Criticism, taken in its general sense, is the free exercise of judgment. Whether it be a question of literary, artistic, or intellectual analysis—that is to say, the observation of the beautiful—or of philosophy, history, or philology, experimental or exact sciences, criticism is necessary, as it shows the value of a conception and realisation. Now this criticism is a source of dread in many circles, fettering the actions of many, and paralysing their wills. As against this evil, which is too frequent nowadays, some reaction is needed; for it is not more unwise to seek criticism as a means of advertisement than to make a bugbear of it or shun it for fear of wounded pride.

I say that the expression of an opinion contrary to our own should not, logically speaking, slacken our efforts, suppress our inclinations, or lead us to hypocritical actions.

It helps us greatly against the fear of others’ criticism to force ourselves to become our own critics—a very difficult matter, but exceedingly profitable.

By this kind of exercise of the conscience we arrive more easily at an understanding of the criticism we receive from without, and learn to despise the envy and jealousy by which it may be actuated. So, too, we may benefit by the lessons derived from an honest analysis of our own qualities and defects.

Criticism, if sincere, only expresses what it perceives clearly. For it, personal evidence becomes a guarantee.

But, it will be said, criticism is often the expression of severity. Would you have it the expression of culpable indulgence? When severe, it is an element tending towards self-control; too indulgent, it can only foster vanity. The mission of criticism is not to determine our actions; its duty is to judge them to its own satisfaction.

For instance, it is obvious that, in the case of writers, painters, and musicians, the critic has only to consider the question of taste. If he attempts to destroy what is estimable, he dishonours himself, and so becomes useless; if he accords praise, he can only express it according to his personal judgment.

Within ourselves, the critic of our reasoned or impulsive actions is a spectator looking through the windows of our soul, seeing our motives as it were from between the curtains, and for this reason unable to judge clearly. This critic, as we know by sad experience, is not worth listening to.

We shall be safe, however, when we are conscious of the fineness of our achievements, the purity of our intentions, the dignity of our actions, or the mere joy of our feelings, in permitting criticism to do its work and pursuing our way.

This does not imply that it always answers to treat judicious criticism with contempt.

Just as in politics, opposition is necessary for the best public administration of the party in power, so in private life criticism is an element in that emulation which aids us to attain the end we have in view.