MAN 175 



well-nigh all the follies of intellectual cliques to 

 degeneracy. Poetry, which is " full of sound and 

 fury, signifying nothing," rich in rhyme and al- 

 literation, but wanting in sense; art which seeks 

 effect by loud and inharmonious colours; music 

 which rejects "mere melody ": in these the critic 

 sees the taste of the savage, fond of a jingle of 

 words, fond of bright colours, and ignorant of 

 middle tints; and fond of noise without a tune. 



The so-called aesthetic movement which, a few 

 years ago, wrought such marvels in decoration 

 and in dress, comes in for a share of the critic's 

 analysis. The dull senses of the degenerate can- 

 not appreciate the soft colours which ordinary 

 persons like to look at; to attract his attention 

 and to please his fancy, he must have staring red, 

 or staring blue. Or, if he possesses an object 

 which is of special interest, he must bring this 

 into contrast with a very sombre background, lest 

 by chance it should miss being seen. 



I met with an amusing instance the other day 

 which is much to the point. In a remote part 

 of the British Isles, two friends, immigrants from 

 the world of " culture," had been criticising the 

 landscape. It was a pity, they agreed, that every- 

 thing was so grey and dull ; otherwise the neigh- 

 bourhood might have been pretty. If only the 

 cottagers could be got to grow something in their 

 gardens that would give a touch of colour to the 

 scene ! These poor creatures had before their 

 purblind sight all Nature's rich harmony of 

 colour, which affords such pleasure to persons of 

 true taste. Green fields, brown rocks, blue sea, 

 and blue sky, all were dull to them. Wild flowers 

 of a score of kinds, and bright with every colour 

 these were too insignificant to be visible. They 



