age is not precisely that of a person who
publishes, as an original, a translation from a printed work, as Wieland
did with his copy of Rowe's Lady Jane Grey, and Lord Byron with his copy
of the most musical lines in Goethe. The offence of Le Sage more
resembles that imputed (we sincerely believe without foundation) to
Raphael; namely, that after the diligent study of some ancient frescoes,
he suffered them to perish, in order to conceal his imitation. But we
hasten to close these reflections, which tenderness to the friend and
companion of our boyhood, and gratitude to him who has enlivened many an
hour, and added so much to our stock of intellectual happiness, forbid
us to prolong. Let those who feel that they could spurn the temptation,
in comparison with which every other that besets our miserable nature is
as dross--the praise yielded by a polished and fastidious nation to rare
and acknowledged genius--denounce as they will the infirmity of Le Sage.
But let them be quite sure, that instead of being above a motive to
which none but minds of some refinement are accessible, they are not
below it. Let them be sure that they do not take dulness for integrity,
and that the virtue, proof to intellectual triumphs, and disdaining "the
last infirmity of noble minds," would not sink if exposed to the ordeal
of a service of plate, or admission in some frivolous coterie. For
ourselves we will only say, "Amicus Plato sed magis amica veritas."

For these reasons, then, which depend on the nature of the thing, and
which no testimony can alter--reasons which we cannot reject without
abandoning all those principles which carry with them the most certain
instruction, and are the surest guides of human life--we think the main
fact contended for by M. Llorente, that is, the Spanish origin of _Gil
Blas_, undeniable; and the subordinate and collateral points of his
system invested with a high degree of probability; the falsehood of a
conclusion fairly drawn from such premises as we have pointed out would
be nearer akin to a metaphysical impossibility; and so long as the light
of every other gem that glitters in a nation's diadem is faint and
feeble when compared with the splendour of intellectual glory, Spain
will owe a debt of gratitude to him among her sons who has placed upon
her brow the jewel which France (as if aggression for more material
objects could not fill up the measure of her injustice towards that
unhappy land) has kept so