magistrates and citizens in this infant and illustrious republic of literature.  The history of the farther 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,[275] they fixed on the most unaffected, “L’Academie Francaise; but though the national genius 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 FRANCAISE; it was long a private meeting before it became a public institution.  Yet, like the Royal Society, its origin has been attributed 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 Society, 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 Atlantis!  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; in the centre of the print is a column on which is placed the bust of Charles the Second, 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 successors.[276]