I am aware that a certain class of connoisseurs, amateurs, or enthusiasts have lately put forth, perhaps I should say revived, the strange opinion that a practical artist is of all men the least fit to judge of art, and that it belongs to _them_, that is the connoisseurs only, to judge of his work. I believe this notion to have lurked in secret in the bosom of many an amateur for centuries back; but it required the fostering hand of German enthusiasm to publish it, as an axiom, to the world; and to write books upon the absurd notion, that those who know nothing practically of a subject, are the best judges and instructors concerning it. Apelles had different notions; for while he bade the shoemaker _stick to his last_, he took his advice about the sandals of his Venus. In truth, to use the words of the wisest of modern men, “the labours of speculative men, in active matters, seem to men of experience, little better than Phormio’s discourses of war; which seemed to Hannibal as dreams and dotage[1].” If mere lovers of art will, nevertheless, devote their thoughts and pens to her enchanting service, I think they may do an acceptable office, even to painters themselves, by collecting what is, or has been known of her progress, following up her history from the first faint traces of her path among savage tribes, to her majestic footsteps in the flourishing states of Greece; nor losing sight of her entirely in her sad hours of degradation under Imperial Rome, and finally watching over her gentle though slow revival under the brilliant sun of Italy. There is a kind of history of art which has been successfully cultivated: I mean that which addresses itself directly to the eye by a chronological display of the remaining works of art in the great publications of Monfaucon, Dagincourt, Micali, and the various archæological works of different societies[2]. But these are books of such price as must always render them difficult of access; and, unfortunately, the descriptions attached to the prints seldom admit of separation; and are, in general, written too dully to interest, or so much in the spirit of controversy as to render them disagreeable. Such history can never become popular. There remains, however, open, an unpretending path, yet untrodden, by which those who love art may be led sufficiently near her temple to enjoy her beauties, understand her virtues, and be blessed by her happy influence, without encroaching on the province of her professed servants, or engaging in combat with her false or mistaken friends, or avowed enemies. Tis this path that I would pursue, and take along with me those of my sex and country who love the good and the beautiful, and who likewise love to look up through them, to the fountain of all goodness, and to the Author of all beauty.