it is chiefly to their great abilities that they are indebted for the rank which they have attained; but it is not by those abilities alone that they preserve that rank. A glaring proof of this was afforded by the publication of Dickens's "American Notes for general Circulation." Here was a work of the most ordinary and common-place character, puffed into importance and circulation, not on account of its novelty or interest, but because it was written by Mr. Dickens. Had the author been

"A youth to Fortune and to Fame unknown,"

the book would scarcely have obtained any notice, or would have been stigmatized as the production of some "twaddling Tourist." One or two organs of the press were honest enough to express their opinion as to the spuriousness of the "Notes;' but their "still small voices" were stifled in the clamour of favouritism and the whinings of cant.

Sir Bulwer Lytton is another instance. Having attained the foremost rank as a novelist, nothing will satisfy his ambition but the highest eminence as a poet. His boldest flight in this latter capacity is his poem of "King Arthur," a performance which I name in this place, not to detract from its merits, whatever these may be, but to illustrate the fact that merit in a writer is not, as it should be, the only source

of his popularity. On the appearance of this poem, it was eulogized in the following strain by the "Sun" newspaper :

"This grand epic of King Arthur' must henceforth be ranked amongst our national masterpieces. In it we behold the crowning achievement of the author's life. His ambition cannot rise to a higher altitude. He has accomplished that which once had its seductions for the deathless and majestic mind of Milton. He has now assumed a place among the kings of English poetry."

This is the opinion of a political journal. Let us hear that of the "Athenæum," a periodical of acknowledged ability, of the widest circulation, peculiarly devoted to literature, and professedly unconnected with politics :

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Examples could be counted by the hundred exhibiting carelessness in craftsmanship. This carelessness, too, takes the forms of strange license. Adjectives are made into verbs, Teutonicisms, Scotticisms, Gallicisms, strewn freely about. We cannot allow this epic to decide its author's claim to enrolment among the poets of England. There are few wellconstructed works of any extent, be the style what it may, and the subject ever so remote and antipathetic, into which a fairly cultivated and conscientious reader cannot read himself by force of endeavour; but this romance has resisted our perseverance. Disappointed by the manner in which the story is treated, we would fain find compensation in insulated passages of wit, fancy, pathos, or terror, But here, too, King Arthur' has failed us. It would have given us true pleasure to welcome a good poem from Sir E. B. Lytton's hand; but this King Arthur' is not."

The fact is, honest, impartial criticism is almost unknown in our day. The system itself

is radically vicious: authors, and not works, are reviewed; and for one instance that may be quoted of fairness and impartiality, fifty examples of injustice are everywhere apparent. Nay more, a review or journal which should depart from the common practice, and set out with the determination to steer a straightforward course, would soon find to its cost that honesty is not the best policy; and that, to insure an ordinary share of subscribers, it must compete with its contemporaries in partiality and cant. Whenever a new work of any mark makes its appearance, the few journals that are unconnected with politics, will proceed at once to review it; and, in general, you may rely on the correctness of their decisions. Not so the political journals: these, for the most part, reserve their fire till primed by the author or his friends. If the work possesses uncommon merit, it will force itself into notice despite their silence; but if it is a work of average ability, a work, in fact, which, from its very character, stands most in need of a helping hand and a fair measure of critical justice, it is either consigned to oblivion or "damned with faint praise."

There is no living author perhaps who has shown greater sensibility on the score of such criticism than Sir Bulwer Lytton himself. In

it at considerable length. One of the main causes to which he ascribes its baneful effects is the

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Anonymous;" a cause, however, which contributes but slightly to their production. No doubt, the "Anonymous" has its evils; nor, as Sir Bulwer seems to think, would these evils be diminished by the "complete veil” which such a character, thoroughly sustained, would throw around the critic. We have had but one Junius, and we are not desirous of the advent of Junius the Second. The bitter personal hostility, the insatiable rancour, the exaggerations and misstatements, which disgrace that writer's performances, would never have been carried to such an unscrupulous extent, had his real name been given to the world; had he not resolved that "his secret should perish with himself." On the other hand, the anonymous writer, whose veil is incomplete, is as good as known; and any one, upon inquiry, may learn who and what he is. If not generally known, he cannot fail to become so, sooner or later; and his fairness is in proportion to his regard for truth. Take, for example, Sir Bulwer Lytton himself, who, in the "New Tymon," a metrical satire, which he published anonymously, but with an incomplete veil, has been as just and manly, as he had been some years before in his acknowledged prose work of 'England and the English." The fact is, that a thoroughly sustained character of the "Anony

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mous," like Junius, only enables the writer to "deal damnation round the land" with thorough impunity. Recklessness then assumes the mask of sincerity, and rigour degenerates into cant. Junius, unknown, has obtained celebrity; known, he would have met with no small share of contempt.*

*Notwithstanding the diversity of opinion that still prevails on the vexed question of the authorship of the "Letters of Junius," it would be idle to deny that the greatest amount of evidence is in favour of the claim of Sir Philip Francis. That Burke was in the secret, and suggested some of the thoughts and sentiments, scattered through the "Letters," seems very probable. But everything goes to show that Francis was the writer; and that the language and style are those of the man who "wished that Burke would let him teach him English," and who insisted that "polish is material to preservation."

Among the circumstantial proofs in favour of Francis, adduced by Mr. Wade (Bohn's edition, 1850), is the particular expression so, of which he cites the following instances from the writings of Sir Philip Francis:

Sir P. Francis.-"I slave myself to death, and write and speak on instant impressions; so I am sorry if I have offended you."-Junius Identified.

Sir P. Francis to Mr. Burke, Feb. 19, 1790.-"I wish you were at the devil for giving me all this trouble; and so farewell."

Sir P. Francis, August 20, 1804." My present intention is to visit you about the 10th of next month, or perhaps a little sooner; and so, dear children, farewell." · Chatham Correspondence, vol. iv.

Mr. Wade then cites this parallel instance from Junius :

Junius.-" Pray tell me whether George Onslow means to keep his word with you;" and ends, "and so I wish you a good night."-Private Letter to Woodfall, No. 5.