The Sun.
London, England, 1861-05-16 00:00:00

ROYAL LITERARY F UND DINNER.

-
Last night the 72d anniversary dinner of the
Royal Literary Vund was he Id in ;the Freemasons'
•.1. Highness the Due d'Aumale
Tavern. His Royi.
his Royal
those present were,
presided, and among
e Paris, the Due de Chartf,'s?
Highness the Comte a
the Prince de Conde, , Ind the Comte d'Eu ; the
Marquis of tlanricarde, Lord Stratford de Red-
cliffe, Lord Ravensworth, Lord J. Manners, Mr.
Disraeli, M.P., Mr. Joseph jNapier, Sir J. Pairing-
ton, his Excellency M. van do Weyer, his Excel-
lency Count Platen, Lieut--•Gecoral Sir E. Cust,
Lord Harry Vane, Mr. Halibutell, M.P., the Earl
of Shrewsbury and Talbot, INIr. the
lion. G. Denman, M.P., Sir
Sioaeon, Sir J.
Boileau, Sir R. Murchison., Sir if. Rawhnoon, Sir
E. Perry, Sir H. Ellis, Sir H. Holland, Det.?n of
Canterbury, Mr. M. Milnes, Zr.k.Harcovrt,
M.P., Mr. C. Fortescue, M.P., Mr. Stifling, M.P.,
Mr. Egerton, M.P.,Mr. Macaulay, M.P., I`'fr. Grant
Duff, M.P., Mr. Beresford Hepe, Air. Del-
fosse, Mr. Thackeray, Mr. Higgins, Mr. R. .Bell,
Mr. Longman, Mr. John Murray, Commander
Forbes, R.N., Mr. Ant bony Trollope, Mr. Augustus
Trollope, Mr. J. W. K, lye, Mr. Theodore Martin,
Mr. Lowe, Sir J. Prior, Mr. George Godwin, -Mr.
G. A. Sala, Dr. Copland', Rev. Dr. Vaughan, Rev.
C. Merivale, Mr. :Bohn, Mr. Bentley, Mr. B. c•
Dallas, Mr. W. R. Grey, -Sze,
The cloth having been romoved,
His ROYAL HIGHNESS? •who was received with
loud and repeated cheeri.ng, said—Gentlemen, I
beg to propose the health of her Majesty the Queen.
These are the first words I have to address to you,
and also the first;words I ha ve uttered in public for
years. Nothing could be ,more gratifying to me
than in this way to break a lo ng silence—(cheers)—
for I have not now to fulfil a mere formal duty of
etiquette, but to express feelings which are deeply
seated in my heart. (Hear, hear.) I have no rigizt
to speak the language which .might be used on
this occasion by a loyal Englishman, but I venture
to say that nobody can feel more respect than
myself for her Majesty or a more sincere devotion
to her Royal person. (Cheers.) I see in your Queen
the personification of your free and noble institux
tions, the Sovereign of a country which is, and I
hope will remain, the friend and ally of my own
native land--(loud cheers)--whieh affords shelter
to all exiles, without asking them to submit to any
humiliating condition, but only to respect the laws
under whose protection they live. (Hear.) I also
admire in your Queen the most accomplished of
ladies, for I have myself had more than one personal
occasion to observe—nay, to feel that extreme deli-
cacy and tenderness of heart which is not common
among persons born in so elevated a situation, and
of which she has given so touching a proof on a re-
cent and most melancholy occasion. Thus, gentle-
men, I am sure that my words correspond to the
feelings of all those who surround me when I ask
you to drink with me the health of the model of
constitutional Sovereigns, the most devoted of
daughters, the best of wives and mothers, the most
faithful and affectionate of friends, and, finally, the
august munificent patroness of this institution—
your good Queen Victoria. (Cheers.)
The toast was received with all the honours.
His ROYAL HIGHNESS, in giving " The health of
the Prince Consort, the Prince of Wales, and the
other members of the Royal Family," said—lf there
is a meeting where the name of the Prince Consort
ought not to be omitted it is certainly the present,
for I don't know any one, not only more worthy of
universal respect and sympathy, but more fit, by his
own personal achievements, to understand and ap-
preciate intellectual works of all kinds, more inces-
sant in his efforts to promote the progress of art,
science, and literature, and to encourage by all
means the establishment of charitable institutions.
(Hear.) With his name we will couple heartily that
of the heir to the Crown, who, by useful travels and
intercourse with the studious youth of the country,
is preparing himself for the great duties which I
hope, with all my heart, but certainly not more
sincerely than himself, he will be called upon to
fulfil as late as possible. (Hear hear.) Our
good wishes belong also to all the members of
the Royal family, whether at the head of the
a.rmy or learning by active practice the hard duties
of a sailor, whether they adorn foreign Courts
by their graces and virtues, profit at home by the
lessons and good example of their parents, or add by
their presence to the charms of social life in Eng-
land. (Cheers.)
The toast having been duly honoured,
Lord STRATFORD DE REDCLIFFE gave " the
Army, Navy, and Volunteers." In doing so his lord-
ship referred to the distinction which many great
soldiers had gained in the republic of letters, and
dwelt upon the influence which literature had
always exercised in subduing or exciting the war-
like passions of nations.
The toast having been drunk was acknowledged by
Lieut.-General Sir E. CUST on behalf of the
army.

Sir I. PAKINGTON, in responding for the navy,
observed that that service was distinguished in the
arts of peace as well as in those of war. Modern
science owed much to the officers of the navy. They
had also made valuable contributions to literature.
Who had not perused with delight the writings of
Marryat and Basil Hall, or derived instruction
from the works of Parry, M'Clure, M'Ciintock, or
Sherard Osborn ? (Hear.) He assured his Royal
Highness that the navy, no less than the rest of the
English people, entertained the deepest respect, not
only for his illustrious race, but for the ability and
dignity of his personal career. (Cheers.)

The Earl of SHREWSBURY replied for the Volun•
Leers.

His ROYAL HIGHNESS then gave the toast of the
evening. He said,—Gentlemen, from the first mo-
ment when your committee did me the honour of
calling upon me to preside at this meeting I felt
how utterly unqualified I was for such a distinction,
and when I remember the names of those who have
preceded me in this chair—when I look around me
and see so many persons who would have been per-
fectly competent to offer the toast I am now pro-
posing, perhaps with some awkwardness, I feel
really astonished to find myself where I am. Bat,
if I had no literary claim to the distinction you
have conferred upon me, I may at least say that
nobody can wish greater success than I do to this
institution, nor admire it more sincerely in its
double character, literary and charitable. (Hear.)
I cannot pretend to be thoroughly acquainted with
your literature, but if I know something of it I owe
it to two circumstances. The first is, that I was
educated by a father who had been an exile, as I
am now, who had found on your shores the same
hospitable shelter, and who both knew and loved
your country, your language, the great works of
your literature, as well, I suppose, as any foreigner
ever did or can. (Hear, hear.) I remember that
in the earliest days of
my life, when he was him-
P
ical responsibility, in the
self free from all political
happy and quiet evenings of N euilly, he used often
after having shown to his children the engraved
portraits of celebrated men and told their deeds, or
plates which commemorated the military achieve-
ments of our countrymen, to take
down from the
shelves of the library some huge folio volume of
,
lloydell's Illustrated Shakspeare, a copy which
he
had bought himself at the Auction-room at Chel-
tenham, and give us an outline of the finest scenes

of your great dramatist, reciting occasionally some
of the beautiful passages which had remained en-

graved in his wonderful memory. (Hear, hear.)
That was my first impression of English literature,
and one which will never be effaced from my mind;
for it is connected with one of my earliest recollec-

tons of the best of fathers. (Cheers. I grew up
with one of the first French generations who, aban-

cloning an old tradition, began to study foreign
literature—l mean the literature which does not

belong to the great Latin family of languages.
Well, when I was a young man, the great authors
of this country were understood and admired in
France, and numerous translations of their works
were published for the benefit of those who could

not read them in your idiom. Shakspeare was com-
mented on, quoted, and even imitated by some who
were daring enough to try the experiment. Gear,
hear. :The walls of our picture exhibitions were

covemd with works of art signed by the first
names,
.the subjects of which were borrowed

from your stage, your poets, or your Annals.

Your novels were in all hands, and I reme, tuber,l
if I may be allowed another personal rec ollec-
tion, that more than once cue of the Wm ;erley
Novels was concealed at school under my desk
that when I was supposed to
—(a
e(ba
e nl
ta laugh)—o annd e
of the celebrated grammatical
books which come from the pen of our great Port
Royal scholars I was attentively reading Ivanhoe
'lla Mortality. (Laughter and cheers.) Such is
Or t,
our natu.
-,•al taste for what we call in French le fruit
- ;ould not now,perhaps, repeat cor-
defendu. i
'c of a Greek verb in fIE, but I am
rectly all the teilst- footsteps of Nigel in the
sure I could trace il'e 410 spot where once
streets of Loudon, point mat z.arvo as a cice-
stood the house of Jennie Deana -
-n rs.) Since
rone in the ruins of Lochleven. (Cnts.
.:
the days of Sir Walter Scott the novels Or ;our
country men have not ceased to command universal
attention abroad. Vanity Fair, David Coppofield,
Coningsby, and My Novel are as much read on the
continent as the works of Georges Sand or Alex-
andre Dumas, and on this very day the readers of
one of the most important French nowspapers,after
a rapid glance at the telegrams, hasten to peruse
the fecilleton where they will find the continuation
of the Troman in White translated into their own
language. ILaughter and cheers.) Gentlemen, if
I were to givz' a complete review of your modern
literature I ought to speak of your historians, your
poets, your theologians, your philosophers, your
scientific writers, who are certainly worthy of
mention, some of them oven of admiration. But it
would be ridiculous in me to present myself here as
a Ginguene or a Ticknor, or to try to give you even
a rough sketch of that great de,:.ideratunt which
was brought before your notice at this place by a
voice of more authority than mine, that of my illus-
trious friend me, M. Van Der Weyer. (Hear,
hear.) I mean a history of English literature which
is yet to be written. I intend only to say a few
words of those branches of your literature which I
know, perhaps, a little better than others, or which
attract morn general attention abroad. Among
these the most prominent, perhaps, are Parliamen-
tary eloquence and the public press. (Cheers.) I
know that certain persons would not allow the ora-
torical art to be included in the great literary
classification. We have in France an illustrated self-
elected body whose duty is to maintain as high as
possible the standard of literature, I mean the French
Academy, Well, I have often heard that far-
famed corporation abused for having in their elec-
tions given too exclusive a preference to the vete-
rans of our Parliamentary fights. I don't know
if this reproach is always disinterested, but, at any
rate, I don't find it well-founded. I don't look at
the philippics of Demosthenes or the invectives of
Cicero against Cataline or Verres as an indifferent
ornament of Greek or Roman literature. I don't
suppose that Englishmen will hold that the speeches
of a Bolingbroke, a Fox, a Burke, a Canning or a
Peel, ought not to be included among the great
intellectual works which this country has pro-
duced. (Hear, hear.) I will not quote the names
of your public men of this day ; but I dare say
that nobody will contradict me when I assert that
they have not degenerated as compared with their
forefathers, and I could point,out at this very table
living proofs of the truth of my assertion, (Cheers.)
I know that England does not enjoy the exclusive
privilege of breeding clever speakers, and I might
at least name one country which is the first in my
affections, and which could boast of presenting a
set of public orators, unfortunately now on the
half-pay list—(laughter)—as brilliant and nume-
rous as was ever seen in the assemblies of any
country or of any age. (Cheers.) I am certain,
also, that great oratorical power will be, or is
already displayed in all those more or less new
Parliaments which are now happily sitting in many
European capitals. But it has been your good luck
or the effect of your wisdom that you have
constantly and without interruption, for a long
course of years, enjoyed truly representa-
tive institutions, and their blessing has im-
parted to the tone of your public speakers a
peculiar character, humorous without frivolity,
practical and not trivial, eloquent but never degene-
rating into mere rhetorical amplifications—in a
word, English oratory appears to me the real
pattern of modern parliamentary eloquence. (Hear,
hear.) The same thing may be said of the daily or
periodical press. I know I come to a subject rather
delicate to be touched at in this place, and, above
all, by me ; but I hope to keep within the limits
which I ought not to overstep when I say that the
press cannot accomplish its real aim nor exert fully
its beneficial action without freedom. (Cheers.) I
do not contend that this freedom should be carried
to the same extent or submitted to the same rules
in every country. It rests upon certain general
principles which are known by any man of good
sense, and ought to respected by every legislator
of good faith. (Hear, hear.) Nor would I deny
that the freest press may make some mistakes,
inflict occasional wrong, mislead public
opinion
upon certain questions or in regard to certain
persons ; for remember that it is the law of God
that nothing can be perfect in this world. (Hear,
hear.) I was one day talking on this subject with
an illustrious statesman of my country—a moderate
but stanch Liberal—l don't know why I should omit

his name, for I am aware of no name more entitled

to universal esteem and respect—l mean the Duc
de Broglie. After having carefully canvassed the
inconveniences and advantages of the liberty of
the press, he thus summed up his opinion :—" I am
prepared to see honest and good men occasionally
calumniated, provided that one day or another
the mask is always torn from the face of the dis-

honest and wicked." Well, I say that a really free
press nearly always expresses and gives preponder-
ance to the opinions and feelings of the great
majority of the community, and nine times out of
ten the majority inclines towards the best and
wisest course. The press exerts upon the Execu-
tive power an action at once stimulative and restric-
tive. It prevents many rash decisions, and it points
out many good things which are to be done, and
which single men might not always perceive with-
out the aid of the hundred voices of the press.
(Cheers.) Its action is felt at the lowest degrees of
administrative hierarchy. I have been myself a
public servant of my country, and I know by my
own—unfortunately not very long—experience that
nothing impresses a public man with a keener sense
of his duty, nothing enforces upon him the obliga-
tion of meditating carefully before he takes any
resolution, or of attending constantly to every part
of his duties than the knowledge that all his acts
or omissions will be publicly reported to his coun-
trymen and commented upon, not always in a very
friendly tone. (A laugh, and Hear, hear.) Even
in another point of view, the press, when it is
Fagged, cannot give the same weight to literary
judgments, nor exert upon literature the same
healthy influence. (Hear.) I know that the
liberty of the press has existed or exists more or
less in many other countries of Europe ; but it has,
by various circumstances or by occasional changes
of legislation, been subjected to an intermittent state
of collapse or over-excitement which has often
thrown it into wrong ways, or, at least, prevented
it from exercising its full power for doing good.
Nobody can deny that Continental journalists
have to encounter considerable difficulties, and
that they have to display a degree of skilfulness,
and often courage, which does them great credit.
(vl,lhet:etr,t hear.) But nothing can replace the free
air
.which people breath in this happy land, and
I hope some good wind will, one day or other,
diffuse throughout :it the whole of Europe. There is
no family misfortune, no success of others, no event
po'int
on this
with the milk aonfa
peating with thenly
will alter the opinion I entertain
which, I may say, I have sucked
periculosa libertas nurse. I will persevere in re-
g joeu ai
et
toßseenlrvatn'to,
I preferhistorian, "
libertyP otior
with its dangers
Gentlemen, if I have eaxeniet servitude. (Cheers.)
to have done upon
some peculiar
more than I ought
peculiar characteristics of
your present literature, my position
will perhaps be an excuse dr
ailiberty which one
as a foreigner
of your countrymen sitting in this eai
have taken. However, I know well thart mightthe
object
not
of this institution is not merely English, nor
merely
literary; ; it is, above all, cosmopolitan and chari-
table. table. It is not by giving prizes to essays or con-
ferring distinctions that you encourage the noble
literary profession—it is by charity, not mean,
noisy, or humiliating, but noble, secret, and well
applied. (Hear, hear.) Your unseen hand is always
extended to help the young man in his first and un-
successful trial, the old one who at the end of his
career finds his strength fail him, the widow, the
orphans who are left destitute by a sudden and un-
foreseen calamity. (Rear.) You do not confine your
efforts to the precincts of these islands • you seek
everywhere those who have fallen with islands;
in
the
great literary contest whether they are born in
the Arctic • in '
regions or the barbarous countries
which extends southofthe and
when I say so I don't
.use a mere form of words—l
speak of facts. It is the greatest privilege of those
who are called upon to preside at these meetings
that your records are open to them, and the only
which drawback to the great satisfaction •
ch results