the laws and institutions of the country," may be very widely different from those of the founder of Pantisocracy? Both of these writers would be most desirable members of such a body; but how can both be elected and the society preserve a unity of design, and amalgamate individuals so diametrically opposite in principle? But, allowing the society to be at present unconnected with politics, it cannot long remain so; and shall we not, by and by, see it exert the same sort of influence that we have seen rule similar institutions, both in this and other countries-we certainly shall. It may safely be averred, that at no very distant period writers of the greatest learning and the most brilliant genius would fail of success, were they to be candidates for admission, not being of the political state party governing at the time. The experience of the past has uniformly shewn this to be the case, and it is natural it should be so where bishops and judges direct. But what have objects purely literary, to which such societies should be confined, to do with political opinions? Neither Milton, nor Marvel, nor Sidney, could be members of such a body; but Cibber and Settle might. What then becomes of the integrity of an institution, that, under the mask of supporting literature, is the concealed prop of a political party, and excludes from its advantages for causes which have no connexion with the ostensible object of its establishment. This having been uniformly the case in bodies similarly constituted, there must indeed be saving virtue, in the present society, if it be exempt from such mischief in a country where party runs so high. Other academies have been founded with as fair professions as the present, by those who have well understood the advantage of maintaining an ascendancy over literary men, of arranging them on their side of a question, and of using them as a shield in contests totally unconnected with literary matters. The very laws and rules of such societies have been generally pernicious to ge nius; being grounded on the theory of the schoolmen of past times and the pedantry of monkish colleges, they have proved uncongenial to that portion of literature which is truly generous, and would now only tend to retard that freedom of thought which is increasing from the wider diffusion of knowledge, rendered permanent by the art of printing. A literary society, properly so called, should hold forth no qualification or disqualification as to members, but what was purely literary; yet the spirit of societies both of literature and art have never exhibited this consistency. Raphael himself would suffer to-morrow the fate of Barry in the English Academy of Painting, were he a living member and equally imprudent in the use of an hasty expression;-but what mischief would such an exclusion do to Raphael in his art? his pencil would be as graceful as ever, and his Paintings as much admired. It is precisely the same in an Academy of Literature, that forgets its genuine object to display its impotent resentment for offences unconnected with its control. But the strenuous advocates of the society have said that the great object in view is to "render the pursuit of literature honourable in itself and beneficial in its results to society." And this it proposes to achieve by giving a hundred a year to twenty writers whom the society may ́ judge entitled to the same! Men cannot be rendered more honourable by being made more dependent; this is not the way to attain the object, nor will any society in this country, however respectable in rank, render the pursuit of literature more honourable than it is at present or more beneficial in its results. Our literature is formed;, our writers that are worthy of it are well supported, and stand high in the public esteem. The society may have a high opinion of the merits of one production, not a dozen copies of which may be sold; while another quite heterodox according to its perspicuous decisions, may be returning wealth and fame to the author. How in such a case can the society help itself, or talk of its foresight and infallibility in literary affairs amid a frequent recurrence of such instances, and what will the world think of them? As to any thing it can effect for the national literature, we are equally in the dark. The literature of England cannot stand on higher ground than it occupies at present; the works of the society in this respect will be works of supererogation. It cannot compile a better Dictionary than Johnson's, or Todd's Johnson; still less can it improve our lexicography; it must first take high ground in the opinion of the nation, and establish itself at the summit of British literature de facto, before it can become an example to be copied. It cannot engross all the genius of the country, nor adequately reward it; this must still be left to the public. It cannot fix a standard of taste in language; the best authors must always be the efficient guides in this respect; and a free nation will not suffer improvement to be at a stand. It cannot mark out new subjects for the higher class of writers; this must be left to individual fancy and feeling. In short, its honorary donations can only act as incitements to young writers, who have still to learn that their most valuable reward, as regards repu, tation, is to be obtained through the public, and the highest pecuniary advantage through their bookseller. on But the society is not to be supported entirely by government, but also by private subscription. Subscribers are to be considered Fellows, so at least it appears from the proceedings published. From these fellows the officers and council are chosen, and by them will every matter of importance ultimately be decided. Numbers who may become subscribers will be eager to get their money's worth of interference in the transactions of the society. Sir Wm. Curtis, for example, laying aside the study of Mrs. Rundle for that of a less palatable, but somewhat higher, order of reading, may, with the Bishop of one hand, and Mr. Deputy Kilderkin on the other, assiste, as the French say, at the deliberations on the merits of the candidates for the medals. Even the Lord Chancellor himself may be seated vis à vis with Liston, and shaking his ambrosial curls in the terrors of judicial procrastination over a work of doubtful merit, postpone the consideration of the unhappy author's doom to another meeting. Can such be a state of things to which writers of celebrity will submit, when the tribunal of the nation is open to them, and may it not be boldly pronounced that the road to reputation will be still found to lie that way? The establishment of the society tends also to the contraction and narrowness of every thing connected with literary pursuits. Till now, an English author had "the world before him where to choose" his guides and supporters; yet soon, if the society can become paramount, he must not look beyond its pale. The spirit of our literature must be subdued and reined in; it must proceed only by measured steps; no noble action and graceful curvetting must be tolerated; but the laws of the manège must restrain every grace "beyond the reach of art," every motion of which the rusty curb of the College forbids the use. In a Royal Academy of Literature all the members should be literary men of some celebrity, to be qualified for the business for which they are embodied. Fortunately, the society's influence over the public mind, to any great extent, is not very likely to happen, and therefore much evil need not be dreaded from its anathemas by writers independent of it, should they still continue "neutral, or adverse to the `service of the country." Even our Royal Academy of Painting consists of artists; but that of Literature will be essentially composed of subscribers. A Lord Chief Justice out of his place in court is generally but a negative sort of a personage, as a literary umpire more especially. The spirit of lawyers and literary men is as opposite as the poles. Perhaps it is thought a sufficient qualification for a member to have had a certain quantum of Greek and Latin flogged into him in his school-days, and to have kept terms at College. If so, we may congratulate ourselves on our hereditary literati, as a German academy did once on its hereditary mathematicians; thus we have, at last, a royal road to literature. This absurdity is self-evident; but if we must have such a society, let it be openly formed on the principle of absolute power, now so much in vogue in Europe, and well calculated to fetter the mind and make it subservient to its dictates. It is better that Government should at once nominate forty individuals (the Bourbon complement for a literary academy,) and consign over to them the exclusive practice of literary affairs, as it has consigned physic to the academy in Warwick Lane. None should publish a book without a diploma from the legitimate forty; fixed rules should be acted upon in writing tragedy, comedy, history, &c. Then, by rigidly enforcing the execution of this law, letters would speedily descend to so low a level that they would cease to occupy public attention, and no longer excite the apprehensions of our Holy Allies. There is a very un-English feeling abroad, that, instead of showing liberality and expansion of mind, seeks to circumscribe every thing by arbitrary control. Our literary renown owes nothing to dogmas or academicians; though occasionally coloured at times too much by a reigning fashion, it was ever free as air-its coruscations had an unbounded space in which to radiate, and owed their splendours to nature, not to the pyrotechnical displays of the laboratory. The support of an academy to our literature in its present state, is that of a reed propping a flourishing oak. The French had scarcely any literature before the foundation of their academy, and therefore there is no similarity in the two cases, nor is it desirable there should be any. We shall soon discover that if this institution do not fall to pieces of itself, it will become a mere thing of party, and that the best introduction to it will be through the minister's closet-it will become the rallying point of his supporters, and will enlarge the sphere of meanness, corruption, and intrigue. We have many writers at present, and there will then be a rapid accumulation of them, that will use the pen on any side and for any party, or for all, if they find it conducive to their private interests, however opposite it may be to the dictates of their consciences. By such the honours and emoluments of the institution will be engrossed, when those who have at present contributed to establish it with pure views and intentions shall have passed away. It is evident that the means such a society must first adopt, to give it a chance of obtaining influence over the public mind, are, to place itself at the head of the literature of the country, and to unite the best and most popular authors in its support. Mere labourers in the Classical Journal, plodding students, and commentators on ancient text for the thousandth time, no, not even a dozen profound scholars, with the Bishop of Peterborough, and his hundred inquisitorial questions at their head, will make the society succeed without effecting this. The popular authors must unite with the society, or it will never be looked up to. Mere University Grecians will do little for it with the world at large. It must exhibit on its rolls the nobler intellects and higher spirits of the age, or it will remain a secondary thing-a body without a soul-an inefficient name, laborious in microcosmic exertion, and imbecile in the midst of swelling profession. But it is not to be expected that these great names will be recorded on the books of the society. Each feels conscious of his strength, and sees no necessity, nor useful object, in compromising himself with any set of individuals, whose intentions, however good, are characterised by utter destitution of the means which can insure any beneficial consequences to literature from their union. Minds of great power are too independent, and are seldom social enough for such an object; nor will they sacrifice the enjoyment of feeling themselves unrestrained, and descend from their higher studies and flights of fancy to the circumscribed and petty regulations, useless detail, and unmeaning formalities, that give the proceedings of such institutions the appearance of downright frivolity. Medals and prizes may do for scholars and students, but they are of no estimation in the eyes of him who is desirous of earning lasting fame, and whose powers are put forth in vigorous exercise in contending for a far higher reward. The new Royal Society is even objectionable if it contribute to make a portion only of our literature dependent upon it. Its twenty authors must be governed and guided by the fellows, and if they possess sufficient merit in the public eye to be noticed, they will be instrumental, as far as they go, in cramping independence. Our literature is a "chartered libertine," and the attempt to subjugate any part of it to the control of an incorporated body of men may have had its origin simply in a misguided zeal for the benefit of literature, or it may have arisen from the concealed desire to subject it to a species of control which may check its present incorrigible repugnance to be the creature of courtiers, and the instrument of that submissive and debasing spirit which is so rife in the world at present, and which, whether denominated the cause of social order or of the Holy Alliance, is equally unworthy the present times, and degrading to beings gifted with the faculty of reason. From whichever of these causes the Society dates its beginning, it would naturally bear the same aspect of good intention, but it cannot eventually effect good, or promote, in any material degree, the welfare of mankind. The enlightened state of the public mind will, in our day, however, be one of the best antidotes to any evils that may be caused by such an institution. The number of those who reflect, and of those who will watch with jealousy its proceedings and scrutinize them minutely, is very great. A British Academy of Literature, to have succeeded, should have been formed two centuries ago; it is now too late for it to grasp the control of our literature; and yet how fortunate for the Nation that it escaped without possessing such an institution! . Oh! youthful days, for ever past, Scenes of my youth! ye stand array'd Once more, ye native vales and hills! The waters of my native rills That murmur music in mine ear I taste the coolness of the bowers That oft my youthful feet have haunted I scent the fragrance of the flowers That erst my youthful hands have planted GUARIN |