icety of
expression. For him it was the corporate spirit that counted--the
instinct, not for friendship, but for fellowship. He had sentiment in
abundance, but he approached sentiment with that sort of nervous
braggadocio with which the schoolboy conceals his softer feelings. A
clever American critic, Mr. Bliss Perry, alludes to that "commonness
of mind and tone" which Mr. Bryce declared to be inevitable among
masses of men associated, as they are in America, under modern
democratic government. "This commonness of mind and tone," says Mr.
Perry, "is often one of the penalties of fellowship. It may mean a
levelling down instead of a levelling up." The loud stridency of Mr.
Kipling's voice is perhaps "one of the penalties" which has to be paid
for the democratic sentiment of fellowship.

That there should be some "levelling down" is sure to follow when the
poet finds himself absorbed in the common emotions of common life, and
speaking to the common man. But there need not necessarily be that
coarseness of sentiment, that crudity of thought, that bigotry of
limited sympathy, mis-called patriotism, which has debased the level
of so much of Mr. Kipling's writing. I should say that Mr. G.K.
Chesterton owes more than he supposes to the influence, direct or
indirect, of Mr. Kipling; that though his opinions, his sympathies,
his conclusions are all diametrically opposed to those of the elder
writer, still there is something in common between the two which is
essentially a democratic quality, the final standard being that of
reference to commonness, normal feeling, the common man. Mr.
Chesterton wrote a very stirring poem in his Ballad of King Alfred, a
ballad which appealed to patriotism, fellowship, and those broad,
profound emotions which underlie the common sense of a people. It was
far nearer to the spirit of the _Barrack Room Ballads_ than he, I am
sure, would be willing to admit.

Mr. Kipling did this great thing, if not for literature, at least for
men and men-of-letters. He expressed emotions in language which was as
far as possible from the language of aestheticism. This meant, perhaps,
that he could not express very subtle or unusual emotions, that his
perceptions were broad rather than fine; but he at least taught the
world that there were certain profound manly feelings which might be
expressed without the preliminary _unmanning_ of aestheticism; and his
distinction lies in the fact that he uttered them with veheme