limbs of the prostitute. We denounced to the execration of the people of England, the man who had dared to write in the solitude of a cell, whose walls ought to have heard only the sighs of contrition and repentance, a lewd tale of incest, adultery, and murder, in which the violation of Nature herself was wept over, palliated, justified, and held up to imitation, and the violators themselves worshipped as holy martyrs. The story of Rimini had begun to have its admirers; but their deluded minds were startled at our charges,—and on reflecting upon the character of the poem, which they had read with a dangerous sympathy, not on account of its poetical merit, which is small indeed, but on account of those voluptuous scenes, so dangerous even to a pure imagination, when insidiously painted with the seeming colours of virtue,—they were astounded at their own folly and their own danger, and consigned the wretched volume to that ignominious oblivion, which, in a land of religion and morality, must soon be the doom of all obscene and licentious productions.

[Anonymous No.20299341]

Also, some /lit/ vibes here
didn't start with the Greeks
>[Hunt] is a man of little education. He knows absolutely nothing of Greek, almost nothing of Latin, and his knowledge of Italian literature is confined to a few of the most popular of Petrarch’s sonnets, and an imperfect acquaintance with Ariosto, through the medium of Mr Hoole.
literal pleb
>Mr Hunt cannot utter a dedication, or even a note, without betraying the Shibboleth of low birth and low habits.
atheist redditor materialist hylic and libtard
>Mr Hunt is not disqualified by his ignorance and vulgarity alone, for being the founder of a respectable sect in poetry. He labours under the burden of a sin more deadly than either of these. The two great elements of dignified poetry, religious feeling, and patriotic feeling, have no place in his writings. His religion is a poor tame dilution of the blasphemies of the Encyclopaedie—his patriotism a crude, vague, ineffectual, and sour Jacobinism.
filtered
>Above all things, it is most pitiably ridiculous to hear men, of whom their country will always have reason to be proud, reviled by uneducated and flimsy striplings, who are not capable of understanding either their merits, or those of any other men of power—anciful dreaming tea-drinkers, who, without logic enough to analyse a single idea, or imagination enough so form one original image, or learning enough to distinguish between the written language of Englishmen and the spoken jargon of Cockneys, presume to talk with contempt of some of the most exquisite spirits the world ever produced, merely because they did not happen to exert their faculties in laborious affected descriptions of flowers seen in window-pots...