Persistently there emerges from the record the impression of something
childish, whether in petulance or _gaminerie_, a crudeness as well as a
shrewdness of judgment and ideal. Where Butler thought himself complete,
he was insufficient; and where he thought himself insufficient, he was
complete. To himself he appeared a hobbledehoy by the side of Pauli; to
us he appears a hobbledehoy by the side of Miss Savage.
[OCTOBER, 1919.
_The Poetry of Mr Hardy_
One meets fairly often with the critical opinion that Mr Hardy's poetry
is incidental. It is admitted on all sides that his poetry has curious
merits of its own, but it is held to be completely subordinate to his
novels, and those who maintain that it must be considered as having
equal standing with his prose, are not seldom treated as guilty of
paradox and preciousness.
We are inclined to wonder, as we review the situation, whether those of
the contrary persuasion are not allowing themselves to be impressed
primarily by mere bulk, and arguing that a man's chief work must
necessarily be what he has done most of; and we feel that some such
supposition is necessary to explain what appears to us as a visible
reluctance to allow Mr Hardy's poetry a clean impact upon the critical
consciousness.
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