tached, were really written by him. It had, we are told, been too hastily assumed that Mr. Aytoun was the writer of an article in Blackwood's Magazine, in which the said expressions did appear; and he is therefore free from the reproach of having praised overmuch; but then, in the same list of "opinions of the press," there were extracts from the best periodicals in the country (though without the names of the writers), extolling the merits of Festus in language which would have required some modification if applied to Paradise Lost. What can be the causes of all this evil? Mr. Arnold suggests the following: "For, 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 organs of criticism are organs of men and parties having practical ends to scrve, 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 practical ends is all that is wanted. An organ like the Revue des Deux Mondes, having for its main function to understand and utter the best that is known and thought in the world, existing, it may be said, as just an organ for the 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 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 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 religious, 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 save it; the Dublin Review subordinates play of mind to the practical business of English and Irish Catholicism, and lives. It must needs be that men should act in sects and parties, 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 independent of them. No other criticism will ever a'tain any real authority or make any real way towards its end, the creating a current of true and fresh ideas." Other influences are also at work, some of slighter force than the above, others more deeply-rooted and more powerful. Good-nature, a dislike of trouble, the arts of puffery, all tend to pervert criticism; but worst of all is the indecision and want of fixed principles among critics, who, uncertain as to what should be really aimed at, have, of course, no sound basis on which to rest their judgments. And what incalculable mischief is hereby done to literature? Writers reject only too gladly the authority of judges who speak with hesitating lips, and give themselves over to all manner of lawlessness. That a novel or a poem should be a work of art, framed according to certain artistic rules, seems an idea never present to their minds. They strive indeed after effect, but it is not legitimate effect; it is the effect of "fine passages," so misplaced, so at variance with artistic excellence, that things which might have been beauties become deformities brought out into strong relief. To such writers the merit of a poem like Dora, or a novel like Tom Jones, is an utter mystery. We need not dwell on this theme. Unhappily there is little need to convince the world of the shortcomings of English literature at the present time. For this dismal saturnalia of sensation noticism is in no small degree responsible. The vels and spasmodic poetry, our so-called crivagaries of half-educated writers have had no control; the taste of half-educated readers has had no direction. How much evil has thence resulted no man can tell; things are at a sad pass when the watchers prove to be themselves in need of watching. Nay, our critics do more than negative mischief. They are strenuous in the propagation of evil. One critic like Mr. George Gilfillan can do infinitely more harm to literature than any number of spasmodic poets. For he is the prime source of mischief: he it is who calls. those poets into their brief but harmful แ existence. But, of the two, less dangerous is the offence To tire our patience, than mislead our sense." Are these things irremediable? Is criticism nothing but mere opinion resting on no more certain basis than caprice? and must literature therefore for ever wander without Cricontrol, without a guide? Surely no. ticism may not yet have become what Dr. Johnson would have it to be, a science; but it is, when rightly understood, an intelligible and certain art. The laws which it lavs down are not arbitrary; they are generalized from the practice of the masters of literature, and come to us approved by experience, and invested with the weight of authority. Criticism concerns itself both with form and matter, applying to these certain definite | who, after all, are free in their choice of a busitests. It inquires, in the first place, whether ness? That would be making criticism lend itthe language, the illustrations, the metaphors self just to one of those alien practical consideare correct, and in good taste; in the second rations, which, I have said, are so fatal to it. place, whether they are rich and beauiful; and, with the mass-so much better disregarded,—of One may say, indeed, to those who have to deal in the third place, it rises to a study of the cha-current English literature, that they may at all racters, takes in the nature of the subject, looks events endeavour, in dealing with this, to try it, to the due subordination of the parts, and the so far as they can, by the standard of the best artistic completeness of the whole. It is very that is known and thought in the world; one idle, therefore, to assail such an art as being may say, that to get anywhere near this standnothing beyond an unkindly love of fault-ard, every critic should try and possess one great, finding. On the contrary, it has its origin in literature, at least, besides his own; and the a love of truth, and its real aim is to discover the criticism I am really concerned with,-the more unlike his own, the better. But, after all, and foster excellence, though, as a means to criticism which alone can much help us for the this end, it may be sometimes necessary to future, the criticism which, throughout Europe, expose pretence and incompetence. To be is at the present day meant, when so much stress impatient of the restraints of criticism, to dis- is laid on the importance of criticism and the parage it, to rail at it, to affect an unreal in- critical spirit,-is a criticism which regards Eudependence of its judgments, are certain signs rope as being, for intellectual and spiritual purof weakness in an author. poses, one great confederation, bound to a joint action and working to a common result; and whose members have, for their proper outfit, a knowledge of Greek, Roman, and Eastern antiquity, and of one another. Special, local, and temporary advantages being put out of account, that modern nation will in the intellectual and To prove all this, and illustrate it, and exemplify it, has been the aim of much of Mr. Arnold's writing. His first separate prose publication was, we think, the lectures on translating Homer, which he delivered as Professor of Poetry at Oxford. The originality, the fearlessness, we regret to add the occasional arrogance of tone which marked these lectures, gained for them much attention. But as they were fully noticed in the North British Review* at the time of their publication, we cannot do more than allude to them In the present volume he has collected together essays, ranging over a great variety of subjects, but all of them in the strictest sense critical. In the first of these, called The Functions of Criticism at the Present Time, he not only explains those functions, but also vindicates their dignity and utility. Mr. Arnold must tell us himself what, and of what sort, is the criticism he upholds and would endeavour to practise : now. spiritual sphere make most progress, which most thoroughly carries out this programme. And individuals, the more thoroughly we carry it out, what is that but saying that we too, all of us, as shall make the more progress? "I conclude with what I said at the beginning: to have the sense of creative activity is the great happiness and the great proof of being alive, and it is not denied to criticism to have it; ble, ardent, ever widening its knowledge. Then but then criticism must be sincere, simple, flexiit may have, in no contemptible measure, a joyful sense of creative activity; a sense which a man of insight and conscience will prefer to what he might derive from a poor, starved, fragmentary, inadequate creation. And at some epochs no other creation is possible." We must not, however, suppose that Mr. Arnold would limit the sphere of criticisin to "But stop, some one will say; all this talk is of tains that criticism, being truly an endeavour literature alone. On the contrary, he mainno practical use to us whatever; this criticism of yours is not what we have in our minds when to see things as they really are, cannot be we speak of criticism; when we speak of critics limited in its scope, but must extend its efand criticism, we mean critics and criticism of forts in all things relating to man and human the current English literature of the day; when life,-society, politics, religion. He admits, you offer to tell criticism its function, it is to indeed, that where these burning matters are this criticism that we expect you to address concerned, it is most likely to go astray; yourself. I am sorry for it, for I am afraid I nevertheless, it must set out on the dangermust disappoint these expectations. I am bound by my own definition of criticism: a disinterested ous wayfaring, and take its chance. Safety, endeavour to learn and propagate the best that according to Mr. Arnold, lies in this only, is known and thought in the world. How much that criticism must "maintain its indepenof current English literature comes into this dence of the practical spirit and its aims." 'best that is known and thought in the world?' It must abandon altogether the sphere of Not very much, I fear; certainly less, at this practical life, and rest content with discovermoment, than of the current literature of France ing and impressing on the world adequate or Germany. Well, then, am I to alter my de-ideas, trusting that those ideas will bring finition of criticism, in order to meet the requirements of a number of practising English critics, * No. lxxii., May, 1862. forth their fruit in a fitting, though it may be a distant season. Such a work may be slow and obscure, but it is not the less the only the argument with which Mr. Arnold contrasts it, viz., that, happy as we may be, we should probably be yet happier were the desired political changes to take place. We remember a London paper, of a very unideal and Philistine* character, which had a column, entitled "Our Civilisation," exclusively devoted to the chosen arguments of Mr. Arnold's ideal theory of criticism. proper work of criticism. Now this is a strik- I practical, though by no means so relevant, as ing thought, but we doubt whether it be a sound one. It seems to rest on a confusion between the direct and the indirect influence of the critical spirit on the affairs of life. The indirect influence is exerted, of course, through literature. It is in this sense that Mr. Arnold upholds the justice of Goethe's claim to have been "the liberator" of the Germans, because he taught the German poets that men must live from within outwards, placing the standard inside the man instead of outside him,-a doctrine, as Mr. Arnold says, "absolutely fatal to all routine thinking." All this, to be sure, had not much effect on the political life of Germany, has not even yet had much effect in that direction; whence Heine's impetuous attacks on Goethe, "come to be eighty years old doing this, and minister, and in good condition; poor German people! that is thy greatest man." But whether such influence of criticism be really important, or all but imperceptible in its working, this at least is clear, that it is an indirect influence. The immediate effect is produced by literature, and we do not gain much towards clearness of thought by running up the chain of causality, and attributing that effect to criticism. But if we do so, we must be careful to note that the word thus used means pure literary criticism only-affecting active life, if at all, slowly and indirectly; and surely to say that such criticism must sever itself from the merely practical, and concern itself with "adequate ideas," though true and valuable doctrine, is not a novel discovery. On the other hand, when comment or criticism, or whatever we choose to call it, applies itself directly to matters of action, it seems impossible but that it must take a practical turn. Let us test the thing by Mr. Arnold's own instances. When extreme or ill-timed demands for political change are met by dwelling on our present "unrivalled happiness," he objects to the answer, not on behalf of the reformers, but in the interests of a correct theory of criticism. But what style of answer does he suggest as in accordance with his own theory? Why, the somewhat rude one of taking an aggravated case of child-murder from the newspapers, and tabling it against the "unrivalled happiness" notion. Now, we say nothing as to the value of this answer, nor pause to inquire how far the fact of child-murders taking place in England from time to time is inconsistent with the position that the people of England as a body enjoy more happiness than the people of any other nation; but we ask, is not this of Mr. Arnold's a most practical answer? It seems to us every whit as Again, the illustration given by Mr. Arnold of how criticism should approach religious themes, succeeds in keeping quite clear of any practical tendency, but this at the expense both of distinctness and utility. He objects to Bishop Colenso's criticism on the ground that it strengthens the common confusion between science and religion; and though he does not reprint his two essays on the Bishop's first volume, which appeared some time ago in Macmillan's Magazine, yet he "cannot forbear repeating 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 religious. 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." Now this passage, so far as we understand it, appears to rest upon a very extraordinary misconception. If the truths of science and the truths of religion are to be kept always distinctthe one delivered only by men of science, the other delivered only by men of religion, what are we to make of their seeming opposition? That there is a seeming opposition no one will deny, and must we, then, accept the opposition as inexplicable? Can we make no endeavour to get beyond this seeming? Can criticism do nothing to reconcile? Is the task of showing that there is no real opposition between science and religion too practical?" It rather seems to us that this might be attempted without placing any This is a German nickname of which Mr. Ar nold is very fond, and, as it is hardly possible to write on these Essays without referring to it, we tine must have originally meant, in the mind of subjoin his explanation of its meaning:- Philisthose who invented the nickname, a strong, dogged, unenlightened opponent of the chosen people, of the children of the light. The party of change, the would-be remodellers of the old traditional European order, the invokers of reason against custom, the representatives of the modern spirit in every sphere where it is applicable, regarded themselves with the robust self-confidence natural to reformers, as a chosen people, as children of the light. They regarded their adversaries as humdrum people, slaves to routine, enemies to light; stupid and oppressive, but at the same time very strong." known and thought in the world cannot be of English growth, must be foreign; by the nature of things, again, it is just this that we are least likely to know, while English thought is streaming in upon us from all sides, and takes excellent the English critic, therefore, must dwell care that we shall not be ignorant of its existmuch on foreign thought, and with particular beed on any part of it, which, while significant and fruitful in itself, is for any reason, specially likely to escape him." harsh restraints on the free play of thought, and that, if accomplished, it would be the greatest and happiest step ever made in spiritual progression; in a word, criticism . might herein exercise not only its appropriate, but its noblest functions. Finally, approach-ence; ing social questions in the same spirit, Mr. Arnold falls foul of the Divorce Court, because that institution does not accord with the refreshing and elevating" marriage theory of Catholicism. " Now, if all this merely means, that criticism, being an honest endeavour to get at truth, must keep itself free from party catchwords, from party considerations, ay, even from party ideas, there can hardly be room for dispute. Surely so Surely so simple a truth need not have been so elaborated. But if it mean more than this, if it mean that criticism can be applied with profit, or indeed, can be applied at all to questions of active life, yet in no way concern itself with results, keeping above all practical considerations, then we think Mr. Arnold altogether mistaken, and we are sure that his criticism will be for ever barren. Indeed, his theory breaks down in his own hands. In the examples he himself gives, he refutes the self-laudatory Briton by extracts from newspapers; he attacks the Divorce Court on the very practical grounds of its "crowded benches, its reports, its money compensations;" and when he turns to religion, his criticism only ceases to be practicable by becoming totally useless, and not a little obscure. Mr. Arnold's mind is open to foreign thought from many sources. His scholarship shows itself in the only way in which scholarship can show itself becomingly, i.e., in its results, its influence on the judgment and the style. It has given him what Pope considers the rarest quality of the critic, good taste: "In poets, as true genius is but rare, True taste as seldom is the critic's share." But he has much that is higher than mere scholarship, though unfortunately separable, and too often separated from it; he has caught "the secret of antiquity "-has penetrated to the spirit of the ancient writers. The influence of Germany seems to have been but slight upon him; on the other hand, he has a perfect familiarity with French literature-the literature of criticism par excellence; some will say that he surrenders himself too unreservedly to its dominion, His Gallicism is perhaps extreme, and this, combined with his devotion to classical models, may give a certain narrowness to his judgments; but in these days of utter lawless Com and every man writes as seems good in his To say the truth, it is not when dealing with these weighty matters that Mr. Arnoldness, when there is truly no king in Israel, is at his best. He does not understand them; he does not, we suspect, greatly care to nnderstand them; bis interest in them strikes us as being forced. When he passes from confuting Mr. Adderley and Mr. Roebuck to analysing the beauties of Maurice de Guérin, he carries his readers into a new atmosphere of warmth and light. His principles of criticism will be found safe guides in the region of the fine arts, though he does not seem to possess the special knowledge required in an art-critic; but literature is the theme he knows best, likes best-where he is, in all respects, most at home. His natural qualifications for the work of literary criticism bave been enhanced by assiduous cultivation. No man can be a good critic who does not possess a familiarity with at least one great literature besides his own. And this is especially the case with Englishmen, who, as we have said before, find so little in their own literature which can stimulate or foster the critical spirit. By the very nature of things, as England is not all the world, much of the best that is "The critical power is of lower rank than the creative. True; but in assenting to this proposition, one or two things are to be kept in mind. It is undeniable that the exercise of a creative function of man; it is proved to be so by man's power, that a free creative activity, is the true finding in it his true happiness. But it is undeniable, also, that men may have the sense of exercising this free creative activity in other ways than in producing great works of literature or art; if it were not so, all but a very few men would be shut out from the true happiness of all men; they may have it in well-doing, they may have it in learning, they may have it even in criticising. This is one thing to be kept in mind. Another is, that the exercise of the creative power in the production of great works of lite paratively poor, barren, and short-lived affair. This is why Byron's poetry had so little endurance in it, and Goethe's so much; both Byron and Goethe had a great productive power, but Goethe's was nourished by a great critical effort providing the true materials for it, and Byron's was not; Goethe knew life and the world, the poet's necessary subjects, much more comprehensively and thoroughly than Byron. He knew a great deal more of them, and he knew them much more as they really are." rature or art, however high this exercise of it may rank, is not at all epochs and under all conditions possible; and that therefore labour may be vainly spent in attempting it, which might with more fruit be used in preparing for it, in rendering it possible. This creative power works with elements, with materials; what if it has not those materials, those elements ready for its use? In that case it must surely wait till they are ready. Now in literature,-I will limit myself to literature, for it is about literature that the question arises, the elements with which This book of Mr. Arnold's is not a large the creative power works are ideas; the best ideas, on every matter which literature touches, one, containing but nine short essays in all. current at the time; at any rate, we may lay it From the first, that on the Functions of Critidown as certain that in modern literature no cisin, we have quoted so largely that our manifestation of the creative power not working readers can judge for themselves of its imwith these can be very important or fruitful. port and merits. We have also indicated And I say current at the time, not merely ac- pretty fully the scope of the second paper, cessible at the time; for creative literary genius on the Literary Influence of Academies, does not principally show itself in discovering which appeared last summer in the Cornhill new ideas; that is rather the business of the Magazine. Two beautiful critical estimates philosopher; the grand work of literary genius is a work of synthesis and exposition, not of of Maurice and Eugénie de Guérin follow, analysis and discovery; its gift lies in the faculty showing a rare power of sympathy and apof being happily inspired by a certain intellec-preciation, and containing some very perfect tual and spiritual atmosphere, 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 combinations, making beautiful works with them, in short, But it must have the atmosphere, it must find itself amidst the order of ideas, in order to work, freely; and these it is not so easy to command. This is why great creative epochs in literature are so rare; this is why there is so much that is unsatisfactory in the productions of many 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, appointed elements, and those elements are not in its own control. "Nay, they are more within the control of the critical power. It is the business of the critical power, as I said in the words already quoted, in all branches of knowledge, theology, philosophy, history, art, science, to see the ject as in itself it really is.' Thus it tends, at last, to make an intellectual situation of which the creative power can profitably avail itself. It tends to establish an order of ideas, if not absolutely true, yet true by comparison with that which it displaces; to make the best ideas prevail. Presently these new ideas reach society, the touch of truth is the touch of life, and there is a stir and growth everywhere; out of this stir and growth come the creative epochs of literature. Nu specimens of translation; and not less beauti- “We in England, in our great burst of literature during the first thirty years of the present century, had no manifestation of the modern spirit, as this spirit manifests itself in Goethe's works or Heine's. And the reason is not far to seek. We had neither the German wealth of ideas, nor the French enthusiasm for apob-plying ideas. There reigned in the mass of the nation that inveterate inaccessibility to ideas, that Philistinism,-to use the German nickname,-which reacts even on the individual genius that is exempt from it. In our greatest literary epoch, that of the Elizabethan age, English society at large was accessible to ideas, was permeated by them, was vivified by them to a degree which has never been reached in England since. Hence the unique greatness in English literature of Shakspeare and his contemporaries; they were powerfully upbeld by the intellectual life of their nation; they applied freely in literature the then modern ideas,-the ideas of the Renaissance and the Reformation. A few years afterwards the great English middle class, the kernel of the nation, the class whose intellectual sympathy had upheld a Shakspeare, entered the prison of Puritanism, and had the key turned on its spirit there for two hundred years. He enlargeth a nation, says Job, and straiteneth it again. In the literary "Or, to narrow our range, and quit these considerations of the general march of genius and of society, considerations which are apt to become too abstract and impalpable,-every one can see that a poet, for instance, ought to know life and the world before dealing with them in poetry; and life and the world being, 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 com |