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and their own dispositions; and if their painter was defi
cient in originality, it was not the fault of this academy, so
much as of the academician. In difficult doubts they had
recourse to Lodovico, whom Lanzi describes in his school
like Homer the Greeks, fons ingeniorum profound
among
in every painting. Even the recreations of the pupils were
contrived to keep their mind and hand in exercise; in their
walks sketching landscapes from nature, or amusing them-
selves with what the Italians call Caricatura, a term of
large signification; for it includes many sorts of grotesque
inventions, whimsical incongruities, such as those ara-
besques found at Herealaneum, where Anchises, Eneas,
and Ascanius, are buriosqued by heads of apes and pigs,
or Arion, with a grotesque motion, is straddling a great
trout; or like that ludicrous parody which came from the
hand of Tutan, in a playful hour, when he sketched the
Laocoon whose three figures consist of
apes. Anmbale
had a peculiar facility in these incongruous inventions, and
even the severe Leonardo da Vinci considered them as
useful exercises.

Such was the academy founded by the Caracci; and
Lodovico lived to realize his project in the reformation of
art, and witnessed the school of Bologna tlourishing afresh
when all the others had fallen. The great masters of this
Such
last epoch of Italian painting were their pupils.
were Domenichino, who according to the expression of
Bellor, delinea gli animi, colorisce la vita; he drew the
soul and coloured life.* A bano, whose grace distinguish-
es him as the Anacreon of painting, Guido, whose touch
was all beauty and delicacy, and, as Passeri delightfully
expresses it, whose faces came from Paradise ;'t a scholar
of whom his master became jealous, while Annibale, to
depress Guido, patronized Demenichino; and even the
wise Lodovico could not dissimulate the fear of a new com-
petitor in a pupil, and to mortify Guido, preferred Guerci-
no, who trod in another path. Lanfranco closes this glo-
rious list, whose freedom and grandeur for their full display
required the ample field of some vast history.

The secret history of this Accademia forms an illustration for that chapter on Literary Jealousy' which I have written in The Literary Character.' We have seen even the gentle Lodovico infected by it; but it raged in the breast of Annibale. Careless of fortune as they were through life, and freed from the bonds of matrimony, that they might wholly devote themselves to all the enthusiasm of their art, they lived together in the perpetual intercourse of their thoughts; and even at their meals laid on their table their crayons and their papers, so that any motion or gesture which occurred, as worthy of picturing, was instantly sketched. Annibale caught something of the critical taste of Agostino, learned to work more slowly, and to finish with more perfection, while his inventions were enriched by the elevated thoughts and erudition of Agostino. Yet a circumstance which happened in the academy betraved the mordacity and envy of Annibale at the superior While accomplishments of his more learned brother. Agostino was describing with great eloquence the beauties of the Laocoon, Annibale approached the wall, and snatching up his crayons, drew the marvellous figure with such perfection, that the spectators gazed on it in aston ishment. Alluding to his brother's lecture, the proud artist disdainfully observed, Poets paint with words, but painters only with their pencils.'*

The brothers could neither live together nor endure absence. Many years their life was one continual struggle and mortification; and Agostino often sacrificed his genius to pacify the jealousy, of Annibale, by relinquishing his pallet to resume those exquisite engravings, in which he corrected the faulty outlines of the masters whom he copied, so that his engravings are more perfect than their originals. To this unhappy circumstance, observes Lanzi, we must attribute the loss of so many noble compositions which otherwise Agostino, equal in genius to the other Caraccis, had left us. The jealousy of Annibale, at length for ever tore them asunder. Lodovico happened not to be with them when they were engaged in painting together the Farnesian gallery at Rome. A rumour spread that in their present combined labour the engraver had excelled the painter. This Annibale could not forgive; he raved at the bite of the serpent: words could not mollify, nor kindness anv longer appease that purturbed spirit; neither the humiliating forbearance of Agostino, the counsels of

Bellori, Le Vite de Pittori, &c,
Passeri, Vite de Pittori.
D' Argenville, IL. 26.

the wise, nor the mediation of the great. They separated for ever! a separation in which they both languished, till Agostino, broken hearted, sunk into an early grave, and Annibale, now brotherless, lost half his genius; his great invention no longer accompanied him-for Agostino was not by his side!* After suffering many vexations, and preyed on by his evil temper, Annibale was deprived of

his senses.

AN ENGLISH ACADEMY OF LITERATURE. We have Royal Societies for Philosophers, for Antiquaries, and for Artists-none for Men of Letters! The lovers of philological studies have regretted the want of an asylum since the days of Anne, when the establishment of an English Academy of Literature was designed; but political changes occurred which threw out a literary administration. France and Italy have gloried in great national academies, and even in provincial ones. With us the curious history and the fate of the societies at Spalding, Stamford, and Peterborough, whom their zealous founder lived to see sink into country clubs, is that of most of our rural attempts at literary academies! The Manchester Society has but an ambiguous existence, and that of Exeter expired in its birth. Yet that a great purpose may be obtained by an inconsiderable number, the history of the Society for the Encouragement of Arts, Manufac tures,' &c, may prove; for that originally consisted only of twelve persons brought together with great difficulty, and neither distinguished for their ability nor their rank.

The opponents to the establishment of an academy in this country may urge, and find Bruyere on their side, that no corporate body generates a single man of genius; no Milton, no Hume, no Adam Smith will spring out of an academical community, however they may partake of one common labour. Of the fame, too, shared among the many, the individual feels his portion too contracted, besides that he will often suffer by comparison. Literature, with us, exists independent of patronage or association.We have done well without an academy; our dictionary and our style bave been polished by individuals, and not by a society.

The advocates for such a literary institution may reply, that in what has been advanced against it, we may perhaps find more glory than profit. Had an academy been established in this country, we should have possessed all our present advantages with the peculiar ones of such an institution. A series of volumes composed by the learned of England, had rivalled the precious Memoirs of the French Academy; probably more philosophical, and more congenial to our modes of thinking! The congregating spirit creates by its sympathy; an intercourse exists be tween its members, which had not otherwise occurred; in this attrition of minds the torpid awakens, the timid is embol dened, and the secluded is called forth; to contradict, and to be contradicted, is the privilege and the source of knowledge. Those original ideas, hints and suggestions which some literary men sometimes throw out, once or twice during their whole lives, might here be preserved; and if endowed with sufficient funds. there are important labours, which surpass the means and industry of the individual, which would be more advantageously formed by such literary unions.

An academy of literature can only succeed by the same means in which originated all such academies-among individuals themselves! It will not be by the favour of the MANY, but by the wisdom and energy of the FEW.' It is not even in the power of Royalty to create at a word what can only be formed by the co-operation of the workmen themselves, and of the great taskmaster, Time!

Such institutions have sprung from the same principle, and have followed the same march. It was from a private meeting that The French Academy' derived its origin; and the true beginners of that celebrated institution assuredly had no foresight of the object to which their conferences tended. Several literary friends of Paris, finding the extent of the city occasioned much loss of

Mr Fuseli describes the gallery of the Farnese palace as a work of uniform vigour of execution, which nothing can equal but its imbecility and incongruity of conception. This deficiency in Annibale was always readily supplied by the taste and learning of Agostino; the vigour of Annibale was deficient both in sensibility and correct invention.

+ Long after this article was composed, a Royal Academy of Literature has been projected; with the state of its existence, I am unacquainted. It has occasioned no alteration in these reDearches.

Tune in their visits, agreed to meet on a fixed day every week, and chose Courat's residence as centrical. They tnet for the purposes of general conversation, or to walk together, or, what was not least social, to partake in some refreshing collation. All being literary men, those who were authors subinitted their new works to this friendly Society, who, without jealousy or malice, freely communicated their strictures; the works were improved, the authors were delighted, and the critics were honest! Such was the happy life of the members of this private society during three or four years. Pelisson, the earliest historian of the French Academy, has delightfully described it: 'It was such that now, when they speak of these first days of the academy, they call it the golden age, during which, with the innocence and freedom of that fortunate period, without pomp and noise, and without any other laws than those of friendship they enjoyed together all which a society of minds, and a rational life, can yield of whatever softens and charms.'

They were happy, and they resolved to be silent; nor was this bond and compact of friendship violated, till one of them, Malleville, secretary of Marshal Bassompiere, being anxious that his friend Faret, who had just printed his L'Honnete Homme, which he had drawn from the famous Il Cortigiano' of Castiglione, should profit by all their opinions, procured his admission to one of their conferences; Faret presented them with his book, heard a great deal concerning the nature of his work, was charmed by their literary communications, and returned home ready to burst with the secret. Could the society hope that others would be more faithful than they had been to themselves? Faret happened to be one of those lighthearted men who are communicative in the degree in which they are grateful, and he whispered the secret to Des Marets and to Boisrobert. The first, as soon as he heard of such a literary senate, used every effort to appear before them and read the first volume of his Ariane Boisrobert, a man of distinction, and a common friend to them all, could not be refused an admission; he admired the frankness of their mutual criticisms. The society besides, was a new object; and his daily business was to furnish an amusing story to his patron Richelieu. The cardinal minister

was very literary, and apt to be so hipped in his hours of retirement, that the physician declared, that all his drugs were of no avail, unless his patient mixed with them a drachm of Boisrobert.' In one of those fortunate moments, when the cardinal was in the vein,' Boisrobert painted, with the warmest hues, this region of hterary felicity, of a small, happy society formed of critics and authors! The minister, who was ever considering things in that particular aspect which might tend to his own glory, instantly asked Boisrobert, whether this private meeting would not like to be constituted a public body, and establish itself by letters patent, offering them his protection. "The flatterer of the minister was overjoyed, and executed the important mission; but not one of the members shared in the rapture, while some regretted an honour which would only disturb the sweetness and familiarity of their intercourse. Malleville, whose master was a prisoner in the Bastile, and Serisay, the intendant of the Duke of Rochefoucault, who was in disgrace at court, loudly protested, in the style of an opposition party, agamst the protection of the minister; but Chapelain, who was known to have no party-interests, argued so clearly, that he left them to infer that Richelieu's offer was a command; that the cardinal was a minister who willed not things by halves; and was one of those very great men who avenge any contempt shown to them, even on such little men as themselves! In a word, the dogs bowed their necks to the golden collar. However, the appearance, if not the reality, of freedom was left to them; and the minister allowed them to frame their own constitution, and elect their own magistrates and citizens in this infant and illustrious republic of literature. The history of the further establishment of the French academy is elegantly narrated by Pelisson. The usual difficulty occurred of fixing on a title; and they appear to have changed it so often, that the academy was at first addressed by more than one title; Academie des beaux Esprits; Academie de l'Eloquence; Academie Eminente, in allusion to the quality of the cardinal, its protector Desirous of avoiding the extravagant and mystifying titles of the Italian academies,* they fixed on the most unaffected, 'L'Academie Française; but though the national geni* See an article' On the ridiculous titles assumed by the Ita. lian Academics,' in this volume

us may disguise itself for a moment, it cannot be entirely got rid of, and they assumed a vaunting device of a laurel wreath, including their epigraph a l'Immortalite.' The academy of Petersburgh has chosen a more enlightened inscription Paulatim (little by little,') so expressive of the great labours of man-even of the inventions of genius!

Such was the origin of L'Academie Française; it was long a private meeting before it became a public institu tion. Yet, like the Royal Society, its origin has been at tributed to political motives, with a view to divert the attention from popular discontents; but when we look into the real origin of the French Academy, and our Royal Soci ety, it must be granted, that if the government either in France or England ever entertained this project, it came to them so accidentally that at least we cannot allow them the merit of profound invention. Statesmen are often considered by speculative men in their closets to be mightier wonder-workers than they often prove to be.

Were the origin of the Royal Society inquired into, it might be justly dated a century before its existence: the real founder was Lord Bacon, who planned the ideal institution in his philosophical romance of the New Atlanus! This notion is not fanciful, and it was that of its first founders, as not only appears by the expression of old Aubrey, when alluding to the commencement of the society, he adds, secundum mentem Domini Baconi; but by a rare print designed by Evelyn, probably for a frontispiece to Bishop Sprat's history, although we seldom find the print in the volume. The design is precious to a Grangerite, exhibiting three fine portraits. On one side is represented a library, and on the table lie the statutes, the journals, and the mace of the Royal Society; on its opposite side are suspended numerous philosophical instruments; centre of the print is a column, on which is placed a bust of Charles II, the patron; on each side whole lengths of Lord Brouncker, the first president, and Lord Bacon, as the founder, inscribed Artium Instaurator. The graver of Hollar has preserved this happy intention of Evelyn's, which exemplifies what may be called the continuity and genealogy of genius, as its spirit is perpetuated by its suc

cessors.

in the

When the fory of the civil wars had exhausted all parties, and a breathing time from the passions and madness of the age allowed ingenious men to return once more to their forsaken studies, Bacon's vision of a philosophical society appears to have occupied their reveries. It charmed the fancy of Cowley and Milton; but the politics and religion of the times were still possessed by the same frenzy, and divinity and politics were unanimously agreed to be utterly proscribed from their inquiries. On the subject of religion they were inore particularly alarmed, not only at the time of the foundation of the society, but at a much later period, when under the direction of Newton himself. Even Bishop Sprat, their first historian, observed, that they have freely admitted men of different religions, coun tries, and professions of life; not to lay the foundation of an English, Scotch, Irish, popish, or protestant philosophy, but a PHILOSOPHY OF MANKIND.' A curious protest of the most illustrious of philosophers may be found: when the Society for promoting Christian Knowledge' were desirous of holding their meetings at the honse of the Royal Society, Newton drew up a number of arguments against their admission. One of them is, that 'It is a fundamental rule of the society not to meddle with religion; and the reason is, that we may give no occasion to religious bodies to meddle with us.' Newton would not even comply with their wishes, lest by this compliance the Royal Society might dissatisfy those of other religions.' The wisdom of the protest by Newton is as admirable as it is remarka ble, the preservation of the Royal Society from the pas sions of the age.

It was in the lodgings of Dr Wilkins in Wadham College, that a small philosophical club met together, which proved to be, as Aubrey expresses it, the incunalsla of the Royal Society. When the members were dispersed about London, they renewed their meetings first at a tavern, then at a private house; and when the society be came too great to be called a club, they assembled m'the parlour' of Gresham College, which itself had been raised by the munificence of a citizen who endowed it liberally, and presented a noble example to the individuals now as sembled under its roof. The society afterwards derived its title from a sort of accident. The warm lovalty of Evelyn in the first hopeful days of the Restoration, in his dedicatory epistle of Naudé's treatise on libraries, called

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that philosophical meeting the Royal Society. These learned men immediately voted their thanks to Evelyn for the happy designation, which was so grateful to Charles II, who was hinseif a virtuoso of the day, that the charter was soon granted: the king, declaring himself their founder, sent them a mace of silver gilt, of the same fashion and bigness as those carried before his majesty, to be borne before the president on meeting days.' To the zeal of Evelyn the Royal Society owe no inferior acquisition to its uile and its mace; the noble Arundelian library, the rare literary accumulation of the noble Howards; the last possessor of which had so little inclination for books, that the treasures which his ancestors had collected lay open at the mercy of any purloiner. This degenerate heir to the literature and the name of Howard seemed perfectly rehieved when Evelyn sent his marbles which were perishing in his gardens, to Oxford, and his books which were diminishing daily, to the Royal Society!

The Society of Antiquaries might create a deeper interest, could we penetrate to its secret history: it was interrupted, and suffered to expire, by some obscure cause of political jealousy. It long ceased to exist, and was only reinstated almost in our own days. The revival of learn. ing under Edward VI, suffered a severe check from the papistical government of Mary; but under Elizabeth a happier era opened to our literary pursuits. At this period several students of the inns of court, many of whose names are illustrious for their rank or their genius, formed a weekly society, which they called the Antiquaries' College. From very opposite quarters we are furnished with many curious particulars of their literary intercourse: it is delightful to discover Rawleigh borrowing manuscripts from the library of Sir Robert Cotton, and Selden deriving his studies from the collections of Rawleigh. Their mode of proceeding has even been preserved. At every meeting they proposed a question or two respecting the history or the antiquities of the English nation, on which each member was expected, at the subsequent meeting, to deliver a dissertation or an opinion. They also ' supped together.' From the days of Atheneus to those of Dr Johnson, the pleasures of the table have enlivened those of literature. A copy of each question and a summons for the place of conference were sent to the absent members. The opinions were carefully registered by the secretary, and the dissertations deposited in their archives. One of these summonses to Stowe, the antiquary, with his memoranda on the back, exists in the Ashmolean Museum. I shall preserve it with all its verbal arugo:

Society of Antiquaries.

To Mr Stowe,

The place appointed for a conference upon the question followinge ys att Mr Garter's house, on Fridaye the 11th of this November, 1598, being Al Soules daye, at 11 of the clocke in the afternoone, where your oppinioun in wrytinge or otherwise is expected.

The question is,

Of the antiquitie, etimologie, and priviledges of parishes in Englande.

Yt ys desyred that you give not notice hereof to any, but such as have the like somons.'

Such is the summons; the memoranda in the hand. writing of Stowe are these:

[630. Honorius Romanus, Archbyshope of Canterbury, devided his province into parishes; he ordeyned clerks and prechars, comaunding them that they should instruct the people, as well by good lyfe, as by doctryne.

760. Cuthbert, Archbyshope of Canterbury, procured of the Pope that in cities and townes there should be appoynted church yards for buriall of the dead, whose bodies were used to be buried abrode, & cet.]

Their meetings had hitherto been private; but to give stability to them, they petitioned for a charter of incorporation, under the title of the Academy for the Study of Antiquity and History founded by Queen Elizabeth. And to preserve all the memorials of history which the dissolution of the monasteries had scattered about the kingdom, they proposed to erect a library, to be called The Library of Queen Elizabeth. The death of the queen overturned this honourable project. The society was somewhat interrupted by the usual casualties of human life; the members were dispersed, or died, and it ceased for twenty years. Spelman, Camden, and others, desirous of renovating the society, met for this purpose at the Herald's office; they settled their regulations, among which, one was 'for avoiding offence, they should neither meddle with

matters of state nor religion. But before our next meeting,' says Spelman, we had notice that his majesty took a little mislike of our society, not being informed that we had resolved to decline all matters of state. Yet hereupon we forebore to meet again, and so all our labour's lost!' Unquestionably much was lost, for much could have been produced; and Spelman's work on law terms, where I find this information, was one of the first projected. James I has incurred the censure of those who have written more boldly than Spelman on the suppression of this society; but whether James was misinformed by taking a little mislike,' or whether the antiquaries failed in exerting themselves to open their plan more clearly to that timid pedant,' as Gough and others designate this monarch, may yet be doubtful; assuredly James was not a man to contemn their erudition!

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The king at this time was busied by furthering a similar project, which was to found King James's College at Chelsea; a project originating with Dean Sutcliff, and zealously approved by Prince Henry, to raise a nursery for young polemics in scholastical divinity, for the purpose of defending the protestant cause from the attacks of catholics and sectaries; a college which was afterwards called by Laud Controversy College.' In this society were appointed historians and antiquaries, for Camden and Haywood filled these offices.

The society of Antiquaries, however, though suppressed, was perhaps never extinct: it survived in some shape under Charles II, for Ashmole in his Diary notices the Antiquaries' Feast,' as well as the Astrologers',' and another of the Freemasons.' The present society was only incorporated in 1751. There are two sets of their Memoirs for besides the modern Archæologia, we have two volumes of Curious Discourses,' written by the Fathers of the Antiquarian Society in the age of Elizabeth, collected from their dispersed manuscripts, which Camden preserved with a parental hand.

The philosophical spirit of the age, it might have been expected, would have reached our modern antiquaries; but neither profound views, nor eloquent disquisitions, have imparted that value to their contined researches and languid efforts, which the character of the times, and the excellence of our French rivals in their Academie,' so peremptorily required. It is, however, hopeful to hear Mr Hallam declare, I think our last volumes improve a little, and but a little! A comparison with the Academy of Inscriptions in its better days must still inspire us with shame.'

Among the statues of the Society of Antiquaries, there is one which expels any member who shall by speaking, writing, or printing, publicly defame the society. Some things may be too antique and obsolete even for the Society of Antiquaries! and such is this vile restriction! Should there be a stray wit among them, or a critical observer, are they to compromise the freedom of the republic of letters, by the monopolizing spirit of excellence this statute necessarily attributes to their works-and their 'gestes?

QUOTATION,

It is generally supposed that where there is no quotation, there will be found most originality; and as people like to lay out their money according to their notions, our writers usually furnish their pages rapidly with the productions of their own soil: they run up a quickset hedge, or plant a poplar, and get trees and hedges of this fashion much faster than the former landlords procured from their timber. The great part of our writers, in consequence, have become so original, that no one cares to imitate them; and those who never quote, in return are never quoted!

This is one of the results of that adventurous spirit which is now stalking forth and raging for its own innovations. We have not only rejected authority, but have also cast away experience; and often the unburdened vessel is driving to all points of the compass, and the passengers no longer know whither they are going. The wisdom of the wise, and the experience of ages, may be preserved by quotation.

It seems, however, agreed, that no one would quote if he could think; and it is not imagined that the well-read may quote from the delicacy of their taste, and the fulness of their knowledge. Whatever is felicitously expressed risks being worse expressed: it is a wretched taste to be gratified with mediocrity when the excellent lies before We quote, to save proving what has been demonstrated, referring to where the proofs may be found. We

us.

quote to screen ourselves from the odium of doubtful opinions, which the world would not willingly accept from ourselves; and we may quote from the curiosity which only a quotation itself can give, when in our own words it would be divested of that tint of ancient phrase, that detail of narrative, and that naiveté which we have for ever lost, and which we like to recollect once had an existence.

The ancients, who in these matters were not perhaps such blockheads as some may conceive, considered poetical quotation as one of the requisite ornaments of oratory. Cicero, even in his philosoplucal works, is as little sparing of quotations as Plutarch. Old Montaigne is so stuffed with them, that he owns if they were taken out of him, little of himself would remain; and yet this never injured that original turn which the old Gascon has given to his thoughts. I suspect that Addison hardly ever composed a Spectator which was not founded on some quotation, noted in those three folio manuscript volumes which he had previously collected; and Addison lasts, while Steele, who always wrote from first impressions and to the times, with perhaps no very inferior genius, has passed away, insomuch that Dr. Beattie once considered that he was obliging the world by collecting Addison's papers, and carefully omitting Steele's.

Quotation, like much better things, has its abuses. One may quote till one compiles. The ancient lawyers used to quote at the bar till they had stagnated their own cause. 'Retournons a nos moutons,' was the cry of the client. But these vagrant prowlers must be consigned to the beadles of criticisin. Such do not always understand the authors whose names adorn their barren pages, and which are taken, too, from the third or the thirtieth hand. Those who trust to such false quoters will often learn how contrary this transmission is to the sense and application of the original. Every transplantation has altered the fruit of the tree; every new channel, the quality of the stream in its remove from the spring-head. Bayle, when writing on Comnets,' discovered this; for, having collected many things applicable to his work, as they stood quoted in some modern writers, when he came to compare them with their originals, he was surprised to find that they were nothing for his purpose! the originals conveyed a quite contrary sense to that of the pretended quoters, who often, from innocent blundering, and sometimes from purposed deception, had falsified their quotations. This is a useful story for second-hand authorities!

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Selden had formed some notions on this subject of quotations in his Table-talk,' art. Books and authors;' but, as Le Clerc justly observes proud of his immense reading, he has too often violated his own precept. In quoting of books,' says Selden, quote such authors as are usually read; others read for your own satisfaction, but not name them.' Now it happens that no writer names more authors, except Prynue, than the learned Selden. La Mothe le Vayer's curious works consists of fifteen volumes; he is among the greatest quoters. Whoever turns them over will perceive that he is an original thinker, and a great wit; his style, indeed, is meagre, which, as much as his quotations, may have proved fatal to him. But in both these cases it is evident, that even quoters who have abused the privilege of quotation, are not necessarily writers of a mean genius.

The Quoters who deserve the title, and it ought to be an honorary one, are those who trust to no one but themselves. In borrowing a passage, they carefully observe its connexion; they collect authorities, to reconcile any disparity in them before they furnish the one which they adopt; they advance no fact without a witness, and they are not loose and general in their references, as I have been told is our historian Henry so frequently, that it is suspected he deals much in second-hand ware. Bayle lets us into a mystery of author-craft. Suppose an able man is to prove that an ancient author entertained certain particular opinions, which are only insinuated here and there through his works, I am sure it will take him up more days to collect the passages which he will have occasion for, than to argue at random on those passages. Having once found out his authorities and his quotations, which perhaps will not fill six pages, and may have cost him a month's labour, he may finish in two mornings' work, twenty pages of arguments, objections, and answers to objections; and consequently, what proceeds from our own genius sometimes costs much less time than what is requisite for collecting. Corneille would have required more time to defend a tragedy by a collection of

authorities, than to write it; and I am supposing the same number of pages in the tragedy and in the defence. Heinsius perhaps bestowed more time in defending his Herodes infanticide against Balzac, than a Spanish (or a Scotch) metaphysician bestows on a large volume of controversy; where he takes all from his own stock' I am somewhat concerned in the truth of this principle. There are arti cles in the present work occupying but a few pages, which could never have been produced bad not more time been allotted to the researches which they contain than some would allow to a small volume, which might excel in ge nius, and yet be likely not to be long remembered! All this is labour which never meets the eye. It is quicker work, with special pleading and poignant periods, to fill sheets with generalising principles: those bird's-eye views of philosophy for the nonce seem as if things were seen clearer when at a distance and en masse, and require little knowledge of the individual parts. Such an art of writing may resemble the famous Lullian method, by which the doctor Illuminatus enabled any one to invent arguments by a machine! Two tables, one of attributes, and the other of subjects, worked about circularly in a frame, and placed correlatively to one another, produced certain combingtions; the number of questions multiplied as they were work. ed! So that here was a mechanical invention, by which they might dispute without end, and write on without any particular knowledge of their subject!

But the pains-taking gentry, when heaven sends them genius enough, are the more instructive sort, and they are those to whom we shall appeal while time and truth can meet together. A well-read writer, with good taste, is one who has the command of the wit of other men; he searches where knowledge is to be found; and though he may not himself excel in invention, his ingenuity may compose one of those agreeable books, the delice of literature, that will out-last the fading meteors of his day. Epicurus is said to have borrowed from no writer in his three hundred inspired volumes, while Plutarch, Seneca, and the elder Pliny, made such free use of their libraries; and it has happened that Epicurus, with his unsubstantial nothingness, has 'melted into thin air,' while the solid treasures have buoyed themselves up amidst the wrecks of nations.

On this subject of Quotation, literary politics, for the commonwealth has its policy and its cabinet.secrets, are more concerned than the reader suspects. Authorities in matters of fact are often called for; in matters of opinion, indeed, which, perhaps, are of more importance, no one requires any authority, But too open and generous a revelation of the chapter and the page of the original quoted, has often proved detrimental to the legitimate honours of the quoter. They are unfairly appropriated by the next comer; the quoter is never quoted, but the an thority he has afforded is produced by his successor with the air of an original research. I have seen MSS thus confidently referred to, which could never have met the eye of the writer. A learned historian declared to me of a contemporary, that the latter had appropriated his researches; he might, indeed, and he had a right to refer to the same originals; but if his predecessor had opened the sources for him, gratitude is not a silent virtue. Gilbert Stuart thus lived on Robertson: and as Professor Dugald Stewart observos, his curiosity has seldom led him into any path where the genius and industry of his predecessor had not previously cleared the way.' It is for this reason some authors, who do not care to trust to the equity and gratitude of their successors, will not furnish the means of supplanting themselves; for, by not yielding up their au thorities, they themselves become one. Some authors, who are pleased at seeing their names occur in the mar gins of other books than their own, have practised this political management; such as Alexander ab Alexandro, and other compilers of that stamp, to whose labours of small value, we are often obliged to refer, from the cir cumstance that they themselves have not pointed out their authorities.

One word more on this long chapter of quotation. To make a happy one is a thing not easily to be done. Cardinal du Perron used to say, that the happy application of a verse from Virgil was worth a talent; and Bayle, perhaps too much prepossessed in their favour, has insinuated, that there is not less invention in a just and hap py application of a thought found in a book, than in being the first author of that thought. The art of quotation requires more delicacy in the practice than those conceiva who can see nothing more in a quotation than an extract.

Whenever the mind of a writer is saturated with the full inspiration of a great author, a quotation gives completeness to the whole; it seals his feelings with undisputed authority. Whenever we would prepare the mind by a forcible appeal, an opening quotation is a symphony preluding on the chords whose tones we are about to harmonize. Perhaps no writers of our times have discovered more of this delicacy of quotation than the author of the Pursuits of Literature and Mr Southey, in some of his beautiful periodical investigations, where we have often acknowledged the solemn and striking effect of a quotation from our elder writers.

THE ORIGIN OF DANTE'S INFERNO.

Nearly six centuries have elapsed since the appearance of the great work of Dante, and the literary historians of Italy are even now disputing respecting the origin of this poein, singular in its nature and in its excellence. In as. certaining a point so long inquired after, and so keenly disputed, it will rather increase our admiration than detract from the genius of this great poet; and it will illustrate the useful principle, that every great genius is influenced by the objects and the feelings which occupy his own times, only differing from the race of his brothers by the magical force of his developments; the light he sends forth over the world he often catches from the faint and unobserved spark which would die away, and turn to nothing, in another hand.

The Divina Commedia of Dante is a visionary journey through the three realms of the after-life existence; and though in the classical ardour of our political pilgrim, he allows his conductor to be a Pagan, the scenes are those of monkish imagination. The invention of a vision was the usual vehicle for religious instruction in his age; it was adapted to the genius of the sleeping Homer of a monastery, and to the comprehension, and even to the faith, of the populace, whose minds were then awake to these awful themes.

This mode of writing visions has been imperfectly detected by several modern inquiries. It got into the Fabliaux of the Jongleurs, or Provencal bards, before the days of Dante; they had these visions or pilgrimages to Hell; the adventures were no doubt solemn to them-but it seemed absurd to attribute the origin of a sublime poem to such inferior, and to us even ludicrous inventions. Every one, therefore, found out some other origin of Dante's Infernosince they were resolved to have one-in other works more congenial to its nature; the description of a second life, the melancholy or the glorified scenes of punishment or bliss, with the animated shades of men who were no more, had been opened to the Italian bard by his favourite Virgil, and might have been suggested, according to Warton, by the Somnium Scipionis of Cicero.

But the entire work of Dante is Gothic; it is a picture of his tunes, of his own ideas, of the people about him; nothing of classical antiquity resembles it; and although the name of Virgil is introduced into a Christian Hades, it is assuredly not the Roman, for Dante's Virgil speaks and acts as the Latin poet could never have done. It is one of the absurdities of Dante, who, like our Shakspeare, or like Gothic architecture itself, has many things which 'lead to nothing' amidst their massive greatness.

Had the Italian and the French commentators, who have troubled themselves on this occasion, known the art which we have happily practised in this country, of illustrating a great national bard, by endeavouring to recover the contemporary writings and circumstances which were connected with his studies and his times, they had long ere this discovered the real framework of the Inferno.

Within the last twenty years it had been rumoured that Dante had borrowed, or stolen his Inferno from The Visions of Alberico,' which was written two centuries before his time. The literary antiquary Bottari had discovered a manuscript of this Vision of Alberico, and, in haste, made extracts of a startling nature. They were well adapted to inflame the curiosity of those who are eager after any thing new about something old; it throws an air of erudition over the small talker, who otherwise would care little about the original! This was not the first time that the whole edifice of genius had been threatened by the motion of a remote earthquake; but in these cases it usually happens that those early discoverers who can judge of a little part, are in total blindness when they would decide on a whole. A poisonous mildew seemed to have settled on the laurels of Dante; nor were we relieved from our constant inquiries, ullil Sigr. Abate Cancillieri at i

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Rome, published, in 1814, this much talked of manuscript, and has now enabled us to see and to decide, and even to add the present little article as a useful supplement.

True it is, that Dante must have read with equal attention and delight, this authentic vision of Alberico; for it is given, so we are assured by the whole monastery, as it happened to their ancient brother, when a boy; inany a striking, and many a positive resemblance in the Divina Commedia' has been pointed out; and Mr Cary, in his English version of Dante, so English, that he makes Dante speak in blank verse very much like Dante in stanzas, has observed, that The reader will, in these marked resemblances, see enough to convince him that Dante had read this singular work.' The truth is, that the Vision of Alberico' must not be considered as a singular work-but on the contrary, as the prevalent mode of composition in the monastic ages. It has been ascertained that Alberico was written in the twelfth century, judging of the age of a manuscript by the writing. I shall now preserve a vision which a French antiquary had long ago given, merely with the design to show how the monks abused the simplicity of our Gothe ancestors, and with an utter want of taste for such inventions, he deems the present one to be 'monstrous.' He has not told us the age in which it was written. This vision, however, exhibits.such complete scenes of the Inferno of the great poet, that the writer must have read Dante, or Dante must have read this writer. The manuscript, with another of the same kind, is in the King's library at Paris, and some future researcher may ascertain the age of these Gothic compo sitions; doubtless they will be found to belong to the age of Alberico, for they are alike stamped by the same dark and awful imagination, the same depth of feeling, the solitary genius of the monastery!

It may, however, be necessary to observe, that these 'Visions' were merely a vehicle for popular instruction; nor must we depend on the age of their composition by the names of the suppositious visionaries affixed to them: they were the satires of the times. The following elaborate views of some scenes in the Inferno were composed by an honest monk who was dissatisfied with the bishops, and took this covert means of pointing out how the neglect of their episcopal duties was punished in the after life; he had an equal quarrel with the feudal nobility for their oppressions: and he even boldly ascended to the throne.

'The Vision of Charles the Bald, of the places of punishment, and the happiness of the just.*

I, Charles, by the gratuitous gift of God, king of the Germans, Roman patrician, and likewise emperor of the Franks;

On the holy night of Sunday, having performed the divine offices of matins, returning to my bed to sleep, a voice most terrible came to my ear; "Charles! thy spirit shall now issue from thy body; thou shalt go and behold the judgments of God; they shall serve thee only as presages, and thy spirit shall again return shortly afterwards." Instantly was my spirit rapt, and he who bore me away was a being of the most splendid whiteness. He put into my hand a ball of thread, which shed about a blaze of light, such as the comet darts when it is apparent. He divided it, and said to me, "Take thou this thread, and bind it strongly on the thumb of thy right hand, and by this I will lead thee through the infernal labyrinth of punishments."

Then going before with velocity, but always unwinding this luminous thread, he conducted me into deep valleys filled with fires, and wells inflamed, blazing with all sorts of unctuous matter. There I observed the prelates who had served my father and my ancestors. Although I trembled, I still, however, inquired of them to learn the cause of their torments. They answered "We are the bishops of your father and your ancestors; instead of uniting them and their people in peace and concord, we sowed among them discord, and were the kindlers of evil; for this are we burning in these Tartarean punishments; we, and other men-slayers and devourers of rapine. Here also shall come your bishops, and that crowd of satellites who surround you, and who imitate the evil we have done."

And whilst I listened to them tremblingly, I beheld the blackest demons flying with hooks of burning iron, who would have caught that ball of thread which I held in my hand, and have drawn it towards them, but it darted such a reverberating light, that they could not lay hold of the * In MSS, Bib. Reg. inter lat. No. 2447, p. 134.

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