submissively to receive the grateful stream, when suddenly the odour of new milk came with overpowering strength to his nostrils, and he felt his hair caught up with a sound like that of a thousand lampreys, a misguided cow having taken a fancy to the abundant water contained in it. A. and M. had less ponderous but more persistent tormentors, in the shape of sundry goats, which evinced an insatiable desire to browse upon their hats and wicker baskets, and were of course able, unlike the cows, to climb up to them however high they might be hung on the heaps of firewood.

The craving for fresh water was at last in some measure appeased, and with invigorated appetite they proceeded to a small paddock enclosed by stone walls, where they lay on their shawls under the shadow of the châlet, with their faces turned towards the sweet west wind. Here one of the civil men brought a white tub of milk, round which the three lay to breakfast, the remaining hemisphere of bread and a fresh supply of butter completing the feast; but as if that were not enough, the head man of the châlet, pleased with the money which had been prudently given him as soon as the cow was engaged, and instigated by his native liberality, brought in addition a whole goat, as to its milk, in a separate bowl, and, greatest treat of all, a perfect little goat's tomme, reclining in a bower of fresh gentian leaves. It was well that one of the party had brought a small, a very small bottle of brandy to qualify the milk, for indeed the quantity taken needed something to qualify it. No one can understand the full force of the temptation who has not found himself lying on soft green grass (a Vicuna shawl, say, intervening), lulled by the deep or tinkling bells of the authors of his feast, fanned by a Jura breeze, and shaded from the early sun by a Jura châlet, a white wood bowl of the purest possible milk rippling its gentle blandishments before his eyes, and a tastefully carved wooden ladle suggesting the means of making those placid smiling charms his own.

M. alone could in any way be called temperate; she was the owner of the brandy-bottle, and not being able to imbibe much milk even when disguised with brandy, she soon retired from all active part in the meal, and, making over the brandy to G., worked composedly at her niece's christening frock.

One thing alone could be called a drawback. In one corner of the paddock there was a small breach in the loose wall, and through this an inquisitive young goat essayed to visit the party. They knew well enough that once in, it could not be driven out, and the chances amounted almost to a certainty that, in evading expulsion, the little wretch would frisk itself into one of the milk bowls, and leave the paddock in general in a state similar to that of the room whose occupant was annoyed by a bluebottle fly, so that it was necessary constantly to make up the breach with temporary fortifications, which the persistent goat as constantly pulled down. Blows gently administered, it is true-were of no avail, and cnly seemed to increase its curiosity; but, by one means or another, the

enemy was kept out, G. groaning sadly over the interruptions which the repairing of the defences cost him. It is perhaps not fair to say that this was the only drawback, for A., whose friends were wont to call her slightly fastidious, was troubled by a small species of slug, which the lovely grass she admired so much seemed to produce in considerable numbers, and which, disdaining their native soil, showed an unvarying and unanimous desire to repose on the shawls of the party.

At length it was time to start for the lower regions, by a wood-road which led round the base of the cone to the Châlet de Grantène. We have not space for describing the triumphant jodeln of the friendly châlet men there, or the congratulatory tremulousness of their master's tail; neither may we tell of the excitement which all Arzier felt on the return of the mad people. Perhaps, also, it is unnecessary to add, that for some months none of the party could shew the slightest indication of cough or cold without calling forth maternal groans over that night on the summit of the Jura.

334

Ant Criticism.

AMONGST the various items which go to make up a newspaper, we occasionally find a column or two of criticism on the Exhibitions. These criticisms are not, in general, very entertaining or attractive reading, and it may be questioned whether anybody ever reads them fairly through. They are looked over with some anxiety by the youngest artists, skimmed and dipped into by visitors to the Exhibitions, and skipped by the rest of the world. They are probably inserted from the feeling that literary notice of some sort is due to the acknowledged importance of the Fine Arts. On the whole, the periodical appearance of these contributions may be accepted by painters as a compliment to their profession. The present writer is by no means disposed to regret the existence, or deny the possible utility, of printed art criticism. It appears to him a natural and necessary product, growing inevitably in every country that possesses active artists and an abundant periodical literature. The object of this paper is not to weaken the influence of the true critic, but rather to strengthen and confirm it by attempting a definition of his functions.

But it may be doubted whether all who write on art, or even a large proportion of them, are qualified by previous study to form opinions whose publication is desirable. It would be interesting to have an authentic list of anonymous art critics, to know what are their usual avocations, and what proportion of their lives has been devoted to the study of art. Ferdinand de Lasteyrie tells us that fewer qualifications are required from Parisian art critics than from any other writers for the French press; that the most inexperienced youths begin with the criticism of pictures, which is considered to require so small a stock of information, and so little judgment, that any raw boy may undertake it. Theatrical criticism is, however, in Paris, on quite a different footing, and editors take great care to employ qualified writers for that department. The cause of this difference is obvious. The Parisian public is itself a good judge of theatrical art, but no judge of pictorial; it therefore at once detects a pretender in theatrical criticism, whereas an ignorant critic of pictures may write on in perfect safety. The tendency of an advancing general culture is therefore to elevate the tone of printed criticism by excluding ignorant writers from the periodicals.

Many persons interested in the Fine Arts are beginning to feel that a great change must, before long, come over the tone of current art criticism; that the duties of the ordinary critic will be better understood and more worthily fulfilled, and that the relation between the critic and the artist on the one hand, and the critic and the public on the other, will

become sounder and more serviceable than heretofore. The writer of these pages considers the present time opportune for an attempt to indicate what seem to be the most important functions of art criticism. The five volumes of Modern Painters have now been for some time before the world. The international picture exhibition of 1862 drew forth an immense mass of printed comment, and the present year has seen the birth of a Quarterly Review exclusively devoted to the Fine Arts.

The functions and duties of an Art Critic would appear to be very much as follows:

1. To utter unpopular truths.-The reader may perhaps suspect me. of putting this so prominently out of sheer perversity. But it is the first and most important of critical functions, the chief use of a critic being that he should announce truths which others do not yet perceive. There are but two things that a critic can state-a truth and a fallacy. Each of these, however, has two subdivisions as to its popularity; a truth may be popular or not, and so may a fallacy. The popular truth being already sufficiently expressed, has no need of the critic's advocacy; fallacy of either kind he had better abstain from altogether, so there is nothing left for him but the statement of unpopular truth-rather an unpleasant and ill-requited duty, yet the chief duty which the art critic has to fulfil.

2. To instruct the public in the theoretical knowledge of art.-The work most needed is not as yet pure criticism, but art-teaching as preparatory to it. Art is a subject so deep and difficult, so infinitely subtle and complex, that it is only after the study of years that men even begin to comprehend it. But painting has also another characteristic peculiar to itself, and which places its teachers and practitioners in a position of singular delicacy. Other profound studies, as, for instance, chemistry or mathematics, are seen to be difficult by every one, and persons who have not studied them, never labour under the illusion that they know all about them. But painting seems so simple, the object which it proposes to itself is apparently so obvious, that every one secretly believes himself competent to judge of it. The really informed teacher has therefore first to persuade his less informed readers that painting is not a simple matter, but a very deep and subtle compound of several sciences with poetry; next, that they are themselves as yet more or less ignorant of painting; and thirdly, that he, the critic, knows enough of the subject to be a trustworthy teacher and guide. Now even if the critic can persuade his audience that painting is difficult of comprehension, he is accused of contempt for the public as soon as he implies his opinion that the public is generally ignorant of painting. This is so far from being a just accusation, that some of the men whose genius we most revere, as for instance Byron, and Scott, and Wellington, knew nothing whatever of painting. Grown-up people, however, seldom like to be told that they

* An accusation often brought against Mr. Ruskin,

are ignorant of anything, and indeed it is superfluous rudeness to tell people of their ignorance when they are already quite aware of it.

Men devoted to pure science, as for instance mathematicians, are spared this unpleasant necessity, because no one who has never learned mathematics ever dreams of setting himself up as a judge of merit in mathematicians. But when people are ignorant of Art, they are so usually to that degree that they are not even aware of their own ignorance. The most politic critic is, therefore, continually driven into the dilemma, either to hold his peace and so let error go uncontradicted, or else convince his pupil, by offensive demonstration, that he does not yet understand the subject. And when we consider that the writer on Art addresses himself neither to the obedience of infancy nor the humility of the poor, but to men and women of mature age, already highly refined, often deeply and variously learned in other matters, generally belonging to the upper ranks of life, often very rich, and therefore likely to be very proud, highly susceptible, impatient of instruction, almost incapable of imagining that they have anything yet to learn-the practical difficulty of such teaching is clear. And even if, after making hosts of enemies by his frankness, an art teacher should at last succeed in persuading his readers that they cannot know what they have never learned, the difficulty of proving his own competence yet remains. In art criticism the most instructed teacher is continually liable to err. Painting includes positive science, but it also includes much more. Of its noblest powers the feeling of some finely organized human being is the only criterion; of Turner's dream、 power, or Raphael's refinement, the soul is the only judge. And here is a question of deep and inborn affinity: we are not organized alike, and genius affects us variously. My impressions will seem wrong to you if I state them quite honestly, and so would yours to me. A critic, therefore, who ever quits the plain ground of easily ascertainable fact to attempt the higher criticism of feeling is sure to awaken dissent. Rude and simple persons express this dissent with vehemence, and become personally hostile; intellectual men mark with curious interest the point of divergence, and calmly try to account for it. But both henceforth regard the critic as a fallible person, whose teaching is to be either rejected altogether or received with thoughtful caution.

It may be asked when this educating function of the art critic is to cease. It is like asking when schoolmasters are to cease. Every day thousands of new human beings come into the world whose future social position will require them to pretend to appreciate pictures. Is this pretension to be a hollow make-belief, degrading to manliness, destructive to honesty, and thus vitally injurious to character? or is it to be the simple assertion of a well-founded right to a real opinion? If the latter, the theoretical art teacher-the" critic," as he is yet called-has endless work before him. By means of books and articles in the reviews and newspapers, and, I think, still more by direct personal communication in the form of lectures, he will have to train the public in those eternal truths