that they are entirely guided by the decision of one of the fashionable Reviews. In what way these Reviews are manufactured; how far the critics are qualified to pronounce judgment; and by what motives they are actuated in the opinions they form; or at least in the opinions they express, this is not the place and opportunity to discuss at length. If the mask could be withdraun from the face of each respective critic, the decision would in most cases lose all its authority.

In former ages a man rarely ventured to become an author, unless he was at least a scholar, if not a genius. The mechanism into which the making of Books is degraded, in a corrupt and declining state of Society, now takes away all restraint from the most unqualified pretenders. The oracle, that speaks from the dark recesses of the Temple, would, were the curtain withdrawn, be often discovered to be an Ass!

It is true that the Genius, and the man of profound erudition, may yet write; and be content with the praises of the few! But who will deny that the public voice cheers and animates; and that neglect will chill or lessen the noblest and most ardent spirit! It is not by single and fitful efforts, that the greatest mind can develop its own powers !

The firmness and fortitude, which are totally un

affected by the breath of popular opinion, would be worthy of high admiration:- but where are they to be found? Yet in proportion as we disregard the decision of the mob, are we likely to be worthy of posterity! He, who writes for sale, must write for sympathy with the prejudices of the mob. People will not buy that, which contradicts their favourite opinions. Thus he, whose business is to instruct and to lead, becomes one who for base lucre flatters and confirms the errors and vile barbarous passions of those, whom he professes to undertake to enlighten and improve!

From the moment that the Press became VENAL, it has always appeared to me, that it became an evil rather than a good: and of all vocations, that of BOOK - MAKING for the sake of profit is one of the most contemptible.

We know that the Public Journals, beginning with Newpapers, are all conducted solely with a view to vendibility. What they insert has no reference to truth or justice: the choice of their matter is made by the test of what will sell most. « Licence they mean, when they cry, «Liberty ! »> For who loves that, must first be wise and good!» (1)

Refined taste is the result not merely of native sensibility; but of the most cultivated and most extensive experience. If the populace will take

[1] Milton.

nothing which does not reflect their own crude and superficial ideas and conclusions, of what avail can be literature but to cover their errors with flowers; and to give countenance to their uninformed conceit by deluding sophistries?

Providence has ordered that learning and wisdom should, like all other earthly benefits be the fruit of labour, culture, and skill. The body of the people, who are engaged in providing the necessaries of life, have not the time and opportunity to attain it. To flatter them into the reliance on their own taste and their own judg ment, is as mischievous to themselves as to the cause of erudition, philosophy, taste, genius, and rectitude of thinking!

If we admit mob-intelligence to rule, cunning will be substituted for reason; and simulation and dissimulation, for moral principle. The ties of Society are, consequently, in a rapid state of dissolution all over the world: and it is but too probable, that in less than a century «< chaos will come again!

The history of literature proves, that there never was a time when mankind were so fettered, as not to be able to call in question tenets which were really erroneous or doubtful. And that we are better reasoners or more accurate thinkers than our ancestors, the blind alone will dare to assert! In scholarship I presume that our co

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temporaries will not attempt a rivalry. In criticism they are supposed to have become more acute and more brilliant with what justice he who has read with taste upon an enlarged scale, will easily decide.

In the present day success does not depend on writing up to the scale of qualified and genuine judges: but on writing down to the standard of the multitude; and of the charlatan critics, who get their bread by pandering to their appetites! Whatever puts the common mind to shame; whatever shews its nakedness or its weakness, is rejected as unpalatable. Wit and learning are never praised, unless when they are perverted to bring into ridicule ancientlyreceived opinions.

But Truth will prevail at last. All that is sound in moral reasoning and in sentiment; all that is vigorously conceived and forcibly expressed, will make its way at last to those who are capable of appreciating its merit. The little meteors of the day will fade into oblivion; and that, which is ære perennius, will stand forth in its unclouded light. « We all remember,» says Dr. Warton, «when Churchill's Satires were more » popular, than Gray's sublime Odes! »

There was a time when ten editions of COWLEY were sold, for one of MILTON. And no poem was more popular in its day, than that piece of

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Pom

rapid and contemptible common-place. fret's Choice! How many works of the last twenty years, which were of temporary demand, have become waste paper!

Supported by these sentiments, I have hitherto pursued my path in literature firmly and resolutely. But at length the symptoms of decay have come upon me with a rapidity, which warns me that my labours are coming to an end. It is with difficulty that I have waded through the toil even of correcting the last sheets of this volume. I have stood up for long circles of years against Misfortune and Injustice: but incessant effort and incessant agitation would at length wear out a giant's frame. Debility of body brings on debility of mind: my memory is feeble, and uncertain; my attention flighty; and my fancy dim.

I must now leave what I have done to its fate. Hitherto I had always hoped that I might yet effect something more satisfactory to myself: that for what was done in hurry and despair, amends might be made in something more matured, and executed in hours of more calmness, leisure, and self-confidence. Those expected hours have, alas, never arrived! And now I am on the verge of sixty; and the day darkens; and the night is coming on; and all my toils must rest in the grave!

This is a strain, of which I am aware that my readers are in the habit of disapproving.