In literature the corresponding case is worse. An author, passing by means of translation before a foreign people, ought _de jure_ to find himself before a new tribunal; but _de facto_, he does not. Like the opera artist, but not with the same propriety, he comes before a court that never interferes to disturb a judgment, but only to re-affirm it. And he returns to his native country, quartering in his armorial bearings these new trophies, as though won by new trials, when, in fact, they are due to servile ratifications of old ones. When Sue, or Balzac, Hugo, or George Sand, comes before an English audience--the opportunity is invariably lost for estimating them at a new angle of sight. All who dislike them lay them aside--whilst those only apply themselves seriously to their study, who are predisposed to the particular key of feeling, through which originally these authors had prospered. And thus a new set of judges, that might usefully have modified the narrow views of the old ones, fall by mere _inertia_ into the humble character of echoes and sounding-boards to swell the uproar of the original mob. In this way is thrown away the opportunity, not only of applying corrections to false national tastes, but oftentimes even to the unfair accidents of _luck_ that befall books. For it is well known to all who watch literature with vigilance, that books and authors have their fortunes, which travel upon a far different scale of proportions from those that measure their merits. Not even the caprice or the folly of the reading public is required to account for this. Very often, indeed, the whole difference between an extensive circulation for one book, and none at all for another of about equal merit, belongs to no particular blindness in men, but to the simple fact, that the one _has_, whilst the other has _not_, been brought effectually under the eyes of the public. By far the greater part of books are lost, not because they are rejected, but because they are never introduced. In any proper sense of the word, very few books are published. Technically they are published; which means, that for six or ten times they are _advertised_, but they are not made known to _attentive_ ears, or to ears _prepared_ for attention. And amongst the causes which account for this difference in the fortune of books, although there are many, we may reckon, as foremost, _personal_ accidents of position in the authors. For instance, with us in England it will do a bad book no _ultimate_ service, that it is written by a lord, or a bishop, or a privy counsellor, or a member of Parliament--though, undoubtedly, it will do an _instant_ service--it will sell an edition or so. This being the case, it being certain that no rank will reprieve a bad writer from _final_ condemnation, the sycophantic glorifier of the public fancies his idol justified; but not so. A bad book, it is true, will not be saved by advantages of position in the author; but a book moderately