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150 WILLIAM MORRIS what was wanted ; they would do what they were told. Some feeling of this sort may, I think, be at the back of Mr. Glutton Brock's peculiar sympathy with Morris ; it would explain, too, why he did less than justice to Shelley in that remarkable study he published some years ago. He could not quite forgive the poet for being so hopelessly anti-Social. Perhaps, in his heart, Mr. Brock would hardly admit the absolute value of aesthetic rapture he wants ; art to do something for life, and he loses patience with people who simply add to its confusion. Shelley, he thought, made a mess of his own life and of Harriet's, and, for all one knows, of Miss Kitchener's, and of a score of others ; and his poetry you must read for its own sake or not at all. The poetry of Morris has value for people who have never known what it is to feel an aesthetic emotion, and his life was superbly useful to his fellow-men. The great State of the future will be glad of as many William Morrises as it can get. But it is I who am being less than just now. From what I have said any one might infer that I had not read, or had not appreciated, that volume called " The Defence of Guenevere and Other Poems," in which are to be found things of pure beauty, " Summer Dawn," " In Prison," " The Wind," " The Haystack

WILLIAM MORRIS 151 in the Floods " ; any one might suppose that I did not know " Love is Enough." These are the poems which, with " Sigurd," give William Morris his place amongst the poets. Mr. Glutton Brock feels this surely enough, because he possesses, besides intellect, that other and rarer critical faculty, that spiritual tuning-fork by which a fine critic distinguishes between emotion and sentimentality, between rhetoric and rant. It is because Mr. Brock possesses this peculiar sensibility part aesthetic, part ethical, and part intellectual, it seems that he can be trusted to detect and dislike even the subtlest manifestations of that quality which most distinguishes Tennyson from Morris, Kipling from Walt Whitman, and the Bishop of London from the Vicar of Wakefield. That is why I suppose Mr. Brock to be one of our best critics. If there were anything fundamentally nasty about Morris Mr. Brock would not be inclined to overrate him. Mr. Brock pardons no horrors : there are none here to unpardonable pardon. But he overrates, or rather overmarks, William Morris as a scrupulous but soft-hearted examiner might overmark a sympathetic pupil. He never gives marks when the answer is wrong, but he gives a great many when it is : right and he is a little blind to deficiencies. He does not make it clear

150<br />

WILLIAM MORRIS<br />

what was wanted ; they would do what they<br />

were told.<br />

Some feeling of this sort may, I think, be<br />

at the back of Mr. Glutton Brock's peculiar<br />

sympathy with Morris ;<br />

it would explain, too,<br />

why he did less than justice to Shelley in that<br />

remarkable study he published some years ago.<br />

He could not quite forgive the poet for being<br />

so<br />

hopelessly anti-Social. Perhaps, in his<br />

heart, Mr. Brock would hardly admit the<br />

absolute value of aesthetic rapture he wants<br />

;<br />

art to do something for life, and he loses<br />

patience with people who simply add to its<br />

confusion. Shelley, he thought, made a mess<br />

of his own life and of Harriet's, and, for all one<br />

knows, of Miss Kitchener's, and of a score of<br />

others ;<br />

and his poetry you must read for its<br />

own sake or not at all. The poetry of Morris<br />

has value for people who have never known<br />

what it is to feel an aesthetic emotion, and his<br />

life was superbly useful to his fellow-men.<br />

The great State of the future will be glad of<br />

as many William Morrises as it can get.<br />

But it is I who am being less than just now.<br />

From what I have said any one might infer<br />

that I had not read, or had not appreciated,<br />

that volume called " The Defence of Guenevere<br />

and Other Poems," in which are to be<br />

found things of pure beauty, " Summer Dawn,"<br />

" In Prison," " The Wind," " The Haystack

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