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

r.l) DIANER.

Your novels were in all hands, and I remember,
if I may be allowed another personal recollec-
tion, that more than once one of the Waverley
Novels was concealed at school under my desk
—(a laugh)—and that when I was supposed to
be bent upon one of the celebrated grammatical
books which come from the pen of our great Port
Royal scholars I was attentively reading Ivanhoe
or Old Mortality. (Laughter and cheers.) Such is
our natural taste for what we call in French le fruit
defendu. I could not now, perhaps,
repeat cor-
rectly all the tenses of a Greek verb in ea, but I am
sure I could trace the footsteps of Nigel in the
streets of Loudon, point out the spot where once
stood the house of Jennie Deans or serve as a cice-
rone in the ruins of Lochleven. (Cheers.) Since
the days of Sir Walter Scott the novels of your
countrymen have not ceased to command universal
attention abroad. Vanity Fair, David Copperfield,
Coningsby, and My Novel are as much read on the
continent as the works of Georges Sand or Alex-
andre Dumas, tend on this very day the readers of
one of the most important French newspapers,after
a rapid glance at the telegrams, hasten to peruse
• the feuilleton where they will find the continuation
of the Woman in White translated iato their own
language. (Laughter and cheers.) Gentlemen, if
I were to give 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 even 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 desideratum 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 more 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 crf
Cicero against Catalina 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 erg rvrlr r% nes° s.c. 4n mn +1,... ..no 1
~e4+ avirs. 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 Due
de Broglie. After having carefully canvassed the
inconveniences and advantages of the liberty of
the press, he thus summed up his opiiaion :—" 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
wise t course. The press exerts upon the Execu-
tive Tower 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
gagged, 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.
(Hear, hear.) But nothing can replace the free
air which people breath in this happy land, and
which I hope some good wind will, one day or other,
no family
use throughout the whole of Europe. There is
diff
misfortune, no success of othrs, no event
whichwhatever will
.alter the opinion I entertain
on this point, and with the milk of mwhich, I may say, I have sucked
with the I will persevere in re-
peatinggyrenurse. arch Roman historian, "Potior
periculosa 'libertas quiets. ser • "
\Vial its dangers to a aulettnto —I prefer liberty
servitude. (Cheers.)
Gentlemen, if I have expatiated more than I ought
to have done upon some peculiar characteristics of
your present literature, my position as a foreigner
will perhaps be an excuse for a liberty which one
of your countrymen sitting in this chair might not
have taken. However, I know well that the -object
of this institution is not merely English, nor merely
literary; it is, above all, cosmopolitan and chari-
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. (Hear.) You do not confine your
efforts to
the precincts of these islands; you seek
everywhere those who have fallen with honour in
the great literary contest, whether they are born in
the Arctic regions
or in the barbarous countries
which extends south of the Mediterranean • 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
drawback to the great satisfaction which results

from this inspection is that your chairman is not
Wowed to disclose what he has seen. But you prac-
tise• charity in its real Evangelical way, and your
left band must not know what your right band has
done. There is only one case of timely assistance
given by this society to which I may allude, be-
cause it has been already brought before the public
by the very man who was interested in it—this
man was Chateaubriand. It is impossible not to
feel a real emotion on seeing the autograph lines in
which this illustrious writer declares that without
the help he had received from this institution he
would have been unable to finish his work called
the Natchez, the first which created his reputation;
so that if this society had not existed, the glory of
that great man would perhaps have been lost for
France, and for letters. (Hear, hear.) Gentlemen,
I suppose that after this example nothing can be
added to show what action this institution may
have upon literature and the mutual relations of
nations; but the very name of your president is
also a symbol, for it means absence of prejudices,
high taste for art or letters, practical liberalism,
universal kindness. I conclude, then, drinking to
the prosperity of the Literary Fund, and to the
health of its president, the Marquis of Lansdowne.
(Loud and renewed cheering.)
The toast was drunk with enthusiasm. ,
The SECRETARY read the list of subscriptions,
including £lOO from her Majesty the Queen, 2,000 f.
from his Royal Highness the Due d'Aumale,
making a total of nearly £9OO.
Mr. DISRAELI said—Gentlemen, the list of those
who have now for more than two-thirds of a cen-
tury presided over the anniversary of our Literary
Fund is no mean roll. There may be found there
the names of many men eminent in letters and in
public life. There may be found the names of
illustrious persons, and especially of one near the
Throne, whose:sympathy with all that tends to the
development of the human intellect has gained for
him the respect of the whole nation. But I doubt
whether our chair has ever been filled under cir-
cumstances more interesting than on the present
occasion. (Cheers.) It is filled by the scion of an
nnciunt house, long oonneetCel with the progrcoo of
the most brilliant and refined of modern nations
—by the lineal descendant of the great monarch
whose name is indelibly associated with the most
resplendent period of modern letters. (Hear,
hear.) But the claims of our chairman to your

sympathy and confidence do not depend upon the
past or upon the deeds of those who have preceded
him. His claims are present and personal. (Cheers.)
If it be true that the most classic order of literary
composition is that in which the writer, in whom
action and contemplation blend, is enabled to
give the results of his own experience, to paint
the scenes he has himself witnessed, and to re-
cord the events which he has himself, perhaps,
in some measure occasioned, then, I say, that our
chairman can urge the strongest claims to distinc-
tion in that department. (Hear.) We are indebted
to his pen for those vivid pictures, with which you
are doubtless familiar, on the origin and character
of that recent arm of modern warfare which seems
to combine the discipline of Europe with the fire of
the Desert. (Hear.) In those precise and picturesque
sketches of the Zouaves you cannot forget that the
writer observed them on the tented field, where he
encamped among the rest, and that he also

led the soldiers on to war and to victory, (Hear.)
The same pen has analyzed in ancient lore one of
the most wonderful campaigns of Cwsar ; I may
say that that criticism displays a spirit and a skill
not altogether unworthy of the matchless character
whose exploits and whose narrative of them he has
viewed with an admiring but searching eye. (Haar,
hear.) I have always believed that the time will
yet come when we shall be indebted to his Royal
Highness for the production of some work which
will live in the language of that accomplished coun-
try which he quitted in sorrow but with honour.
(Hear.) We live in an age of strange vicissitude.
The course of revolution is as rapid as it is strong.
Empires dissolve, and dynasties are scattered.
Happy the prince who, by no fault of his own, ban-
ished from the court and camp, can find consolation
in the library, and generous occupation in the rich
galleries of learning. and art. (Hear.) Happy the
prince who in a foreign land, mixing with his fellow-
men on equal terms, is still marked out by the pre-
eminence of nature. (Hear.) Happy the prince who,
under such circumstances, may, in the realms of liter-
ature, conquer provinces which he can never lose,
and, perhaps, establish a throne which may defy the
fate of dynasties. (Cheers.) It is with these feel-
ings, gentlemen, that I now propose to you the
health of our noble chairman, his Royal Highness
th d'Aumale.
tnsiqt. Was tirtant annum, neart.y aneers.wnteo
were renewed when his Royal Highness rose to
respond.
His ROYAL HIGHNESS said he could not find
words to do more than simply thank them for the
honour they had done him. He thanked them for
their kind reception, and the forbearance with
which they had borne his incorrect grammar. (No.)
He hoped that his Gallicisms had at least added to
the cosmopolitan character of the gathering.
(Laughter, and hear.)
Mr. MONCKTON MILNES then proposed " The
Ambassadors who have honoured us with their pre-
sence, and his Excellency M. Van de Weyer."
M. VAN DE WEYER, after returning thanks, gave
The Literature of Great Britain."

Mr. ANTHONY TROLLOPE responded.
Mr. THACKERAY, in giving " The Literature of
France," expressed his deep obligations to the most
brilliant, the wittiest, he had almost said the wisest

literature of the world. He trusted that one day
the literature of France would enjoy entire free-
dom, like that of England. (Cheers.) It had been
his lot to be subjected to a good deal of buffeting
by the public press both of this country and Ame-
rica, but he held that that rude exercise of public
opinion was essential to the true interests of the
profession to which he belonged.
The other toasts were " Scientific TravellerF "
proposed by Sir R. Murchison and acknowledged
by M. du Chaillu, and " The Ladies" by the Chair-
man.

The company separated about 11 o'clock.

THE THAMES B OBANKMENT AND
RAILWAY COXILISSION.

Yesterday the Commissioners concluded their
investigation into the merits of the various plans
before them.
Mr. F. C. Worsley proposed the construction of
flood-gates at London-bridge, an aqueduct sewer
on each side of the Thames, together with boule-
vards, architectural ways, and a railway.
Mr. C. M. Archer, a member of the press, sub-
mitted a project (which was read by Mr. Kingscote,
the hon. secretary, with the consent of the com-
missioners) for a viaduct, rail,road, and sewer way;
the viaduct to be a continuous viaduct from
bridge to bridge down the centre of the Thames
upon ornamental iron columns, carrying with
it the railway or tramway, road or promenade and
sewer, thereby leaving altogether undisturbed the
shore property and vested interests on either side
of the river, the viaduct furnishing facilities;foresta-
blishment of " river streets, landing places, and
wharf accommodation, as well as for telegraphs,
water and gas pipes, allowing by the latter means
the light up of the river navigation by night, the
viaduct conveniently dividing the river into an up
and down navigation, to be dredged and deepened
where desirable, besides allowing barges and ves-
sels to be towed up or down stream at all times of
tide by rope or horse power by the side of the via-
duct, which might be made a toll-road—thus en-
deavouring to meet the main object of the commis-
sion, " That of the establishment of a new and
spacious thoroughfare along the Thames, the im-
provement of its navigation, and the making of the
great low level sewer without disturbing the Strand
or Fleet-street."

Captain Vetch, of the Admiralty, and engineer
for the conservancy of the tidal waters of the United
Kingdom, pointed out the lines of embankment
best to be adopted along the river route. The walls
should be of solid material, and it would be alike
desirable for the navigation and sanitary purposes
that the river should be deepened alongside to 6
feet at the time of low water spring tides.
The commissioners then adjourned, and will next
proceed with the consideration of the wharfingers,
and other propertied interests on the rivers.

ONE THOUSAND POUNDS FOR A PRAYER BOOK.

—The manuscript missal of the 15th century belonging to
the Abbey of St, Lo, at Rouen, was sold on Saturday, as
announced, at the public sale rooms in the Rue Drouot. It
was put up at 1,500 f., and the biddings went very slowly to
10,000 f., but at that moment the competition became more
animated, and the hammer ultimately fell at the sum of
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