ABSTRACT

In my introduction to the translation of the Upanishads Purohit Swami and I are working at, I think I shall take up once more the theme of the sudden return of philosophy into English literature round about 1925. I will speak again of you and Turner, adding Huxley's Barren Leaves, which has the pessimism of modern philosophy. I read it a couple of weeks ago-it has historical significance but is not I think a lasting work. Its style belongs to the previous movement-it has precision but no rhythms-there is not a single sentence anybody will ever murmur to himself.