probably use the words very vaguely, as an ordinary mob will use
ready-made paving-stones. There is not a single real poet or
prose-writer of this century, for instance, on whom the British
public have not solemnly conferred diplomas of immorality, and
these diplomas practically take the place, with us, of what in
France, is the formal recognition of an Academy of Letters, and
fortunately make the establishment of such an institution quite
unnecessary in England. Of course, the public are very reckless in
their use of the word. That they should have called Wordsworth an
immoral poet, was only to be expected. Wordsworth was a poet. But
that they should have called Charles Kingsley an immoral novelist
is extraordinary. Kingsley's prose was not of a very fine quality.
Still, there is the word, and they use it as best they can. An
artist is, of course, not disturbed by it. The true artist is a
man who believes absolutely in himself, because he is absolutely
himself. But I can fancy that if an artist produced a work of art
in England that immediately on its appearance was recognised by the
public, through their medium, which is the public press, as a work
that was quite intelligible and highly moral, he would begin to
seriously question whether in its creation he had really been
himself at all, and consequently whether the work was not quite
unworthy of him, and either of a thoroughly second-rate order, or
of no artistic value whatsoever.

Perhaps, however, I have wronged the public in limiting them to
such words as 'immoral,' 'unintelligible,' 'exotic,' and
'unhealthy.' There is one other word that they use. That word is
'morbid.' They do not use it often. The meaning of the word is so
simple that they are afraid of using it. Still, they use it
sometimes, and, now and then, one comes across it in popular