I am haunted by a strange feeling these days. I am sure I am not the only one who has felt it. While enjoying the art of our past I have found myself more and more feeling a sense of unease; fear even. Listening to Beethoven, reading Wuthering Heights, seeing the paintings of Guerin, I feel that I need to somehow protect these things, that they are under attack from an unseen enemy. Equally disconcerting is the afterthought I have: that this fear is perfectly rational. You see, I do not fear destruction of the music, literature or art per…