The poems of Arany, on the other hand, were growing in the fields and farms of the peasant, and in the manors of the landed nobility; even more in the former than in the latter. Theirs is a spirit charming in its rural breeziness and compact humour; fascinating in its _naïveté_ and coyness; but somewhat out of tune with the modern or _bourgeois_ sentiment. The more the middle or _bourgeois_ class develops in Hungary, the less the fame of Arany will continue unimpaired. His works will be unable to satisfy the poetic needs of a class which he did not know, and with which he had but scant sympathy. His very _naïveté_, his greatest poetic charm, will be found wanting. _Naïveté_, like all other tempers of the heart or mind, has its geography, its _locus_. It does not grow anywhere or everywhere. It requires a peculiar borderland situated where two social classes meet. In that borderland it grows willingly. Such lands are of course to be found only where classes do meet socially. In England, for instance, classes carefully avoid meeting intimately in a social manner; although they do so frequently in a manner political, commercial and religious. Hence, _naïveté_ is scarcely to be found, either in English life or in English poetry. By a parity of reasoning, American poetry, based on a life with practically no classes whatever, can boast still fewer of the blossoms of naïve types or naïve style. Arany’s world, it is true, is one where the two classes, the nobleman and the peasant, do meet intimately, and thus the flowers of _naïveté_ are plentiful. It is a _naïveté_ shy of display and timid; a _naïveté_ in deeds more than in words; and finally, a _naïveté_ of men rather than of women. It has, when enjoyed in Arany’s own exquisite Magyar, a flavour so pure and hearty, so thoroughly true and poetic as to endear everything it touches. Yet it is the _naïveté_ of the peasant, not of the _bourgeois_. It is poor in types, and restricted in emotions. It does not respond to the psychical atmosphere of the ever growing _bourgeois_ class in Hungary, and accordingly the numerous readers of that class look for their reading somewhere else. The peasant and the rural nobleman are both captivating types for poets; they do not, however, represent more than a minor aspect of that broad humanity which has so far found its noblest expression in tales, dramas and poems grafted on events or sentiments of individuals outside the clans and septs of peasants and noblemen. The Germans, who have the excellent term of “_bürgerliches Drama_” (_bourgeois_ drama), have felt that profound change coming over western literature very keenly; and the greatness of their literature is owing to that circumstance in no small degree. As in Hungary, nearly all great writers were, first magnates, and then noblemen (even Petőfi was a nobleman, although he set no value on that fact), so in Germany all the great writers have been without an exception, “_Bürger_” (_bourgeois_) proper.