GUILD OF LITERATURE AND ART.* A FEW WORDS BY THE EDITRESS. "An author may be considered as a merciful substitute to the legislature. He acts not by punishing crimes, but by preventing them.”—OLIVER GOLDSMITH. “Men of genius can more easily starve, than the world, with safety to itself, can continue to neglect and starve them."-FORSTER'S LIFE OF GOLDSMITH. The widely-circulated prospectus of this proposed Institution, together with recent notices of the amateur theatricals connected with it, must doubtless have rendered our readers familiar with a scheme of more than ordinary interest and promise. Yet those among them who take a true and earnest interest in Literature and Art, and who recognize the incalculable debt of humanity to its best teachers, are not likely to be wearied of the subject, or refuse to it a little longer attention. view of the question. But if we look at it more closely, we shall find that a large proportion of these prosperous and honoured authors have a private fortune, or some means separate from the pen; and though limited, be it never forgotten that even a small income stands as the barrier against want; the staff to support proper pride; the shield against temptation; and the fulcrum for exertion. In the rare instances where wealth has been apparently the reward of literary merit alone, it will be found that there has been a natural gift superadded to the merit, a certain business faculty which enables the possessor to use his genius as merchandize, to hit the temper of the time, and to hold his own against the world. Perhaps the highest order of genius sided"-does always possess this practical attribute; but then there is yet another quality needed for absolute wordly success--the health that secures unquivering nerves-the physique that can resist retorts, rebuffs, and misapprehensions, and endure the daily toil, and the constant care-in a word, the frame not to be worn out by the mind's sensibility-the scabbard strong enough to resist the sharp sword it encloses! The "poor author," chilled and starved in his miserable garret, was a sort of stereotyped "idea" for upwards of a century; and without our waiting to name names, or open distressing biographies, scenes of appalling misery will rise, unbidden, in many a memory. The mar--which, to deserve the name, must be "manytyrs of our Religion died for us at the stake, and to them we owe, with the Opened Bible, that freedom of thought, without which no other freedom could have been worth having. But it is our literature that has kept that Book unclasped that has alternately taught the People what they should ask, and the Rulers what they must give; that has been to morals more regenerative than "the legislature;" the ministers of these high offices often proving martyrs Let it, however, be granted, that genius of who endured pangs more protracted, and hardly the very highest order must make its way to less severe, than those of the sufferers at Smith-fame and honours-through all possible obfield. Had the People been wise enough to know who were their best benefactors, such lives and deaths could not have been; they would at least have spared a tithe from the lavish rewards of military glory, to the labourers in the realms of minds. "But," I can fancy many excellent folks saying-" but we have changed all that; authors are quite ladies and gentlemen now, and live in nice houses, and give parties, and go to the opera; and there was Mrs. -'s name among the presentations at court, and Mr. at a dinner party at the Duke of -'s. Oh, they are not poor authors now-they don't live in garrets any longer," True, to some extent; and it is a blessing (much less even for the favoured individuals than for the country) that there is one bright * Office, 10, Lancaster-place, Strand: Honorary Secretary, Mr. William Henry Wills. stacles of poverty and obscurity; yet how largely is the world indebted to them who are, like stars, second and third in magnitude! Or-to use another simile-we should not blame "sweet lavender" for not being the rose, or taunt the mignionette for not climbing high like the jasmine; we want all the flowers for our bouquet, and though we may choose to put the one in the front rank, or grow it for its honour in a china pot; they all need cherishing and culture, and in return fill the air with the sweets of summer. Do people, familiar only with the great names of literature, ever ask how are supplied the multitudinous works which issue from the press, unheralded by any sign of note as to the authors of them? The careful, clever, useful, compilations; the sparkling, or profound, magazine articles; reviews; leading articles; contributions to our excellent cheap literature such as swarms at the railway termini, and the infinite variety of admirable juvenile books? The producers of these riches are, for the most part, working authors, often possessed of great talents and erudition, oftener of genius that, not possessing the iron physique, or the business tact, has been borne down by the accidents of life-has been corroded by care, withered by neglect, and so depressed by forced uncongenial intellectual labour, that the spring of hope and energy has broken, and the mind which, if a few years since had had the blessed leisure in which to grow, expand, commune with itself, and choose its labour-might have produced deathless works has sunk now into that dull routine of mental toil which is necessary for the body's daily existence; but which day by day consumes the powers which might have been far more nobly employed. Intellectually I mean, not morally; for a soul of genius that has refused to sell its powers to any evil purpose, which at the call of duty has accepted drudgery, and resolutely performed its possible of good in the narrow path it has found, which has striven for contentment, and acquired resignation, must be a more beautiful object in the pure sight of the angels, than that same genius garlanded by fame, and surrounded with troops of friends. The GUILD OF LITERATURE AND ART will be an institution calculated to relieve these modern martyrs from their worst sufferings, and eternal honour is due to the noble hearts who have suggested it, and exerted themselves so much in the cause. It is not necessary to discuss the "Endowment in connection with an Insurance Company," because the advertised prospectus has done this sufficiently; but it cannot be too often remembered that Sir Bulwer Lytton has munificently given the ground on which the lodges are to be built as a free gift for ever, in addition to the generous bestowal of his time and genius, to which further reference must presently be made. Meanwhile an extract from the prospectus will describe the intentions of the founders of the "Guild." In connection with the Insurance Society "It is proposed to establish and endow an Institute, having at its disposal certain salaries, to which certain duties will be attached; together with a limited number of free residences, which, though Many benevolent individuals, who have given their attention to this subject, consider that this insurance test is the part of the scheme most likely to work unfairly towards the poor author, as he may be in debt and difficulties, and yet be expected to pay for insuring his life for £100-as much as would support himself and his family for a fortnight. Every guinea that he earns may probably have half a dozen claimants, in the shape of butcher, baker, tailor, landlord, &c., &c.; and yet, if he cannot spare four or five pounds for the insurance of his life, he is excluded from becoming even a candidate for the benefits of the GUILD, although he may possess genius and worth. It must also be observed, that the older he is, the more he will be obliged to pay, and the tax will fall most heavily upon those who have the least vigour to earn it.-ED. N. M. B. A. sufficiently small to be adapted to a very moderate income, will be completed with due regard to the ordinary habits and necessary comforts of gentlemen. The offices of Endowment will consist: "1st.-Of a WARDEN, with a house and a salary of 2001. a year: "2nd.-Of MEMBERS, with a house and 1701., or, without a house, 2007. a year; "3rd.--Of AssOCIATES, with a salary of 1007. a year. "For these offices all who are Insurers in the Society above-mentioned are qualified to offer themselves as Candidates. Such Insurance is to be considered an indispensable qualification, saving in exceptional cases (should any such arise) where_an individual can prove that he has made every effort to insure his life, but cannot find acceptance at any Life Office, by reason of impaired health, or of advanced age, at the date of this prospectus. personally or by a proxy selected from the Asso"Each MEMBER will be required to give, either Lectures in each year-one in London, the others CIATES, with the approval of the Warden, three at the Mechanics' Institutes, or some public building suited for the purpose, in the principal provincial Towns. Considering the many duties exacting time and attention that will devolve on the WARDEN, he will not be required to give more than one Lecture annually (which, if delivered by a proxy, he will, health permitting, be expected to compose himself), and that in the Metropolis. "These Lectures will be subject to the direction and control of the managing body of the Endowand will invariably avoid all debateable ground of ment. They will usually relate to Letters or Art, Politics or Theology. It will be the endeavour of the Committee to address them to points on which the public may be presumed to be interested, and to require dispassionate and reliable information-to make them, in short, an educational and improving feature of the time. "The duties of ASSOCIATES will be defined and fixed by a Council (consisting of the Warden, the Members, and a certain number of the Associates themselves), according to the previous studies and peculiar talent of each-whether in gratuitous assistance to any learned bodies, societies for the diffusion of knowledge, &c., or, as funds increase, and the utilities of the Institution develope themselves, in co-operating towards works of national interest and importance, but on subjects of a nature more popu lar, and at a price more accessible, than those which usually emanate from professed Academies. It is well to add, that while, on every account, it is deemed desirable to annex to the receipt of a salary the performance of a duty, it is not intended that such duty should make so great a demand upon the time and labour, either of Member or Associate, as to deprive the Public of their services in those departments in which they have gained distinction, or to divert their own efforts for independence from their accustomed professional pursuits. The design of the Institution proposed, is, to select for the appointment of MEMBERS (who will be elected for life) those Writers and Artists of esta blished reputation, and generally of mature years (or, if young, in failing health), to whom the income attached to the appointment may be an object of honourable desire; while the office of ASSOCIATE is intended partly for those whose toils or merits are less known to the general public than their pro fessional brethren, and partly for those, in earlier life, who give promise of future eminence, and to whom a temporary income of 1007. a year may be of essential and permanent service. There are few men professionally engaged in Art or Letters, even though their labours may have raised them into emparative wealth, who cannot look back to some period of struggle in which an income so humble would have saved them from many a pang, and, perhaps, from the necessity of stooping their ambition to occupations at variance with the higher aims of their career. An ASSOCIATE may, therefore, be chosen for life, or for one or more years, according to the nature of his claims and the discretion of the Electors. "It is further proposed that the Members and Associates of the Institute should elect a certain number of Honorary Members, not exceeding fifty, among persons the most eminent of their time for Letters and Art, or the most known for their attachment to either, combined with other claims to social distinction. The Presidents of the Royal Academy, the Royal Society of Literature, and of the Literary Fund, will, by virtue of their office, be entitled, if they so please, to become Honorary Members. "The body thus formed of actual and Honorary Members, will comprise the electoral constituent body, and determine by vote upon the claims of all Candidates for the office of MEMBER OF LIFE ASSOCIATE.* It is obvious that the constitution of any similar society should be centred in itself, and comprise all the necessary checks; free from the control of any purely extrinsic body. It is presumed that the Constitution here proposed will be the one most calculated to secure the objects designed by its founders. The actual Members and Associates will represent the class to which they bebelong, viz., Authors and Artists by profession; while the majority of the Honorary Members will be likely, from their circumstances of wealth or social position, to be free from the jealousies and partialities incident to all professional competition, and, only interested in the general cause and dignity of Letters and Art, to regard without personal rivalry and prejudice the claims of the several Candidates. "The originators and promoters of the scheme, thus briefly detailed, are themselves either Authors or Artists, familiarly acquainted with the wants and feelings of the great mass of their fellow-labourers, anxiously desirous to aid those distinguished in pursuits similar to their own; whose youth they have seen prematurely broken by noble struggles for independence, or whose age they have witnessed a suppliant for bounty, so administered as to embitter every memory of service, and humiliate every honest sentiment of pride. But they desire to extend whatever aid they may have the power to proffer or suggest, in the mode which seems to them most respectful to the members of those professions that give to all nations in which they flourish the least disputable title to respect. They desire that the aid should necessitate no degrading plea of poverty-no painful exposition of calamity and want; but that it should bear the character of a tribute to merit, not of an alms to destitution. A "It is obvious that no fund would suffice to support all those who have unsuccessfully applied themselves to literature and art; nor, did such funds exist, could so indiscriminate an application of them be contemplated by the proposers of this plan. large proportion of authors and artists fail simply because their abilities are not suited to the profession they have embraced: and a fund applied to the relief of these, though it might serve as a charity, could not pretend to be a tribute to merit. Although, therefore, every Insurer to the Company which is connected with the Endowment proposed will have the right to offer himself as candidate for the place of Member or Associate, it is hoped that the election will always fall upon the worthiest candidate, without subjecting him to any inquisition as to his private affairs or resources. The application for the office should be held a sufficient presumption that the candidate does not disdain the modest salary attached to it. In fine, the object of the promoters of this plan for the benefit of their brethren compatibly with the dignity of their calling, would be greatly misunderstood unless the plan were regarded, first, as a means to support those fitted by industry or talent to render service to mankind, in the earlier and Where a Candidate for the place of Associate ruder steps of their career; and, secondly, and more only contends for a temporary admission, not ex-especially, as an offering of gratitude to those who ceeding three years, the Election should be entrusted to the Warden, in Council with the Members and a selected number of Associates; because these are precisely the appointments of which professional writers and artists are likely to be the best judges, whether of the merits of the Candidate, or the degree of service which the temporary appointment may render to his career. But, to guard against partialities, the appointment should in no case be renewed without a vote of the Body at large. It would be also desirable that the Warden should be elected from among the Members, by the Members and Associates themselves; and this because, as he will be required to reside at his lodge a great portion of the year, and to superintend all the internal discipline and arrangements; as it will be his task to conciliate any differences that may arise; and he will be brought in personal contact with men of various tempers and pursuits-so it is evident that, besides his intellectual attainments, he should possess the personal respect and attachment of those by whom his opinion should be regarded as an authority, and over whose comforts, when in residence, he cannot fail to have a certain degree of influence. have made their order illustrious, maintained the renown of their country in Literature and Art, or, even in humbler departments, contributed to the enjoyment and instruction of mankind. The founders of this Endowment hold out to all whom their Society embraces, the best safeguards against the future which it is in the nature of insurance societies to provide, while exacting from each the reasonable guarantee, that as far as his means may permit, he has exercised that ordinary prudence to the want of which the distresses of a class have been popularly ascribed. To those writers enrolled in their Society whom sudden vicissitude may befall, and to whom they cannot offer the posts at their disposal, they leave the appeal to that occasional relief to which the laws of the Literary Fund confine the uses of that noble institution.* But the *It would be unfair to let mention of the Literary Fund pass, without paying the tribute of acknowledgment of its services. The laws of this noble Institution-laws established by its founder and early benefactors, and which were framed when the condition of authors formed no parallel with that of the same class at present-do not permit the same especial resources they desire to create are those that would enable them to smoothe the earlier path of a future Southey-to sustain from despair the youth of a future Chatterton-or, should a new Burns arise, to offer, at the hands of men ennobled by the honours and degraded by the humiliation of one of their brethren, something more suited to the vocation of genius, something more worthy the ornament of an age, than the place of an exciseman. It is with these views, and to express more emphatically the nature of an association which neither arrogates the disputable aims of an Academy, nor professes to bestow the humiliating charity of an Asylum, that it is intended, in accordance with the name given by old Saxon custom to societies in which the members of a class contributed to the benefit of each other, to call the institution proposed THE GUILD OF LITERATURE AND ART. The residences attached to the Association will be designated LODGES. ment of Literature and Art, and sympathy with their professors, which Her Majesty invariably displays, shows that our Queen's own mind is expanded even to the height of her station. Through the atmosphere of State which environs her-but which she loves to roll asidethe people have learned to see their best Friend. there It need hardly be said that Sir Bulwer Lytton's play was received with rapturous applause, as indeed its own merits and the merits of the actors demanded. Representations of it at a comparatively reduced rate of admission will be given at Hanover-square Rooms and other places, and we heartily hope will draw both sympathising and admiring crowds. The play is laid in the time of George the First; are Jacobites, and adherents of Walpole; a city merchant and his daughter; a mysterious lady; a Grub-street author; a young noble of lofty character, but who apes folly and laughs at his imitators; his young city friend; proud Duke, (said to be an imitation of the celebrated Duke of Somerset, but stamped with the originality that genius can bestow in a work of fiction): these characters are involved in love and politics--the Jacobite plot being not serious enough to leave the limits of comedy-jealousy and magnanimity, each one proving not so bad as he seems," and showing that there are 66 many sides to a character." The distresses and temp tations of David Fallen, the poor author, afford opportunity for allusions that plead eloquently the cause of his class, as the following may serve to exemplify : SCENE II. DAVID FALLEN'S Garret. The scene resembling In the hope to bring the plan into general notice, and to form the commencement of the necessary fund, a series of amateur theatrical representations is in progress. The beautiful Comedy of NOT SO BAD AS WE SEEM, OR MANY SIDES TO A CHARACTER,* having been written by Sir E. Bulwer Lytton expressly for the purpose-the characters being sustained by Mr. Charles Dickens, Mr. Douglas Jerrold, Mr. Mark Lemon, Mr. Foster, Mr. Frank Stone, Mr. Costello, Mr. Westland Marston, and other eminent authors and artists; and a laughable farce, entitled Mr. Nightingale's Diary, the joint production of Mr. Dickens and Mr. Lemon, who also act in it. The performance of these amateurs is so characteristic and complete, that it might shame professed histrionics; and this will readily be believed by those who remember the manner in which some of these amateurs performed "Every Man in his Humour" some five or six years ago. The first and second representation of the new play took place at Devonshire House, his Grace the Duke, so well known as the kind and generous patron of the arts, having awarded his permission-finished; and the first occasion was honoured by the presence of royalty-Her Majesty and Prince Albert. Nor was this all these Illustrious Personages granted, though the example of their sanction, approval, and lively interest in the scheme, must have had immense weight, but they also subscribed liberal pecuniary aid to the cause. Every year which passes over the head of our beloved Sovereign serves but to endear Her the more warmly to her subjects; such acts of thoughtful and of generous sympathy with woes so far removed from a throne, does time reveal to us at her hands. A breath of apPad. Agh, now! don't be so ungrateful to your When Mr. Tonson, the proval a smile of approbation from a mighty ould friend, the blanket. Sovereign-becomes a sign and token produc- great bookshiller, tould me, says he, Paddy, I'd tive of great results; and the marked encourage-Fallen in his disk !" giv two hunder gould guineas for the papursh Mr. Fal. Go, go! sort of permanent aid which is contemplated from the new Guild; but even within the limits which bind it, the good which is done by the Literary Fund is immense, and the admirable discretion and true delicacy with which its officers act are known to be beyond praise.-ED. N. M. B. A. * CHAPMAN and HALL. that of Hogarth's "Distrest Poet.” Fallen. [opening the casement.] So, the morning air breathes fresh! One moment's respite from drudgery. Another line to this poem, my grand bequest to my country! Ah! this description; ungood, good. "Methinks we walk in dreams on fairy land, Where-golden ore-lies mixed with--" Entér PADDY. Paddy. 'Plase, sir, the milkwoman's score! "Lies mixed with common sand!" 11 Eh? Milkwoman? She must be paid, or the children-I-I-[Fumbling in his pocket, and looking about the table.] There's another blanket on the bed; pawn it. [Knock. *As it would be obviously presumptuous to assign to an anthor so eminent as Mr. David Fallen, any verses composed by a living writer, the two lines in the text are taken from Mr. Dryden's Indian Emperor. Pad. Agh, murther! Who can that be disturbin' | seal; but when I came to read-No, no! Let go, the door at the top of the mornin'? Wil. Three hundred guineas! I have 'em here in a bag! [Exit. sir. Fal. Oh that fated Memoir! My own labours scarce keep me from starving, and this wretched scrawl of a profligate worth what to me were Golconda! Heaven sustain me! I'm tempted. Fal. No, stop; let me just look again! Ha! this betrayal of his brother's most private correspondence-this-faugh! Shame, shame on you, Enter PADDY, and WILMOT disguised as ED-base huckster of conscience! You know I am penMUND CURLL. niless-starving! you know I have tarnished my name-played fast and loose with all parties; but Pad. Stoop your head, sir. "Tis not a dun, sir; this were worse than deceit to placeinen and job'tis Mr. Curll; says he's come to outbid Mr. Ton-bers. These Memoirs would give up to lewd gossip son, sir. Fal. Go quick; pawn the blanket. Let me think my children are fed. [Exit PADDY.] Now, sir, what do you want? Wilmot. [Taking out his handkerchief and whimpering. My dear good Mr. Fallen-no offence -I do so feel for the distresses of genius. I am a bookseller, but I have a heart-and I'm come to buy Fal. Have you? this poem? it is nearly finished -twelve books-twenty years' labour-twenty-four thousand lines!-107., Mr. Curll, 107.! Wil. Price of Paradise Lost! Can't expect such prices for poetry now-a-days, my dear Mr. Fallen. Nothing takes that is not sharp and spicy. Hum! I hear you have some most interesting papers; private Memoirs and Confessions of a Man of Quality recently deceased. Nay, nay, Mr. Fallen; don't shrink back; I'm not like that shabby dog, Tonson. Three hundred guineas for the Memoir of Lord Henry de Mowbray ! Fal. Three hundred guineas for that garbage!not ten for the Poem!-and-the children! Well! (Takes out the Memoir in a portfolio, splendidly | bound, with the arms and supporters of the Mowbrays blazoned on the sides.) Ah!-but the honour of a woman- the secrets of a family the Wil. [grasping at the portfolio which Fallen still detains.] Nothing sells better, my dear, dear Mr. Fallen! But how, how did you come by these treasures, my excellent friend? Fal. How? Lord Henry gave them to me himself, on his death-bed. Wil. Nay; what could he give them for, but to publish, my sweet Mr. Fallen; no doubt to immortalise all the ladies who loved him. Fal. No, sir; profligate as he was, and vile as may be much in this Memoir, that was not his dying intention, though it might be his first. There was a lady he had once foully injured-the sole woman he had ever loved eno' for remorse. This Memoir contains a confession that might serve to clear the name he himself had aspersed; and in the sudden repentance of his last moments, he bade me seek the lady, and place the whole in her hands, to use, as might best serve to establish her innocence. Wil. [Aside. What! did even he have a good side to his character?] How could you know the lady, my benevolent friend? Fal. I did not; but she was supposed to be abroad with her father-a Jacobite exile-and I, then a Jacobite agent, had the best chance to trace her. Wil. And you did? Fal. But to hear she had died somewhere in France. Wil. Then, of course you may now gratify our intelligent Public, for your own personal profit. Clear as day, my magnanimous friend! Fal. I thought so; sent for Tonson-broke the and scoff, whatever is sacred in the temple of home. Begone! I will not sell man's hearth to the public. Wil. [Aside. Noble fellow!] Gently, gently, my too warm, but high-spirited friend! To say the truth, I don't come on my own account. To whom, my dear sir, since the lady is dead, should be given these papers, if unfit for a virtuous, but inquisitive, public? Why, surely to Lord Henry's nearest relation. I am employed by the rich Duke of Middlesex. Name your terms. Fal. Ha ha! Then at last he comes crawling to me, your proud Duke! Sir, years ago, when a kind word from his Grace, a nod of his head, a touch of his hand, would have turned my foes into flatterers, I had the meanness to name him my patron-inscribed to him a work, took it to his house, and waited in his hall among porters and lackeys-till, sweeping by to his carriage, he said, "Oh! you are the poet? take this"-and extended his alms, as if to a beggar. "You look very thin, sir; stay and dine with my people." People-his servants! Wil. Calm yourself, my good Mr. Fallen; 'tis his Grace's innocent way with us all. Fal. Go! Let him know what this Household Treason contains! Lord Henry was a cynic and a wit; his brother had galled, and renounced him; much of these Memoirs was meant for revenge. They would make the proud Duke the butt of the town-the jeer of the lackeys, who jeered at my rags; expose his frailties, his follies, his personal secrets. Tell him this; and then say that my poverty shall not be the tool of his brother's revenge; but my pride shall not stoop from its pedestal to take money from him. Now, sir, am I right? Reply, not as tempter to pauper; but, if one spark of manhood be in you, as man speaks to man. Wil. [resuming his own manner.] I reply, sir, as man to man, and gentleman to gentleman. I am Frederick, Lord Wilmot. Pardon this imposture. The Duke is my father's friend. I am here to obtain, what it is clear that he alone should possess. Mr. Fallen, your works first raised me from the world of the senses, and taught me to believe in such nobleness as I now hope for in you. Give me this record to take to the Duke-no price, sir; for such things are priceless-and let me go hence with the sight of this poverty before my eyes, and on my soul the grand picture of the man who has spurned the bribe to his honour, and can humble by a gift the great prince who insulted him by alms. Fal. Take it-take it! [Gives the portfolio.] I am saved from temptation. God bless you, young man! Wil. Now you indeed make me two-fold your debtor-in your books, the rich thought; in yourself, the heroic example. Accept from my superfluities, in small part of such debt, a yearly sum equal to that which your poverty refused as a bribe from Mr. Tonson. |