DIGNATION；　ITS　CAUSE　AND　CURE；　a　subject　on　which　I　think　of　writing：　　or　about　THE　SURVIVAL　OF　THERSITES；　as　shown　by　the　English　comic　papers；　or　about　any　topic　that　may　turn　up。
  ERNEST。　　No；　I　want　to　discuss　the　critic　and　criticism。　　You　have　told　me　that　the　highest　criticism　deals　with　art；　not　as　expressive；　but　as　impressive　purely；　and　is　consequently　both　creative　and　independent；　is　in　fact　an　art　by　itself；　occupying　the　same　relation　to　creative　work　that　creative　work　does　to　the　visible　world　of　form　and　colour；　or　the　unseen　world　of　passion　and　of　thought。　　Well；　now；　tell　me；　will　not　the　critic　be　sometimes　a　real　interpreter？
  GILBERT。　　Yes；　the　critic　will　be　an　interpreter；　if　he　chooses。　He　can　pass　from　his　synthetic　impression　of　the　work　of　art　as　a　whole；　to　an　analysis　or　exposition　of　the　work　itself；　and　in　this　lower　sphere；　as　I　hold　it　to　be；　there　are　many　delightful　things　to　be　said　and　done。　　Yet　his　object　will　not　always　be　to　explain　the　work　of　art。　　He　may　seek　rather　to　deepen　its　mystery；　to　raise　round　it；　and　round　its　maker；　that　mist　of　wonder　which　is　dear　to　both　gods　and　worshippers　alike。　　Ordinary　people　are　'terribly　at　ease　in　Zion。'　　They　propose　to　walk　arm　in　arm　with　the　poets；　and　have　a　glib　ignorant　way　of　saying；　'Why　should　we　read　what　is　written　about　Shakespeare　and　Milton？　　We　can　read　the　plays　and　the　poems。　　That　is　enough。'　　But　an　appreciation　of　Milton　is；　as　the　late　Rector　of　Lincoln　remarked　once；　the　reward　of　consummate　scholarship。　　And　he　who　desires　to　understand　Shakespeare　truly　must　understand　the　relations　in　which　Shakespeare　stood　to　the　Renaissance　and　the　Reformation；　to　the　age　of　Elizabeth　and　the　age　of　James；　he　must　be　familiar　with　the　history　of　the　struggle　for　supremacy　between　the　old　classical　forms　and　the　new　spirit　of　romance；　between　the　school　of　Sidney；　and　Daniel；　and　Johnson；　and　the　school　of　Marlowe　and　Marlowe's　greater　son；　he　must　know　the　materials　that　were　at　Shakespeare's　disposal；　and　the　method　in　which　he　used　them；　and　the　conditions　of　theatric　presentation　in　the　sixteenth　and　seventeenth　century；　their　limitations　and　their　opportunities　for　freedom；　and　the　literary　criticism　of　Shakespeare's　day；　its　aims　and　modes　and　canons；　he　must　study　the　English　language　in　its　progress；　and　blank　or　rhymed　verse　in　its　various　developments；　he　must　study　the　Greek　drama；　and　the　connection　between　the　art　of　the　creator　of　the　Agamemnon　and　the　art　of　the　creator　of　Macbeth；　in　a　word；　he　must　be　able　to　bind　Elizabethan　London　to　the　Athens　of　Pericles；　and　to　learn　Shakespeare's　true　position　in　the　history　of　European　drama　and　the　drama　of　the　world。　　The　critic　will　certainly　be　an　interpreter；　but　he　will　not　treat　Art　as　a　riddling　Sphinx；　whose　shallow　secret　may　be　guessed　and　revealed　by　one　whose　feet　are　wounded　and　who　knows　not　his　name。　　Rather；　he　will　look　upon　Art　as　a　goddess　whose　mystery　it　is　his　province　to　intensify；　and　whose　majesty　his　privilege　to　make　more　marvellous　in　the　eyes　of　men。
  And　here；　Ernest；　this　strange　thing　happens。　　The　critic　will　indeed　be　an　interpreter；　but　he　will　not　be　an　interpreter　in　the　sense　of　one　who　simply　repeats　in　another　form　a　message　that　has　been　put　into　his　lips　to　say。　　For；　　just　as　it　is　only　by　contact　with　the　art　of　foreign　nations　that　the　art　of　a　country　gains　that　individual　and　separate　life　that　we　call　nationality；　so；　by　curious　inversion；　it　is　only　by　intensifying　his　own　personality　that　the　critic　can　interpret　the　personality　and　work　of　others；　and　the　more　strongly　this　personality　enters　into　the　interpretation　the　more　real　the　interpretation　becomes；　the　more　satisfying；　the　more　convincing；　and　the　more　true。
  ERNEST。　　I　would　have　said　that　personality　would　have　been　a　disturbing　element。
  GILBERT。　　No；　it　is　an　element　of　revelation。　　If　you　wish　to　understand　others　you　must　intensify　your　own　individualism。
  ERNEST。　　What；　then；　is　the　result？
  GILBERT。　　I　will　tell　you；　and　perhaps　I　can　tell　you　best　by　definite　example。　　It　seems　to　me　that；　while　the　literary　critic　stands　of　course　first；　as　having　the　wider　range；　and　larger　vision；　and　nobler　material；　each　of　the　arts　has　a　critic；　as　it　were；　assigned　to　it。　　The　actor　is　a　critic　of　the　drama。　　He　shows　the　poet's　work　under　new　conditions；　and　by　a　method　special　to　himself。　　He　takes　the　written　word；　and　action；　gesture　and　voice　become　the　media　of　revelation。　　The　singer　or　the　player　on　lute　and　viol　is　the　critic　of　music。　　The　etcher　of　a　picture　robs　the　painting　of　its　fair　colours；　but　shows　us　by　the　use　of　a　new　material　its　true　colour…quality；　its　tones　and　values；　and　the　relations　of　its　masses；　and　so　is；　in　his　way；　a　critic　of　it；　for　the　critic　is　he　who　exhibits　to　us　a　work　of　art　in　a　form　different　from　that　of　the　work　itself；　and　the　employment　of　a　new　material　is　a　critical　as　well　as　a　creative　element。　　Sculpture；　too；　has　its　critic；　who　may　be　either　the　carver　of　a　gem；　as　he　was　in　Greek　days；　or　some　painter　like　Mantegna；　who　sought　to　reproduce　on　canvas　the　beauty　of　plastic　line　and　the　symphonic　dignity　of　processional　bas…relief。　　And　in　the　case　of　all　these　creative　critics　of　art　it　is　evident　that　personality　is　an　absolute　essential　for　any　real　interpretation。　　When　Rubinstein　plays　to　us　the　SONATA　APPASSIONATA　of　Beethoven；　he　gives　us　not　merely　Beethoven；　but　also　himself；　and　so　gives　us　Beethoven　absolutely　…　Beethoven　re…interpreted　through　a　rich　artistic　nature；　and　made　vivid　and　wonderful　to　us　by　a　new　and　intense　personality。　　When　a　great　actor　plays　Shakespeare　we　have　the　same　experience。　　His　own　individuality　becomes　a　vital　part　of　the　interpretation。　　People　sometimes　say　that　actors　give　us　their　own　Hamlets；　and　not　Shakespeare's；　and　this　fallacy　…　for　it　is　a　fallacy　…　is；　I　regret　to　say；　repeated　by　that　charming　and　graceful　writer　who　has　lately　deserted　the　turmoil　of　literature　for　the　peace　of　the　House　of　Commons；　I　mean　the　author　of　OBITER　DICTA。　　In　point　of　fact；　there　is　no　such　thing　as　Shakespeare's　Hamlet。　　If　Hamlet　has　something　of　the　definiteness　of　a　work　of　art；　he　has　also　all　the　obscurity　that　belongs　to　life。　　There　are　as　many　Hamlets　as　there　are　melancholies。
  ERNEST。　　As　many　Hamlets　as　there　are　melancholies？
  GILBERT。　　Yes：　　and　as　art　springs　from　personality；　so　it　is　only　to　personality　that　it　can　be　revealed；　and　from　the　meeting　of　the　two　comes　right　interpretative　criticism。
  ERNEST。　　The　critic；　then；　considered　as　the　interpreter；　will　give　no　less　than　he　receives；　and　lend　as　much　as　he　borrows？
  GILBERT。　　He　will　be　always　showing　us　the　work　of　art　in　some　new　relation　to　our　age。　　He　will　always　be　reminding　us　that　great　works　of　art　are　living　things　…　are；　in　fact；　the　only　things　that　live。　　So　much；　indeed；　will　he　feel　this；　that　I　am　certain　that；　as　civilisation　progresses　and　we　become　more　highly　organised；　the　elect　spirits　of　each　age；　the　critical　and　cultured　spirits；　will　grow　less　and　less　interested　in　actual　life；　and　WILL　SEEK　TO　GAIN　THEIR　IMPRESSIONS　ALMOST　ENTIRELY　FROM　WHAT　ART　HAS　TOUCHED。　　For　life　is　terribly　deficient　in　form。　　Its　catastrophes　happen　in　the　wrong　way　and　to　the　wrong　people。　　There　is　a　grotesque　horror　about　its　comedies；　and　its　tragedies　seem　to　culminate　in　farce。　One　is　always　wounded　when　one　approaches　it。　　Things　last　either　too　long；　or　not　long　enough。
  ERNEST。　　Poor　life！　　Poor　human　life！　　Are　you　not　even　touched　by　the　tears　that　the　Roman　poet　tells　us　are　part　of　its　essence。
  GILBERT。　　Too　quickly　touched　by　them；　I　fear。　　For　when　one　looks　back　upon　the　life　that　was　so　vivid　in　its　emotional　intensity；　and　filled　with　such　fervent　moments　of　ecstasy　or　of　joy；　it　all　seems　to　be　a　dream　and　an　illusion。　　What　are　the　unreal　things；　but　the　passions　that　once　burned　one　like　fire？　　What　are　the　incredible　things；　but　the　things　that　one　has　faithfully　believed？　What　are　the　improbable　things？　　The　things　that　one　has　done　oneself。　　No；　Ernest；　life　cheats　us　with　shadows；　like　a　puppet…　master。　　We　ask　it　for　pleasure。　　It　gives　it　to　us；　with　bitterness　and　disappointment　in　its　train。　　We　come　across　some　noble　grief　that　we　think　will　lend　the　purple　dignity　of　tragedy　to　our　days；　but　it　passes　away　from　us；　and　things　less　noble　take　its　place；　and　on　some　grey　windy　dawn；　or　odorous　eve　of　silence　and　of　silver；　we　find　ourselves　looking　with　callous　wonder；　or　dull　heart　of　stone；　at　the　tress　of　gold…flecked　hair　that　we　had　once　so　wildly　worshipped　and　so　madly　kissed。
  ERNEST。　　Life　then　is　a　failure？
  GILBERT。　　From　the　artistic　point　of　view；　certainly。　　And　the　chief　thing　that　makes　life　a　failure　from　this　artistic　point　of　view　is　the　thing　that　lends　to　life　its　sordid　security；　the　fact　that　one　can　never　repeat　exactly　the　same　emotion。　　How　different　it　is　in　the　world　of　Art！　　On　a　shelf　of　the　bookcase　behind　you　stands　the　DIVINE　COMEDY；　and　I　know　that；　if　I　open　it　at　a　certain　place；　I　shall　be　filled　with　a　fierce　hatred　of　some　one　who　has　never　wronged　me；　or　stirred　by　a　great　love　for　some　one　whom　I　shall　never　see。　　Th