One volume, miscellaneous, Bagford Collection, One volume, for the most part political, from 1641 to the end of the eighteenth century, 355 31 250 One volume in the Royal Library, relating principally to the city of London, 1659-1711, 60 In seventeen of the folios of the Thomason Collection of 266 In three volumes, relating respectively to coffee and coffeehouses, the events of the time of Charles II., and the Union with Ireland, 38 2420 Deducting 120 for duplicates, the library of the British Museum possesses at least 2300 broadside ballads, exclusive of second parts. The time, we understand, is near at hand, when this rich mass of ballad literature will be brought together, and so arranged that those who consult it may be enabled to ascertain its contents with as little trouble and loss of time as the nature of such a collection will permit. We can likewise state, with tolerable certainty, that it is in contemplation to draw up a separate catalogue of the ballads. Such a catalogue would form of itself an extremely amusing work, and present a very striking picture of the various changes of the public mind, particularly in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. It was with much pleasure that we read an advertisement of "A Book of Roxburge Ballads, by Mr. Payne Collier." No one so competent to do justice to the task; and we look forward to the "Book" Mr. Collier promises as likely to afford the public such an idea of the Roxburghe Ballads, as a whole, as occasional extracts, however carefully made, can never give. 1 ART. III.-The Works of Walter Savage Landor. Two vols. 8vo. London, 1846. EVERY author may be regarded as possessing two characters. He is a natural phenomenon, and he is a responsible agent. As the first, he is a subject for observation and philosophical induction. As the second, he is a subject for trial and judgment. Of these two kinds of scrutiny, our purpose in the first is like our purpose in observing any flower or animal-to ascertain its properties and its habits, in order to gratify our curiosity, and also to deduce from them such conclusions as may be warrantable regarding the nature of which it is a specimen. Our purpose in the second is to determine how far he, as a possessor of a faculty of self-development and self-modification, has acted well or illwhether he is praiseworthy or blameworthy for what he is, and what he has done, and whether his fellow-men should look on him as a model to be copied or a beacon to be shunned. The best species of criticism is that which accomplishes both kinds of examination, which does the one, and leaves not the other undone. First, there should be made an exact inspection of the phenomenon or thing to distinguish and classify it: Next should follow an impartial appreciation of the merits and demerits of the person or author. Not that in the review there need be any formal and visible succession of these topics, but that, while the subject is handled in the manner most natural to the critic, and conducive to the end in view, he should have constantly in his thoughts the distinction between the author as a social or natural phenomenon, and as a candidate for honour. It has, perhaps, been too much the way of critics in this country to consider authors in one only of these their aspects. Till a period comparatively recent, critics have devoted themselves almost wholly to the business of trying authors at their judgment seat, enquiring only how far they conformed to, or deviated from, the standard of literary perfection. To do this well, it was of course essential to know the characteristics of the individual on trial; and for that purpose, he was surveyed and examined. But the examination was limited to the points necessary for its specific end, and its results were not made use of for any purpose beside it. No thought was bestowed upon the fact of such an author having appeared at such a time and in such a place-no pains to ascertain what it was in nature, or in society, or in his particular circumstances, that made him what he was; no attempt to tell of what he was significant in regard to the past, or what he prognosticated in regard to the future. Even the force or power of genius displayed by him attracted for itself little attentionfor if it had been exerted in violation of rule, it was regarded as a thing of no account,-insomuch, that even that of Shakespeare himself could sometimes obtain no more honourable notice than a brief exclamation of wonder at its strength, followed by a lamentation over the misuse and waste which had been made of it. Of late years, again, criticism, exemplifying the usual law of revulsion, has, so to speak, rioted on the food for which it had formerly a distaste. Now-a-days, the chief attention is bestowed on what are, perhaps, rather the philosophical than the strictly literary properties and significancies of authorship. The examination made of a writer has reference almost exclusively to his phenomenal character; and while the first pains are taken to measure his force and ascertain its manner of action, the next are bestowed on investigating the social influences that have fostered and given to it its particular bias, and in drawing such conclusions regarding the people among whom it has appeared, or regarding the human nature in general, as the peculiarities of the manifestation may seem to warrant. Engrossed by their solicitude respecting these topics, critics give but little thought to the other business of their function, that of taking cognizance of the merit of authors, considered as workmen in a manufactory of the beautiful. Some, indeed, seem to be ignorant that they have such business to do. And some who know better their part, perform it in a manner worse than not at all. They give an implied denial to the accuracy of the old distinction between the natural and the beautiful. Teaching that every development of nature is admirable, (which is not true of the moral creation,) they stand prepared to approve all the manifestations of the intellectual power, even the commonest and humblest,-while those that are novel and extraordinary, they welcome with demonstrations of delight. That the new phenomenon is wholly without gracefulness, that his movements are uncouth and lawless, that he is bizarre, contorted, and monstrous, matters nothing to them. They either do not perceive it, or perceiving, do not suffer it to lessen their admiration-for they have trained their minds to regard the productions of nature in the intellectual world, with the same reverential admiration which they yield to her works in the physical creation. And just as they do not presume to censure a nettle because there are roses, or a common pebble because there are diamonds, but, on the contrary, think the one displays the power, skill, and wisdom of nature as admirably as the other; so of intellectual manifestations they will blame no one whatever, provided it be truly natural, have a real spirit of life in it, and be. not a mere affectation and pretence. The result has been, on the part of some critics, the almost complete abdication of the censorial office, and the restriction of themselves to the business of noting, describing, and applauding the feats of every new entrant upon the literary arena-while the entrants themselves, aware of this, and knowing, too, that novelty and energy carry off the largest share of honour, are tempted into playing tricks of contortion and other unworthy artifices,-for in no way can they so easily attain the first merit, which is novelty, or so generally acquire a reputation for superior power, seeing that most men lazily take those manifestations of intellect to be great which are unusual; although, in truth, they are often the offspring of weakness in all the better qualities in union with some vigour in ingenuity. But such critics and their disciples are clearly in the wrong. The good old plan of calling authors before the judgment-seat must not be abandoned. The cause of truth, and beauty, and decency, must be upheld, and falsehood, deformity, and all the foul brood of indecorum scourged out of the precincts of literature. At the same time, we may doubt whether the rules of the old criticism were not too severe and narrow. These were founded upon the experience of one literature, the earliest of the civilized world, and the producer of indisputably the highest style of beauty hitherto attained. For a long time it was believed that no higher was possible, and it may be that this opinion will at last prove true. Meantime, however, it is allowable to suspect that, inasmuch as the social state in which that literature was developed was imperfect, some parts of man's nature, both intellectual and moral, having been there either dormant or suppressed, the ideas of the beautiful among its cultivators may have been, if not imperfect, yet not of so high an order as man is able to conceive. And we may hope that such possible conceptions of surpassing grace will reveal themselves in some age yet to come, when genius will fashion into forms nobler than any heretofore beheld, the whole elements, whether old and known, or new and just brought to light by man's progress in civilization, of the sublime and beautiful. Impressed with some such expectation, the true critic keeps his mind, as it were, awake to recognize, and his hand open to embrace, whatever new impersonation of the beautiful in literature the time may send us. With this view, he is more cautious in his judgments, less dogmatic in his opinions, less scornful in his censures than was once the habit of his profession; and he looks even upon the vagaries and licenses of aspirants to literary fame with an indulgence which amounts sometimes to a hurtful encouragement, because he is afraid lest severity to faults, however just in itself, should repress the advance of some timid beauty lying beneath, and needing the sunshine of approbation for the unfolding of its charms. These reflections have been suggested by the author before us, we cannot well say how, unless it be by something in his manner which reminds us of the old times and of the new, which carries back our thoughts to the classic masters, yet ever makes us feel that this is a genuine son of the present day. It is now, we believe, nearly half a century since Mr. Walter Savage Landor made his first appearance as an author. He has ventured forth in the same character repeatedly since, and has always attracted the notice, not indeed of the whole populace of literature, but of a respectable number of the more studious and thoughtful among them. And some may think it affords a presumption, that although wanting in the qualities that command instant applause from the popular crowd, he yet is endowed with superior merit, to find that time which commonly lessens, and ere long extinguishes more rapid reputations, is acting otherways by him. Of the lights which are every year thrown up into the firmament of literature, most part blaze but for an instant, few burn through the space of a season; but of those, if there be any, which have a perennial fire, and a heavenly buoyancy, it is the lot to seem to be growing in splendour, and mounting in station as time advances; for, at every step which the world takes from the spot whence they ascended, their altitude becomes more apparent, while their fires are no longer dimmed by the glare of the transient meteors that infest the lower atmosphere, but glow each of them apart and aloft in the clear dark heavens, fixing the gaze of countless myriads in place of the few who watched their rising. Whether from possessing this starry virtue, or whether from some other cause, Mr. Landor seems now to be acquiring among a circle, compared with which his earlier admirers were but a handful, the reputation of being one of the luminaries of this æra. Proofs of this may be seen in the many and laudatory notices taken of his works by the organs of the literary public, whose praise is the more remarkable because of their previous censures. A more unequivocal proof is this bulky republication of his collected works, for it seems to intimate that they are becoming in the opinion of the lovers of our literature one of those books which libraries cannot be without. If he be truly worthy of the enviable station of a classic, let him have it. He will take it if he deserve it. We have a deep reverence for public opinion in every department; believing, that although a foolish multitude may dictate the cry of the hour, the ultimate verdict of society is according to the judgment of the right-minded and wise. It may be questioned, however, whether it has as yet been fairly made up and pronounced in regard to Mr. Landor. It seems rather to be still in the process |