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Clever people have realised that it is easier to get people on your side by mockery than by persuasion.
William Paley complained that critics of Christianity no longer troubled themselves with civilised debate. Instead, they scattered sniggering remarks throughout popular and academic literature, in the hope of laughing the public into atheism; for their knowledge of human nature had taught them that scorn is far more persuasive than argument.
Reading and writing should have taught the people more than name-calling and how to manipulate opinion.
The spread of literacy, said William Hazlitt, should have taught us judgment and taste. Instead, it has taught us how to heap hurtful abuse on anyone who makes us feel challenged or humbled. Critics lavish praise on writers who sneer with them in all the right places, and then suddenly destroy them in the most public fashion — and the reading public laps it up.
Thomas Carlyle felt that English criticism of Goethe revealed more about his critics than his poems.
Thomas Carlyle was one of the first English critics to appreciate the worth of German poet Johann Wolfgang von Goethe (1749-1832). His fellow critics were much less kind, and Carlyle leapt to Goethe’s defence. A writer may be faulted only if he fails to give adequate expression to his own ideas, he said. We cannot fault him for failing to express ours.
We should not force ourselves and ‘our values’ onto the writers of the past.
In Sesame and Lilies, John Ruskin warned us not to try to manipulate the great writers of the past into agreeing with us or our times. And if we have so little respect for them as to want to try, we would be better off not entering the ‘court of the past’ at all.
One author was a long way ahead at the top of Dostoevsky’s reading list.
In one letter, Nikolai Osmidov asked novelist Fyodor Dostoevsky whether he should believe in God; in another, he asked him what he should give his daughter to read. Dostoevsky found none of Osmidov’s questions easy to answer, but he was sure about one thing: the girl absolutely must read the novels of Sir Walter Scott.
Nobody has a monopoly on the truth, neither the scholars of the past nor the scholars of today.
In Ben Jonson’s day, many theatre critics demanded strict adherence to the principles laid down by classical theorists. Modernisers scoffed, and allowed the ancients no place at all. The Truth, said Jonson, cannot be jealously fenced off like this, either for the critics of the past or for the critics of today. It belongs to everyone, like the village green. The critic’s job is to keep it all looking attractive.
Sir Philip Sidney reminded comedians that when the audience is laughing they aren’t necessarily the better for it.
In 1579, Stephen Gosson wrote School of Abuse, accusing Elizabethan theatre of being a frivolous and bawdy distraction from England’s serious social problems. Some three years later, Sir Philip Sidney replied with An Apologie for Poetrie, a gentle defence of the drama; but even he could find little to say for comedians who thought that anything that raised a laugh was entertainment.