ful transactions which, for the greater part of the time, accompanied the elections, the distribution of prizes, &c.; the quarrels where the interests of science altogether disappeared before the question of persons, inspiring every honest man with profound disgust? And, as for their utility, we will take the opinion of Voltaire, who wrote :—

"I remark that the Academies uniformly suppress the efforts of genius, instead of exciting them. We have not had a great painter since we had the Academy of Painting, nor a great philosopher formed by the Academy of Science. I say nothing of French. The reason of this sterility in ground so well cultivated is, as appears to me, that each academician, in regarding his confrères, finds them very small, which in truth they are, thinks himself comparatively great, thus, flattered by his own self love, rests content with mediocrity. Danchet found himself superior to Mallet, and that was sufficient for him; he considered himself at the height of perfection. The petit Coypel found he was worth more than de Troyes the younger, and was thought to be a Raphael. Homer or Plato were not, I believe, of the Academy, neither was Cicero nor Virgil."

Thus far we have written of Academies, we now descend to Literary and Burlesque Societies and Orders.

The most ancient literary society we know of in the past ages, was the society called the Sixty, which existed in the fourth century before Christ, and of which Athenaeus alone has transmitted us any intelligence. "They had at Athens," writes he, "some citizens who had the talent of drollery, they mustered to the number of sixty, in the temple of Hercules, and were called in the city the Sixty, and any one coming from their meetings, said, 'I come from the Sixty.' Their reputation for wit was such, that Philip of Macedon, having heard it spoken of, sent them a talent, in order that they might write some of their pleasantry for him."

Under the emperors, the poets of Rome had formed among themselves a species of Academy who met in a particular place called Schola Poetarum. Martial, in his epigrams, alludes to them on several occasions. Lipsius asserts that they read reciprocally from their works, and that they met annually at a repast, to strengthen the ties by which they were united.

But these readings made to their companions were not, we may easily conceive, those which best pleased the authors,

they preferred recitations made in public, which usually preceded the publication of works among the Romans. We will now enter into some details on the subject.

In early times authors were in the habit of reading, or having their works read for them during meals, either at their own houses, or at the house of a mutual friend; a rich man never failed in his auditory. The public recitations. commenced at Rome, under Augustus; the custom soon became very general. The author who had not a convenient habitation, found at all times some Mecænas disposed to lend him his house. Others preferred reciting them altogether in public under the porticoes, in the theatres, in the temples, in the gardens, at the Forum, in the baths. "I had hardly trimmed my beard more than once or twice," declares Ovid, in his Tristia, "before I had read to the people the poems of my youth."

The authors who were about to deliver public lectures, sent their friends special letters of invitation (codicilli,) strangers were admitted by announcements (libelli,) which were caused to be distributed in the city, or by placards posted on the columns of the porticos. The crowd never failed to rush to the readings delivered by a fashionable author. The relatives and friends of an author were considered bound to assist at the readings. Pliny, the younger, reckoned, amongst the virtues of his wife, the love she entertained for her husband's works." If I happen," said he, "to read some piece in public she manages to secure a place behind a curtain, where she eagerly listens to the praises bestowed on me." The readings were often disturbed by incidents which, whilst they amused the audience, were a great annoyance to the

author.

"There occurred," wrote Pliny to a friend, "a very amusing incident. A Roman Knight of great consideration, and very proud, composed some elegiac verses; he read in public a work which commenced with these words: Priscus, you ordain, .........At that, Priscus, an intimate friend of him who read, and who was present, thought himself called on to reply; Oh! I ordain nothing. You may imagine the bursts of laughter and merriment that followed. Moreover, the knight had not a very sound mind." A similar mischance happened to the emperor Claudius, for many of the emperors mingled in the public recitations. "Claudius in his youth," writes

Suetonius, "undertook, in accordance with the advice of Livy, and assisted by Sulpicius Flavus, to write a history; and having commenced reading a portion of it, before a numerous auditory, he had, through his own fault, much trouble in finishing it. For, at the beginning of the lecture, the obesity of one of his auditors having broken several ́ steps of the seat under him, a general laugh was raised, and the tumult having ceased, Claudius himself, at the recollection of this disaster, could not resist bursting into fits of laughter at intervals.""

A witty French writer has sketched a piquant tableau of these public recitations. "Rome," writes he," was full of personages who spared no cost to bring themselves before the public. A house was hired at great expense, with seats and benches, or a hall in an amphitheatre: auditors were to be solicited, announcements to be distributed, and in fine, they bore to be exhausted with annoyance and expense of every kind; such were the conditions to which they submitted for a momentary triumph, We cannot read, without a lively sentiment of interest and curiosity, the satirical poets of that period, shewing the pretensions of authors, and their affectations in public, and the precautions taken beforehand to ensure success.

Rome was not better under Augustus; some say that Martial, Persius, and Juvenal, had foreseen our vanities of the salon, and our intrigues of the coulisses. Let us enter this Roman Athenæum, a vast amphitheatre, the seats ascending to the roof. Before a numerous audience is seated the reciter on an elevated chair; his hair is dressed with much care, he is clothed in a new white robe; on his left hand glitters a precious stone; his neck is encircled by a cravat of wool or fur, shewing, as Martial has said, that it was as difficult for him. to speak as to be silent. To sustain the clearness of his voice, he rinses his mouth or throat with an emollient. He draws' at length from his breast an enormous volume, and commences to recite at the tip of his tongue, with languishing eyes, drooping head, an effeminate voice, and a manner full of affectation. In most of the auditories, those who exhibited the most lively enthusiasm were those who heard least. Their eyes, instead of being on the lecturer, were fixed on the audience, from whom they took their tone. These were the mesochoros, or chief applauders: a gesture of the hand com

manded the bravos or slaves, the enfranchised or the unfortunates who, for a dinner, or a new robe, were, beforehand, engaged to applaud, and were distributed in all the rows of the amphitheatre.

But there was a more piquant manner of ensuring a brilliant success. An ignorant financier, who set up for learning, wished very ardently to recite his work in public, and above all, to create a great sensation in his auditory. When he lent money he of course stipulated for a fair interest in the first instance, but always added another condition, namely, that the borrower should, as a sine qua non, come to his reading to listen and applaud; if he failed in this, he prosecuted him, for a breach of the most essential clause in his contract.

The literary reunions were held principally at the tables of the Romans, and Aulus-Gellius relates,in several passages of his Noctes Attica, the manner of those who prided themselves on the cultivation of letters during their repasts. "We cele

brate," said he, "the saturnalia at Athens with gaiety and modesty, I do not say to repose our mind, for, according to Musæus, the tranquillizing of the mind is the abnegation of it; but we give to it a pleasing diversion by amusements as fair as they are agreeable. The same table reunites a certain number of Romans, who have come to Greece to hear the same lessons, and follow the same masters. He who gives the repast, in turn, places on the table a Greek or Latin book, from one of the old authors, and a crown of laurel, to be given. as a prize; he arranges as many questions as there are guests, and distributes, by chance, their places and questions to each guest. The matter being decided, the book and wreath are awarded to the victor. If not solved, it is passed all round the guests. And if no one can unravel the point, the prize is dedicated to the god whose fête they are that day commemorating. The questions submitted for discussion, were sometimes the conceptions of an old poet, quite unintelligible, and clothed in mystical obscurity; on a point of ancient history, on a philosophical opinion oddly expressed, on a sophistical subtlety to be determined, on the elucidation of a rare or ambiguous word, and even on the peculiarity of a well-known word."

The practice of these reunions was continued until the fall of the Roman Empire.

Charlemagne, whose admiration of antiquity, sacred and profane, manifested itself in all points, had formed round him a reunion of illustrious savants, to whom they gave amongst themselves the titles of Greeks and Latins: Alcuin called himself Albinus Flaccus; Théodulfe, Pindar; Riculfe, Archbishop of Mayence, one of the personages in the Eclogues of Virgil Adalhard, abbé de Corbie, had adopted the name Augustin (Saint Augustin); Anghilbert, duke of Maratime France, that of Homer; Eginhard, Callimachus the princesses Gisèle and Gondrade had become Lucretia and Eulaus, whilst Charlemagne himself was king David. The name selected by the French monarch marked his evident preference for sacred literature. He said frequently to Riculfe, a passionate admirer of Virgil, that he would infinitely prefer to possess the mind or spirit of the four Evangelists, than have written a dozen books like the Eneid.

In the middle age, numberless poetical societies were established in different parts of France, which, extending to the provinces, bore the name of Cours d'Amour, de Puys, de Gieux sous l'Ormel, de Cours de Rhétorique, &c. These societies met generally once a year, and crowned the best compositions in verse presented to them. The most celebrated assemblies were those of Caen, Dieppe, Rouen, Beauvais, Amiens, Arras, and Valenciennes.

The Assembly of Caen called itself the Puys de la Conception, because they held on the eighth of December, the day of the Immaculate Conception of the Blessed Virgin, an assembly, at which all the pieces composed were dedicated to her honor. This dated back to the eleventh century.

The society of Puy, at Amiens, had its origin only in the fourteenth century. They formed a species of Academy, regularly organised, which twice a year distributed prizes to the best ballad composed in honor of the Blessed Virgin to a popular air. The duchess d'Angoulême, mother of Francis the First, passing through this city in 1517, copied a collection of crowned pieces. This copy is preserved in the King's library.

To decide the question of Love which the poets proposed in their jeux partis and their tensons, there was established a species of tribunal which took the name of the Cour d'Amour. The judges were chosen from amongst gentlemen, ladies of quality, and poets, all persons whom knowledge of the world and long experience rendered au fait in such matters. The women soon