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.