There was a trial in London in December, 1878, which illustrates the subject I am upon.  It was an action for libel by the well-known artist, Mr. Whistler, against Mr. Ruskin, the most distinguished art critic of the age.  The passage in the writing of Mr. Ruskin, of which Mr. Whistler complained, contains, I think, almost every fault which, according to my divisions, a criticism can contain.  The passage is as follows:—­“For Mr. Whistler’s own sake no less than for the protection of the purchaser, Sir Coutts Lindsey ought not to have admitted works into the gallery in which the ill-educated conceit of the artist so nearly approached the aspect of wilful imposture.  I have seen and heard much of cockney impudence before now, but never expected to hear a coxcomb ask 200 guineas for flinging a pot of paint in the public’s face.”

The Attorney-General of the day, as counsel for Mr. Ruskin, said that this was a severe and slashing criticism, but perfectly fair and bona fide.

Now, let us see.  First, there is the expression, “the ill-educated conceit of the artist nearly approached the aspect of wilful imposture.”  That may be severe and slashing, but is it fair?  If there was a wilful imposition, why not say so; but, of course, there was not, and could not be; but it is most unfair to insinuate that there nearly was.  The truth is, the words “wilful imposture” are a gross exaggeration.  The jury, after retiring, came into court and asked the judge what was the meaning of wilful imposture, and, being told that it meant nothing in particular, they returned a verdict of damages one farthing, which meant to say that they thought equally little of Whistler’s picture and of Ruskin’s criticism.  Next we come to “Cockney impudence” and “coxcomb.”  Surely these terms must be grossly inappropriate to the subject in hand, which is Whistler’s painting, and not his personal qualities.  Next, it seems that Mr. Ruskin thinks it is an offence to ask 200 guineas for a picture, but where the offence lies we are not told.  It might be folly to give 200 guineas for one of Whistler’s pictures, but why should he be abused for asking it?  The insinuation is that it is a false pretence, and such an insinuation is not bona fide.  Lastly, we are told that Mr. Whistler has been flinging a pot of paint in the public’s face.  In the first place, this is vulgar.  In the next place, it is absurd.  When Sydney Smith said that someone’s writing was like a spider having escaped from the inkstand and wandered over the paper, it was an exaggerated criticism, but it was appropriate.  But if Mr. Whistler flung a pot of paint anywhere, it was upon his own canvas, and not into the face of the public.  Now, let anybody think what is the effect of such criticism.  Is one enabled by the light of it to see the merits or faults of Whistler’s painting?  And yet this was written by the greatest art critic in this country, by the man who has done more to reveal