But even the halfpenny Press has, in recent years, come to regard its leader columns as one of the most important 106parts of its papers. Of this kind of work I have had little experience. A position as writer of “leaderettes” was offered me on The Globe, but I was not a success, for I was at the same time writing a great deal of stuff for The Daily Citizen, and, as both papers were equally violent in antagonistic political and social fields, I soon found myself writing solidly and regularly against my own convictions. It is true that a journalist, like a barrister, is generally but a hireling paid to express certain views, but there are few men so intellectually backboneless and ethically flabby that they can, day after day, say both yes and no to the various problems that face them.
How exasperating it must be to possess a temperament that can accept only part of what is admirable! It seems to me that Walford Davies distrusts his intellect: in estimating the worth of music, he seems to say, intellectual standards, artistic standards, are of no value. To him the only sure test is temperamental affinity. And he wishes all temperaments to conform to his own limitations.
Looking down a short hallway one beheld an open court surrounded by a colonnade and in the center of this court stood an altar to Zeus. It was here on pleasant days that the family assembled for worship, partook of its meals, entered into friendly discussions or played games. The women’s apartments were above, theirs being the barred windows which looked out on the narrow winding street. The kitchen and servant quarters occupied the rear, but by far the most interesting room was that which adjoined the court to the left; the library. As if by a miracle this room remained intact. Its shelves were filled with hundreds of rolls of manuscript, some slightly charred but undamaged by fire. At intervals about the room, upon marble pedestals stood statuettes of the muses, for this was the library of a poet, and could he not thus readily summon the muse he desired?
“It all seemed lak er dream to me, an’ I can’t tell ’zactly whut I did do. I seemed ter be walkin’ in er gyarden whar golden roses bloomed on peppermint candy vines, an’ coon-dorgs wid diamon’ eyes wuz treein’ solid silver ’possums up in de ’simmon trees!
Maximilian, Prince of Wied-Neuwied, writes May 19, 1833: “We embarked on the Paragon steamboat at Shawneetown ... and after passing Cave-in-Rock
“How have you found out that she is stanch, Markham?”
I changed those lines, and the work in due course was performed at Norwich, and in Queen’s Hall, London. Later on, when my little poem was sung in Southport in its original form, with Mr Havergal Brian’s music (for he also had honoured me), Mr Landon Ronald conducting, the members of the audience did not leave their seats when the “objectionable” lines occurred; rather did they seem to lean forward a little and listen more intently.
"Oh, yes. A very great man. Sir Walter I take to be one of the noblest characters of the reign of Queen Bess."
Arthur would have liked to give a ready diagnosis of this abnormal condition, but his expertise was not equal to the task, and he fell back on the usual defence of his profession.
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