erse; nor do we read
philosophy for the sake of the judgments at which philosophers arrive.
We do not want to know Kant's opinion because he is Kant; what interests
us is the process by which he arrives at that opinion, and it is the
process which convinces us that his opinion is right, if we are
convinced. So it is, or should be, with criticism. It ought to provoke
thought rather than to suppress it; and if it does not provoke thought
it is worthless.

But in the best criticism judgment is rather implied than expressed. For
the proper subject-matter of criticism is the experience of works of
art. The best critic is he who has experienced a work of art so
intensely that his criticism is the spontaneous expression of his
experience. He tells us what has happened to him, as the artist tells us
what has happened to him; and we, as we read, do not judge either the
criticism or the art criticized, but share the experience. The value of
art lies in the fact that it communicates the experience and the
experiencing power of one man to many. When we hear a symphony of
Beethoven, we are for the moment Beethoven; and we ourselves are
enriched for ever by the fact that we have for the moment been
Beethoven. So the value of the best criticism lies in the fact that it
communicates the experience and the experiencing power of the critic to
his readers and so enriches their experiencing power. If he is futile,
so is the artist. If we cannot read him without danger to our own
independence of thought, neither can we look at a picture without danger
to our own independence of vision. But believe in the fellowship of
mankind, believe that one mind can pour into another and enrich it with
its own treasures, and you will know that neither art nor criticism is
futile. They stand or fall together, and the artist who condemns the
critic condemns himself also.

There remains the contention, half implied by Sir T. Jackson, that the
critic's experience of art is of no value because he is not an artist.
Now if it is of no value to himself because he is not an artist, then
art is of no value to anyone except the artist, and the artist who
practises the same kind of art; music is of value only to musicians, and
painting to painters. It cannot be that mere technical training gives a
man the mysterious power of experiencing works of art; for, as we all
know, it does not make an artist. No artist will admit that anyone
through technical training can b