ng but amiable diversion should flow simultaneously from
platform, stage, and press, then for the public would the millennium
be come. A religious philosopher can transmute Adam's fall into a
blessing, and we can recognize the wisdom of that dispensation which
put enmity between the seed of Jubal, who was the "father of all such
as handle the harp and pipe," and the seed of Saul, who, I take it, is
the first critic of record (and a vigorous one, too, for he
accentuated his unfavorable opinion of a harper's harping with a
javelin thrust).

[Sidenote: _The critic an Ishmaelite._]

[Sidenote: _The critic not to be pitied._]

[Sidenote: _How he might extricate himself._]

[Sidenote: _The public like to be flattered._]

We are bound to recognize that between the three factors there is,
ever was, and ever shall be _in saecula saeculorum_ an irrepressible
conflict, and that in the nature of things the middle factor is the
Ishmaelite whose hand is raised against everybody and against whom
everybody's hand is raised. The complacency of the musician and the
indifference, not to say ignorance, of the public ordinarily combine
to make them allies, and the critic is, therefore, placed between two
millstones, where he is vigorously rasped on both sides, and whence,
being angular and hard of outer shell, he frequently requites the
treatment received with complete and energetic reciprocity. Is he
therefore to be pitied? Not a bit; for in this position he is
performing one of the most significant and useful of his functions,
and disclosing one of his most precious virtues. While musician and
public must perforce remain in the positions in which they have been
placed with relation to each other it must be apparent at half a
glance that it would be the simplest matter in the world for the
critic to extricate himself from his predicament. He would only need
to take his cue from the public, measuring his commendation by the
intensity of their applause, his dispraise by their signs of
displeasure, and all would be well with him. We all know this to be
true, that people like to read that which flatters them by echoing
their own thoughts. The more delightfully it is put by the writer the
more the reader is pleased, for has he not had the same idea? Are they
not his? Is not their appearance in a public print proof of the
shrewdness and soundness of his judgment? Ruskin knows this foible in
human nature and condemns it. You may read in "Se