anything good of his own. It argues a want of genius in ourselves if we
fail to see it in others; unless, indeed, we do really see it, and only
_say_ we don't out of envy. This is very shameful. I had rather do like
some amiable people I have known, disparage the work of a friend in order
to set others praising it.

Criticism should therefore be appreciative in two ways. The critic
should bring the requisite amount and kind of knowledge and the proper
frame of mind and temper.

2. _Criticism should be proportionate_.

By this I mean that the language in which we speak of anything should be
proportioned to the thing spoken of. If you speak of St. Paul's Church,
Beckenham, as vast, grand, magnificent, you have no language left
wherewith to describe St. Paul's, London. If you call Millais' Huguenots
sublime or divine, what becomes of the Madonna St. Sisto of Raphael? If
you describe Longfellow's poetry as the feeblest possible trash, the
coarsest and most unparliamentary language could alone express your
contempt of Martin Tupper.

"What's the good of calling a woman a Wenus, Samivel?" asked the elder
Weller. What indeed! The elder Weller probably perceived that the
language would be out of all proportion to the object of Samivel's
affections. Of course, something may be allowed to a generous
enthusiasm, and, with regard to this fault in criticism, it should
perhaps be said that exaggerated praise is not so base in its beginning
or so harmful in the end as exaggerated blame. From the use of the
former Dr. Johnson defended himself with his usual vigour. Boswell
presumed to find fault with him for saying that the death of Garrick had