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Of modern literature he was a stern critic; of music he spoke with ardour. "I hear that you not only perform but compose, Miss Fullerton," he said. "As soon as I heard that, I felt that I must make your acquaintance. My friends, the Gordons, are very charming, but they don't understand a note of music, and I am badly off for a kindred spirit."
"No," and for the first time the pipe was removed for a moment. "A critic is one who only exists as such in his own imagination." "But surely you must consider that Rud has done some great work?" persisted Bok. "Creditable," came once more. "You think him capable of great work, do you not?" asked Bok. For a moment there was silence. Then: "He has a certain grasp of the human instinct.
Between two men, or two forms of art, a comparison may be run either for the sake of placing the one above the head of the other, or for the sake of drawing out the essential differences between the one and the other. The latter method is indispensable to the work of the critic.
Lowell was too much a poet to be a perfect critic. He was no more the greatest sort of critic than Dryden was the greatest sort of poet. To turn his figure round, he had wings that lifted him into the air when he ought to be running along the ground.
Before we can make up our minds on Scott, we have to remember, or forget, the scornful patronage of one critic, the over-subtlety and exaggerations of another, the more than papal infallibility of a third. Perhaps the best critic would be an intelligent school-boy, with a generous heart and an unspoiled imagination.
Managers complimented him, actresses flung him side glances; for every one of them knew that this was the critic who, by a single article, had gained an engagement at the Gymnase, with twelve thousand francs a year, for Coralie, and another for Florine at the Panorama-Dramatique with eight thousand francs. Lucien was a man of importance.
The others "On Leaving Winchester," "On the Death of Mr. Headley" the critic, a man of worth, "To Mr. Burke on his Reflections," and so forth are of little note. That Bowles can have had scant sympathy with Pope is evident from the very first glance at the famous sonnets themselves.
"Am I jesting?" Calyste rose. "Why should you go so soon? You are certainly at your ease here," said Vignon. "Quite the contrary," replied the angry young Breton, to whom Camille Maupin stretched out a hand, which he took and kissed, dropping a tear upon it, after which he took his leave. "I should like to be that little young man," said the critic, sitting down, and taking one end of the hookah.
Henrik Ibsen, the hater of all social shams, was probably the first to realize this great truth. Nora leaves her husband, not as the stupid critic would have it because she is tired of her responsibilities or feels the need of woman's rights, but because she has come to know that for eight years she had lived with a stranger and borne him children.
'Male firmness is very often obstinacy: women have always something better, worth all qualities; they have tact. 'A compliment to the sex from so finished a critic as Lord Eskdale is appreciated. But at this moment the arrival of some guests terminated the conversation, and Lord Eskdale moved away, and approached a group which Lady Everingham was enlightening.
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