The whole science of modern education is calculated to turn out a good,
fairish, commonplace article; but the formula for a genius remains a
secret with Deity. The great man becomes great in spite of teachers and
parents: and his near kinsmen, being color-blind, usually pooh-pooh the
idea that he is anything more than mediocre. At Oxford, William Morris
fell in with a young man of about his own age, by the name of Edward
Burne-Jones. Burne-Jones was studying theology. He was slender in stature,
dreamy, spiritual, poetic. Morris was a giant in strength, blunt in
speech, bold in manner, and had a shock of hair like a lion's mane. This
was in the year Eighteen Hundred Fifty-three--these young men being
nineteen years of age. The slender, yellow, dreamy student of theology and
the ruddy athlete became fast friends.

"Send your sons to college and the boys will educate them," said Emerson.
These boys read poetry together; and it seems the first author that
specially attracted them was Mrs. Browning; and she attracted them simply
because she had recently eloped with the man she loved. This fact proved
to Morris that she was a worthy woman and a discerning. She had the
courage of her convictions. To elope with a poor poet, leaving a rich
father and a luxurious home--what nobler ambition?

Burne-Jones, student of theology, considered her action proof of
depravity. Morris, in order to show his friend that Mrs. Browning was
really a rare and gentle soul, read aloud to Burne-Jones from her books.
Morris himself had never read much of Mrs. Browning's work, but in
championing her cause and interesting his friend in her, he grew
interested himself. Like lawyers, we undertake a cause first and look for
proof later. In teaching another, Morris taught himself. By explaining a
theme it becomes luminous to us.