In this
country, the man who brought the New river to London, was ruined by that
noble project; and, in this country, Otway died for want, on Tower hill;
Butler, the great author of Hudibras, whose name can only die with the
English language, was left to languish in poverty; the particulars of
his life almost unknown, and scarce a vestige of him left, except his
immortal poem. Had there been an academy of literature, the lives, at
least, of those celebrated persons, would have been written for the
benefit of posterity. Swift, it seems, had the idea of such an
institution, and proposed it to lord Oxford; but whig and tory were more
important objects. It is needless to dissemble, that Dr. Johnson, in the
life of Roscommon, talks of the inutility of such a project. "In this
country," he says, "an academy could be expected to do but little. If an
academician's place were profitable, it would be given by interest; if
attendance were gratuitous, it would be rarely paid, and no man would
endure the least disgust. Unanimity is impossible, and debate would
separate the assembly." To this it may be sufficient to answer, that the
Royal society has not been dissolved by sullen disgust; and the modern
academy, at Somerset house, has already performed much, and promises
more. Unanimity is not necessary to such an assembly.
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