losing control of
their speech--a modern Shakespeare, and so forth. Some cooler heads
looked grave, but none save the inveterate cynics ventured to mock; and
the great public, as usual, thought it best to follow the lead of so
many men and so many women of the higher culture. The inevitable
reaction ensued: when, not only were the grave shortcomings of George
Eliot ruthlessly condemned, but her noble aim and superb qualities were
blindly ignored.

The taste in popular romance sways hither and thither in sudden
revulsion, like the taste in hats or in frocks, or the verdict of
manhood suffrage. This or that type becomes suddenly the rage, this or
that mannerism is voted an offence, as quickly as fashion runs after a
new tint, or boycotts an obsolete sleeve. Journalism and all the other
forces of the hour stimulate these caprices and carry away the masses
by their volubility and noise. It is the business of serious
criticism, keeping a cooler head, to correct these fervid impulses of
the day--whilst excited audiences in the amphitheatre raise or depress
the fatal thumb, awarding life or death to the combatants in the great
arena.

The business of criticism is to _judge_--to judge upon the whole
evidence, after hearing counsel on both sides with equal attention,
after weighing every shred of argument and every word that any witness
has to offer, and after patient study of every aspect of the case, to
deliver a complete and reasoned estimate of the whole matter at issue.
The true critic is not a mere juryman, who has nothing to do but to
pronounce a bare verdict of "guilty" or "not guilty." He is a judge of
the supreme court of equity, who may find, in some intricate story
unravelled at his bar, a dozen errors in law and as many mistakes of
fact, and yet may give substantial relief or may decree onerous
penalties. It is easy enough to detect faulty, easy enough to insist
on merits: the thing wanted to guide the public is the cool,
compensated, equitable judgment that is not seduced by any conspicuous
charm, and is not irritated by any incorrigible defect, but which,
missing no point of merit and none of failure, finally and resolutely
strikes the just balance.

This just balance, with all its intricate adjustments of compensation
and equivalence, is peculiarly needed in the case of George Eliot, and
at the same time is unusually difficult. George Eliot was most
conspicuous as an artist, as a worker in the sphere