whose mealy coat no moth can corrupt nor blight can wither. The poet Keats had not this sort of protection for his person—he lay bare to weather—the serpent stung him, and the poison-tree dropped upon this little western flower:—when the mercenary servile crew approached him, he had no pedigree to show them, no rent-roll to hold out in reversion for their praise: he was not in any great man’s train, nor the butt and puppet of a lord—he could only offer them ‘the fairest flowers of the season, carnations and streaked gilliflowers,’—‘rue for remembrance and pansies for thoughts’—they recked not of his gift, but tore him with hideous shouts and laughter, ‘Nor could the Muse protect her son!’ Unless an author has an establishment of his own, or is entered on that of some other person, he will hardly be allowed to write English or to spell his own name. To be well-spoken of, he must enlist under some standard; he must belong to some _coterie_. He must get the _esprit de corps_ on his side: he must have literary bail in readiness. Thus they prop one another’s ricketty heads at M—’s shop, and a spurious reputation, like false argument, runs in a circle. Cr—k—r affirms that G—ff—rd is sprightly, and G—ff—rd that Cr—k—r is genteel: D’I— that J—c—b is wise, and J—c—b that D’I— is good-natured. A member of Parliament must be answerable that you are not dangerous or dull before you can be of the _entrée_. You must commence toad-eater to have your observations attended to; if you are independent, unconnected, you will be regarded as a poor creature. Your opinion is honest, you will say: then ten to one, it is not profitable. It is at any rate your own. So much the worse; for then it is not the world’s. T— is a very tolerable barometer in this respect. He knows nothing, hears every thing, and repeats just what he hears; so that you may guess pretty well from this round-faced echo what is said by others! Almost every thing goes by presumption and appearances. ‘Did you not think Mr. B—’s language very elegant?’—I thought he bowed very low. ‘Did you not think him remarkably well-behaved?’—He was unexceptionably dressed. ‘But were not Mr. C—’s manners quite insinuating?’—He said nothing. ‘You will at least allow his friend to be a well-informed man?’—He talked upon all subjects alike. Such would be a pretty faithful interpretation of the tone of what is called _good society_. The surface is every thing: we do not pierce to the core. The setting is more valuable than the jewel. Is it not so in other things as well as letters? Is not an R.A. by the supposition a greater man in his profession than any one who is not so blazoned? Compared with that unrivalled list, Raphael had been illegitimate, Claude not classical, and Michael Angelo admitted by special favour. What is a physician without a diploma? An alderman without being knighted? An actor whose name does not appear in great