arrive at judgments; but the
value of his criticism, if it has any, consists not in the judgment, but
in the process by which it is arrived at. This fact is seldom understood
in England, either by the public or by artists. The artist cares only
about the judgment and complains that a mere amateur has no right to
judge him. He would rather be judged by himself; and, being himself an
artist, he must be a better judge. But the question to be asked about
the critic is not whether he is an amateur as an artist, but whether he
is an amateur as a critic; and that can be decided only by his
criticism. The greatest artist might prove that he was an amateur in
criticism; and he could not disprove it by appealing to his art. Sir
Joshua Reynolds, for instance, thinks like an amateur in some of his
discourses; and it is amateur thinking to defend him by saying that he
does not paint like one.

Certainly much of our criticism consists of mere judgments, and is
therefore worthless as criticism. But much of our art consists also of
mere judgments; it tells us nothing except that the artist admires this
or that, or believes that the public admires it; and it also is
worthless as art. But no critic therefore writes to the papers to say
that, if only the public would learn to feel for themselves, the
profession of artist would be at an end. We know that the business of an
artist is not to tell the public what to feel about the visible world,
or anything else, but to express his own interest in the visible world
or whatever may be the subject-matter of his art. We do not condemn art
because of its failures. Those who know anything at all about the nature
of art know that it has value because it expresses the common interests
of mankind better than most men can express them; and for this reason
it has value for mankind and not merely for artists. For this reason,
also, criticism has value for mankind and not merely for artists or for
critics. But the value of it does not lie in the judgment of the critic
any more than the value of art lies in the judgment, taste, preference
of the artist. The value in both cases lies in power of expression; and
by that art and criticism are to be judged.

Needless to say, then, criticism is not to be judged by the help it
gives to artists. One might as well suppose that philosophy was to be
judged by the help it gives to the Deity. The philosopher does not tell
the Deity how He ought to have made the univ