A NUMBER OF BARRISTERS, SOLICITERS, SPECTATORS, USHERS, REPORTERS, JURYMEN, WARDERS, AND PRISONERS TIME: The Present. ACT I. The office of James and … - John Galsworthy

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A NUMBER OF BARRISTERS, SOLICITERS, SPECTATORS, USHERS, REPORTERS, JURYMEN, WARDERS, AND PRISONERS TIME: The Present. ACT I. The office of James and Walter How. Morning. July. ACT II. Assizes. Afternoon. October. ACT III. A prison. December. SCENE I. The Governor’s office. SCENE II. A corridor. SCENE III. A cell. ACT IV. The office of James and Walter How. Morning. March, two years later.

English
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About John Galsworthy

John Galsworthy OM (14 August 1867 – 31 January 1933) was an English novelist and playwright. Notable works include The Forsyte Saga (1906–1921) and its sequels, A Modern Comedy and End of the Chapter. He won the Nobel Prize for literature in 1932.

Biography information from Wikiquote

Also Known As

Pen Names: John Sinjohn
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Additional quotes by John Galsworthy

With the years his dislike of humbug had increased; the orthodoxy he had worn in the 'sixties', as he had worn side-whiskers out of sheer exuberance , had long dropped off, leaving him reverent before three things alone - beauty, upright conduct, and the sense of property; and the greatest of these now was beauty.

He is but a poor philosopher who holds a view so narrow as to exclude forms not to his personal taste. No realist can love romantic Art so much as he loves his own, but when that Art fulfils the laws of its peculiar being, if he would be no blind partisan, he must admit it. The romanticist will never be amused by realism, but let him not for that reason be so parochial as to think that realism, when it achieves vitality, is not Art. For what is Art but the perfected expression of self in contact with the world; and whether that self be of enlightening, or of fairy-telling temperament, is of no moment whatsoever. The tossing of abuse from realist to romanticist and back is but the sword-play of two one-eyed men with their blind side turned toward each other. Shall not each attempt be judged on its own merits? If found not shoddy, faked, or forced, but true to itself, true to its conceiving mood, and fair-proportioned part to whole; so that it lives — then, realistic or romantic, in the name of Fairness let it pass! Of all kinds of human energy, Art is surely the most free, the least parochial; and demands of us an essential tolerance of all its forms. Shall we waste breath and ink in condemnation of artists, because their temperaments are not our own?

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