the miscellaneous writings and speeches-1- 第5部分

〃My　own　dear　Zoe；　your　love　has　been　bestowed　on　one　who；　if　he　cannot　merit；　can　at　least　appreciate　and　adore　you。　　Beings　of　similar　loveliness；　and　similar　devotedness　of　affection；　mingled；　in　all　my　boyish　dreams　of　greatness；　with　visions　of　curule　chairs　and　ivory　cars；　marshalled　legions　and　laurelled　fasces。　　Such　I　have　endeavoured　to　find　in　the　world；　and；　in　their　stead；　I　have　met　with　selfishness；　with　vanity；　with　frivolity；　with　falsehood。　　The　life　which　you　have　preserved　is　a　boon　less　valuable　than　the　affection　〃

〃Oh！　Caesar；〃　interrupted　the　blushing　Zoe；　〃think　only　on　your　own　security　at　present。　　If　you　feel　as　you　speak；but　you　are　only　mocking　me；or　perhaps　your　compassion　〃

〃By　Heaven！by　every　oath　that　is　binding　〃

〃Alas！　alas！　Caesar；　were　not　all　the　same　oaths　sworn　yesterday　to　Valeria？　　But　I　will　trust　you；　at　least　so　far　as　to　partake　your　present　dangers。　　Flight　may　he　necessary：form　your　plans。　Be　they　what　they　may；　there　is　one　who；　in　exile；　in　poverty；　in　peril；　asks　only　to　wander；　to　beg；　to　die　with　you。〃

〃My　Zoe；　I　do　not　anticipate　any　such　necessity。　　To　renounce　the　conspiracy　without　renouncing　the　principles　on　which　it　was　originally　undertaken；to　elude　the　vengeance　of　the　Senate　without　losing　the　confidence　of　the　people；is；　indeed；　an　arduous；　but　not　an　impossible；　task。　　I　owe　it　to　myself　and　to　my　country　to　make　the　attempt。　　There　is　still　ample　time　for　consideration。　　At　present　I　am　too　happy　in　love　to　think　of　ambition　or　danger。〃

They　had　reached　the　door　of　a　stately　palace。　　Caesar　struck　it。　It　was　instantly　opened　by　a　slave。　　Zoe　found　herself　in　a　magnificent　hall；　surrounded　by　pillars　of　green　marble；　between　which　were　ranged　the　statues　of　the　long　line　of　Julian　nobles。

〃Call　Endymion；〃　said　Caesar。

The　confidential　freed…man　made　his　appearance；　not　without　a　slight　smile；　which　his　patron's　good　nature　emboldened　him　to　hazard；　at　perceiving　the　beautiful　Athenian。

〃Arm　my　slaves；　Endymion；　there　are　reasons　for　precaution。　　Let　them　relieve　each　other　on　guard　during　the　night。　　Zoe；　my　love；　my　preserver；　why　are　your　cheeks　so　pale？　　Let　me　kiss　some　bloom　into　them。　　How　you　tremble！　　Endymion；　a　flask　of　Samian　and　some　fruit。　　Bring　them　to　my　apartments。　　This　way；　my　sweet　Zoe。〃

。。。


ON　THE　ROYAL　SOCIETY　OF　LITERATURE。

（June　1823。）

This　is　the　age　of　societies。　　There　is　scarcely　one　Englishman　in　ten　who　has　not　belonged　to　some　association　for　distributing　books；　or　for　prosecuting　them；　for　sending　invalids　to　the　hospital；　or　beggars　to　the　treadmill；　for　giving　plate　to　the　rich；　or　blankets　to　the　poor。　　To　be　the　most　absurd　institution　among　so　many　institutions　is　no　small　distinction；　it　seems；　however；　to　belong　indisputably　to　the　Royal　Society　of　Literature。　　At　the　first　establishment　of　that　ridiculous　academy；　every　sensible　man　predicted　that；　in　spite　of　regal　patronage　and　episcopal　management；　it　would　do　nothing；　or　do　harm。　　And　it　will　scarcely　be　denied　that　those　expectations　have　hitherto　been　fulfilled。

I　do　not　attack　the　founders　of　the　association。　　Their　characters　are　respectable；　their　motives；　I　am　willing　to　believe；　were　laudable。　　But　I　feel；　and　it　is　the　duty　of　every　literary　man　to　feel；　a　strong　jealousy　of　their　proceedings。　Their　society　can　be　innocent　only　while　it　continues　to　be　despicable。　　Should　they　ever　possess　the　power　to　encourage　merit；　they　must　also　possess　the　power　to　depress　it。　　Which　power　will　be　more　frequently　exercised；　let　every　one　who　has　studied　literary　history；　let　every　one　who　has　studied　human　nature；　declare。

Envy　and　faction　insinuate　themselves　into　all　communities。　　They　often　disturb　the　peace；　and　pervert　the　decisions；　of　benevolent　and　scientific　associations。　　But　it　is　in　literary　academies　that　they　exert　the　most　extensive　and　pernicious　influence。　　In　the　first　place；　the　principles　of　literary　criticism；　though　equally　fixed　with　those　on　which　the　chemist　and　the　surgeon　proceed；　are　by　no　means　equally　recognised。　　Men　are　rarely　able　to　assign　a　reason　for　their　approbation　or　dislike　on　questions　of　taste；　and　therefore　they　willingly　submit　to　any　guide　who　boldly　asserts　his　claim　to　superior　discernment。　　It　is　more　difficult　to　ascertain　and　establish　the　merits　of　a　poem　than　the　powers　of　a　machine　or　the　benefits　of　a　new　remedy。　　Hence　it　is　in　literature；　that　quackery　is　most　easily　puffed；　and　excellence　most　easily　decried。

In　some　degree　this　argument　applies　to　academies　of　the　fine　arts；　and　it　is　fully　confirmed　by　all　that　I　have　ever　heard　of　that　institution　which　annually　disfigures　the　walls　of　Somerset　House　with　an　acre　of　spoiled　canvas。　　But　a　literary　tribunal　is　incomparably　more　dangerous。　　Other　societies；　at　least；　have　no　tendency　to　call　forth　any　opinions　on　those　subjects　which　most　agitate　and　inflame　the　minds　of　men。　　The　sceptic　and　the　zealot；　the　revolutionist　and　the　placeman；　meet　on　common　ground　in　a　gallery　of　paintings　or　a　laboratory　of　science。　　They　can　praise　or　censure　without　reference　to　the　differences　which　exist　between　them。　　In　a　literary　body　this　can　never　be　the　case。　　Literature　is；　and　always　must　be；　inseparably　blended　with　politics　and　theology；　it　is　the　great　engine　which　moves　the　feelings　of　a　people　on　the　most　momentous　questions。　　It　is；　therefore；　impossible　that　any　society　can　be　formed　so　impartial　as　to　consider　the　literary　character　of　an　individual　abstracted　from　the　opinions　which　his　writings　inculcate。　　It　is　not　to　be　hoped；　perhaps　it　is　not　to　be　wished；　that　the　feelings　of　the　man　should　be　so　completely　forgotten　in　the　duties　of　the　academician。　　The　consequences　are　evident。　　The　honours　and　censures　of　this　Star　Chamber　of　the　Muses　will　be　awarded　according　to　the　prejudices　of　the　particular　sect　or　faction　which　may　at　the　time　predominate。　　Whigs　would　canvass　against　a　Southey；　Tories　against　a　Byron。　　Those　who　might　at　first　protest　against　such　conduct　as　unjust　would　soon　adopt　it　on　the　plea　of　retaliation；　and　the　general　good　of　literature；　for　which　the　society　was　professedly　instituted；　would　be　forgotten　in　the　stronger　claims　of　political　and　religious　partiality。

Yet　even　this　is　not　the　worst。　　Should　the　institution　ever　acquire　any　influence；　it　will　afford　most　pernicious　facilities　to　every　malignant　coward　who　may　desire　to　blast　a　reputation　which　he　envies。　　It　will　furnish　a　secure　ambuscade；　behind　which　the　Maroons　of　literature　may　take　a　certain　and　deadly　aim。　　The　editorial　WE　has　often　been　fatal　to　rising　genius；　though　all　the　world　knows　that　it　is　only　a　form　of　speech；　very　often　employed　by　a　single　needy　blockhead。　　The　academic　WE　would　have　a　far　greater　and　more　ruinous　influence。　　Numbers；　while　they　increase　the　effect；　would　diminish　the　shame；　of　injustice。　　The　advantages　of　an　open　and　those　of　an　anonymous　attack　would　be　combined；　and　the　authority　of　avowal　would　be　united　to　the　security　of　concealment。　　The　serpents　in　Virgil；　after　they　had　destroyed　Laocoon；　found　an　asylum　from　the　vengeance　of　the　enraged　people　behind　the　shield　of　the　statue　of　Minerva。　　And；　in　the　same　manner；　everything　that　is　grovelling　and　venomous；　everything　that　can　hiss；　and　everything　that　can　sting；　would　take　sanctuary　in　the　recesses　of　this　new　temple　of　wisdom。

The　French　academy　was；　of　all　such　associations；　the　most　widely　and　the　most　justly　celebrated。　　It　was　founded　by　the　greatest　of　ministers：　　it　was　patronised　by　successive　kings；　it　numbered　in　its　lists　most　of　the　eminent　French　writers。　　Yet　what　benefit　has　literature　derived　from　its　labours？　　What　is　its　history　but　an　uninterrupted　record　of　servile　compliancesof　paltry　artificesof　deadly　quarrelsof　perfidious　friendships？　Whether　governed　by　the　Court；　by　the　Sorbonne；　or　by　the　Philosophers；　it　was　always　equally　powerful　for　evil；　and　equally　impotent　for　good。　　I　might　speak　of　the　attacks　by　which　it　attempted　to　depress　the　rising　fame　of　Corneille；　I　might　speak　of　the　reluctance　with　which　it　gave　its　tardy　confirmation　to　the　applauses　which　the　whole　civilised　world　had　bestowed　on　the　genius　of　Voltaire。　　I　might　prove　by　overwhelming　evidence　that；　to　the　latest　period　of　its　existence；　even　under　the　superintendence　of　the　all…accomplished　D'Alembert；　it　continued　to　be　a　scene　of　the　fiercest　animosities　and　the　basest　intrigues。　　I　might　cite　Piron's　epigrams；　and　Marmontel's　memoirs；　and　Montesquieu's　letters。　　But　I　hasten　on　to　another　topic。

One　of　the　modes　by　which　our　Society　proposes　to　encourage　merit　is　the　distribution　of　prizes。　　The　munificence　of　the　king　has　enabled　it　to　offer　an　annual　premium　of　a　hundred　guineas　for　the　best　essay　in　prose；　and　another　of　fifty　guineas　for　the　best　poem；　which　may　be　transmitted　to　it。　　This　is　very　laughable。　　In　the　first　place　the　judges　may　err。　　Those　imperfections　of　human　intellect　to　which；　as　the　articles　of　the　Church　tell　us；　even　general　councils　are　subject；　may　possibly　be　found　even　in　the　Royal　Society　of　Literature。　　The　French　academy；　as　I　have　already　said；　was　the　most　illustrious　assembly　of　the　kind；　and　numbered　among　its　associates　men　much　more　distinguished　than　ever　will　assemble　at　Mr　Hatchard's　to　rummage　the　box　of　the　English　Society。　　Yet　this　famous　body　gave　a　poetical　prize；　for　which　Voltaire　was　a　candidate；　to　a　fellow　who　wrote　some　verses　about　THE　FROZEN　AND　THE　BURNING　POLE。

Yet；　granting　that　the　prizes　were　always　awarded　to　the　best　composition；　that　composition；　I　say　without　hesitation；　will　always　be　bad。　　A　prize　poem　is　like　a　prize　sheep。　　The　object　of　the　competitor　for　the　agricultural　premium　is　to　produce　an　animal　fit；　not　to　be　eaten；　but　to　be　weighed。　　Accordingly　he　pampers　his　victim　into　morbid　and　unnatural　fatness；　and；　when　it　is　in　such　a　state　that　it　would　be　sent　away　in　disgust　from　any　table；　he　offers　it　to　the　judges。　　The　object　of　the　poetical　candidate；　in　like　manner；　is　to　produce；　not　a　good　poem；　but　a　poem　of　that　exact　degree　of　frigidity　or　bombast　which　may　appear　to　his　censors　to　be　correct　or　sublime。　Compositions　thus　constructed　will　alway