"
CHAUCER. _Man of Lawe's Tale_.
"Criticism," said Mr. Fett, with his mouth full of sausage, "is the
flower of all the arts."
"For my part, I hate it," put in the melancholy Rinaldo.
"To be sure," Mr. Fett conceded, "if all men grasped this great
truth, there would be an end of artists; and in time, by consequence,
of critics, who live by them and for whom they exist. Therefore I
keep my discovery as a Platonic secret, and utter it but
occasionally, in my cups, and when"--with a severe glance at Mr.
Badcock--"the vulgar are not attending."
Mr. Badcock woke up at once. "On the contrary," he explained,
"I listen best with my eyes closed; a habit I acquired in Axminster
Parish Church. Indeed, I am all ears."
"Indeed you are. . . . Well then, as I was about to say, the secret
of success in the Arts is to make other men do the work for you.
At this obviously he will excel who has learnt to appraise other
men's work, and knows exactly of what they are capable; that is to
say, the Critic. Believe me, dear friends, the happiest moment of my
life will come when, as _impresario_ I shall have realized the
ambition of giving myself, as _capo comico_, the sack at twenty-four
hours' notice.
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