ABSTRACT
267I scarcely know how, my dear post Raphaelito friend, to answer your many queries—whether to include them in one, or tako them in detail—whether I should profess to be wise upon the subject-matter, or subscribe myself an ignoramus. Whatever be my reply, I shall be sure to give offence to somebody or other in the multifarious throng of dissonant opinion-makers and opinion-receivers. There will be many a metamorphosed “Bottom ” with his new-made cars up, to catch such words as may be conscientiously uttered, and, lacking his patient sapience, and mistaking his owu condition for mine, bid me write me down in the phraseology of the Weaver. You would have me to be disputatious indeed, and the object of disputation, by discussing Art and Taste ; nevertheless, I will assume pretensions which I have been so many long years acquiring, with so much pains and study. You question me on the state of the Fino Arts—you have not considered how wide in your question. Where are the Tine Arts to be fouud, and put under a scrutiny? There are conditions of art so contradictory, and all demanding supremacy, that I am at a loss where or how to look these real or allegorical personages, “The Fine Arts,” in the face. I have looked into galleries old, and galleries new—in some, the Arts are not only “Fine,” but superfine—a great deal too fine—in others, they aro not “Fine” at all, and lamentably dingy. And stranger still, I find the public running after both kinds with unbounded enthusiasm, and purses that take a pleasure in opening themselves. The extravagance on both sides throws me into a bewilderment; much I doubt myself while I walk scrutinis-ingly enough through the displays, and say with the philosopher, “VVliat a number of things are here which I do not want.” Not want! how many things which I dislike, and which I find multitudes eagerly bidding for, as if each additional “bid” was to stamp the fiat of taste. Do not expect me to give up my judgment all at once; it may be true that I know nothing whatever of Art, or “the Arts;” I have studied the old principles, but it seems they won’t do. Then allow me, until time, or sense, or folly shall have initiated me in the new, and dipped in Lethe the intellect which I may have so wrongly cultivated, to indulge my prejudices—for such, if I am modest, I ought to consider all my atoms of former taste to be ; and I know you have a leaning to prejudices, and reverentially receive them as instincts, which you have called the elder brothers of Reason.
