show that the
height of Philistinism in a Philistine is to pretend not to be a
Philistine.

He had always seen what it would do present-day Londoners a world of
good to see as clearly, that it is just those who affect, and who, by
their lack of artistic constitution, are incapable of doing more than
merely affecting, the understanding of art, who are the worst enemies it
has in the world. He preferred the open Philistine. And so do we. The
affectation described lends to art an artificial support which betrays
those who attempt to rest any scheme for the promotion of art upon it.

But though du Maurier was not a Philistine he had the genius of
respectability. His pencil could get on well with Bishops. It is easy
enough to put a model into a Bishop's apron and gaiters, but that does
not secure the drawing of a Bishop. It is necessary to observe that du
Maurier found definite lines with his pencil for something so abstract
as Broad-Churchmanship. The High-Churchman, with his perilous
inclination to fervour, he was afraid of as a disturbing element, and
kept him out of his drawings.

[Illustration]

Section 2

We have noted that it was du Maurier's peculiar genius to respond to
"attainment" in life, even as the Greeks did, rather than to life's
pathetic and romantic struggle. Du Maurier, we believe, was of opinion
that if circumstances--he probably meant Editorial ones--had determined
that he should apply his art to the lower classes he would have
succeeded as well there as he did with Society. We prefer to believe
that the Editorial instinct in the direction it gave to his work knew
better. Many opportunities were afforded him for being as democratic in
spirit as he liked, but he left such opportunities alone. His
cab-runners run about in rain-shrunken suits that were obviously made in
Savile Row; everyone of them, they are broken-down gentlemen. Coachmen,
gardeners, footmen, pages, housekeepers, cooks, ladies' maids, and all
those who move in the domestic circle of the upper classes he could
draw, but his taste in life is a marked one, and that means it is a
limited one. It is as marked as Meredith's, and it is much of the same
kind; like that writer's great lady, Mrs. Mountstuart Jenkinson, he
preferred persons "that shone in the sun." This had nothing whatever to
do with qualities of the heart; it was all an aesthetic predilection. The
moment his pencil touched the theme of life lived upon as gentle a plane
as