The Moral Obligation to Be Intelligent, Part Five

Part one is here
Part Two is here
Part Three is here.
Part Four is here.

This is an essay by John Erskine, with a few of my comments thrown in just because I think breaking it up into pieces makes it easier to read. Erskine continues:

Certainly it would be but a silly account of English literature to say only that it sets little store by the things of the mind. I am aware that for the sake of my argument I have exaggerated, by insisting upon only one aspect of English literature.

As the brilliant Queen of Carrots said in reply to the last post on this topic:

Well, then, let us celebrate Jane Austen. Although certainly not all her good characters are intelligent, yet she does portray intelligence as an admirable quality, and seems to hint that those gifted with less of it should find themselves a very good advisor who has more.

As Mr. Knightly says in Emma, "~Men of sense, whatever you may choose to say, do not want silly wives."

But our history betrays a peculiar warfare between character and intellect, such as to the Greek, for example, would have been incomprehensible. The great Englishman, like the most famous Greeks, had intelligence as well as character, and was at ease with them both. But whereas the notable Greek seems typical of his race, the notable Englishman usually seems an exception to his own people, and is often best appreciated in other lands. What is more singular-in spite of the happy combination in himself of character and intelligence, he often fails to recognize the value of that combination in his neighbors. When Shakspere portrayed such amateurish statesmen as the Duke in Measure for Measure, Burleigh was guiding Elizabeth's empire, and Francis Bacon was soon to be King James's counsellor. It was the young Milton who pictured the life of reason in L' Allegro and Il Penseroso, the most spiritual fruit of philosophy in Comus; and when he wrote his epic he was probably England's most notable example of that intellectual inquiry and independence which in his great poem he discouraged.

There remain several well-known figures in our literary history who have both possessed and believed in intelligence ; Byron and Shelley in what seems our own day, Edmund Spenser before Shakspere's time. England has more or less neglected all three, but they must in fairness be counted to her credit. Some excuse might be offered for the neglect of Byron and Shelley by a nation that likes the proprieties; but the gentle Spenser, the noblest philosopher and most chivalrous gentleman in our literature, seems to be unread only because he demands a mind as well as a heart used to high things.

Emphasis added, because isn't that the truth? I would blush if I could remember how many times in my life I have dismissed a book or an idea because it was 'too hard.' I want to have a mind and heart 'used to high things.' It would be a small but necessary beginning to learn not to scorn those high things. Another step would be to discern rightly what is actually a 'high thing.' Quite often when we hear somebody saying, "God meant for you to use your mind," what the speaker really means is, "And if you had, you would think exactly like me."
to be continued
Part Six is here.