had feared and hoped. On a solitary peak in the ocean, what was man?—more useless than the sea-weed, more helpless than the bubbles that floated past with the waves. The ship had disappeared; but some fragments still floated about the rock. I took possession of one of them, and drifted away, as I believed, to certain death. Now, talk of solitude!-on a single plank in the untraversed South Pacific. I floated away and away; but nature was at length exhausted. I stretched myself out at full length; I closed my eyes; and became insensible. When my senses returned, I was on board a French discovery-ship, in a comfortable bed, and enjoying every luxury,—and oh ! that luxury above all other luxuriesthe music of the human voice, when its tones are softened by human affections! I did nothing but weep like a child for a whole week. In two months I was again in England. THE ASCENT OF ELIJAH. 'MID peaks abrupt, the snows are ever deep With awe we look on those to whom were given The hour is dim; the sacred passion swells; The scene hath risen.-The river banks are fair, On the near mound, with column'd palm-trees crown'd, To catch the faint low sound of distant prayer, The ostrich' shriek from Moab's homeless plain? Although her rock is tall, and wild, and dread, Look downward where the glade retiring opes, And a grey pathway to the river slopes; And mark the mantled twain, whose footsteps slow Are moving to the deep stream's bridgeless flow. Lo! stern Elijah seeks his fated hour, To close and seal his ministry of power; Already heaven is busy in his heart; A moment more, and he shall calmly part, Leaving immortal a memorial strange Of heavenly triumph over earthly change. He, too, is there, on whom shall soon alight The double wonders of prophetic might; Unmoved of soul, though they have striven to wake His human fear. 66 Elisha, God will take Away to-day thy master from thy head.". "I know it, yea, and wait, but not with dread." They reach the river: will they breast its sweep? They wind-they tread-they pass the waters deep! The prophet's robe hath smote them; and the waves Own the command, and leave their reedy caves. "Father," Elisha murmur'd, 66 on my head A double share be of thy spirit shed!" Upward he look'd, and that pale ancient brow With warmer passion seem'd to kindle now, And seraph-like the smile which flitted there, As, o'er his kneeling servant bent in prayer, He blest the seer with accents all divine: "Much hast thou ask'd, yet shall the gift be thine, If thou behold me when mine hour is come." -The vision burst, and mortal voice was dumb. And such the sounds that through the whirlwind broke, Whose is the form that mingles in the blaze? A mortal shape ascending as he prays; Oh, awed and still as that old seer, and they Who throng'd around him in the twilight grey, And wondering as they saw his troubled air, Knew the dark spirit of Elijah there; So awed, so silent, land of God! will we Recall our fancies from thy scenes and thee. God of our spirits! from thy throne sublime, THE BATTLE GROUND. By J. Memes, LL.D., Author of the "Life of Rimaner dopo vita pien di faville. and but a few hours before, uncovered, showed the entire mound to be one vast sepulchre, whose dread contents, by their confusion, too plainly evidenced the unpeaceful departure and the reckless entombment. The scenery of no mean event, of no trivial contest, was now obviously around me; but multitudinous and unrecorded death seemed here involved in double mystery. Resuming enquiry, I found the door of the belfry only slightly secured, thus reaching, with some difficulty, by a half ruinous stair, an exterior bartizan. This station, though not elevated above forty feet, commanded a prospect of surpassing grandeur, which would have presented, even to less excited imaginings, no unfitting theatre for some mighty act in the drama of events. Here, too, knowledge, far from discrediting, was to give fixedness and veracity to the pourtrayings of fancy. On the parapet had once been a sun-dial; the gnomon broken away, the hour lines defaced, seemed, like the awful secrets beneath, to have no more doings with time; but there still remained legibly inscribed, as the name of the place"WAGRAM!" cies! how have thy rational offspring become how do they continue-the veriest dupes and slaves of names and influences the most abhorrent to all that is truly noblest in their nature and best ends of being! To the communication of this brief legend there required no addition. The landscape which now extended before and around me, bright, and calm, and beautiful, had been the torn and echoing battle-field, whereon two hundred thousand human beings had toiled in mortal conflict. Here the Austrian had bled within sight and sound of home's endearments, and side by side,—his foe, afar from all "the closing eye requires;" yet did not home in sunny France mingle sweetly even in his latest blood-dimmed visions! It is when on some battle-plain we thus view each nameless wreck apart-regard each single bosom, in itself a world of life, a little sanctuary of loves and charities, desolated as if not an holy thing-as if not the holiest of created things-that our souls sicken A SOLITARY ramble along the left bank of the Danube, at the trade of warfare. It is then we execrate his refor I had escaped from Vienna and all inflictions of regu-nown, as formerly we may have contemned the vulgar lar sight-seeing for one day's enjoyment of nature-termi-quality that constitutes the military hero. Father of Mernated in a spot which arrested thought with a power still well remembered. Yet scarcely could the impressiveness be assigned to any definite or striking characteristics of locality. A village church, the principal object, with steep roof and square belfry, supporting its extinguishershaped spire of shining tiles, nowise superior to the similar buildings of German hamlets, was surrounded by an humble cemetery alike unpretending. But something in the aspect of the place spake to the heart and engaged attention. The more observation was indulged, a greater intensity, or perhaps individuality of sentiment, awoke. How have these walls been literally ploughed by the deadly though not recent shower of musketry; and these once magnificent trees, so evidently survivors of themselves as of compeers, what has smitten their giant limbs in such ruthlessness? And, more than all, these numerous and lengthened ridges reposing green and silent in the calm sunshine, how are they to be contemplated? Too capacious for the last resting-places of the rustic population around-if not tombs, why rise they in consecrated earth? But who shall unfold the story of their indwellers, if tenanted they be by unknown dead thus lonely and unhonoured! Here no sumptuous monument proclaimed its tale of flattery or of pride, nor modest stone recorded the tribute of affection. Nothing indicated the sympathies or interests of this world-not even the rude cross of wood, (rarely, in Austria, omitted over the lowliest grave,) on which might be read the initials of some loved name, traced with bare intelligence by the unpractised hand. Nature's sweets had here strewn, it might be, over human decay, the sole and affecting ornament in the spring flowers that gemmed the undulating sward. A consequent search conducted to the extremity, close upon the river, of the largest of these mysterious elevations. At this point a late inundation had burst the cerement that shrouded from the eye-formless nothings that had once been men! The portion thus singularly, Hope fain would whisper this may not always be. Meanwhile yield we somewhat to the deceit; and do you, reader, placing yourself beside us in the narrow balcony of the church tower, look forth upon the scene while we describe the associations of its history. Turn we first attention eastwards to these low verdant islands, floating from thence about cannon-shot down the stream where the Danube expands to 'receive them in a wider reach. These, for many weeks, formed the position of the French army, whence it marched on the morning of July 6th, 1809, "the day of Wagram." That village just seen above the coppice of the right bank opposite is Ebersdorff, the station of Davoust and the reserve. These dark masses to the rear of the extreme right are the towers of Vienna, which, then in possession of a French garrison, extended their line of communication seven miles. The main force, however, commanded by Napoleon in person, lay in Lobau, the largest of the islands, three, or perhaps four miles in circuit, and joined to the left bank by an isthmus seemingly artificial, where these grassy inequalities still mark the strong entrenchments opposed to hos tile attack on that side, while, on the other, friendly intercourse was secured by a bridge of boats. Here a species of military colony was established, and not uninte resting relics of the habits and tastes of the French soldiery may yet be discovered in the ruins of regular streets and squares of turf habitations, intermingled with parterres, miniature gardens, and promenades. On this hand a battery, on that a theatre-here a champs de Mars, there a circus rises. Beyond this once-crowded spot, where men, cut off by situation and hostility from all the world, and from all aid save their swords, could be thus careless and gay, the noblest of European rivers winds his majestic course through a champaign of luxuriant fertility, bounded only by the horizon where the blue waters gleam along the azure plains of distant Hungary. The Austrian force, under the Archduke Charles, confined wholly to the left bank of the Danube, occupied a strong position in front of these two villages, about three miles to the westward, or up the river, whence they are about half a mile distant. From our present station their white walls glisten cheerfully amid the fresh green of the caltivation which surrounds them, but their magnitude and appearance may seem to contrast strangely with the importance attached in history to the names of Asperne and Esseling. The immediate field of battle, however, was upon the plain, or rather two plains, above and below Wagram; interjacent between the Danube and these irregular heights, which, on the point where the church stands, forming a kind of isthmus with the river, afterwards recede to a distance in the shape of a double crescent. Eastwards, below Wagram, these elevations gradually subside into the general level; but to the west, and above Asperne, they rise into grandeur, presenting a magnificent amphitheatre of hanging forest, broken cliff, and castled steep, with woodland and cultivated valley between, while far beyond tower the mountains of the Moravian chain, behind whose rampart the discomfited Austrian first sought refuge. It falls not in with our purpose to describe the battle. Both from its situation, and the circumstances of attack, Wagram formed the principal object of contest, as being in reality the key of the position. During the early portion of the day the Austrians remained in possession, and the French were confined to the lower semicircle of plain opposite Lobau, whence they had deployed; but after various captures and re-occupations, the latter became the final masters of this important point, whence they could not be driven, the former retreating nearer their first ground in the upper plain. And from the rude balcony of Wagram tower, from the very spot where the broken sun-dial lately stood, did Napoleon Bonaparte behold the closing hours of that conflict, whose issues affected the most distant thrones of Europe. Thus, reader, the place on which we had stationed you, was, in common parlance, one of no ordinary interest. The moral grandeur of endurance, too, and of persevering endeavour under dubious or even adverse circumstances, which latterly are by no means conspicuous qualities in Napoleon's character, were here eminently displayed. During the early part of the day, more than once, by his own personal exertions, exposing himself to every danger, had he re-established his broken and retreating legions. After all efforts and a partial success, he beheld the fortunes of that field on which so much depended-often more than doubtful-yet even then, from this post where we have stood, he gazed upon its varying array, and wielded its movements, with firm eye and unblanched cheek. Nor we report the evidence of a witness, though no friend, of one, in fact, who was cut down and made captive in a dash upon that very station)—nor did one changing expression for a moment disturb the marble composure of his Ene and statue-like countenance, or turn aside his intense concentration of thought, fixed on one great crisis, yet alive to minor incidents, till perceiving the Austrian centre to be injudiciously and irretrievably extended, he exclaimed, in tones as if a spell had been broken, have gained!" Then rushing down the narrow stairfinging himself into the nearest saddle-several of his favourite chargers having been in readiness for hours in the church below, he poured the shock of his columns upon the weakness of his adversary, and verified his own prediction. "We ANECDOTES OF AN AUTHOR OF THE OLD SCHOOL. By Robert Chambers. DR WALTER ANDERSON, who died about thirty years ago, minister of Chirnside in Berwickshire, was a man of excellent private character, of the best intentions, and great benevolence; but he was unfortunately spoilt by the idea that he possessed the qualifications of a great author. Perhaps not a single reader of this Journal is acquainted with Dr Anderson's name as an author; yet it is certain he published a prodigious number of books-aye, and books of a substantial nature, too-none of your light gossamer royal eighteenmos, or your slim twelvemosbut thick, honest-like quartos, or decent octavos, at the very least. Had the Doctor's works been only solid and massive in their physical or external structure, there would have been no occasion to speak of him here; but, alas! they were equally solid in their moral constitution, and lay upon the public stomach like so many masses of lead. The means by which he contrived to gratify his literary ambition, in the face of general disapprobation, were curious. He was a man of some property, and, for a long time, he regularly sold a house in Dunse, and published a book in Edinburgh, every other year; the proceeds of the house to defray the expenses of the publication. By this expedient, he converted a row of goodly houses in one of the best streets of his native town, into a row of goodly volumes in one of the best shelves of his library. 66 Dr Anderson was one of those pregnant wits who require nothing but to have a subject suggested to them in order to write a book. One day he was dining at the house of the patron of the parish, Mr Hume of Mirewells; and in the company assembled was the illustrious David Hume, brother of the host. "Mr Dauvit," said the mortal to the immortal, with all the familiarity which a clergyman may use towards a parishioner, you have got a great name by your writings; but the worst of it is, that you, and sic as you, have engrossed all the good subjects, so that we who come a little later can find nothing to employ our pens upon."-" Why," said Hume, "I rather believe there are a few good subjects still unhandled."-" Could you mention any ?" asked Anderson. "What, for instance," said the philosopher, "would you think of a history of Croesus, king of Lydia ?"— "The best possible!" exclaimed the poor Doctor, in raptures ; "there is no such book in existence, and I think it is just exactly the sort of subject I could make the most of." Accordingly, upon this hint he spoke : The Life of Croesus, King of Lydia, came forth in a splendid oc tavo, at the expense of a three-story house. But, alas! although the subject was the richest in the world, the book was no better than the rest of Dr Anderson's productions, being simply a crude compilation from Herodotus and such writers of antiquity, without a single ray of mind to illuminate the mass. It cost a Anderson imitated the example of Burke, by writing a pamphlet in vituperation of the French revolution; but he did not imitate Burke in making it sell. two-story house, and the public purchased five copies. About a twelvemonth after the work appeared, the author came to Edinburgh, and called upon the historian Robertson, with whom he was intimately connected, through the means of church politics. "Doctor," said he, "I've come to town to see about the publication of an appendix to my pamphlet on the French revolution." Robertson expressed surprise at the object of the expedition, seeing that the original work had not done any good. "Ah," said the author, "but this is three times as big a book as the pamphlet and I think they'll baith gang aff thegither."—" Well," said the learned Principal, "this is the most extravagant business I ever knew you engaged in to think that a pamphlet which has been already found so heavy, will be made lighter by an addi Do tion of three times the weight! Nonsense, Doctor! You But this Academy, the establishment of which took place in the ninth century, not having been chartered, soon fell into decay, and centuries were destined to elapse before its revival. During this long period, when all Europe, and especially France, experienced the beneficial effects of Italian literature, the minstrelsies of the Troubadours, and above all, the discovery of printing, no academy was in existence, nor in contemplation, although the university of Paris, on account of the great reputation it had acquired, was then attended by more than twenty-five thousand students. But in the sixteenth century, a bright constellation of authors, ascending towards the zenith of French literature, shone forth, and under their fostering influence the institution of the French Academy took place. The names of its illustrious founders are, Ronsard, Ponthus de Thiard, Remy-Belleau, Jodelle, Dubellay, Dorat, and Baïf. These seven celebrated cha of Philadelphus Ptolemy, King of Egypt, were called the French Pleïades,-a name well merited, for like the fair daughters of Atlas, every one of them became the theme of admiration; and the enthusiastic regard evinced by Queen Mary of Scotland, towards Ronsard, one of their number, is an additional proof how powerful the charms of that poet must have been. This ill-starred writer once got a dreadful hit in the stomach of his absurdity, from a hand that did not seem the most likely to inflict it. There prevailed in his time a very reprehensible custom of making one of every little party the butt, as it was called; in other words, an indi-racters, in allusion to the Egyptian Pleïades, near the time vidual was selected, remarkable for either natural or assumed eccentricity of character, who was set up as a sort of mark, against which all the rest might direct their witticisms. The custom prevailed immensely in society of the second order, and particularly among the clergy, whose presbytery dinners and other meetings gave them frequent occasion for exercising it. The chief butt of the clergy of Dr Anderson's district was a Dr Ridpath, The establishment, however, of an academy, the avowed brother to the author of "The Border History of Scot-object of which was to refine and perfect the French lanland;" a worthy man and a scholar, but whose simpli- guage, was considered by some an encroachment on the city of character made him quite the proper person for rights of the University, and a remonstrance from that being used as a butt. It was a peculiar feature, however, body was forwarded to Charles IX. then King of France, of Dr Ridpath's character as a butt, that he sometimes and then also, fortunately for the infant Academy, one of its members. stood at bay, and paid back as good as he got; and of this Instead of supporting the University, a noted instance is told in connexion with the name of Charles became the zealous protector of the French Aca. Dr Anderson. demy against the attacks of its enemy; and his patronage One day, that gentleman, after a long course of bantering, fairly told Dr Ridpath that "it was weel kenn'd he was but a weak brother."—" Ou ay, was so effectual, that, notwithstanding the odious character borne by that monarch in history, he has a claim to the favourable remembrance of posterity, at least for Willie, man," answered the Doctor; "I never published the part he acted on this occasion. But by the death of it, though." SOME ACCOUNT OF THE RISE AND PROGRESS OF THE ROYAL INSTITUTE THE French Institute, styled L'Institut Royal de France, is composed of four distinct Academies. The first is exclusively devoted to the French language, and is called L'Académie Française; the second takes under its care the learned languages, antiquities, monuments, history, &c. and is termed L'Académie Royale des Inscriptions et Belles-Lettres; the third, in which matters connected with medicine, surgery, mathematics, astronomy, &c. are treated of, bears the name of L'Académie Royale des Sciences; and the fourth, which is composed of painters, sculptors, architects, musical authors, &c. is known by the appellation of L'Académie Royale des Beaux-arts. L'Académie Française having been the cradle of the three others, its origin should be first explained. The first French Academy may be traced as far back as the time of Charlemagne, at which period it was composed of the chief personages of his court, Charlemagne himself being a member. Various were the objects of their academical conferences, but they were for the most part suggested by the different works, ancient and modern, which had formed the studies of the members. With the view of giving greater dignity to their society, a name connected with the literature of antiquity was assumed by each member. Alcuinus, for instance, an illustrious Englishman, whom Charlemagne had called to his court, took the title of Flaccus, the surname of Horace; Augilbert, a lord and a poet, called himself Homer; Adelard, the Bishop of Corbie, was named Augustin; and Charlemagne assumed the appellation of David. This paper is from the pen of an able French writer now resident in Edinburgh. Baïf, one of the Pleiades, and the main support of the Academy, and also by the civil wars then raging in France, in which Henry IV. was making gigantic efforts to recover his crown from the Ligueurs, this establishment suffered severely; and until the time of Cardinal Richelieu, under Louis XIII. the Academy seems to have been buried in oblivion. In the middle of the seventeenth century, like a Phenix reviving from its ashes, the illustrious body assumed a new life, and from the lustre reflected by a Balzac, a Chapelain, a Voiture, a Benserade, and a Sarazin, in the houses of whom, from 1628 till 1635, its meetings were held, the literary horizon of France became once more illuminated. About this period died Malherbe, styled "the poet," par excellence-under the influence of whose genius the French language, assuming a new character, became more pure, flowing, and harmonious, and also acquired a degree of elevation and dignity, unknown before the time of this elegant and accurate writer. It is of him that Boileau has said, in his Art Poétique,— "Enfin Malherbe vint, et, le premier en France, Fit sentir dans les vers une juste cadence; D'un mot mis en sa place enseigna le pouvoir, Et réduit la muse aux règles du devoir." Cardinal Richelieu's good taste, liberality, and fondness for every thing connected with French literature, can never be forgotten. Under his fostering care, the Academy acquired a solid reputation; and it was under his patronage that in 1635, the same year in which was erected the first Botanical Garden at Paris, it obtained the name of l'Académie Française, the objects of which were understood to be exclusively for the improvement, refinement, and perfection of the French language. The number of its members was limited to forty, out of which a director, a chancellor, and a secretary, were chosen ; the two first offices being for a limited period, and the latter for life. In the apartment of Cardinal Richelieu the first legal sittings were held; but some time after his death, accommodation in the palace of the Louvre, corresponding with the dignity and independence of the illustrious body, was prepared and appropriated for them. Corneille, Racine, Boileau, La Fontaine, Ménage, D'Olivet, and other luminaries, were members of this Academy, which to this day has retained the exclusive title of Académie Française, the meaning of which is-l'Académie de la langue Française, because the labours of its members are confined to that kind of literature, in which the accuracy of style and beauties of diction form the prominent objects. This may account for poets having composed the majority of the French Academy, which is now the first branch of the Royal Institute of France. On the death of Cardinal Richelieu, which was followed by that of Louis XIII., when the young king was about four years old, Cardinal Mazarin, taking advantage of the high favour he was in with the queen regent, succeeded Richelieu in the premiership, and by repeated reckless and oppressive measures, the offspring of his unbounded ambition, brought France to the point of a gene ral civil war. Fortunately, however, the excitement was confined chiefly to Paris, where, after the conspicuous part played, during a whole year, by the Barricades and the Fronde, peace and apparent harmony between the queen, the young king, the prime minister, the parliament, and the people, were at last restored. Five years after these events, Cardinal Mazarin, sensible of the influence the fine arts would have in repressing those fierce passions, whence flowed all the miseries with which France had been afflicted since he began to govern, formed the liberal and generous resolution of erecting, under his special protection, an Academy of Painting and Sculpture, which was accordingly established in 1654, under the name of l'Académie de Peinture et de Sculpture. The office-bearers of this Academy were composed of a director, a chancellor, a treasurer, rectors, and professors; and the rank of every member was regulated by the style of art pursued by him,-historical painters ranking highest, portrait painters next, then landscape painters, and so on through all the grades of the profession. A monarch of an indifferent capacity, or possessing no taste either for the fine arts or literature, might have remained a cold spectator of the liberal and generous efforts of his prime minister; but, great by principle, magnificent by habit, and enthusiastic by nature, Louis XIV. was fired with the glorious design of increasing the fame of France, by extending to Rome a branch of the Parisian establishment, so that young artists, who had deserved well of the Academy at Paris, might be sent to "the Eternal City," where they would enjoy the inestimable advantage of witnessing the efforts, and imitating the beauties, of the ancients. This plan was no sooner conceived than executed. The modern Romans were not a little sur XIV. Academy, Colbert, always alive to every thing from which France could derive either honour or benefit, and aware that meetings of mathematicians, natural philosophers, and other scientific persons, such as Descartes, Pascal, Mersennes, Blondel, Montmort, Thevenot, &c. had, for some years, been frequently held in private, thought proper, as a mark of respect, and also as a stimulus to every individual versed in particular sciences, to recommend the erection of an Académie des Sciences; and in 1699, precisely at the time of the breaking out of the war for the Spanish succession, which set Europe in a blaze, it became a legal institution. Its constitution, however, on account of the multifarious branches of which the Academy was composed, was necessarily modelled on grounds differing from the others, for, in the first place, the num ber of members was fixed at seventy; secondly, the members were divided into four classes, honorary, pensionary, associates, and pupils; and, in the last place, no one was to be admitted unless he was the author of an invention, discovery, or original work of importance. Such are the elements of which the National Institute of France is now chiefly composed, and such they were exactly before the French Revolution in 1788, when a political storm, which had been gathering for many years, exhibited, on the horizon of France its hideous and fear. ful aspect, and, bursting with indescribable fury, spread devastation far and wide, overturning every legal barrier, rooting out every institution, and rending asunder every moral tie. After several years of confusion and desolation, a successful stop, however, was put to the victorious and bloody career of the evil spirit by which that dreadful storm and its destructive concomitants were directed. The extinguishing of the torch of civil war, which, unfortunately for my country, had been too long burning, was attended with the re-establishment of those institutions which, though excellent in themselves, the irresistible tor rent of the Revolution had indiscriminately swept away, and France began again to assume that commanding attitude and that high rank, which its acknowledged political influence so justly entitled it to hold. G. S. LITERARY AND SCIENTIFIC SOCIETIES OF SOCIETY OF ANTIQUARIES. Monday, 17th May, 1830. Sir HENRY JARDINE in the Chair. A COMMUNICATION from Oriel Hay, Esq. was read, relative to the locality in which the Cyrenaic marbles, which we mentioned some weeks ago, were discovered. The folprised to see within their walls a French Academy of lowing is an extract from the letter of Mr H. Warrington, Painting and Sculpture, so quickly and so skilfully organ-female statue was found at Cyrene. The remains of the son to our Consul at Tripoli, who discovered them. "The ised. Its foundation, as well as its present prosperity, city stand on the elevation of a mountain; below which, form a lasting monument to the glorious memory of Louis facing the north, are various shelving flats, or terraces, inclining towards the base or plain country. These hill-sides cont in sepulchral caves, or apartments, evidently constructed by human art. It was upon the uppermost of these terraces, and near to the celebrated fountain of Cyrene, where, on digging about seven yards below the surface, I discovered the statue in question, perfect all but the arm, and some trifling defects. The arm was found the day following, by digging a few yards distance, and about the same depth. Above the spot where the statue was discovered, a half-legible inscription, in Greek characters, might be traced on the hill-side. The bassi-relievi were found near the place described, and about the same distance from the surface. From the nature of the ruins on that spot, I have every reason to believe that future excavations would be attended with success." The vase, which we are happy to These Academies had not been long on foot, when five or six members of the Académie Française, known for their intimate acquaintance with antiquity, monuments, history, &c., and also with foreign languages, were requested to draw up a plan of an Academy of General Literature, and its inauguration took place in 1663, just as the foundation of the College Mazarin at Paris was laid. In 1710, five years before the death of Louis XIV., at the solicitation of Colbert, his prime minister, this body obtained the royal charter, under the name of l'Académie des Inscriptions et Belles-Lettres. Among its members, Charpentier, Gédoin, Godeau, La Monnaie, Charles Perrault, and Vaillant, were remarkable for their profound knowledge and sterling merit. This is a mistake on the part of Mr Warrington; it is a statue A few years before the legal installation of the above of Esculapius. |