iked brutal and immoral sentiment, spiced, if possible, with art. We
may inquire whether there may not be a comedy which is enjoyable by the
refined and virtuous, and in which the intrusion of good feeling does
not jar upon us as a discord. An answer may be suggested by pointing to
Moliere, and has been admirably set forth in Mr. George Meredith's essay
on the 'Comic Spirit.' There are, after all, ridiculous things in the
world, even from the refined and virtuous point of view. The saint, it
is true, is apt to lose his temper and become too serious for such a
treatment of life-problems. Still the sane intellect which sees things
as they are can find a sphere within which it is fair and possible to
apply ridicule to affectation and even to vice, and without simply
taking the seat of the scorner or substituting a coarse laugh for a
delicate smile. A hearty laugh, let us hope, is possible even for a
fairly good man. Mr. Meredith's essay indicates the conditions under
which the artist may appeal to such a cultivated and refined humour. The
higher comedy, he says, can only be the fruit of a polished society
which can supply both the model and the audience. Where the art of
social intercourse has been carried to a high pitch, where men have
learned to be at once courteous and incisive, to admire urbanity, and
therefore really good feeling, and to take a true estimate of the real
values of life, a high comedy which can produce irony without
coarseness, expose shams without advocating brutality, becomes for the
first time possible. It must be admitted that the condition is also very
rarely fulfilled.

This, I take it, is the real difficulty. The desirable thing, one may
say, would have been to introduce a more refined and human art and to
get rid of the coarser elements. The excellent Steele tried the
experiment. But he had still to work upon the old lines, which would not
lend themselves to the new purpose. His passages of moral exhortation
would not supply the salt of the old cynical brutalities; they had a
painful tendency to become insipid and sentimental, if not maudlin; and
only illustrated the difficulty of using a literary tradition which
developed spontaneously for one purpose to adapt itself to a wholly
different aim. He produced at best not a new genus but an awkward
hybrid. But behind this was the greater difficulty that a superior
literature would have required a social elaboration, the growth of a
class which coul