Interludes | Page 9

_bona fide_.
Now, let us see. First, there is the expression, "the ill-educated conceit of the artist nearly approached the aspect of wilful imposture." That may be severe and slashing, but is it fair? If there was a wilful imposition, why not say so; but, of course, there was not, and could not be; but it is most unfair to insinuate that there nearly was. The truth is, the words "wilful imposture" are a gross exaggeration. The jury, after retiring, came into court and asked the judge what was the meaning of wilful imposture, and, being told that it meant nothing in particular, they returned a verdict of damages one farthing, which meant to say that they thought equally little of Whistler's picture and of Ruskin's criticism. Next we come to "Cockney impudence" and "coxcomb." Surely these terms must be grossly inappropriate to the subject in hand, which is Whistler's painting, and not his personal qualities. Next, it seems that Mr. Ruskin thinks it is an offence to ask 200 guineas for a picture, but where the offence lies we are not told. It might be folly to give 200 guineas for one of Whistler's pictures, but why should he be abused for asking it? The insinuation is that it is a false pretence, and such an insinuation is not bona fide. Lastly, we are told that Mr. Whistler has been flinging a pot of paint in the public's face. In the first place, this is vulgar. In the next place, it is absurd. When Sydney Smith said that someone's writing was like a spider having escaped from the inkstand and wandered over the paper, it was an exaggerated criticism, but it was appropriate. But if Mr. Whistler flung a pot of paint anywhere, it was upon his own canvas, and not into the face of the public. Now, let anybody think what is the effect of such criticism. Is one enabled by the light of it to see the merits or faults of Whistler's painting? And yet this was written by the greatest art critic in this country, by the man who has done more to reveal the secrets of Nature and of Art to us all than any man living, and, I had almost said, than any living or dead. But passion and arrogance are not criticism; and, in the sense in which I have used the term, such criticism is not bona fide. Well may Mr. Matthew Arnold say, speaking of Mr. Ruskin's criticism upon another subject, that he forgets all moderation and proportion, and loses the balance of his mind. This, he says, "is to show in one's criticism to the highest excess the note of provinciality."
There was, once upon a time, a very strong Court of Appeal. It was universally acknowledged to be so, and the memory of it still remains, and very old lawyers still love to recall its glories. It was composed of Lord Chancellor Campbell and the Lords Justices Knight-Bruce and Turner. Bethell (afterwards Lord Westbury) was an ambitious and aspiring man, and was always most caustic in his criticisms. He had been arguing before the above Court one day, and upon his turning round after finishing his argument, some counsel in the row behind him asked, "Well, Bethell, how will their judgment go?" Bethell replied, in his softest but most cutting tones, "I do not know. Knight-Bruce is a jack-pudding. Turner is an old woman. And no human being can by any possibility predict what will fall from the lips of that inexpressibly fatuous individual who sits in the middle." This is funny, but it is vulgar, and it is not given in good faith. It is the offspring of anger and spite mixed with a desire to be clever and antithetical.
I gather from Mr. Matthew Arnold's essays on criticism that the endeavour of the critic should be to see the object criticized "as in itself it really is," or as in another passage he says, "Real criticism obeys an instinct prompting it to know the best that is known and thought in the world." "In order to do or to be this, criticism," he says, in italics, "ought to be disinterested." He points out how much English criticism is not disinterested. He says, "We have the Edinburgh Review, existing as an organ of the old Whigs, and for as much play of mind as may suit its being that_; we have the _Quarterly Review, existing as an organ of the Tories, and for as much play of mind as may suit its being that; we have the British Quarterly Review, existing as an organ of the political Dissenters, and for as much play of mind as may suit its being that; we have the Times existing as an organ of the