Who is Irving Babbitt

Irving Babbitt (August 2, 1865 – July 15, 1933) was an American academic and literary critic, noted for his founding role in a movement that became known as the New Humanism, a significant influence on literary discussion and conservative thought in the period between 1910 and 1930. He was a cultural critic in the tradition of Matthew Arnold and a consistent opponent of romanticism, as represented by the writings of Jean-Jacques Rousseau. Politically he can, without serious distortion, be called a follower of Aristotle and Edmund Burke. He was an advocate of classical humanism but also offered an ecumenical defense of religion. His humanism implied a broad knowledge of various moral and religious traditions. His book Democracy and Leadership (1924) is regarded as a classic text of politi...
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Davidla67929478: i am happy to present the thirty-first—the penultimate—post of irving babbitt’s book "the new laokoon, an essay on the confusion of the arts."
Nkodiik77282238: the humanitarian lays stress almost solely upon breadth of knowledge and sympathy.,irving babbitt,knowledge, stress, almost ,
Rolexnyakiti316: the democratic idealist is prone to make light of the whole question of standards and leadership because of his unbounded faith in the plain people.,irving babbitt,light, faith, people ,
Omb178: the democratic idealist is prone to make light of the whole question of standards and leadership because of his unbounded faith in the plain people.,irving babbitt,light, faith, people ,
Cyberalgo: “tell him, on the contrary, that he needs, in the interest of his own happiness, to walk in the path of humility and self-control, and he will be indifferent, or even actively resentful.” —irving babbitt
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Wilfrid Scawen Blunt Poem
A Woman-s Sonnets: Ii
 by Wilfrid Scawen Blunt

Nay, dear one, ask me not to leave thee yet.
Let me a little longer hold thy hand.
Too soon it is to bid me to forget
The joys I was so late to understand.
The future holds but a blank face for me,
The past is all confused with tears and grey,
But the sweet present, while thy smiles I see,
Is perfect sunlight, an unclouded day.
...

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