Our Stage and Its Critics | Page 7

natural gift for criticising are concerned--and,
alas! knowledge and the gift are very often far apart--and then think of
the obstacles to the proper employment of them.
The play may belong to a class which the critic does not like, although
it is legitimate; he may not flout it on that account. You should not
blame a bream because it is not a barbel, or a chub for not being a trout,
yet the angler grumbles if he catches the humbler fish when aiming at
the noble; we are all agreed that the gardener was not justified in
"larning" with a spade the squalid batrachians to be toads; even musical
comedies ought not to be criticized with spade strokes, although in
connection with them it is a pity that a spade so rarely has been called
by its proper name. Moreover, one may have an entirely unreasonable
prejudice against the works of the particular dramatist. We all suffer
from strange aversions in literary matters. There are readers of culture
who find no pleasure in Borrow, and some nearly shriek at the mere
name of Peacock and so on. In fact we have dislikes founded, or rather
unfounded, upon the basis of Bussy Rabutin's lines:
"Je ne vous aime point, Hylas; Je n'en saurois dire la cause. Je sais
seulement une chose. C'est que je ne vous aime pas."

Next comes an even more intimate personal element--the critic's
condition. The day may have been vexing. The present indecent haste
of the income-tax collector may have worried him. His dinner may
have been bad. Perhaps he had to rush off without his coffee; new boots
are a conceivable element; a bad seat in the theatre may annoy him;
many managers give better places to their friends in the profession than
to the critics. Before now critics have sat out a boisterous farce when
suffering from an excruciating tooth-ache.
Moreover, some of the principal players may not be to his taste. There
are artists of indisputable merit who are no more palatable to some of
us than an untravelled cigar or wines from across the ocean. Think,
then, of the unfortunate critic honestly endeavouring to make
reasonable allowances for all the matters which may have affected him
when forming his judgment.
Such elements are wickedly insidious; it is difficult to believe when
one is bored that one would not be bored but for some such
adventitious matter. The conscientious critic makes a great effort to be
just under such circumstances, and there is great danger that he may
out-Brutus Brutus--in the opposite direction. It is very galling, after
writing a favourable notice on what seemed to be a tedious play, to
have your fellow-workers ask why on earth you treated it so favourably.
Consequently, it will be seen that is it often difficult even for the
qualified to form a true judgment.
Assuming that the critic has formed what he considers a true judgment,
and flatters himself that he is able to find language in which to express
it accurately, the question arises how far he ought to tell the whole truth
and nothing but the truth. "Praise, praise, praise," said Mr Pinero; and
there is a fine maxim of Vauvenargues--"C'est un grand signe de
médiocrité de louer toujours modérément."
However, the question whether we are or, worse still, seem mere
mediocrities does not greatly trouble most of us poor "brushers of
noblemen's clothes"; by-the-by the expression quoted by Bacon might
serve as an argument in a certain great controversy, if it be assumed
that it was applied to the dramatic critics of his day. Yet unmerited

praise on the whole does more harm than undeserved blame.
On the other hand, truth is wisely kept at the bottom of a well, for the
world cannot stand much of it. Perhaps it is judicious in the critic
sometimes to be a little more amiable than the truth, in order to
encourage the beginner and the manager who has given him a chance,
and also sometimes to insist disproportionately upon defects, so as to
stir up a too complacent dramatist of reputation. Moreover, whilst the
point is immaterial to the audience, the critic's expression of a judgment
upon a particular piece must vary with the author, since, for instance, to
censure without allowances the work of the tyro for faults of
inexperience is obviously unreasonable, whilst one may easily praise
with excess the mere dexterities of the trained pack. Taking all these
matters into account, it will be seen that it is very difficult for the critic
to do his duty, and yet truth will out sometimes in a criticism.
His Stock Phrases
There are moments when the critics think that it might almost be wise
to begin their notices on a new play by dealing with