Why does anybody criticize anything? And why does THE FORERUNNER criticize—the things herein treated?
On examination, we find several sources of criticism. The earliest and commonest is the mere expression of personal opinion, as is heard where young persons are becoming acquainted, the voluble "I like this!" and "Don't you like that?" and "Isn't such a thing horrid?" For hours do the impressionable young exchange their ardent sentiments; and the same may be heard from older persons in everyday discussion.
This form of criticism has its value. It serves to show, even relentlessly to expose, the qualities and deficiencies of the critic. What one "likes" merely shows what one is like.
The vitality dies out of it, however, when one learns two things; first, that likings change with growth of character and new experience, and, second, that few people are interested in an inventory of limitations.
Following this comes another painfully common source of criticism—the desire to exhibit superiority. The aged are prone to this fault in discussion of the young and their achievements. The elect in general show it, seeking to prove to common people that these are not as they are; the conservative rests his objection to anything new and different on the same broad base; and the critic, the real, professional critic, can hardly trust himself to approve warmly of anything, lest it weaken his reputation. If he does, it must be something which is caviar to the general.
Then comes that amiable desire to instruct and assist, born of parental instinct, fostered by pedagogy, intrusted by St. Paul to the "husband at home." Moved by this feeling, we point out the errors of our friends and mark examination papers; and thus does the teacher of painting move among his pupils and leave them in ranks of glimmering hope or dark despair.
Another fruitful source of criticism is a natural wish to free one's mind; as the hapless public sputters on the street, or in letters to the papers, protesting against the stupidity and cruelty of its many aggressors. Under this impulse bursts forth the chattering flood of discussion after play or lecture, merely to relieve the pressure.
Then comes a very evil cause—the desire to give pain, to injure. Certain persons, and publications, use their critical ability with great effect to this end. In England it seems to be a sort of game, great literary personages rush out into the open and belabor each other mercilessly; while the public rejoices as at a prize-fight. We sometimes see a newspaper offering its readers a form of entertainment which is not even a fight, nor yet a prompt and needed execution, but a sort of torture-chamber exhibition, where the dumb victim is vilified and ridiculed, grilled and "roasted," to make an American holiday.
There is one more cause of criticism—the need of money. Some people are hired to criticize others, the nature of their attentions wholly dictated by the employer. A shadowy bridge is opened here, connecting criticism with advertisement. Many cross it.
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