Vulgarity is an elusive nuisance, insinuating itself into the strongholds of propriety, so as to undermine the decencies. There is the kind that debases high things—the Sairey Gamp type. There is the over-valuation of low things—for example, in the eroticism of poor poets; while a no less offensive variety displays itself in superfluous ornamentation: ‘To gild refined gold, to paint the lily ... is wasteful and ridiculous excess.’ In thought, speech and act we incline to indulge in this error of overdoing it.

Now, love of extravagance is a sign of half-trained taste. People so afflicted like everything ‘laid on thick’ : glaring colours, startling contrasts, strident notes, over-stated cases. They are impressed by the arrogance of the bounder, defer to self-assertive ignorance, and squander money on a coloured daub, seeing nothing in the good black and white drawing.

Epochs of Romanticism, periods of exhausted invention : at such times the ailment claims most victims. Why ? Because, like a convivial party having its final fling, it seems the only way to challenge attention.

Hence Italian painting of the seventeenth century and the thickets of Swinburnian verse. And the price goes up! You seem to get more for your cash, though you actually get less. Then follows decline in taste. Powers of discrimination weaken. Corruption sets in. The scorn of things simple appears a proof of culture.

In accordance with these tendencies, we have the bizarre in dress, gush in affection, highly seasoned meats, wordy wrappings around trivialities. All this spells vulgarity.