we do not object, provided the critic deals fairly and honourably with his subject. For many years Maga has been a choice repertory of criticism; but we shall not go the length of saying that her judgments have been infallible. No individual critic that ever lived has been infallible; and in a college of critics there must needs be diversity of opinion. Maga has erred sometimes on the side of overpraise, sometimes, though much more rarely, on the side of undue depreciation; but throughout she has striven to be honest, kindly, and sincere. To be supercilious is not in her nature; though she may at times have dealt rather sharply with impostors, and indulged in a vein of humour, while noticing the efforts of worthy aspirants, which has wounded their self conceit. But never has she degraded herself by an unworthy attack; still less can it be said that she has allowed extraneous matters to influence her literary verdicts. We swear by the beard of Buchanan, that all of us have tried to hold the balance equally; and if in any instance we have failed, what wonder is it, since popular fable proclaims that, long ago, Astrea has ascended to the heavens?

The first duty of a critic is to form as near an estimate as may be of the measure of power possessed by the author whom he is reviewing. If he neglects this, his performance will be worthless, because, in art, every individual ought to be judged according to the extent of his gifts. It would be a gross error to institute a complaint between the Apollo Belvidere and the Farnese Hercules. The one is the embodiment in marble of godlike grace; the other the incarnation of physical strength. In like manner a poet may have peculiar excellencies of his own, though he is not gifted with the universality of Shakespeare, the majesty of Milton, or the nervous energy of Dryden. To try him by the standard of each or all of these would be manifestly unfair, for he is a worker in another field, and has been differently endowed. There is no analogy between the trades of the embroiderer and the blacksmith. We do not expect a display of power from the one, or delicate workmanship

performer on the flute that he is not a master of the bassoon.

We must know, or at all events endeavour to ascertain, what especial talent has been vouchsafed to a man, before we can form a just estimate of the use which he has made of it. For talent, though it may be cultivated to an almost indefinite extent, cannot be acquired-it is a gift from the Creator. No man is so universal a genius that he is not debarred by nature from certain pursuits, in which others, perhaps less gifted, can achieve distinction; and it is this diversity of talent which makes the world of art so large. Therefore we reject, as utterly spurious and unprincipled, that school of criticism which, in each branch of art, sets up a model, and judges of all new productions according to their likeness to the idol. Work may be better or worse according to the degree of labour bestowed upon it, but we are not entitled to demand impossibilities from any one.

All authors, after they have once gained possession of the public ear, are liable for the future to be tried by their own standard. This is, to a certain extent, a disadvantage; for it by no means rarely happens that the first work of an author is also his best, either because his earlier impulses have been stronger than his later ones; because, through flattery, he has been led to suppose that his measure of power is greater than it is in reality; or because he has adopted false theories of art, and so has gone astray. It may be an uncomfortable thing for a poet to shiver under the shade of his own laurels ; still there is consolation in knowing that he was the planter of the tree. There is no escape from this kind of criticism, which proceeds upon a strictly natural and correct principle, and is moreover calculated to check that intellectual drowsiness which is often the result of success. No author is the worse for being shaken rather roughly by the shoulder when he exhibits symptoms of somnolence. Nay, though he may be a little peevish at first, he will ultimately, if he is a fellow of any sense, be grateful to his monitor for having roused him from a lethargy which might be fatal to

For the application of his gifts, every author is responsible. He may exercise them well and usefully, or he may apply them to ignoble purposes. He may, by the aid of art, exhibit them in the most attractive form, or his execution may be mean and slovenly. In the one case he is deserving of praise; in the other he is liable to censure. Keeping this principle in view, we shall proceed to the consideration of this new volume from the pen of Mrs. Browning, a lady whose rare genius has already won for her an exalted place among the poets of the age. Endowed with a powerful intellect, she at least has no reason to anticipate the treatment prophesied for her literary heroine, Aurora :

Mrs. Browning takes the field like Britomart or Joan of Are, and declares that she will not accept courtesy or forbearance from the critics on account of her sex. She challenges a truthful opinion, and that opinion she shall have.

Aurora Leigh is a story of the present time in nine books. When we say a story, it must not be understood in the sense of a continuous narrative or rather poem of action, for a great portion of the work is reflective. Still there is a story which we shall trace for the information of the reader, abstaining in the mean time from comment, and not making more quotations than are necessary for its elucidation. The poem is a monologue, and the opening scene is laid in Tuscany.

The father of Aurora Leigh, an Englishman of fortune and a scholar, fell in love with a young Florentine girl, whom he first saw bearing a

The poor-club exercised her Christian gifts Of knitting stockings, stitching petticoats, Because we are of one flesh after all,

And need one flannel (with a proper sense Of difference in the quality)-and still

So Aurora began to make verses, and found herself all the better for the exercise. But there were more Leighs in the world than Aurora.

trick

Of shaking dangerous questions from the

Was act and joy enough for any bird.

the proprietor of Leigh Hall, who, even as a youth, exhibited queer tendencies:

"Romney. Romney Leigh.

This prim old lady was not exactly to Miss Aurora's mind; indeed, there was not much love lost between them, for Aunt Marjory had been sorely incensed, and with good reason, as will presently appear, at her brother's marriage with a foreigner, and never thoroughly forgave the daughter. However, she did her duty by her in her own fashion, supplementing her education by giving her instruction in such things as are usually taught to English girls, an intellectual regimen which excited the profoundest disgust in Aurora. However, she had strength enough to stand the trial, though occasionally threatening to die; and her patience was at length rewarded by finding her father's books in a garret. These she devoured furtively, and lighting upon the poets, at once perceived her Vocation.

"At last, because the time was ripe, Jchanced upon the poets. Plunges in fury, when the internal fires

As the earth Have reached and pricked her heart, and, throwing flat

And yet I used him as a sort of friend:
My elder by few years, but cold and shy
And absent -- tender, when he thought of
Which scarcely was imperauve, grave be-
it,

times,

This young gentleman, after his own odd fashion, has conceived an attachment for Aurora; nor is he an object of total indifference to her, though her mind is more occupied with versification than with love. The two characters, male and female, are meant to stand in strong contrast to each other. Romney is a Socialist, bent on devoting himself to the regeneration of mankind, and the improvement of the condition of the working classes, by carrying into ef fect the schemes of Fourier and Owen-the aim of Aurora is, through Art, to raise the aspirations of the people. The man is physical, the woman metaphysical. The one is

A

enough

To carry the whole octave (that's to prove),
Or if I fail, still, purely for myself."

Locating herself at Kensington, she begins her literary career, and achieves distinction. One day she is waited on by a certain Lady Waldemar, who gives her the astounding information that her cousin Romney, whom she had not seen for three years, is on the eve of marriage—

"To a girl of doubtful life, undoubtful birth.

Starved out in London, till her coarsegrained hands

Are whiter than her morals."

This Lady Waldemar is personally in love with Romney Leigh, and comes to ask the aid of Aurora in breaking off the ill-assorted marriage. Aurora, however, having conceived a disgust to her visitor (which is not surprising, seeing that her conversation is so flavoured with allusions to garlic, that even the Lady of Shallot would have recoiled from her

whispers), refuses to have any participation in the matter, but resolves immediately to see this girl, Marian Erle, who resides in a garret somewhere in the purlieus of St. Giles. After passing through the abominations of that quarter, and receiving the maledictions of thief and prostitute, the poetess discovers the object of her search, and hears her story. Marian Erle, the selected bride of Romney Leigh, was the daughter of a tramp and squatter on the Malvern Hills, and her education was essentially a hedge one. Her father drank and beat his wife, and the wife in turn beat her child. When Marian arrived at the age of puberty, her unnatural mother was about to sell her as a victim to the lusts of "a squire," when the girl, in horror, ran away, burst a blood-vessel in her flight, was found senseless on the road by a waggoner, and conveyed to an hospital in a neighbouring town, where Romney Leigh was a visitor. Finding that she was friendless and homeless, he procured her a place in a sowing establishment in London, which she quitted to attend the deathbed of a poor consumptive companion, who had sunk under the pressure of over-work. Here Rom

the death of her friend, proposed to marry her, fashioning his proposal thus:

While Marian is telling her story to Aurora, Romney comes in, looks certainly a little surprised at finding his cousin there, but is by no means disconcerted. Naturally enough Aurora supposes that he must be influenced by a very strong passion for the girl whom he is about to make his wife, and congratulates him, with what sincerity we need not inquire, on having made choice of so fair and gentle a creature. Romney, however, utterly denies the soft impeachment, in so far as it implies that his affections were any way engaged.

Ordinary men contract marriages from love-he is influenced by a far higher principle. He says: