rule of conduct, the poet displays an arrogance that deserves a fall.
The philosopher, like the philistine, may tolerate feeling within
limits. His sole objection to the poet lies in the fact that, far from
making emotion the handmaiden of the reason, as the philosopher would
do, the poet exalts emotion to a seat above the reason, thus making
feeling the supreme arbiter of conduct. The puritan, of course, gives
vent to the most bitter hostility of all, for, unlike the philistine and
the philosopher, he regards natural feeling as wholly corrupt. Therefore
he condemns the poet's indulgence of his passionate nature with equal
severity whether he is within or without the popular confines of proper
conduct, or whether or not his conduct may be proved reasonable.

Much of the inconsistency in the poet's exhibitions of his moral
character may be traced to the fact that he is addressing now one, now
another, of his accusers. The sobriety of his arguments with the
philosopher has sometimes been interpreted by the man of the street as
cowardly side-stepping. On the other hand, the poet's bravado in defying
the man of the street might be interpreted by the philosopher as an
acknowledgment of imperviousness to reason.

It seems as though the first impulse of the poet were to set his back
against the wall and deal with all his antagonists at once, by
challenging their right to pry into his private conduct. It is true that
certain poets of the last century have believed it beneath their dignity
to pay any attention to the insults and persecution of the public. But
though a number have maintained an air of stolid indifference so long as
the attacks have remained personal, few or none have been content to
disregard defamation of a departed singer.

The public cannot maintain, in many instances, that this vicarious