ERNEST。ThehighestCriticism，then，ismorecreativethancreation，andtheprimaryaimofthecriticistoseetheobjectasinitselfitreallyisnot；thatisyourtheory，Ibelieve？
GILBERT。Yes，thatismytheory。Tothecritictheworkofartissimplyasuggestionforanewworkofhisown，thatneednotnecessarilybearanyobviousresemblancetothethingitcriticises。Theonecharacteristicofabeautifulformisthatonecanputintoitwhateveronewishes，andseeinitwhateveronechoosestosee；andtheBeauty，thatgivestocreationitsuniversalandaestheticelement，makesthecriticacreatorinhisturn，andwhispersofathousanddifferentthingswhichwerenotpresentinthemindofhimwhocarvedthestatueorpaintedthepanelorgravedthegem。
ItissometimessaidbythosewhounderstandneitherthenatureofthehighestCriticismnorthecharmofthehighestArt，thatthepicturesthatthecriticlovesmosttowriteaboutarethosethatbelongtotheanecdotageofpainting，andthatdealwithscenestakenoutofliteratureorhistory。Butthisisnotso。Indeed，picturesofthiskindarefartoointelligible。Asaclass，theyrankwithillustrations，and，evenconsideredfromthispointofviewarefailures，astheydonotstirtheimagination，butsetdefiniteboundstoit。Forthedomainofthepainteris，asI
suggestedbefore，widelydifferentfromthatofthepoet。Tothelatterbelongslifeinitsfullandabsoluteentirety；notmerelythebeautythatmenlookat，butthebeautythatmenlistentoalso；notmerelythemomentarygraceofformorthetransientgladnessofcolour，butthewholesphereoffeeling，theperfectcycleofthought。Thepainterissofarlimitedthatitisonlythroughthemaskofthebodythathecanshowusthemysteryofthesoul；onlythroughconventionalimagesthathecanhandleideas；
onlythroughitsphysicalequivalentsthathecandealwithpsychology。Andhowinadequatelydoeshedoitthen，askingustoacceptthetornturbanoftheMoorforthenoblerageofOthello，oradotardinastormforthewildmadnessofLear！Yetitseemsasifnothingcouldstophim。MostofourelderlyEnglishpaintersspendtheirwickedandwastedlivesinpoachinguponthedomainofthepoets，marringtheirmotivesbyclumsytreatment，andstrivingtorender，byvisibleformorcolour，themarvelofwhatisinvisible，thesplendourofwhatisnotseen。Theirpicturesare，asanaturalconsequence，insufferablytedious。Theyhavedegradedtheinvisibleartsintotheobviousarts，andtheonethingnotworthlookingatistheobvious。Idonotsaythatpoetandpaintermaynottreatofthesamesubject。Theyhavealwaysdonesoandwillalwaysdoso。Butwhilethepoetcanbepictorialornot，ashechooses，thepaintermustbepictorialalways。Forapainterislimited，nottowhatheseesinnature，buttowhatuponcanvasmaybeseen。
Andso，mydearErnest，picturesofthiskindwillnotreallyfascinatethecritic。Hewillturnfromthemtosuchworksasmakehimbroodanddreamandfancy，toworksthatpossessthesubtlequalityofsuggestion，andseemtotellonethatevenfromthemthereisanescapeintoawiderworld。Itissometimessaidthatthetragedyofanartist’slifeisthathecannotrealisehisideal。Butthetruetragedythatdogsthestepsofmostartistsisthattheyrealisetheiridealtooabsolutely。For，whentheidealisrealised，itisrobbedofitswonderanditsmystery，andbecomessimplyanewstarting-pointforanidealthatisotherthanitself。Thisisthereasonwhymusicistheperfecttypeofart。
Musiccanneverrevealitsultimatesecret。This，also，istheexplanationofthevalueoflimitationsinart。Thesculptorgladlysurrendersimitativecolour，andthepaintertheactualdimensionsofform，becausebysuchrenunciationstheyareabletoavoidtoodefiniteapresentationoftheReal，whichwouldbemereimitation，andtoodefinitearealisationoftheIdeal，whichwouldbetoopurelyintellectual。Itisthroughitsveryincompletenessthatartbecomescompleteinbeauty，andsoaddressesitself，nottothefacultyofrecognitionnortothefacultyofreason，buttotheaestheticsensealone，which，whileacceptingbothreasonandrecognitionasstagesofapprehension，subordinatesthembothtoapuresyntheticimpressionoftheworkofartasawhole，and，takingwhateveralienemotionalelementstheworkmaypossess，usestheirverycomplexityasameansbywhicharicherunitymaybeaddedtotheultimateimpressionitself。Yousee，then，howitisthattheaestheticcriticrejectstheseobviousmodesofartthathavebutonemessagetodeliver，andhavingdelivereditbecomedumbandsterile，andseeksratherforsuchmodesassuggestreverieandmood，andbytheirimaginativebeautymakeallinterpretationstrue，andnointerpretationfinal。Someresemblance，nodoubt，thecreativeworkofthecriticwillhavetotheworkthathasstirredhimtocreation，butitwillbesuchresemblanceasexists，notbetweenNatureandthemirrorthatthepainteroflandscapeorfiguremaybesupposedtoholduptoher，butbetweenNatureandtheworkofthedecorativeartist。JustasontheflowerlesscarpetsofPersia，tulipandroseblossomindeedandarelovelytolookon，thoughtheyarenotreproducedinvisibleshapeorline；justasthepearlandpurpleofthesea-
shellisechoedinthechurchofSt。MarkatVenice；justasthevaultedceilingofthewondrouschapelatRavennaismadegorgeousbythegoldandgreenandsapphireofthepeacock’stail，thoughthebirdsofJunoflynotacrossit；sothecriticreproducestheworkthathecriticisesinamodethatisneverimitative，andpartofwhosecharmmayreallyconsistintherejectionofresemblance，andshowsusinthiswaynotmerelythemeaningbutalsothemysteryofBeauty，and，bytransformingeachartintoliterature，solvesonceforalltheproblemofArt’sunity。
ButIseeitistimeforsupper。AfterwehavediscussedsomeChambertinandafewortolans，wewillpassontothequestionofthecriticconsideredinthelightoftheinterpreter。
ERNEST。Ah！youadmit，then，thatthecriticmayoccasionallybeallowedtoseetheobjectasinitselfitreallyis。
GILBERT。Iamnotquitesure。PerhapsImayadmititaftersupper。Thereisasubtleinfluenceinsupper。
THECRITICASARTIST-WITHSOMEREMARKSUPONTHEIMPORTANCEOF
DISCUSSINGEVERYTHING
ADIALOGUE：PartII。Persons：thesame。Scene：thesame。
ERNEST。Theortolansweredelightful，andtheChambertinperfect，andnowletusreturntothepointatissue。
GILBERT。Ah！don’tletusdothat。Conversationshouldtoucheverything，butshouldconcentrateitselfonnothing。LetustalkaboutMORALINDIGNATION，ITSCAUSEANDCURE，asubjectonwhichI
thinkofwriting：oraboutTHESURVIVALOFTHERSITES，asshownbytheEnglishcomicpapers；oraboutanytopicthatmayturnup。
ERNEST。No；Iwanttodiscussthecriticandcriticism。Youhavetoldmethatthehighestcriticismdealswithart，notasexpressive，butasimpressivepurely，andisconsequentlybothcreativeandindependent，isinfactanartbyitself，occupyingthesamerelationtocreativeworkthatcreativeworkdoestothevisibleworldofformandcolour，ortheunseenworldofpassionandofthought。Well，now，tellme，willnotthecriticbesometimesarealinterpreter？
GILBERT。Yes；thecriticwillbeaninterpreter，ifhechooses。
Hecanpassfromhissyntheticimpressionoftheworkofartasawhole，toananalysisorexpositionoftheworkitself，andinthislowersphere，asIholdittobe，therearemanydelightfulthingstobesaidanddone。Yethisobjectwillnotalwaysbetoexplaintheworkofart。Hemayseekrathertodeepenitsmystery，toraiseroundit，androunditsmaker，thatmistofwonderwhichisdeartobothgodsandworshippersalike。Ordinarypeopleare’terriblyateaseinZion。’Theyproposetowalkarminarmwiththepoets，andhaveaglibignorantwayofsaying，’WhyshouldwereadwhatiswrittenaboutShakespeareandMilton？Wecanreadtheplaysandthepoems。Thatisenough。’ButanappreciationofMiltonis，asthelateRectorofLincolnremarkedonce，therewardofconsummatescholarship。AndhewhodesirestounderstandShakespearetrulymustunderstandtherelationsinwhichShakespearestoodtotheRenaissanceandtheReformation，totheageofElizabethandtheageofJames；hemustbefamiliarwiththehistoryofthestruggleforsupremacybetweentheoldclassicalformsandthenewspiritofromance，betweentheschoolofSidney，andDaniel，andJohnson，andtheschoolofMarloweandMarlowe’sgreaterson；hemustknowthematerialsthatwereatShakespeare’sdisposal，andthemethodinwhichheusedthem，andtheconditionsoftheatricpresentationinthesixteenthandseventeenthcentury，theirlimitationsandtheiropportunitiesforfreedom，andtheliterarycriticismofShakespeare’sday，itsaimsandmodesandcanons；hemuststudytheEnglishlanguageinitsprogress，andblankorrhymedverseinitsvariousdevelopments；hemuststudytheGreekdrama，andtheconnectionbetweentheartofthecreatoroftheAgamemnonandtheartofthecreatorofMacbeth；inaword，hemustbeabletobindElizabethanLondontotheAthensofPericles，andtolearnShakespeare’struepositioninthehistoryofEuropeandramaandthedramaoftheworld。Thecriticwillcertainlybeaninterpreter，buthewillnottreatArtasariddlingSphinx，whoseshallowsecretmaybeguessedandrevealedbyonewhosefeetarewoundedandwhoknowsnothisname。Rather，hewilllookuponArtasagoddesswhosemysteryitishisprovincetointensify，andwhosemajestyhisprivilegetomakemoremarvellousintheeyesofmen。
Andhere，Ernest，thisstrangethinghappens。Thecriticwillindeedbeaninterpreter，buthewillnotbeaninterpreterinthesenseofonewhosimplyrepeatsinanotherformamessagethathasbeenputintohislipstosay。For，justasitisonlybycontactwiththeartofforeignnationsthattheartofacountrygainsthatindividualandseparatelifethatwecallnationality，so，bycuriousinversion，itisonlybyintensifyinghisownpersonalitythatthecriticcaninterpretthepersonalityandworkofothers，andthemorestronglythispersonalityentersintotheinterpretationthemorerealtheinterpretationbecomes，themoresatisfying，themoreconvincing，andthemoretrue。
ERNEST。Iwouldhavesaidthatpersonalitywouldhavebeenadisturbingelement。
GILBERT。No；itisanelementofrevelation。Ifyouwishtounderstandothersyoumustintensifyyourownindividualism。
ERNEST。What，then，istheresult？
GILBERT。Iwilltellyou，andperhapsIcantellyoubestbydefiniteexample。Itseemstomethat，whiletheliterarycriticstandsofcoursefirst，ashavingthewiderrange，andlargervision，andnoblermaterial，eachoftheartshasacritic，asitwere，assignedtoit。Theactorisacriticofthedrama。Heshowsthepoet’sworkundernewconditions，andbyamethodspecialtohimself。Hetakesthewrittenword，andaction，gestureandvoicebecomethemediaofrevelation。Thesingerortheplayeronluteandviolisthecriticofmusic。Theetcherofapicturerobsthepaintingofitsfaircolours，butshowsusbytheuseofanewmaterialitstruecolour-quality，itstonesandvalues，andtherelationsofitsmasses，andsois，inhisway，acriticofit，forthecriticishewhoexhibitstousaworkofartinaformdifferentfromthatoftheworkitself，andtheemploymentofanewmaterialisacriticalaswellasacreativeelement。Sculpture，too，hasitscritic，whomaybeeitherthecarverofagem，ashewasinGreekdays，orsomepainterlikeMantegna，whosoughttoreproduceoncanvasthebeautyofplasticlineandthesymphonicdignityofprocessionalbas-relief。Andinthecaseofallthesecreativecriticsofartitisevidentthatpersonalityisanabsoluteessentialforanyrealinterpretation。WhenRubinsteinplaystoustheSONATAAPPASSIONATAofBeethoven，hegivesusnotmerelyBeethoven，butalsohimself，andsogivesusBeethovenabsolutely-Beethovenre-interpretedthrougharichartisticnature，andmadevividandwonderfultousbyanewandintensepersonality。WhenagreatactorplaysShakespearewehavethesameexperience。Hisownindividualitybecomesavitalpartoftheinterpretation。PeoplesometimessaythatactorsgiveustheirownHamlets，andnotShakespeare’s；andthisfallacy-foritisafallacy-is，Iregrettosay，repeatedbythatcharmingandgracefulwriterwhohaslatelydesertedtheturmoilofliteratureforthepeaceoftheHouseofCommons，ImeantheauthorofOBITER
DICTA。Inpointoffact，thereisnosuchthingasShakespeare’sHamlet。IfHamlethassomethingofthedefinitenessofaworkofart，hehasalsoalltheobscuritythatbelongstolife。ThereareasmanyHamletsastherearemelancholies。
ERNEST。AsmanyHamletsastherearemelancholies？
GILBERT。Yes：andasartspringsfrompersonality，soitisonlytopersonalitythatitcanberevealed，andfromthemeetingofthetwocomesrightinterpretativecriticism。
ERNEST。Thecritic，then，consideredastheinterpreter，willgivenolessthanhereceives，andlendasmuchasheborrows？
GILBERT。Hewillbealwaysshowingustheworkofartinsomenewrelationtoourage。Hewillalwaysberemindingusthatgreatworksofartarelivingthings-are，infact，theonlythingsthatlive。Somuch，indeed，willhefeelthis，thatIamcertainthat，ascivilisationprogressesandwebecomemorehighlyorganised，theelectspiritsofeachage，thecriticalandculturedspirits，willgrowlessandlessinterestedinactuallife，andWILLSEEKTOGAIN
THEIRIMPRESSIONSALMOSTENTIRELYFROMWHATARTHASTOUCHED。Forlifeisterriblydeficientinform。Itscatastropheshappeninthewrongwayandtothewrongpeople。Thereisagrotesquehorroraboutitscomedies，anditstragediesseemtoculminateinfarce。
Oneisalwayswoundedwhenoneapproachesit。Thingslasteithertoolong，ornotlongenough。
ERNEST。Poorlife！Poorhumanlife！AreyounoteventouchedbythetearsthattheRomanpoettellsusarepartofitsessence。
GILBERT。Tooquicklytouchedbythem，Ifear。Forwhenonelooksbackuponthelifethatwassovividinitsemotionalintensity，andfilledwithsuchferventmomentsofecstasyorofjoy，itallseemstobeadreamandanillusion。Whataretheunrealthings，butthepassionsthatonceburnedonelikefire？Whataretheincrediblethings，butthethingsthatonehasfaithfullybelieved？
Whataretheimprobablethings？Thethingsthatonehasdoneoneself。No，Ernest；lifecheatsuswithshadows，likeapuppet-
master。Weaskitforpleasure。Itgivesittous，withbitternessanddisappointmentinitstrain。Wecomeacrosssomenoblegriefthatwethinkwilllendthepurpledignityoftragedytoourdays，butitpassesawayfromus，andthingslessnobletakeitsplace，andonsomegreywindydawn，orodorouseveofsilenceandofsilver，wefindourselveslookingwithcallouswonder，ordullheartofstone，atthetressofgold-fleckedhairthatwehadoncesowildlyworshippedandsomadlykissed。
ERNEST。Lifethenisafailure？
GILBERT。Fromtheartisticpointofview，certainly。Andthechiefthingthatmakeslifeafailurefromthisartisticpointofviewisthethingthatlendstolifeitssordidsecurity，thefactthatonecanneverrepeatexactlythesameemotion。HowdifferentitisintheworldofArt！OnashelfofthebookcasebehindyoustandstheDIVINECOMEDY，andIknowthat，ifIopenitatacertainplace，Ishallbefilledwithafiercehatredofsomeonewhohasneverwrongedme，orstirredbyagreatloveforsomeonewhomIshallneversee。ThereisnomoodorpassionthatArtcannotgiveus，andthoseofuswhohavediscoveredhersecretcansettlebeforehandwhatourexperiencesaregoingtobe。Wecanchooseourdayandselectourhour。Wecansaytoourselves，’To-
morrow，atdawn，weshallwalkwithgraveVirgilthroughthevalleyoftheshadowofdeath，’andlo！thedawnfindsusintheobscurewood，andtheMantuanstandsbyourside。Wepassthroughthegateofthelegendfataltohope，andwithpityorwithjoybeholdthehorrorofanotherworld。Thehypocritesgoby，withtheirpaintedfacesandtheircowlsofgildedlead。Outoftheceaselesswindsthatdrivethem，thecarnallookatus，andwewatchthehereticrendinghisflesh，andthegluttonlashedbytherain。WebreakthewitheredbranchesfromthetreeinthegroveoftheHarpies，andeachdull-huedpoisonoustwigbleedswithredbloodbeforeus，andcriesaloudwithbittercries。OutofahornoffireOdysseusspeakstous，andwhenfromhissepulchreofflamethegreatGhibellinerises，thepridethattriumphsoverthetortureofthatbedbecomesoursforamoment。Throughthedimpurpleairflythosewhohavestainedtheworldwiththebeautyoftheirsin，andinthepitofloathsomedisease，dropsy-strickenandswollenofbodyintothesemblanceofamonstrouslute，liesAdamodiBrescia，thecoineroffalsecoin。Hebidsuslistentohismisery；westop，andwithdryandgapinglipshetellsushowhedreamsdayandnightofthebrooksofclearwaterthatincooldewychannelsgushdownthegreenCasentinehills。Sinon，thefalseGreekofTroy，mocksathim。Hesmiteshimintheface，andtheywrangle。
Wearefascinatedbytheirshame，andloiter，tillVirgilchidesusandleadsusawaytothatcityturretedbygiantswheregreatNimrodblowshishorn。Terriblethingsareinstoreforus，andwegotomeettheminDante’sraimentandwithDante’sheart。WetraversethemarshesoftheStyx，andArgentiswimstotheboatthroughtheslimywaves。Hecallstous，andwerejecthim。Whenwehearthevoiceofhisagonyweareglad，andVirgilpraisesusforthebitternessofourscorn。WetreaduponthecoldcrystalofCocytus，inwhichtraitorssticklikestrawsinglass。OurfootstrikesagainsttheheadofBocca。Hewillnottellushisname，andwetearthehairinhandfulsfromthescreamingskull。
Alberigopraysustobreaktheiceuponhisfacethathemayweepalittle。Wepledgeourwordtohim，andwhenhehasutteredhisdoloroustalewedenythewordthatwehavespoken，andpassfromhim；suchcrueltybeingcourtesyindeed，forwhomorebasethanhewhohasmercyforthecondemnedofGod？InthejawsofLuciferweseethemanwhosoldChrist，andinthejawsofLuciferthemenwhoslewCaesar。Wetremble，andcomeforthtore-beholdthestars。
InthelandofPurgationtheairisfreer，andtheholymountainrisesintothepurelightofday。Thereispeaceforus，andforthosewhoforaseasonabideinitthereissomepeacealso，though，palefromthepoisonoftheMaremma，MadonnaPiapassesbeforeus，andIsmene，withthesorrowofearthstilllingeringabouther，isthere。Soulaftersoulmakesusshareinsomerepentanceorsomejoy。Hewhomthemourningofhiswidowtaughttodrinkthesweetwormwoodofpain，tellsusofNellaprayinginherlonelybed，andwelearnfromthemouthofBuoncontehowasingletearmaysaveadyingsinnerfromthefiend。Sordello，thatnobleanddisdainfulLombard，eyesusfromafarlikeacouchantlion。WhenhelearnsthatVirgilisoneofMantua’scitizens，hefallsuponhisneck，andwhenhelearnsthatheisthesingerofRomehefallsbeforehisfeet。InthatvalleywhosegrassandflowersarefairerthancleftemeraldandIndianwood，andbrighterthanscarletandsilver，theyaresingingwhointheworldwerekings；butthelipsofRudolphofHapsburgdonotmovetothemusicoftheothers，andPhilipofFrancebeatshisbreastandHenryofEnglandsitsalone。Onandonwego，climbingthemarvellousstair，andthestarsbecomelargerthantheirwont，andthesongofthekingsgrowsfaint，andatlengthwereachtheseventreesofgoldandthegardenoftheEarthlyParadise。Inagriffin-drawnchariotappearsonewhosebrowsareboundwitholive，whoisveiledinwhite，andmantledingreen，androbedinavesturethatiscolouredlikelivefire。Theancientflamewakeswithinus。Ourbloodquickensthroughterriblepulses。Werecogniseher。ItisBeatrice，thewomanwehaveworshipped。Theicecongealedaboutourheartmelts。Wildtearsofanguishbreakfromus，andwebowourforeheadtotheground，forweknowthatwehavesinned。Whenwehavedonepenance，andarepurified，andhavedrunkofthefountainofLetheandbathedinthefountainofEunoe，themistressofoursoulraisesustotheParadiseofHeaven。Outofthateternalpearl，themoon，thefaceofPiccardaDonatileanstous。
Herbeautytroublesusforamoment，andwhen，likeathingthatfallsthroughwater，shepassesaway，wegazeafterherwithwistfuleyes。ThesweetplanetofVenusisfulloflovers。
Cunizza，thesisterofEzzelin，theladyofSordello’sheart，isthere，andFolco，thepassionatesingerofProvence，whoinsorrowforAzalaisforsooktheworld，andtheCanaanitishharlotwhosesoulwasthefirstthatChristredeemed。JoachimofFlorastandsinthesun，and，inthesun，AquinasrecountsthestoryofSt。
FrancisandBonaventurethestoryofSt。Dominic。ThroughtheburningrubiesofMars，Cacciaguidaapproaches。Hetellsusofthearrowthatisshotfromthebowofexile，andhowsalttastesthebreadofanother，andhowsteeparethestairsinthehouseofastranger。InSaturnthesoulsingsnot，andevenshewhoguidesusdarenotsmile。Onaladderofgoldtheflamesriseandfall。Atlast，weseethepageantoftheMysticalRose。BeatricefixeshereyesuponthefaceofGodtoturnthemnotagain。Thebeatificvisionisgrantedtous；weknowtheLovethatmovesthesunandallthestars。
Yes，wecanputtheearthbacksixhundredcoursesandmakeourselvesonewiththegreatFlorentine，kneelatthesamealtarwithhim，andsharehisraptureandhisscorn。Andifwegrowtiredofanantiquetime，anddesiretorealiseourownageinallitswearinessandsin，aretherenotbooksthatcanmakeuslivemoreinonesinglehourthanlifecanmakeusliveinascoreofshamefulyears？Closetoyourhandliesalittlevolume，boundinsomeNile-greenskinthathasbeenpowderedwithgildednenupharsandsmoothedwithhardivory。ItisthebookthatGautierloved，itisBaudelaire’smasterpiece。OpenitatthatsadmadrigalthatbeginsQuem’importequetusoissage？
Soisbelle！etsoistriste！
andyouwillfindyourselfworshippingsorrowasyouhaveneverworshippedjoy。Passontothepoemonthemanwhotortureshimself，letitssubtlemusicstealintoyourbrainandcolouryourthoughts，andyouwillbecomeforamomentwhathewaswhowroteit；nay，notforamomentonly，butformanybarrenmoonlitnightsandsunlesssteriledayswilladespairthatisnotyourownmakeitsdwellingwithinyou，andthemiseryofanothergnawyourheartaway。Readthewholebook，sufferittotellevenoneofitssecretstoyoursoul，andyoursoulwillgroweagertoknowmore，andwillfeeduponpoisonoushoney，andseektorepentofstrangecrimesofwhichitisguiltless，andtomakeatonementforterriblepleasuresthatithasneverknown。Andthen，whenyouaretiredoftheseflowersofevil，turntotheflowersthatgrowinthegardenofPerdita，andintheirdew-drenchedchalicescoolyourfeveredbrow，andlettheirlovelinesshealandrestoreyoursoul；orwakefromhisforgottentombthesweetSyrian，Meleager，andbidtheloverofHeliodoremakeyoumusic，forhetoohasflowersinhissong，redpomegranateblossoms，andirisesthatsmellofmyrrh，ringeddaffodilsanddarkbluehyacinths，andmarjoramandcrinkledox-eyes。Deartohimwastheperfumeofthebean-fieldatevening，anddeartohimtheodorouseared-spikenardthatgrewontheSyrianhills，andthefreshgreenthyme，thewine-cup’scharm。Thefeetofhisloveasshewalkedinthegardenwerelikeliliessetuponlilies。Softerthansleep-ladenpoppypetalswereherlips，softerthanvioletsandasscented。Theflame-likecrocussprangfromthegrasstolookather。Forhertheslimnarcissusstoredthecoolrain；andforhertheanemonesforgottheSicilianwindsthatwooedthem。Andneithercrocus，noranemone，nornarcissuswasasfairasshewas。
Itisastrangething，thistransferenceofemotion。Wesickenwiththesamemaladiesasthepoets，andthesingerlendsushispain。Deadlipshavetheirmessageforus，andheartsthathavefallentodustcancommunicatetheirjoy。WeruntokissthebleedingmouthofFantine，andwefollowManonLescautoverthewholeworld。Oursisthelove-madnessoftheTyrian，andtheterrorofOrestesisoursalso。Thereisnopassionthatwecannotfeel，nopleasurethatwemaynotgratify，andwecanchoosethetimeofourinitiationandthetimeofourfreedomalso。Life！
Life！Don’tletusgotolifeforourfulfilmentorourexperience。Itisathingnarrowedbycircumstances，incoherentinitsutterance，andwithoutthatfinecorrespondenceofformandspiritwhichistheonlythingthatcansatisfytheartisticandcriticaltemperament。Itmakesuspaytoohighapriceforitswares，andwepurchasethemeanestofitssecretsatacostthatismonstrousandinfinite。
ERNEST。Mustwego，then，toArtforeverything？
GILBERT。Foreverything。BecauseArtdoesnothurtus。ThetearsthatweshedataplayareatypeoftheexquisitesterileemotionsthatitisthefunctionofArttoawaken。Weweep，butwearenotwounded。Wegrieve，butourgriefisnotbitter。Intheactuallifeofman，sorrow，asSpinozasayssomewhere，isapassagetoalesserperfection。ButthesorrowwithwhichArtfillsusbothpurifiesandinitiates，ifImayquoteoncemorefromthegreatartcriticoftheGreeks。ItisthroughArt，andthroughArtonly，thatwecanrealiseourperfection；throughArt，andthroughArtonly，thatwecanshieldourselvesfromthesordidperilsofactualexistence。Thisresultsnotmerelyfromthefactthatnothingthatonecanimagineisworthdoing，andthatonecanimagineeverything，butfromthesubtlelawthatemotionalforces，liketheforcesofthephysicalsphere，arelimitedinextentandenergy。
Onecanfeelsomuch，andnomore。Andhowcanitmatterwithwhatpleasurelifetriestotemptone，orwithwhatpainitseekstomaimandmarone’ssoul，ifinthespectacleofthelivesofthosewhohaveneverexistedonehasfoundthetruesecretofjoy，andweptawayone’stearsovertheirdeathswho，likeCordeliaandthedaughterofBrabantio，canneverdie？
ERNEST。Stopamoment。Itseemstomethatineverythingthatyouhavesaidthereissomethingradicallyimmoral。
GILBERT。Allartisimmoral。
ERNEST。Allart？
GILBERT。Yes。Foremotionforthesakeofemotionistheaimofart，andemotionforthesakeofactionistheaimoflife，andofthatpracticalorganisationoflifethatwecallsociety。Society，whichisthebeginningandbasisofmorals，existssimplyfortheconcentrationofhumanenergy，andinordertoensureitsowncontinuanceandhealthystabilityitdemands，andnodoubtrightlydemands，ofeachofitscitizensthatheshouldcontributesomeformofproductivelabourtothecommonweal，andtoilandtravailthattheday’sworkmaybedone。Societyoftenforgivesthecriminal；itneverforgivesthedreamer。Thebeautifulsterileemotionsthatartexcitesinusarehatefulinitseyes，andsocompletelyarepeopledominatedbythetyrannyofthisdreadfulsocialidealthattheyarealwayscomingshamelesslyuptooneatPrivateViewsandotherplacesthatareopentothegeneralpublic，andsayinginaloudstentorianvoice，’Whatareyoudoing？’
whereas’Whatareyouthinking？’istheonlyquestionthatanysinglecivilisedbeingshouldeverbeallowedtowhispertoanother。Theymeanwell，nodoubt，thesehonestbeamingfolk。
Perhapsthatisthereasonwhytheyaresoexcessivelytedious。
Butsomeoneshouldteachthemthatwhile，intheopinionofsociety，Contemplationisthegravestsinofwhichanycitizencanbeguilty，intheopinionofthehighestcultureitistheproperoccupationofman。
ERNEST。Contemplation？
GILBERT。Contemplation。Isaidtoyousometimeagothatitwasfarmoredifficulttotalkaboutathingthantodoit。Letmesaytoyounowthattodonothingatallisthemostdifficultthingintheworld，themostdifficultandthemostintellectual。ToPlato，withhispassionforwisdom，thiswasthenoblestformofenergy。
ToAristotle，withhispassionforknowledge，thiswasthenoblestformofenergyalso。Itwastothisthatthepassionforholinessledthesaintandthemysticofmediaevaldays。
ERNEST。Weexist，then，todonothing？
GILBERT。Itistodonothingthattheelectexist。Actionislimitedandrelative。Unlimitedandabsoluteisthevisionofhimwhositsateaseandwatches，whowalksinlonelinessanddreams。
Butwewhoarebornatthecloseofthiswonderfulageareatoncetooculturedandtoocritical，toointellectuallysubtleandtoocuriousofexquisitepleasures，toacceptanyspeculationsaboutlifeinexchangeforlifeitself。ToustheCITTEDIVINAiscolourless，andtheFRUITIODEIwithoutmeaning。Metaphysicsdonotsatisfyourtemperaments，andreligiousecstasyisoutofdate。
TheworldthroughwhichtheAcademicphilosopherbecomes’thespectatorofalltimeandofallexistence’isnotreallyanidealworld，butsimplyaworldofabstractideas。Whenweenterit，westarveamidstthechillmathematicsofthought。ThecourtsofthecityofGodarenotopentousnow。ItsgatesareguardedbyIgnorance，andtopassthemwehavetosurrenderallthatinournatureismostdivine。Itisenoughthatourfathersbelieved。
Theyhaveexhaustedthefaith-facultyofthespecies。Theirlegacytousisthescepticismofwhichtheywereafraid。Hadtheyputitintowords，itmightnotlivewithinusasthought。No，Ernest，no。Wecannotgobacktothesaint。Thereisfarmoretobelearnedfromthesinner。Wecannotgobacktothephilosopher，andthemysticleadsusastray。Who，asMr。Patersuggestssomewhere，wouldexchangethecurveofasinglerose-leafforthatformlessintangibleBeingwhichPlatoratessohigh？WhattousistheIlluminationofPhilo，theAbyssofEckhart，theVisionofBohme，themonstrousHeavenitselfthatwasrevealedtoSwedenborg’sblindedeyes？Suchthingsarelessthantheyellowtrumpetofonedaffodilofthefield，farlessthanthemeanestofthevisiblearts，for，justasNatureismatterstrugglingintomind，soArtismindexpressingitselfundertheconditionsofmatter，andthus，eveninthelowliestofhermanifestations，shespeakstobothsenseandsoulalike。Totheaesthetictemperamentthevagueisalwaysrepellent。TheGreekswereanationofartists，becausetheyweresparedthesenseoftheinfinite。LikeAristotle，likeGoetheafterhehadreadKant，wedesiretheconcrete，andnothingbuttheconcretecansatisfyus。
ERNEST。Whatthendoyoupropose？
GILBERT。Itseemstomethatwiththedevelopmentofthecriticalspiritweshallbeabletorealise，notmerelyourownlives，butthecollectivelifeoftherace，andsotomakeourselvesabsolutelymodern，inthetruemeaningofthewordmodernity。Forhetowhomthepresentistheonlythingthatispresent，knowsnothingoftheageinwhichhelives。Torealisethenineteenthcentury，onemustrealiseeverycenturythathasprecededitandthathascontributedtoitsmaking。Toknowanythingaboutoneselfonemustknowallaboutothers。Theremustbenomoodwithwhichonecannotsympathise，nodeadmodeoflifethatonecannotmakealive。Isthisimpossible？Ithinknot。Byrevealingtoustheabsolutemechanismofallaction，andsofreeingusfromtheself-
imposedandtrammellingburdenofmoralresponsibility，thescientificprincipleofHeredityhasbecome，asitwere，thewarrantforthecontemplativelife。Ithasshownusthatweareneverlessfreethanwhenwetrytoact。Ithashemmedusroundwiththenetsofthehunter，andwrittenuponthewalltheprophecyofourdoom。Wemaynotwatchit，foritiswithinus。Wemaynotseeit，saveinamirrorthatmirrorsthesoul。ItisNemesiswithouthermask。ItisthelastoftheFates，andthemostterrible。ItistheonlyoneoftheGodswhoserealnameweknow。
Andyet，whileinthesphereofpracticalandexternallifeithasrobbedenergyofitsfreedomandactivityofitschoice，inthesubjectivesphere，wherethesoulisatwork，itcomestous，thisterribleshadow，withmanygiftsinitshands，giftsofstrangetemperamentsandsubtlesusceptibilities，giftsofwildardoursandchillmoodsofindifference，complexmultiformgiftsofthoughtsthatareatvariancewitheachother，andpassionsthatwaragainstthemselves。Andso，itisnotourownlifethatwelive，butthelivesofthedead，andthesoulthatdwellswithinusisnosinglespiritualentity，makinguspersonalandindividual，createdforourservice，andenteringintousforourjoy。Itissomethingthathasdweltinfearfulplaces，andinancientsepulchreshasmadeitsabode。Itissickwithmanymaladies，andhasmemoriesofcurioussins。Itiswiserthanweare，anditswisdomisbitter。
Itfillsuswithimpossibledesires，andmakesusfollowwhatweknowwecannotgain。Onething，however，Ernest，itcandoforus。
Itcanleadusawayfromsurroundingswhosebeautyisdimmedtousbythemistoffamiliarity，orwhoseignobleuglinessandsordidclaimsaremarringtheperfectionofourdevelopment。Itcanhelpustoleavetheageinwhichwewereborn，andtopassintootherages，andfindourselvesnotexiledfromtheirair。Itcanteachushowtoescapefromourexperience，andtorealisetheexperiencesofthosewhoaregreaterthanweare。ThepainofLeopardicryingoutagainstlifebecomesourpain。Theocritusblowsonhispipe，andwelaughwiththelipsofnymphandshepherd。InthewolfskinofPierreVidalwefleebeforethehounds，andinthearmourofLancelotweridefromtheboweroftheQueen。WehavewhisperedthesecretofourlovebeneaththecowlofAbelard，andinthestainedraimentofVillonhaveputourshameintosong。WecanseethedawnthroughShelley’seyes，andwhenwewanderwithEndymiontheMoongrowsamorousofouryouth。OursistheanguishofAtys，andourstheweakrageandnoblesorrowsoftheDane。Doyouthinkthatitistheimaginationthatenablesustolivethesecountlesslives？Yes：itistheimagination；andtheimaginationistheresultofheredity。Itissimplyconcentratedrace-experience。
ERNEST。Butwhereinthisisthefunctionofthecriticalspirit？
GILBERT。Theculturethatthistransmissionofracialexperiencesmakespossiblecanbemadeperfectbythecriticalspiritalone，andindeedmaybesaidtobeonewithit。Forwhoisthetruecriticbuthewhobearswithinhimselfthedreams，andideas，andfeelingsofmyriadgenerations，andtowhomnoformofthoughtisalien，noemotionalimpulseobscure？Andwhothetruemanofculture，ifnothewhobyfinescholarshipandfastidiousrejectionhasmadeinstinctself-consciousandintelligent，andcanseparatetheworkthathasdistinctionfromtheworkthathasitnot，andsobycontactandcomparisonmakeshimselfmasterofthesecretsofstyleandschool，andunderstandstheirmeanings，andlistenstotheirvoices，anddevelopsthatspiritofdisinterestedcuriositywhichistherealroot，asitistherealflower，oftheintellectuallife，andthusattainstointellectualclarity，and，havinglearned’thebestthatisknownandthoughtintheworld，’
lives-itisnotfancifultosayso-withthosewhoaretheImmortals。
Yes，Ernest：thecontemplativelife，thelifethathasforitsaimnotDOINGbutBEING，andnotBEINGmerely，butBECOMING-thatiswhatthecriticalspiritcangiveus。Thegodslivethus：eitherbroodingovertheirownperfection，asAristotletellsus，or，asEpicurusfancied，watchingwiththecalmeyesofthespectatorthetragicomedyoftheworldthattheyhavemade。We，too，mightlivelikethem，andsetourselvestowitnesswithappropriateemotionsthevariedscenesthatmanandnatureafford。Wemightmakeourselvesspiritualbydetachingourselvesfromaction，andbecomeperfectbytherejectionofenergy。IthasoftenseemedtomethatBrowningfeltsomethingofthis。ShakespearehurlsHamletintoactivelife，andmakeshimrealisehismissionbyeffort。BrowningmighthavegivenusaHamletwhowouldhaverealisedhismissionbythought。Incidentandeventweretohimunrealorunmeaning。Hemadethesoultheprotagonistoflife’stragedy，andlookedonactionastheoneundramaticelementofaplay。Tous，atanyrate，the[Greektextwhichcannotbereproduced]isthetrueideal。FromthehightowerofThoughtwecanlookoutattheworld。Calm，andself-centred，andcomplete，theaestheticcriticcontemplateslife，andnoarrowdrawnataventurecanpiercebetweenthejointsofhisharness。Heatleastissafe。Hehasdiscoveredhowtolive。
Issuchamodeoflifeimmoral？Yes：alltheartsareimmoral，exceptthosebaserformsofsensualordidacticartthatseektoexcitetoactionofevilorofgood。Foractionofeverykindbelongstothesphereofethics。Theaimofartissimplytocreateamood。Issuchamodeoflifeunpractical？Ah！itisnotsoeasytobeunpracticalastheignorantPhilistineimagines。ItwerewellforEnglandifitwereso。Thereisnocountryintheworldsomuchinneedofunpracticalpeopleasthiscountryofours。Withus，Thoughtisdegradedbyitsconstantassociationwithpractice。Whothatmovesinthestressandturmoilofactualexistence，noisypolitician，orbrawlingsocialreformer，orpoornarrow-mindedpriestblindedbythesufferingsofthatunimportantsectionofthecommunityamongwhomhehascasthislot，canseriouslyclaimtobeabletoformadisinterestedintellectualjudgmentaboutanyonething？Eachoftheprofessionsmeansaprejudice。Thenecessityforacareerforceseveryonetotakesides。Weliveintheageoftheoverworked，andtheunder-
educated；theageinwhichpeoplearesoindustriousthattheybecomeabsolutelystupid。And，harshthoughitmaysound，Icannothelpsayingthatsuchpeopledeservetheirdoom。Thesurewayofknowingnothingaboutlifeistotrytomakeoneselfuseful。
ERNEST。Acharmingdoctrine，Gilbert。
GILBERT。Iamnotsureaboutthat，butithasatleasttheminormeritofbeingtrue。Thatthedesiretodogoodtoothersproducesaplentifulcropofprigsistheleastoftheevilsofwhichitisthecause。Theprigisaveryinterestingpsychologicalstudy，andthoughofallposesamoralposeisthemostoffensive，stilltohaveaposeatallissomething。Itisaformalrecognitionoftheimportanceoftreatinglifefromadefiniteandreasonedstandpoint。ThatHumanitarianSympathywarsagainstNature，bysecuringthesurvivalofthefailure，maymakethemanofscienceloatheitsfacilevirtues。Thepoliticaleconomistmaycryoutagainstitforputtingtheimprovidentonthesamelevelastheprovident，andsorobbinglifeofthestrongest，becausemostsordid，incentivetoindustry。But，intheeyesofthethinker，therealharmthatemotionalsympathydoesisthatitlimitsknowledge，andsopreventsusfromsolvinganysinglesocialproblem。Wearetryingatpresenttostaveoffthecomingcrisis，thecomingrevolutionasmyfriendstheFabianistscallit，bymeansofdolesandalms。Well，whentherevolutionorcrisisarrives，weshallbepowerless，becauseweshallknownothing。Andso，Ernest，letusnotbedeceived。EnglandwillneverbecivilisedtillshehasaddedUtopiatoherdominions。Thereismorethanoneofhercoloniesthatshemightwithadvantagesurrenderforsofairaland。Whatwewantareunpracticalpeoplewhoseebeyondthemoment，andthinkbeyondtheday。Thosewhotrytoleadthepeoplecanonlydosobyfollowingthemob。Itisthroughthevoiceofonecryinginthewildernessthatthewaysofthegodsmustbeprepared。
Butperhapsyouthinkthatinbeholdingforthemerejoyofbeholding，andcontemplatingforthesakeofcontemplation，thereissomethingthatisegotistic。Ifyouthinkso，donotsayso。
Ittakesathoroughlyselfishage，likeourown，todeifyself-
sacrifice。Ittakesathoroughlygraspingage，suchasthatinwhichwelive，tosetabovethefineintellectualvirtues，thoseshallowandemotionalvirtuesthatareanimmediatepracticalbenefittoitself。Theymisstheiraim，too，thesephilanthropistsandsentimentalistsofourday，whoarealwayschatteringtooneaboutone’sdutytoone’sneighbour。Forthedevelopmentoftheracedependsonthedevelopmentoftheindividual，andwhereself-
culturehasceasedtobetheideal，theintellectualstandardisinstantlylowered，and，often，ultimatelylost。Ifyoumeetatdinneramanwhohasspenthislifeineducatinghimself-araretypeinourtime，Iadmit，butstilloneoccasionallytobemetwith-yourisefromtablericher，andconsciousthatahighidealhasforamomenttouchedandsanctifiedyourdays。Butoh！mydearErnest，tositnexttoamanwhohasspenthislifeintryingtoeducateothers！Whatadreadfulexperiencethatis！Howappallingisthatignorancewhichistheinevitableresultofthefatalhabitofimpartingopinions！Howlimitedinrangethecreature’smindprovestobe！Howitweariesus，andmustwearyhimself，withitsendlessrepetitionsandsicklyreiteration！Howlackingitisinanyelementofintellectualgrowth！Inwhataviciouscircleitalwaysmoves！
ERNEST。Youspeakwithstrangefeeling，Gilbert。Haveyouhadthisdreadfulexperience，asyoucallit，lately？
GILBERT。Fewofusescapeit。Peoplesaythattheschoolmasterisabroad。Iwishtogoodnesshewere。Butthetypeofwhich，afterall，heisonlyone，andcertainlytheleastimportant，oftherepresentatives，seemstometobereallydominatingourlives；andjustasthephilanthropististhenuisanceoftheethicalsphere，sothenuisanceoftheintellectualsphereisthemanwhoissooccupiedintryingtoeducateothers，thathehasneverhadanytimetoeducatehimself。No，Ernest，self-cultureisthetrueidealofman。Goethesawit，andtheimmediatedebtthatweowetoGoetheisgreaterthanthedebtweowetoanymansinceGreekdays。
TheGreekssawit，andhaveleftus，astheirlegacytomodernthought，theconceptionofthecontemplativelifeaswellasthecriticalmethodbywhichalonecanthatlifebetrulyrealised。ItwastheonethingthatmadetheRenaissancegreat，andgaveusHumanism。Itistheonethingthatcouldmakeourownagegreatalso；fortherealweaknessofEnglandlies，notinincompletearmamentsorunfortifiedcoasts，notinthepovertythatcreepsthroughsunlesslanes，orthedrunkennessthatbrawlsinloathsomecourts，butsimplyinthefactthatheridealsareemotionalandnotintellectual。
Idonotdenythattheintellectualidealisdifficultofattainment，stilllessthatitis，andperhapswillbeforyearstocome，unpopularwiththecrowd。Itissoeasyforpeopletohavesympathywithsuffering。Itissodifficultforthemtohavesympathywiththought。Indeed，solittledoordinarypeopleunderstandwhatthoughtreallyis，thattheyseemtoimaginethat，whentheyhavesaidthatatheoryisdangerous，theyhavepronounceditscondemnation，whereasitisonlysuchtheoriesthathaveanytrueintellectualvalue。Anideathatisnotdangerousisunworthyofbeingcalledanideaatall。
ERNEST。Gilbert，youbewilderme。Youhavetoldmethatallartis，initsessence，immoral。Areyougoingtotellmenowthatallthoughtis，initsessence，dangerous？
GILBERT。Yes，inthepracticalsphereitisso。Thesecurityofsocietyliesincustomandunconsciousinstinct，andthebasisofthestabilityofsociety，asahealthyorganism，isthecompleteabsenceofanyintelligenceamongstitsmembers。Thegreatmajorityofpeoplebeingfullyawareofthis，rankthemselvesnaturallyonthesideofthatsplendidsystemthatelevatesthemtothedignityofmachines，andragesowildlyagainsttheintrusionoftheintellectualfacultyintoanyquestionthatconcernslife，thatoneistemptedtodefinemanasarationalanimalwhoalwaysloseshistemperwhenheiscalledupontoactinaccordancewiththedictatesofreason。Butletusturnfromthepracticalsphere，andsaynomoreaboutthewickedphilanthropists，who，indeed，maywellbelefttothemercyofthealmond-eyedsageoftheYellowRiverChuangTsuthewise，whohasprovedthatsuchwell-meaningandoffensivebusybodieshavedestroyedthesimpleandspontaneousvirtuethatthereisinman。Theyareawearisometopic，andIamanxioustogetbacktothesphereinwhichcriticismisfree。
ERNEST。Thesphereoftheintellect？
GILBERT。Yes。YourememberthatIspokeofthecriticasbeinginhisownwayascreativeastheartist，whosework，indeed，maybemerelyofvalueinsofarasitgivestothecriticasuggestionforsomenewmoodofthoughtandfeelingwhichhecanrealisewithequal，orperhapsgreater，distinctionofform，and，throughtheuseofafreshmediumofexpression，makedifferentlybeautifulandmoreperfect。Well，youseemedtobealittlescepticalaboutthetheory。ButperhapsIwrongedyou？
ERNEST。Iamnotreallyscepticalaboutit，butImustadmitthatIfeelverystronglythatsuchworkasyoudescribethecriticproducing-andcreativesuchworkmustundoubtedlybeadmittedtobe-is，ofnecessity，purelysubjective，whereasthegreatestworkisobjectivealways，objectiveandimpersonal。