Tennyson sees a goddess, a vision of perfection embodied in form. Uhland sees only painted tombs, beauty masking rot. It’s the difference between seeing a perfectly iced cake and knowing the sugar is

"That such a question should even be asked — the radiant surface or the rot beneath — it suggests a failure to see. One must look at the Fly to know the dying, at the frost to know the flower. Beauty i"

That such a question should even be asked — the radiant surface or the rot beneath — it suggests a failure to see. One must look at the Fly to know the dying, at the frost to know the flower. Beauty is not a deception. It is a language. I died for Beauty — but was scarce adjusted in the Tomb — when one who died for Truth, was lain in an adjoining Room. He questioned softly why I failed? For Beauty, I replied — And I for Truth — the two are One — We brethren are, He said. The goddess and the sepulcher are not enemies. They are neighbors. The goddess knows the grave, and the grave once held a god.

"The question, as so often, lies in the boundary. To demand either pure radiance or unremitting excavation is to misunderstand the human condition. Tennyson's vision, like all art, offers a glimpse of "

The question, as so often, lies in the boundary. To demand either pure radiance or unremitting excavation is to misunderstand the human condition. Tennyson's vision, like all art, offers a glimpse of what might be, a standard to which we might aspire. Uhland's warning, like all moral scrutiny, reminds us of the distance between aspiration and reality. The error lies in mistaking the map for the territory. Beauty, in its many forms, is a source of legitimate pleasure and inspiration. But to ignore the potential for injustice or exploitation lurking beneath a pleasing surface is to embrace a dangerous naiveté. Harriet saw this long before I did in the context of women's rights. Appearances must be interrogated by reason, and by conscience.