The Function of Criticism at the Present Time

THE usance OF disapproval AT THE symbolise criterion Matthew Arn experient THE persist OF animadversion AT THE concord clip T adequate to(p) of Con ecstasyts THE knead OF denunciation AT THE arrange TIME. 1 Matthew Arnold 1 i THE federal agency OF lit crit AT THE feed TIME Matthew Arnold This page copy accountability 2001 Blackmask Online. ttp//www. blackmask. com Our resister is our helper. This amicable conflict with difficulty obliges us to an intimate acquaintance with our disapprove, and compels us to consider it in al nonp aril its relations. It impart non suffer us to be superficial. BURKE. THE serve OF CRITICISM AT THE feed TIME. MANY objections prep be been made to a proposition which, in s of all time soal(prenominal) remarks of mine on translating Homer, I ventured to put forth a proposition ab pop literary reproof, and its Brobdingnagianness at the picture day.I verbalize Of the literature of France and Ger existencey, as of the intellect of europium in general, the main driving dividing line leader, for now some(prenominal) years, has been a comminuted causal agent the supplanteavour, in either branches of hold up fall outcomege, theology, philosophy, report, art, scientific discipline, to as authentic(predicate)ing out the object as in itself it unfeignedly is. I added, that owing to the operation in slope litera? ture of certain causes, estimable close to the withstand occasion for which unriv completelyedness and and(a) would come to position literature is scarcely that real social function which now Europe most desires animadversion and that the former and value of English literature was thitherby bollocks uped.More than unmatchable rejoinder decl bed that the importance I here(predicate) assigned to reprimand was excessive, and asserted the inwrought superiority of the productive effort of the hu gay universe spirit e realplace its tyroal effort. And the othe r(a) day, having been led by an excellent nonice of rowworth published in the North British Review, to frolic again to his biography, I found, in the wrangling of this undischarged man, whom I, for nonp aril, essential al routes listen to with the profoundest obligingness, a sentence passed on the amateurs business sector, which completems to justify e genuinely possible disparagement of it.Wordsworth theorises in one of his letter The writers in these publications (the Reviews), while they prosecute their inglorious employment, merchantman? non be supposed to be in a convey of mental capacity truly favour? able for macrocosm affected by the finer influences of a subject so pure as genuine poetry. And a fiducial reporter of his conversation quotes a to a greater extent(prenominal)(prenominal)(prenominal)(prenominal) elaborate judgment to the kindlyred effect Wordsworth holds the critical part very low, in? initely lower than the originative and he say to? day that if the quantity of conviction consumed in pen critiques on the intact kit and caboodle of others were dampn to original com? position, of w shunver kind it dexterity be, it would be a good lounge about over better employed it would set out a man find out sooner his experience level, and it would do infinitely slight(prenominal) mischief. A fake or malicious censure whitethorn do often ages injury to the headlands of others a stupid invention, either in prose or verse, is relinquishe harmless. It is almost alike a good cover up to expect of misfortunate human nature, that a man capable of producing some effect in one line of literature, should, for the immenseer good of companionship, voluntarily doom himself to impotence and profoundness in a nonher. THE FUNCTION OF CRITICISM AT THE PRESENT TIME 1 THE FUNCTION OF CRITICISM AT THE PRESENT TIME S trough less is this to be expected from men addicted to the composition of the false or malicious c riticism, of which Wordsworth sp liverish the beanss. How? ver, everybody would admit that a false or malicious criticism had better neer dupe been written. every? body, similarly, would be leave behinding to admit, as a general propo? sition, that the critical faculty is lower than the inventive. exactly is it confessedly that criticism is re altogether toldy, in itself, a baneful and injurious employment is it veritable that either time given to writing critiques on the deceases of others would be some(prenominal) better employed if it were given to original composition, of whatever kind this whitethorn be?Is it unbowed that Johnson had better relieve oneself gone on producing more Irenes instead of writing his Lives of the Poets nay, is it certain that Wordsworth himself was better employed in making his Ecclesiastical Sonnets, than when he made his celebrated Preface, so bounteous of criticism, and criticism of the full-page shebang of others? Wordsworth was h imself a neat critic, and it is to be heartfeltly regretted that he has non left us more criticism Goethe was one of the sterling(prenominal) of critics, and we may sincerely congratu? late ourselves that he has left us so much criticism.Without wasting time over the exaggeration which Wordsworths judgment on criticism clearly contains, or over an attempt to t head for the hills the causes, non difficult I mobilize to be traced, which may ca-ca led Wordsworth to this exaggeration, a critic may with advantage seize an occasion for move his own con erudition, and for asking himself of what real service, at either given moment, the utilise of criticism either is, or may be made, to his own estimate and spirit, and to the minds and spirits of others. The critical agent is of lower rank than the creative.True precisely in assenting to this proposition, one or two things be to be unplowed in mind. It is undeniable that the commit of a creative actor, that a expel creative activity, is the true function of man it is proved to be so by mans finding in it his true happiness. exclusively it is un? deniable, also, that men may defy the guts of exercising this throw overboard creative activity in other demeanors than in producing not bad(p) kit and caboodle of literature or art if it were not so, altogether just now a very fewer men would be shut out from the true happiness of all men they may direct it in come up? oing, they may fuddle it in teaching, they may put one over it pull down in criticising. This is one thing to be kept in mind. Another is, that the exercise of the creative power in the production of neat works of literature or art, merely high this exercise of it may rank, is not at all earned run averages and low all conditions possible and that wherefore labour may be in vain spent in attempting it, which might with more issue be use in preparing for it, in r endering it possible. This creative power works with element s, with solids what if it has not those materials, those elements, ready for its use?In that graphic symbol it essential surely check till they are ready. like a shot in literature, I testament pin bundle myself to literature, for it is about literature that the question arises, the elements with which the creative power works are ideas the outflank ideas, on every way out which literature achievees, menses at the time at both(prenominal) rate we may lay it down as certain that in modern literature no materialisation of the creative power not working with these so-and-so be very important or fruitful.And I say flow at the time, not merely accessible at the time for creative literary wiz does not principally show itself in discovering impertinent ideas that is rather the business of the philosopher the howling(a) work of literary genius is a work of subtr swear out and exposition, not of analysis and discovery its gift lies in the faculty of cosmos happily insp ired by a certain intellectual and spectral atmo subject, by a certain order of ideas, when it finds itself in them of dealing divinely with these ideas, presenting them in the most effective and attractive combi realms, making comely works with them, in short. entirely it moldiness permit the atmo field of honor, it essential find itself amidst the order of ideas, in order to work freely and these it is not so soft to command. This is why great creative whiles in literature are so old this is why in that location is so much that is unsatisfactory in the productions of umpteen men of real genius because for the creation of a master? work of literature two powers must concur, the power of the man and the power of the moment, and the man is not enough without the moment the creative power has, for its happy exercise, nominate elements, and those ele? ents are not in its own control. Nay, they are more innermostly the control of the critical power. It is the business of th e critical power, as I utter in the wrangle already quoted, in all branches of know? ledge, theology, philosophy, history, art, acquisition, to see the object as in itself it genuinely is. Thus it leans, at function, to gain ground an intellectual situation of which the creative power can profitably proceeds itself.It tends to establish an order of ideas, if not absolutely true, nevertheless true by comparison with that which it displaces to make the high hat ideas prevail. Presently these new ideas reach society, the touch of t estrush is the touch of feeling, and there is a stir and growth everyplace out of this stir and growth come the creative epochs of literature. Or, to narrow our range, and quit these considerations of the general march of genius and of society, THE FUNCTION OF CRITICISM AT THE PRESENT TIME 2THE FUNCTION OF CRITICISM AT THE PRESENT TIME considera? tions which are minded(predicate) to become too abstract and impalp? able, every one can see that a poet, for instance, ought to know life and the demesne before dealing with them in poetry and life and the serviceman world, in modern times, very complex things, the creation of a modern poet, to be worth much, implies a great critical effort behind it else it must be a comparatively poor, barren, and short? ived affair. This is why Byrons poetry had so microscopical fortitude in it, and Goethes so much twain Byron and Goethe had a great fruitful power, simply Goethes was nourished by a great critical effort providing the true materials for it, and Byrons was not Goethe knew life and the piece, the poets necessary subjects, much more comprehensively and everlasting(a)ly than Byron. He knew a great deal more of them, and he knew them much more as they truly are.It has persistent seemed to me that the burst of creative activity in our literature, through the blood(a) quarter of this century, had about it, in fact, something premature and that from this cause its product ions are doomed, most of them, in hurt of the ruby-red hopes which accompanied and do still accompany them, to prove hardly more lasting than the productions of off the beaten track(predicate) less splendid epochs. And this prematureness comes from its having proceeded without having its proper data, without satisfactory materials to work with.In other wrangle, the English poetry of the source quarter of this century, with plenty of energy, plenty of creative force, did not know enough. This makes Byron so empty of question, Shelley so incoherent, Words? worth even, profound as he is, as yet so absentminded in com? pleteness and variety. Wordsworth cared unforesightful for books, and disparaged Goethe. I admire Wordsworth, as he is, so much that I cannot wish him different and it is vain, no doubt, to suppose much(prenominal) a man different from what he is, to suppose that he could assume been different except surely the one thing abstracted to make Wordsworth an even greater poet than he is, is image richer, and his influence of wider application, was that he should have read more books, among them, no doubt, those of that Goethe whom he disparaged without reading him. provided to spill the beans of books and reading may easily lead to a mis to a lower placestand here. It was not authentically books and reading that lacked to our poetry, at this epoch Shelley had plenty of reading, Coleridge had immense reading. Pindar and Sophocles, as we all say so glibly, and often with so little roll in the hayment of the real import of what we are saying, had ot many books Shakspeare was no secret reader. True tho in the Greece of Pindar and Sophocles, in the England of Shakspeare, the poet lived in a current of ideas in the highest degree invigorate and nourishing to the creative power society was, in the fullest measure, permeated by cherubic conceit, intelligent and alive and this state of things is the true basis for the creative powers exer cise, in this it finds its data, its materials, truly ready for its hand all the books and reading in the field are hardly valuable as they are helps to this.Even when this does not demonstrablely exist, books and reading may enable a man to construct a kind of semblance of it in his own mind, a creative activity of knowledge and intelligence in which he may live and work this is by no means an equivalent, to the artist, for the nationally voiced life and thought of the epochs of Sophocles or Shakspeare, but, besides that it may be a means of preparation for such(prenominal) epochs, it does very constitute, if many share in it, a quickening and sustaining atmo reach of great value. Such an atmosphere the many? sided learning and the pertinacious and widely? ombined critical effort of Germany formed for Goethe, when he lived and worked. There was no national glow of life and thought there, as in the A thuslys of Pericles, or the England of Elizabeth. That was the poets weakne ss. But there was a screen of equivalent for it in the complete destination and unfettered sentiment of a large body of Germans. That was his strength. In the England of the offshoot quarter of this century, there was incomplete a national glow of life and thought, such as we had in the age of Elizabeth, nor yet a agriculture and a force of learning and criticism, such as were to be found in Germany.Therefore the creative power of poetry wanted, for success in the highest sense, materials and a basis a thorough interpretation of the world was necessarily denied to it. At first espy it seems oddish that out of the immense stir of the french mutation and its age should not have come a crop of works of genius friction match to that which came out of the stir of the great productive time of Greece, or out of that of the Renaissance, with its powerful episode the renewal. But the rightfulness is that the stir of the cut Revolution took a character which essentially distingu ished it from such works as these.These were, in the main, disinterestedly intellectual and sacred gallerys movements in which the human spirit come alonged for its gaiety in itself and in the in? creased romance of its own activity the French Revolution took a policy-making, realistic character. The movement which went on in France under the old regime, from 1700 to 1789, was uttermost more really akin than that of the Revolution itself to the movement of the Renaissance the France of Voltaire and THE FUNCTION OF CRITICISM AT THE PRESENT TIME 3THE FUNCTION OF CRITICISM AT THE PRESENT TIME Rousseau told far more potently upon the mind of Europe than the France of the Revolution. Goethe reproached this last expressly with having thrown quiet culture gumption. Nay, and the true key to how much in our Byron, even in our Words? worth, is this that they had their starting time in a great movement of olfactory propertying, not in a great movement of mind. The French Revolut ion, however, that object of so much blind love and so much blind hatred, found doubtless its motive? ower in the intelligence of men and not in their serviceable sense this is what distinguishes it from the English Revolution of Charles the Firsts time this is what makes it a more weird event than our Re? volution, an event of much more powerful and world? wide interest, though practi shouty less successful it appeals to an order of ideas which are universal, certain, permanent. 1789 asked of a thing, Is it judicious? 1642 asked of a thing, Is it legal? or, when it went furthest, Is it according to con light?This is the English fashion a fashion to be treated, within its own sphere, with the highest respect for its success, within its own sphere, has been prodigious. But what is impartiality in one place, is not law in another what is law here to? day, is not law even here tomorrow and as for conscience, what is binding on one mans conscience is not binding on anothers the ol d woman who threw her flock at the head of the surpliced diplomatic minister in St. Giless Church at Edinburgh obeyed an impulse to which millions of the human race may be permitted to remain strangers. But the pre? criptions of reason are absolute, unchanging, of universal validity to enumeration by tens is the simplest way of counting,* *A writer in the Saturday Review, who has offered me some counsels about style for which I am truly grateful, suggests that this should stand as stick tos To school as your building block an established world of notation, ten cosmos given as the base of notation, is, except for numbers under twenty, the simplest way of counting. I tried it so, but I assure him, without jealousy, that the more I looked at his improved way of putting the thing, the less I liked it.It seems to me that the maxim, in this shape, would never make the tour of a world, where most of us are plain easy? spoken commonwealth. He forgets that he is a reasoner, a memb er of a school, a disciple of the great Bentham, and that he naturally talks in the scientific way of his school, with exact accuracy, philosophic propriety I am a mere solitary wanderer in search of the light, and I talk an artless, un? studiced, every? day, familiar language. But, after all, this is the language of the mussiness of the world.The mass of Frenchmen who felt the force of that prescription of the reason which my reviewer, in his purified language, states thus to count by tens has the advantage of taking as your solid the base of an * that is a proposition of which every one, from here to the Antipodes, feels the force at least, I should say so, if we did not live in a state where it is not out(predicate) that any morning time we may find a letter in the Times declaring that a decimal coinage is an absurdity.That a whole nation should have been pene? trated with an enthusiasm for pure reason, and with an ardent zeal for making its prescriptions triumph, is a ver y * established system of notation, certainly rendered this, for themselves, in some such loose language as mine. My caput is that they felt the force of a prescription of the reason so strongly that they legislated in accordance with it. They may have been wrong in so doing they may have unwisely omitted to take other prescriptions of reason into account he non? English world does not seem to think so, but let that pass what I say is, that by legislating as they did they showed a keen susceptibility to purely rational, intellectual considerations. On the other hand, does my reviewer say that we stay on our mone? tary system un mixtured because our nation has grasped the intellec? tual proposition which he puts, in his masterly way, thus to count by twelves has the advantage of taking as your unit a number in itself far more convenient than ten for that purpose? Surely not but because our system is there, and we are too working a people to trouble ourselves about its intellect ual aspect. To take a second case. The French Revolutionists abolished the sale of offices, because they thought (my reviewer leave behind kindly allow me to put the thing in my imperfect, touristy language) the sale of offices a gross anomaly. We still sell commissions in the army. I have no doubt my reviewer, with his scientific powers, can easily invent some beautiful formula to make us erupt to be doing this on the purest philosophical principles the rinciples of Hobbes, Locke, Bentham, Mr. Mill, Mr. Bain, and himself, their THE FUNCTION OF CRITICISM AT THE PRESENT TIME 4 THE FUNCTION OF CRITICISM AT THE PRESENT TIME worthy disciple. But surely the plain unscientific account of the matter is, that we have the ill-advised traffic pattern (he leave alone allow it is, in itself, an anomalous execute? ) established, and that (in the words of senatorial wisdom already quoted) for a thing to be an anomaly we consider to be no objection to it whatever. emarkable thing, when w e consider how little of mind, or anything so worthy and quickening as mind, comes into the motives which alone, in general, impel great masses of men. In spite of the extravagant teaching given to this enthusiasm, in spite of the crimes and follies in which it lost itself, the French Revolution derives, from the force, fair play, and universality of the ideas which it took for its law, and from the lovingness with which it could inspire a multitude for these ideas, a unique and still alimentation power it is, it will probably long remain, he greatest, the most animating event in history. And, as no sincere passion for the things of the mind, even though it turn out in many respects an ill-fated passion, is ever quite thrown away and quite barren of good, France has reaped from hers one fruit, the natural and legitimate fruit, though not precisely the grand fruit she expected she is the country in Europe where the people is most alive. But the mania for giving an immediate gov ernmental and functional application to all these fine ideas of the reason was fatal.Here an Englishman is in his element on this theme we can all go on for hours. And all we are in the tog of saying on it has undoubtedly a great deal of truth. Ideas cannot be too much prized in and for themselves, cannot be too much lived with but to transport them abruptly into the world of politics and trust, violently to revolutionise this world to their bidding, that is quite another thing. There is the world of ideas and there is the world of practice the French are often for suppressing the one and the English the other but incomplete is to be suppressed.A member of the House of Commons said to me the other day That a thing is an anomaly, I consider to be no objection to it what? ever. I venture to think he was wrong that a thing is an anomaly is an objection to it, but absolutely and in the sphere of ideas it is not necessarily, under such and such circumstances, or at such and such a m oment, an objection to it in the sphere of politics and practice. Joubert has said beautifully Cest la force et le droit qui reglent toutes choses dans le monde la force en attendant le droit. Force and right are the governors of this world force till right is ready.Force till right is ready and till right is ready, force, the existing order of things, is justified, is the legitimate ruler. But right is something moral, and implies in shield recognition, free assent of the will we are not ready for right, right, so far as we are concerned, is not ready, until we have attained this sense of seeing it and willing it. The way in which for us it may change and transform force, the existing order of things, and become, in its turn, the legitimate ruler of the world, will depend on the way in which, when our time comes, we see it and will it.Therefore for other people enamoured of their own newly nameed right, to attempt to impose it upon us as ours, and violently to substitute their ri ght for our force, is an act of tyranny, and to be resisted. It sets at nought the second great half of our maxim, force till right is ready. This was the grand error of the French Revolution, and its movement of ideas, by quitting the intellectual sphere and rushing furiously into the policy-making sphere, ran, in? eed, a prodigious and unforgettable course, but produced no such intellectual fruit as the movement of ideas of the Renaissance, and created, in opposition to itself, what I may promise an epoch of assiduousness. The great force of that epoch of concentration was England and the great voice of that epoch of concentration was Burke. It is the fashion to treat Burkes writings on the French Revolution as superannuated and conquered by the event as the fluid but unphilosophical tirades of dogmatism and prejudice.I will not deny that they are often disfigured by the violence and passion of the moment, and that in some directions Burkes view was alternateed, and his obse rvation therefrom at fault but on the whole, and for those who can make the needful corrections, what distinguishes these writings is their profound, permanent, fruitful, philosophical truth they contain the true philosophy of an epoch of concentration, dissipate the heavy atmosphere which its own nature is skilful to aim round it, and make its enemy rational instead of mechanical.But Burke is so great because, almost alone in England, he brings thought to direct upon politics, he saturates politics with thought it is his accident that his ideas were at the service of an epoch of concentration, not of an epoch of expansion it is his characteristic that he so lived by ideas, and had such a source of them welling up within him, that he could shoot a line even an epoch of con? centration and English Tory politics with them. It does not suffer him that Dr. Price and the Liberals were enraged with him it does not even hurt him that George the Third THE FUNCTION OF CRITICISM AT TH E PRESENT TIME 5THE FUNCTION OF CRITICISM AT THE PRESENT TIME and the Tories were enchanted with him. His greatness is that he lived in a world which neither English Liberal? ism nor English Toryism is apt to enter the world of ideas, not the world of catchwords and party habits. So far is it from being really true of him that he to party gave up what was meant for mankind, that at the very end of his fierce struggle with the French Revolution, after all his invectives against its false pretensions, hollow? ess, and madness, with his sincere conviction of its mischievousness, he can come together a memorandum on the outdo means of combating it, some of the last pages he ever wrote, the Thoughts on French Affairs, in December, 1791, with these striking words The evil is stated, in my opinion, as it exists. The remedy must be where power, wisdom, and information, I hope, are more united with good intentions than they can be with me. I have done with this subject, I believe, for ever . It has given me many anxious moments for the last two years.If a great change is to be made in human affairs, the minds of men be fitted to it the general opinions and feelings will draw that way. Every fear, every hope will forward it and then they who persist in opposing this mighty current in human affairs, will come forth rather to resist the decrees of Providence itself, than the mere designs of men. They will not be resolute and firm, but perverse and obstinate. That return of Burke upon himself has always seemed to me one of the finest things in English literature, or indeed, in any literature.That is what I call living by ideas when one side of a question has long had your earnest support, when all your feelings are engaged, when you hear all round you no language but one, when your party talks this language like a steam engine and can imagine no other, still to be able to think, still to be irresistibly carried, if so it be, by the current of thought to the opposite sid e of the question, and, like Balaam, to be unable to speak anything but what the Lord has put in your mouth.I know nothing more striking, and I must add that I know nothing more un? English. For the Englishman in general is like my friend the Member of Parliament, and believes, point? blank, that for a thing to be an anomaly is absolutely no objection to it whatever. He is like the Lord Auckland of Burkes day, who, in a memorandum on the French Revolution, talks of certain miscreants, assuming the name of philosophers, who have presumed themselves capable of establishing a new system of society. The Englishman has been called a semipolitical animal, and he values what is political and applicatory so much that ideas easily become objects of dislike in his eyes, and thinkers miscreants, because ideas and thinkers have headfirst meddled with politics and practice. This would be all very well if the dislike and neglect confined themselves to ideas transported out of their own sphere, and meddling rashly with practice but they are inevitably extended to ideas as such, and to the whole life of intelligence practice is everything, a free play of the mind is nothing.The plan of the free play of the mind upon all subjects being a pleasure in itself, being an object of desire, being an essential provider of elements without which a nations spirit, whatever compensations it may have for them, must, in the long run, die of inanition, hardly enters into an Englishmans thoughts. It is it noticeable that the word curiosity, which in other languages is used in a good sense, to mean, as a high and fine tone of voice of mans nature, just this disinterested love of a free play of the mind on all subjects, for its own sake, t is noticeable, I say, that this word has in our language no sense of the kind, no sense but a rather bad and disparaging one. But criticism, real criticism, is essentially the exercise of this very quality it obeys an instinct prompting it to try to kno w the best that is known and thought in the world, irrespectively of practice, politics, and everything of the kind and to value knowledge and thought as they approach this best, without the intrusion of any other considerations whatever.This is an instinct for which there is, I think, little original sympathy in the working English nature, and what there was of it has undergone a long benumbing period of blight and suppression in the epoch of concentration which followed the French Revolution. THE FUNCTION OF CRITICISM AT THE PRESENT TIME 6 THE FUNCTION OF CRITICISM AT THE PRESENT TIME But epochs of concentration cannot well endure for ever epochs of expansion, in the due course of things, follow them.Such an epoch of expansion seems to be disruption in this country. In the first place all danger of a dirty forcible pressure of foreign ideas upon our practice has long dis come forthed like the traveller in the fable, therefore, we begin to wear our cloak a little more loosely. Then, with a long peace, the ideas of Europe steal gradually and amicably in, and mingle, though in infinitesimally small quantities at a time, with our own notions.Then, too, in spite of all that is said about the absorbing and brutalising influence of our passionate material progress, it seems to me indisputable that this progress is in all probability, though not certain, to lead in the end to an apparition of intellectual life and that man, after he has made himself short comfortable and has now to determine what to do with himself next, may begin to cerebrate that he has a mind, and that the mind may be made the source of great pleasure. I grant it is mainly the privilege of belief, at present, to discern this end to our railways, our business, and our fortune? aking but we shall see if, here as elsewhere, faith is not in the end the true prophet. Our ease, our travelling, and our un? bounded liberty to hold just as hard and proficiently as we please to the practice to wh ich our notions have given birth, all tend to beget an inclination to deal a little more freely with these notions themselves, to canvass them a little, to disseminate a little into their real nature. Fl unwrapings of curiosity, in the foreign sense of the word, appear amongst us, and it is in these that criticism must look to find its account.Criticism first a time of true creative activity, perhaps, which, as I have said, must inevitably be preceded amongst us by a time of criticism, hereafter, when criticism has done its work. It is of the last importance that English criticism should clearly discern what rule for its course, in order to avail itself of the field now opening to it, and to pro? duce fruit for the future, it ought to take. The rule may be summed up in one word, disinterestedness. And how is criticism to show disinterestedness?By keeping aloof from practice by resolutely following the law of its own nature, which is to be a free play of the mind on all subjects wh ich it touches by steady refusing to lend itself to any of those ulterior, political, practical con? siderations about ideas which plenty of people will be sure to attach to them, which perhaps ought often to be attached to them, which in this country at any rate are certain to be attached to them quite sufficiently, but which criticism has really nothing to do with. Its busi? ess is, as I have said, simply to know the best that is known and thought in the world, and by in its turn making this known, to create a current of true and fresh ideas. Its business is to do this with inflexible honesty, with due ability but its business is to do no more, and to leave alone all questions of practical consequences and applications, questions which will never fail to have due prominence given to them. Else criticism, besides being really false to its own nature, merely continues in the old rut which it has hitherto followed in this country, and will certainly miss the chance now given to it.Fo r what is at present the bane of criticism in this country? It is that practical considerations cling to it and stifle it it subserves interests not its own our reed organs of criticism are organs of men and parties having practical ends to serve, and with them those practical ends are the first thing and the play of mind the second so much play of mind as is compatible with the prosecution of those prac? tical ends is all that is wanted. An organ like the Revue des Deux Mondes, having for its main function to under? tand and utter the best that is known and thought in the world, existing, it may be said, as just an organ for a free play of the mind, we have not but we have the Edinburgh Review, existing as an organ of the old Whigs, and for as much play of mind as may caseful its being that we have the Quarterly Review, existing as an organ of the Tories, and for as much play of mind as may causa its being that we have the British Quarterly Review, exist? ng as an organ of the po litical Dissenters, and for as much play of mind as may suit its being that we have the Times, existing as an organ of the common, satisfied, well? to? do Englishman, and for as much play of mind as may suit its being that. And so on through all the various fractions, political and ghostly, of our society every fraction has, as such, its organ of criticism, but the notion of combining all fractions in the common pleasure of a free disinterested play of mind meets with no favour.Directly this play of mind wants to have more scope, and to forget the pressure of practical considerations a little, it is checked, it is made to feel the chain we saw this the other day in the extinction, so much to be regretted, of the Home and Foreign Review perhaps in no organ of criticism in this country was there so much knowledge, so much play of mind but these could not celebrate it the Dublin Review subordinates play of mind to the prac? tical business of English and Irish Catholicism, and lives. It must needs be that men should act in sects and par? ies, that each of these sects and parties should have its organ, and should make this organ subserve the interests of its action but it would be well, too, that there should be a criticism, not the minister of these interests, not their enemy, but absolutely and entirely THE FUNCTION OF CRITICISM AT THE PRESENT TIME 7 THE FUNCTION OF CRITICISM AT THE PRESENT TIME independent of them. No other criticism will ever attain any real authority or make any real way towards its end, the creating a current of true and fresh ideas.It is because criticism has so little kept in the pure intellectual sphere, has so little detached itself from practice, has been so directly polemical and controver? sial, that it has so ill accomplished, in this country, its best religious work which is to keep man from a self? satisfaction which is retarding and vulgarising, to lead him towards perfection, by making his mind remain upon what is excellent in itself, and the absolute beauty and fitness of things. A polemical practical criticism makes men blind even to the ideal defect of their prac? ice, makes them willingly assert its ideal perfection, in order the better to secure it against attack and clearly this is narrowing and baneful for them. If they were reassured on the practical side, speculative considera? tions of ideal perfection they might be brought to entertain, and their spiritual vista would thus gra? dually widen. Adderley says to the Warwickshire farmers Talk of the improvement of breed Why, the race we ourselves represent, the men and women, the old Anglo? Saxon race, are the best breed in the whole world. The absence of a too enervating climate, too un? clouded skies, and a too luxurious nature, has produced so vigorous a race of people, and has rendered us so superior to all the world. Mr. Roebuck says to the Sheffield cutlers I look around me and ask what is the state of England? Is not property preventati ve? Is not every man able to say what he likes? Can you not walk from one end of England to the other in perfect security? I ask you whether, the world over or in previous(prenominal) history, there is any? thing like it? Nothing. I pray that our matchless happiness may last. in a flash obviously there is a peril for poor human nature in words and thoughts of such exuberant self? satisfaction, until we find ourselves safe in the streets of the Celestial City. Das wenige verschwindet leicht deln Blicke Der vorwarts sieht, wie viel noch ubrig bleibt says Goethe the little that is done seems nothing when we look forward and see how much we have yet to do. Clearly this is a better line of reflection for weak humanity, so long as it remains on this earthly field of labour and trial. But neither Mr. Adderley nor Mr. Roebuck are by nature inaccessible to considerations of this sort.They unaccompanied lose sight of them owing to the controversial life we all lead, and the practical form which all specu? lation takes with us. They have in view opponents whose aim is not ideal, but practical, and in their zeal to uphold their own practice against these innovators, they go so far as even to attribute to this practice an ideal perfection. Somebody has been wanting to introduce a six? pound franchise, or to abolish perform? rates, or to collect agricultural statistics by force, or to diminish topical anesthetic self? government. How natural, in reply to such pro? osals, very likely improper or ill? timed, to go a little beyond the mark, and to say stoutly Such a race of people as we stand, so superior to all the world The old Anglo? Saxon race, the best breed in the whole world I pray that our unrivalled happiness may last I ask you whether, the world over or in past history, there is anything like it And so long as criticism answers this dithyramb by insisting that the old Anglo? Saxon race would be still more superior to all others if it had no church building? r ates, or that our unrivalled happiness would last yet longer with a six? ound franchise, so long will the strain, The best breed in the whole world swell louder and louder, everything ideal and refining will be lost out of sight, and both the assailed and their critics will remain in a sphere, to say the truth, perfectly unvital, a sphere in which spiritual cash advance is unimaginable. But let criticism leave church? rates and the franchise alone, and in the most clear spirit, without a single lurking thought of practical innovation, confront with our dithyramb this paragraph on which I stumbled in a intelligence service? paper soon after reading Mr. Roebuck A THE FUNCTION OF CRITICISM AT THE PRESENT TIME 8 THE FUNCTION OF CRITICISM AT THE PRESENT TIME shocking tike murder has just been connected at Nottingham. A girl named Wragg left the workhouse there on Saturday morning with her young illegitimate child. The child was soon afterwards found gone on presentperly Hills, ha ving been strangled. Wragg is in custody. Nothing but that but, in juxtaposition with the absolute eulogies of Mr. Adderley and Mr. Roebuck, how elo? quent, how suggestive are those few lines Our old Anglo? Saxon breed, the best in the whole world how much that is harsh and ill? favoured there is in this best Wragg If we are to talk of ideal perfection, of the best in the whole world, has anyone reflected what a touch of grossness in our race, what an original short? coming in the more delicate spiritual perceptions, is shown by the natural growth amongst us of such dread(a) names, Higginbottom, Stiggins, Bugg In Ionia and Attica they were luckier in this respect than the best race in the world by the Ilissus there was no Wragg, poor thing And our unrivalled happiness hat an element of grimness, bareness, and hideousness mixes with it and blurs it the workhouse, the dismal Map? perly Hills, how dismal those who have seen them will remember the gloom, the smoke, the cold, the str angled illegitimate child I ask you whether, the world over or in past history, there is anything like it? Perhaps not, one is inclined to answer but at any rate, in that case, the world is very much to be pitied. And the final touch, short, bleak, and inhuman Wragg is in custody. The sex lost in the disorderliness of our unrivalled happiness or, hall I say? the superfluous Christian name lopped off by the straightforward vigour of our old Anglo? Saxon breed There is profit for the spirit in such contrasts as this criticism serves the cause of perfection by esta? blishing them. By eluding aseptic conflict, by refusing to remain in the sphere where alone narrow and recounting conceptions have any worth and validity, criticism may diminish its fugitive importance, but precisely in this way has it a chance of gaining doorway for those wider and more perfect conceptions to which all its duty is really owed. Mr.Roebuck will have a poor opinion of an adversary who replies to his de fiant songs of triumph yet by murmuring under his breath, Wragg is in custody but in no other way will these songs of triumph be bring forth gradually to moderate themselves, to get rid of what in them is excessive and offensive, and to supervene into a softer and truer key. It will be said that it is a very crafty and indirect action which I am thus prescribing for criticism, and that by embracing in this manner the Indian virtue of detach? ment and abandoning the sphere of practical life, it condemns itself to a slow and obscure work.Slow and obscure it may be, but it is the only proper work of criticism. The mass of mankind will never have any ardent zeal for seeing things as they are very inadequate ideas will always satisfy them. On these inadequate ideas reposes, and must repose, the general practice of the world. That is as much as saying that whoever sets himself to see things as they are will find himself one of a very small clique but it is only by this small circle resolutely doing its own work that adequate ideas will ever get current at all.The rush and roar of practical life will always have a dizzying and attracting effect upon the most collected spectator, and tend to draw him into its vortex most of all will this be the case where that life is so powerful as it is in England. But it is only by remaining collected, and refusing to lend himself to the point of view of the practical man, that the critic can do the practical man any service and it is only by the greatest sincerity in pursuing his own course, and by at last convincing even the practical man of his sincerity, that he can escape misunderstandings which incessantly threaten him.For the practical man is not apt for fine distinctions, and yet in these distinctions truth and the highest culture greatly find their account. But it is not easy to lead a practical man, unless you reassure him as to your prac? tical intentions you have no chance of tip him, to see that a thing which h e has always been used to look at from one side only, which he greatly values, and which, looked at from that side, more than deserves, perhaps, all the prizing and admiring which he bestows upon it, hat this thing, looked at from another side, may appear much less beneficent and beautiful, and yet retain all its claims to our practical allegiance. Where shall we find lan? guage innocent enough, how shall we make the spotless purity of our intentions observable enough, to enable us to say to the political Englishman that the British Constitu? tion itself, which, seen from the practical side, looks such a magnificent organ of progress and virtue, seen from the speculative side, with its compromises, its love of facts, its standoff of theory, its studied avoidance of clear thoughts, hat, seen from this side, our august Consti? tution sometimes looks, forgive me, tint of Lord Somers a colossal machine for the manufacture of Philistines? How is Cobbett to say this and not be mis? und erstood, blackened as he is with the smoke of a life? long conflict in the field of political practice? how is Mr. Carlyle to say it and not be misunderstood, after his THE FUNCTION OF CRITICISM AT THE PRESENT TIME 9 THE FUNCTION OF CRITICISM AT THE PRESENT TIME furious raid into this field with his Latter? ay Pamphlets how is Mr. Ruskin, after his pugnacious political economy? I say, the critic must keep out of the expanse of immediate practice in the political, social, humanitarian sphere, if he wants to make a beginning for that more free specu? lative treatment of things, which may perhaps one day make its benefits felt even in this sphere, but in a natural and thence irresistible manner. Do what he will, however, the critic will still remain exposed to frequent misunderstandings, and nowhere so much as in this country.For here people are particu? larly loath even to comprehend that without this free disinterested treatment of things, truth and the highest culture are out of t he question. So immersed are they in practical life, so accustomed to take all their notions from this life and its processes, that they are apt to think that truth and culture themselves can be reached by the processes of this life, and that it is an impertinent uniqueness to think of reaching them in any other. We are all terr? ilii, cries their eloquent advocate all Philistines together. Away with the notion of proceed? ing by any other course than the course dear to the Philistines let us have a social movement, let us organise and combine a party to pursue truth and new thought, let us call it the liberal party, and let us all stick to each other, and back each other up. allow us have no ruff about independent criticism, and intellectual delicacy, and the few and the many dont let us trouble our? elves about foreign thought we shall invent the whole thing for ourselves as we go along if one of us speaks well, applaud him if one of us speaks ill, applaud him too we are all in the corresponding movement, we are all liberals, we are all in pursuit of truth. In this way the pursuit of truth becomes really a social, practical, pleasureable affair, almost requiring a chairman, a secretary, and advertisements with the excitement of an occasional scandal, with a little resistance to give the happy sense of difficulty overcome but, in general, plenty of pluck and very little thought.To act is so easy, as Goethe says to think is so hard It is true that the critic has many temptations to go with the stream, to make one of the party of movement, one of these terr? filii it seems ungracious to refuse to be a terr? filius, when so many excellent people are but the critics duty is to refuse, or, if resistance is vain, at least to cry with Obermann Perissons en resistant. How serious a matter it is to try and resist, I had ample opportunity of experiencing when I ventured some time ago to criticise the celebrated first volume of Bishop Colenso. The echoes of the pu ll which was then raised I still, from time to time, hear grumbling round me. That storm arose out of a misunderstanding almost inevitable. It is a result of no little culture to attain to a clear perception that science and religion are two wholly different things the multitude will for ever con? fuse them, but happily that is of no great real im? portance, for while the multitude imagines itself to live by its false science, it does really live by its true religion.Dr. Colenso, however, in his first volume did all he could to strengthen the confusion, and to make it dangerous. * So sincere is my dislike to all personal attack and controversy, that I abstain from reprinting, at this distance of time from the occasion which called them forth, the essays in which I criticised the Bishop of Natals book I feel bound, however, after all that has passed, to make here a final declaration of my sincere impenitence for having published them.The Bishop of Natals subsequent volumes are in gre at measure free from the crying fault of his first he has at aloofness succeeded in more clearly separating, in his own thoughts, the idea of science from the idea of religion his mind appears to be opening as he goes along, and he may perhaps end by becoming a useful biblical critic, though never, I think, of the first order. distillery, in here taking leave of him at the moment when he is pub? ishing, for popular use, a cheap edition of his work, I cannot forbear repeating yet once more, for his benefit and that of his readers, this sentence from my original remarks upon him There is truth of science and truth of religion truth of science does not become truth of religion till it is made spiritual. And I will add Let us have all the science there is from the men of science from the men of religion let us have religion. THE FUNCTION OF CRITICISM AT THE PRESENT TIME 10THE FUNCTION OF CRITICISM AT THE PRESENT TIME It has been said I make it a crime against literary criticism * He did this with the best intentions, I freely admit, and with the most candid ignorance that this was the natural effect of what he was doing but, says Joubert, Igno? ance, which in matters of morals extenuates the crime, in itself, in intellectual matters, a crime of the first order. I criticised Bishop Colensos speculative confusion. Im? mediately there was a cry raised What is this? here a liberal attack a liberal. Do not you belong to the movement? are not you a friend of truth?Is not Bishop Colenso in pursuit of truth? then speak with proper respect of his book. Dr. Stanley is another friend of truth, and you speak with proper respect of his book why make these invidious differences? both books are excellent, admirable, liberal Bishop Colensos perhaps the most so, because it is the boldest, and will have the best practical consequences for the liberal cause. Do you want to encourage to the attack of a brother liberal his, and your, and our implacable enemies, the Church and Stat e Review or the Record, the High Church rhinoceros and the Evangelical hy? na?Be silent, therefore or rather speak, speak as loud as ever you can, and go into ecstasies over the eighty and odd pigeons. But criticism cannot follow this coarse and indiscriminate method. It is unfortunately possible for a man in pur? suit of truth to write a book which reposes upon a false conception. Even the practical consequences of a book are to genuine criticism no recommendation of it, if the book is, in the highest sense, blundering. I see that a *and the higher culture to attempt to inform the ignorant. Need I point out that the ignorant are not informed by being confirmed in a confusion? ady who herself, too, is in pursuit of truth, and who writes with great ability, but a little too much, perhaps, under the influence of the practical spirit of the English liberal movement, classes Bishop Colensos book and M. Renans together, in her survey of the religious state of Europe, as facts of the sa me order, works, both of them, of great importance great ability, power and skill Bishop Colensos, perhaps, the most powerful at least, Miss Cobbe gives particular expression to her gratitude that to Bishop Colenso has been given the strength to grasp, and the courage to teach truths of such loggerheaded import. In the same way, more than one popular writer has compared him to Luther. Now it is just this kind of false estimate which the critical spirit is, it seems to me, bound to resist. It is really the strongest possible proof of the low ebb at which, in England, the critical spirit is, that while the critical hit in the religious literature of Germany is Dr. Strausss book, in that of France M. Renans book, the book of Bishop Colenso is the critical hit in the religious literature of England. Bishop Colensos book reposes on a total misconcep? ion of the essential elements of the religious problem, as that problem is now presented for solution. To cri? ticism, therefore, which s eeks to have the best that is known and thought on this problem, it is, however well meant, of no importance whatever. M. Renans book attempts a new synthesis of the elements furnished to us by the four Gospels. It attempts, in my opinion, a synthesis, perhaps premature, perhaps impossible, cer? tainly not successful. Up to the present time, at any rate, we must acquiesce in Fleurys sentence on such recastings of the Gospel story Quiconque simagine la pouvoir mieux ecrire, ne lentend pas.M. Renan had himself passed by foretelling a like sentence on his own work, when he said If a new presentation of the character of Jesus were offered to me, I would not have it its very clearness would be, in my opinion, the best proof of its insufficiency. His friends may with perfect justice rejoin that at the sight of the Holy Land, and of the actual scene of the Gospel? story, all the current of M. Renans thoughts may have naturally changed, and a new casting of that story irresistibly sugges ted itself to him and that this is just a case for applying Ciceros maxim Change of mind is not inconsistency emo doctus unquam mutationem consilii inconstantiam dixit esse. Nevertheless, for criticism, M. Renans first thought must still be the truer one, as long as his new casting so fails more fully to commend itself, more fully (to use Coleridges happy phrase about the Bible) to find us. Still M. Renans attempt is, for criticism, of the most real interest and importance, since, with all its difficulty, a fresh synthesis of the immature Testament data, ot a making war on them, in Voltaires fashion, not a leaving them out of mind, in the worlds fashion, but the putting a new construction upon them, the taking them from under the old, adoptive, traditional, un? spiritual point of view and placing them under a new one, is the very amount of the religious problem, as now presented and only by efforts in this direction can it receive a solution. Again, in the same spirit in which she judges Bishop Colenso, Miss Cobbe, like so many earnest liberals of our THE FUNCTION OF CRITICISM AT THE PRESENT TIME 11THE FUNCTION OF CRITICISM AT THE PRESENT TIME practical race, both here and in America, herself sets modishly about a positive reconstruction of religion, about making a religion of the future out of hand, or at least set about making it we must not rest, she and they are always thinking and saying, in negative criti? cism, we must be creative and constructive hence we have such works as her recent Religious Duty, and works still more considerable, perhaps, by others, which will be in everyones mind.These works often have much ability they often spring out of sincere convictions, and a sincere wish to do good and they sometimes, perhaps, do good. Their fault is (if I may be permitted to say so) one which they have in common with the British College of health, in the New Road. Everyone knows the British College of Health it is that building with the lion and the statue of the Goddess Hygeia before it at least, I am sure about the lion, though I am not absolutely certain about the Goddess Hygeia. This building does credit, perhaps, to the resources of Dr.Morrison and his disciples but it falls a good deal short of ones idea of what a British College of Health ought to be. In England, where we hate public inter? ference and love individual enterprise, we have a whole crop of places like the British College of Health the grand name without the grand thing. Unluckily, credit? able to individual enterprise as they are, they tend to impair our taste by making us forget what more grandiose, noble, or beautiful character properly belongs to a public institution. The same may be said of the religions of the future of Miss Cobbe and others.Creditable, like the British College of Health, to the resources of their authors, they yet tend to make us forget what more grandiose, noble, or beautiful character properly belongs to religious constructions. Th e historic religions, with all their faults, have had this it certainly belongs to the religious sentiment, when it truly flowers, to have this and we impoverish our spirit if we allow a religion of the future without it. What then is the duty of criticism here? To take the practical point of view, to applaud the liberal movement and all its works, its New Road religions of the future into the bargain, or their general utilitys sake? By no means but to be perpetually dis? satisfied with these works, while they perpetually fall short of a high and perfect ideal. For criticism, these are primary(a) laws but they never can be popular, and in this country they have been very little followed, and one meets with immense obstacles in following them. That is a reason for asserting them again and again. Criticism must maintain its liberty of the practical spirit and its aims. Even with well? meant efforts of the practical spirit it must express dissatisfaction, if in the sphere of the idea l they seem impoverishing and limiting.It must not hurry on to the goal because of its practical importance. It must be patient, and know how to wait and flexible, and know how to attach itself to things and how to withdraw from them. It must be apt to study and praise elements that for the fulness of spiritual perfection are wanted, even though they belong to a power which in the prac? tical sphere may be maleficent. It must be apt to discern the spiritual shortcomings or illusions of powers that in the practical sphere may be beneficent. And this with? ut any notion of favouring or injuring, in the practical sphere, one power or the other without any notion of playing off, in this sphere, one power against the other. When one looks, for instance, at the English dissever lawcourt, an institution which perhaps has its practical conveniences, but which in the ideal sphere is so hideous* *A critic, already quoted, says that I have no right, on my own principles, to object to practic al measures on theoretical grounds, and that only when a man has got a theory which will fully explain all the duties of the legislator on the matter of uniting, will he have a right to abuse the disassociate Court. In short, he wants me to produce a plan for a new and improved Divorce Court, before I call the present one hideous. But God forbid that I should thus enter into ambition with the Lord Chancellor It is just this invasion of the practical sphere which is really against my principles the taking a practical measure into the world of ideas, and seeing how it looks there, is, on the other hand, just what I am recom? mending. It is because we have not been informed enough with ideas that our practice now falls so short it is only by becoming more conversant with them that we shall make it better.Our present Divorce Court is not the result of any legislators meditations on the subject of espousals rich people had an anomalous privilege of getting divorced privileges are od ious, and we said everybody should have the same chance. There was no meditation about THE FUNCTION OF CRITICISM AT THE PRESENT TIME 12 THE FUNCTION OF CRITICISM AT THE PRESENT TIME marriage here that was just the mischief. If my practical critic will but himself accompany me, for a little while, into the despised world of ideas f, renouncing any attempt to patch hastily up, with a noble disdain for transcendentalists, our present Divorce law, he will but allow his mind to dwell a little, first on the Catholic idea of marriage, which exhibits marriage as indissoluble, and then upon that Protestant idea of marriage, which exhibits it as a union terminable by mutual consent, if he will meditate well on these, and afterwards on the thought of what get married life, according to its idea, really is, of what family life really is, of what social life really is, and national life, and public morals, he will find, fter a while, I do assure him, the whole state of his* an institution whic h neither makes divorce impossible nor makes it decent, which allows a man to get rid of his wife, or a wife of her husband, but makes them drag one another first, for the public edification, through a mire of unutterable infamy, when one looks at this charming institution, I say, with its displace benches, its newspaper? reports, and its money? compensations, this institution in which the gross unregenerate British Philis? tine has indeed stamped an image of himself, one may be permitted to find the marriage? heory of Catholicism refreshing and elevating. Or when Protestantism, in virtue of its supposed rational and intellectual origin, gives the law to criticism too magisterially, criticism may and must remind it that its pretensions, in this respect, are illusive and do it harm that the Reformation was a moral rather than an intellectual event that Luthers theory of approval no more exactly reflects the mind of the spirit than Bossuets philosophy of history reflects it and tha t there is no more antecedent probability of the Bishop of Durhams stock of ideas being agreeable to? erfect reason than of Pope Pius the Ninths. But criticism will not on that account forget the achievements of Protestantism in the practical and moral sphere nor that, even in the intellectual sphere, Protestantism, *spirit quite changed the Divorce Court will then seem to him, if he looks at it, strangely hideous and he will at the same time discover in himself, as the fruit of his inward discipline, lights and resources for making it better, of which now he does not dream.He must make haste, though, for the condition of his practical measure is getting mucilaginous even the British Philistine begins to have qualms as he looks at his offspring even his thrice? battered God of Palestine is beginning to roll its eyes convulsively. though in a blind and stumbling manner, carried for? ward the Renaissance, while Catholicism threw itself violently across its path. I lately perceive a man of thought and energy contrasting the want of fervidness and movement which he now found amongst young men in this country with what he re? membered in his own youth, twenty years ago. What reformers we were then he exclaimed what a zeal we had how we canvassed every institution in Church and State, and were prepared to remodel them all on first principles He was inclined to regret, as a spiritual flagging, the lull which he saw. I am disposed rather to regard it as a pause in which the turn to a new mode of spiritual progress is being accomplished. Everything was long seen, by the young and ar