This is the age of machine.
Machines are everywhere, in the fields, in the factory, in the home, In the
street, in the city, in the country, everywhere. To fly, it is not necessary to
have wings; there are machines. To swim under the sea, it is not necessary to
have gills; there are machines. To kill our fellowmen in over-whelming numbers,
there are machines. Petrol machines alone provide ten times more power than all
human beings in the world. In the busiest countries, each individual has six
hundred human slaves in his machines.
What
are the consequences of this abnormal power? Before the war, it looked as
though it might be possible, for the first time in history to provide food and
clothing and shelter for the teaming population of the world-every man, woman
and child. This would have been the greatest triumphs of science. And yet, if
you remember, we saw the world crammed, full of food and people hungry. Today,
the leaders are bare and millions, starving. That’s more begin to hum, are we
going to see again more and more food, and people still hungry? For the goods,
it makes the goods, but avoids the consequences.
The
machine age produces:
At the time Jane Austen’s novels
were published – between 1811 and 1818 – English literature was not part of any
academic curriculum. In addition, fiction was under strenuous attack. Certain
religious and political groups felt novels had the power to make so-called
immoral characters so interesting that young readers would identify with them;
these groups also considered novels to be of little practical use. Even
Coleridge, certainly no literary reactionary, spoke for many when the asserted
that “novel-reading occasions the destruction of the mind’s powers.”
These attitudes towards novels help
explain why Austen received little attention from early nineteenth-century
literary cities. (In any case a novelist published anonymously, as Austen was,
would not be likely to receive much critical attention.) The literary response
that was accorded to her, however, was often as incisive as twentieth-century
criticism. In his attack in 1816 on novelistic portrayals “outside of ordinary experience,”
for example. Scott made an insightful remark about the merits of Austen’s
fiction.
Her novels, wrote Scott, “present to
the reader an accurate and exact picture of ordinary everyday people and
places, reminiscent of seventeenth-century Flemish painting.” Scott did not use
the word ‘realism’, but he undoubtedly used a standard of realistic probability
in judging novels. The critic Whately did not use the word ‘realism’, either,
but he expressed agreement with Scott’s evaluation, and went on to suggest the possibilities
for moral instruction in what we have called Austen’s ‘realistic method’ her
characters, wrote Whately, are persuasive agents for moral truth since they are
ordinary persons “so clearly evoked that we feel an interest in their fate as
if it were our own.” Moral instruction, explained Whately, is more likely to be
effective when conveyed through recongnizably human and interesting characters
than when imparted by a sermonizing narrator. Whitely especially praised Austen’s
ability to create character who “mingle goodness and villainy, weakness and
virtue, as in life they are always mingled. “Whitely concluded his remarks by
comparing Austen’s art of characterization to Dickens’, starting his preference
for Austen’s.
Yet, the response of
nineteenth-century literary critics to Austen was not always so laudatory, and
often anticipated the reservations of twentieth-century literary critics. An
example of such a response was Lewes complaint in 1859 that Austen’s range of
subject and characters was too narrow. Praising her verisimilitude, Lewes added
that, nonetheless her focus was too often only upon the unlofty and the
commonplace. (Twentieth-century Marxists, on the other hand, were to complain
about what they saw as her exclusive emphasis on a lofty upper middle class.)
In any case having being rescued by literary critics from neglect and indeed
gradually lionized by them, Austen steadily reached, by the mid-nineteenth
century, the enviable pinnacle of being considered controversial.
The passage supplies information for
answering which of the following questions?
