We are too much accustomed
to reserve the title of literary artist for the creator of fiction,
whether in prose or in verse. Mr. Wilson is no less truly an artist
because the vision that fires his imagination, the vision he has spent
his life in making clear to himself and others and is now striving to
realize in action, is a political conception. He has seen it in terms of
life, as a thing that grows, that speaks, that has faced dangers, that
is full of promise, that has charm, that is fit to stir a man's blood
and demand a world's devotion; no wonder he has warmed to it, no wonder
he has clothed it in the richest garments of diction and rhythm and
figure.
There are small artists and great artists. Granted an equal portion of
imagination and an equal command of verbal resources, and still there
will be this difference. It is an affair of more or less intellectual
depth and more or less character. If character were the only one of
these two things to be considered in the case of Mr. Wilson's writings,
one might with little or no hesitation predict that the best of them
would long remain classics. They are full of character, of a high and
fine character.
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