Select orations, and other important papers, relative to the Swedish Academy/3
AN
ORATION,
DELIVERED BEFORE THE SWEDISH ACADEMY,
ON THE TWENTIETH DAY OF DECEMBER I786, THE ANNIVERSARY
OF THE BIRTH-DAY OF
GUSTAVUS-ADOLPHUS,
BY
M. DE ROSENSTEIN,
COUNSELLOR TO THE GRAND COUNCIL OF THE ROYAL CHANCERY, TUTOR TO
HIS R. H. THE PRINCE ROYAL OF SWEDEN, PERPETUAL SECRETARY
TO THE SWEDISH ACADEMY, MEMBER OF THE ROYAL
ACADEMY OF THE BELLES LETTRES, HISTORY,
AND ANTIQUITIES, KNIGHT OF THE
POLAR STAR.
AN
ORATION,
BY
M. DE ROSENSTEIN.
ORATION,
BY
GENTLEMEN,
This day the Academy, for the first time, celebrates a festival, which, annually renovated, will annually present its enquires and decisions to a respectable public, whose judgment it esteems, and whose approbation it is ambitious of obtaining. Had the choice been left to us, gratitude without doubt would have induced us to have selected, as the epocha of our anniversary, the day on which the academy was instituted. We should by that means have enjoyed a desirable and well-chosen opportunity of presenting those oblations of veneration and love which we owe to our august founder. But, since the commemoration of this institution has been confided, as well as the memory of many other great events, to the profound, though silent sentiments of grateful hearts; since it is committed to the tardy, but just and durable testimony of history, whose voice will speak to the latest posterity, it is to be presumed that we shall not be refused the privilege of manifesting the gratitude, veneration, and pleasure, which animate our breasts, in beholding the æra of the foundation of this academy connected with one of the most happy and memorable days in the annals of our country, the day which gave birth to Gustavus-Adolphus. If, without incurring the reproach of selfcomplacency, we may be allowed to believe that an establishment, destined to cultivate a language of heroes, to excite the poet and the orator to immortalize the proofs of Swedish valour, to keep alive among us a taste for the sublime, the beautiful, the pathetic, the noble, and the natural; if we ought to believe that such an institution is in some degree connected with the glory of our country, what name could more forcibly animate us to persevere in the pursuit of this grand object than that of Gustavus-Adolphus? a hero who, among all nations, in all countries and ages, superior to the fluctuation of opinion, will preserve an everlasting claim to the admiration of mankind, and reflect on Sweden the most brilliant reputation. Where is the man, indeed, whose title to immortal fame was ever better founded than that of the heroic Gustavus-Adolphus?—A monarch mighty among kings: though receiving a kingdom, distracted by dissensions, and surrounded by enemies, he transmitted it to his successors in perfect peace, aggrandized by his efforts, dreaded by the neighbouring potentates, and respected throughout all Europe—A monarch mighty among heroes; not for having, like ordinary warriors, encountered dangers, triumphed over opposition, and surmounted difficulties, but because he loved justice, because his prudence was not lulled to security by success, because he was never intoxicated by prosperity, because his exalted spirit never submitted to the slavery of his passions, and because his exploits ended in restoring to the rights of mankind two of the most powerful empires on the face of the earth. In addition to this, he possesses a reputation peculiar to himself; a reputation which will last, even though at some remote period of time, amid the probable revolutions in the fate of empires, future generations should look with less respect on those events which have established a balance between the powers of Europe. He has the fairest claim to the honour of invention, of having given a new face to the art of war, and of ranking in the number of his pupils all the great commanders which this quarter of the globe has produced since that period. Is it necessary to add, that humanity, which shudders at the very name of war, cannot raise her voice to impeach the fame of a hero, whose example never instructed mankind to add to the perils and destruction unavoidable in war; that unjustifiable cruelty of conduct, which the want of feeling and a ferocious self-interest too frequently produce?
The remembrance of this day has drawn me into a subject much beyond my feeble powers: but before I quit it, I must beg leave to improve the opportunity, by expressing a fervent wish—May the language and the polite literature of the Swedish nation, under the auspices which it now enjoys, attain their summit by a progress as rapid as did our military glory in the reign of Gustavus-Adolphus! This is no presumptuous wish, if we recollect the advances which the Swedish language has already made, and if we advert to the present state of literature among us. We have instances, in which our language has expressed, with an energy worthy of Greece and Rome, and perhaps surpassing every modern language, the most bold, sublime, and generous sentiments of liberty. We have heard it, by the irresistible power of eloquence, dissipate prejudices, convey truths, suppress one sensation, excite another, subdue inveterate antipathies, recal unanimity; warm, excite, transport; and, by its varied and yet united effects, infuse into the mind acquiescence and conviction. We possess compositions of the utmost excellence in point of lucid order, force, depth of thought, chastity of expression, neatness, harmony, elegance, and variety of style. Some are distinguished by that vigour, and that precision of genius, in which the ancients excelled, and which the moderns have found so difficult to attain. It is worthy of notice, that the authors who have charmed the public most, are those who have had the least occasion to adopt foreign expressions. Our poetry, we can assert without partiality, is in a higher degree of perfection than the poetry of most other nations at the period when they began to cultivate their language. The epic poem, the ode, the drama, evince that the Swedish language is sublime, masculine, pathetic, flexible, and sonorous; while our philosophic poems prove it energetic, ingenious, clear, and expressive. In Atis and Camilla (it is allowable to cite this masterly performance, since its author is no more), the fire, the impetuosity of love, the language of sentiment, the riches of nature, and the power of beauty, are felt and acknowledged. In other poetic compositions, tenderness, vivacity, sportiveness, and warmth, have united with terms the most expressive of delicate love, of refinement, of raillery, and of mirth. Our satire is not destitute of point, our tales are not wanting in elegance, nor our fables deficient in a noble simplicity of style. If some branches of Swedish literature remain still uncultivated, if several have not attained to maturity, we have every reason to hope that the period of their perfection will soon arrive; since the experience of history informs us, that genius never fails to flourish when fostered by the dew of royal munificence.
It is not, however, as a collective body, that this academy can expect to enrich our language with those masterpieces which are still wanting to our literature: such works can only be produced by the fire and force of a single genius. But if, among the members of this learned society, some appear, who have received from the hand of nature superior abilities, who, from a knowledge of men and an acquaintance with books, have acquired a solid taste, and have been encouraged by public approbation—by what new degree of force will they be animated, when incited in the career of glory by him to whose hands the nation has committed the task of rewarding merit? Should even the glory of arriving at the sublimest heights of Parnassus be reserved to no person of our number, yet we cannot deceive ourselves when we presume, that the recompenses we distribute may one day excite a genius, who shall reach the point which we have as yet been unable to attain; that the situation which we now occupy, and the advantages which are attached to it, may operate on that genius as powerful motives to double his activity, to repel the insults of ignorant contempt, to vanquish despair, and to prevent his yielding to disgust at the sight of that injustice which so frequently discourages the rising talents of men of merit. Some, indeed, from the impulse of their irresistible mental powers, and actuated by a consciousness of their own abilities, have dared and surmounted every obstacle. But how much greater is the number of those, whose talents have been crushed under the pressure of distress, or whose genius has been buried in oblivion! What class of men require more encouragement than men of letters? What is the end and object of their toils? It is not gain, except as far as an unequal distribution of riches induces the poor to consider as wealth that which merely suffices to supply the exigencies of life. Still less is it their object to arrive at court promotion, which to them must be unsolicited. Is it then fame? Undoubtedly. But from whom do they expect it? from their contemporaries, or from posterity? If they aspire at the enjoyment of reputation during their life-time, at what an exorbitant rate must it be obtained? How many vexations and disappointments are they condemned to undergo? They must oppose a spirit of pride, which beholds every surrounding object with infinite contempt; they must encounter ignorance, which affects to judge of what it does not understand; they must combat with prejudice and narrowness of mind, whose characteristic is selfishness; they must be vulnerable to envy, which delights in calumniating merit, and to levity, which sacrifices every thing to the temptation of a jest. The idle of every kind, who wish to augment their own number, deny the utility of literature and the effusions of genius are exposed to the decisions of that class of men, who, moving in a more exalted sphere, affect to regulate the opinions of others, but are themselves too enervated to feel, too much distracted to reflect before they pronounce sentence, too little alive to the pleasure of existence to be capable of amusement, or, if roused for a moment from their lethargy, soon revert to their wonted indifference, and repeat their usual decision equally short and equally judicious—What tedious stuff!
I divert with pleasure your attention from a picture which happily will not in future find an archetype among us. The opening prospect of Swedish literature is highly agreeable; and our functions would be equally so, were they confined to the obligations of contributing, according to our abilities, to the progress of literature, to the encouragement of rising genius, and to the task of exploring and honouring those who have arrived at a maturity of merit. But we have another field to cultivate—a field, the thorns and briars of which would soon deter the courage of a single genius—a field which the public cannot cultivate, because they could never agree on the manner in which it ought to be improved, and which a single man could never clear, because he would be perpetually exposed to the mistakes of prejudice and self-love. You cannot but perceive, gentlemen, that I speak of that grammar, which the academy is directed to compose. The difficulties attached to this labour need not be recapitulated to you, to whom they are well known; nor to the enlightened public that surround us, who are too equitable not to see that much time will be required before a work of so much difficulty can be carried to perfection. But, what affords to me, who am one day to consign to the annals of history the labours of this society, the greatest pleasure is the conviction I entertain of your zeal for the public good, your aversion to all usurped authority, your design to establish your decisions on the basis of the most correct criticism, and to commit their truth or fallacy to the touchstone of argument and reason.
If on a future day we should be happy enough to establish, on a solid basis, the orthography of our language, the certain principles and rules of composition, and to procure to the Swedes what they are still in want of, a compleat dictionary—shall we then have acquitted ourselves of all that the public have a right to expect from the Swedish academy? No, gentlemen, the honour which our society has of being distinguished by the national name, imposes upon us duties of a permanent nature. We are bound to the utmost of our power to maintain the genuine character of the language, which, like the nation, is masculine, bold, elevated, and serious. We are bound to exhibit in our works an example of respect for religion, for the government, for the nation, and for morality; to prevent, as far as depends upon our activity and influence, youthful genius from being deluded by the ignis fatuus of fugitive fame, and sacrificing to the ambition of wit, the interest of religion, the sentiments of decency, and the duties of a citizen.
Convinced of your earnest desire to devote yourselves to your several duties, I have here taken the liberty of sketching them to your view. One still remains, of all, perhaps, the most difficult; I mean the preservation of taste. What is taste? Where are the judges of taste? Is it the public? The public are liable to be seduced. Were it not so, taste would be privileged from corruption. Is it the race of authors? They are subject to errors and mistakes; and their blemishes serve frequently to mislead others. Shall it be a society? Who has invested them with a right, which no sovereign can assume? Is it an individual? Who has conferred this honour upon him? The foundations of taste are, however, not the less certain; and her temple rests upon two immoveable pillars—Feeling, which invents without the aid of reflection, and Reason, which subjects every thing to her enquiry. But it will be alledged, that feeling and reason are not unfrequently at variance with each other. I will, however, venture to assert, that they are never so much in opposition as not to be easily reconciled, except it be amongst those, whose exalted opinion of their own abilities prompts them to prefer their own individual taste to the sense of the public, and their own sentiments to the sentiments of others. Amongst different nations, we may indeed discover a difference of taste; but all enlightened countries agree in the essential principles. An individual, who should take his own caprice for a guide, may be disgusted with Virgil; another may condemn Ovid as too frivolous, and blame Boileau for his frigidity; a third may condemn Quinault, because he is effeminate: but the majority of genuine connoisseurs will ever read with pleasure and admiration the Æneid, the Metamorphoses, the works of Boileau, and the Operas of Quinault. It must indeed be allowed, that writers of a bad taste have frequently found readers, and even admirers: but posterity has never failed to condemn their works to eternal oblivion; and their names are known only by the victorious pleasantries of contemporary critics.
Permit me, gentlemen, to make one observation in this place, which time will not, however, permit me to develope at full length. The history of letters evinces, that the false taste which has preceded the brilliant ages of literature, has ever been eradicated by the true; but that after a purity of taste had triumphed for some time, a bad taste, different from the first, began to insinuate itself, increased by little and little, and at last obtained an evil ascendancy.
The literature of this country has not yet arrived at that point, from which, according to the ordinary fate of human labour, a fall is to be feared. But are we therefore exempt from danger? It must not be dissembled, that the cultivation of the Belles Lettres amongst us commenced at a period later than with other nations, who, on account of priority, have acquired in some degree the right of serving us as models. But if amongst some of these nations the corruption of taste be already commenced; if a people, whose compositions have been praised for purity of taste, exquisite elegance, and simple grace, begin already to degenerate into a style affected, turgid, and disgraced with quaint conceit and farfetched ornaments; if a nation, distinguished by vigorous thoughts and energetic expressions, exhibits no longer its ancient, masculine, and nervous taste, and has at the same time the mortification of seeing that in several countries abroad writers pretend to resemble their celebrated authors, by imitating their defects and their singularities; if amongst another nation, who have proposed nature and the feelings of the heart as the principal objects of their literature, authors should be found, who are accused, not unjustly, of having overcharged their images and expressions; if all these defects really exist amongst those nations, ought it not to be our first care to preserve ourselves from the contagion of their example, and should we not be careful to examine whether any of those blemishes begin already to infect our literature?
I am not presumptuous enough to decide the question; but I will only ask, Have we always been careful to distinguish our own feelings from the sentiments which we may expect to excite in others; the sense which we may attach internally to our expressions, from the sense in which the same expressions will most probably strike our readers; and our own selfcomplacency, from the approbation of the public? Have we never mistaken an empty prodigality of exclamation for the language of passion, confusion for genius, obscurity for depth, and bombast for sublimity? Have we always well examined what additions the prevailing thought and principal sentiment will bear, without being weakened and concealed by the accessory expressions, which should only serve to throw a greater light upon the first, and to give more life to the latter?
Who shall reply to these questions? If we address ourselves to literary men, we shall find them divided in opinion: but if, in order to decide this question, we call to our assistance an art, which has the most exact resemblance to the Belles Lettres, at least to poetry, the painter will inform us, that he is permitted to conceal on the canvas a part of the thought, but that it is never allowable to mislead the spectator by glaring colours and false light. If we consult nature, she will instruct us that the passions have a tone which excites an emotion proportioned to their energy; but that this tone becomes disgusting and unpleasant, if raised too high. Nature also tells us, that the Alps excite admiration, not when clouds conceal them from our view, but when the excursive eye meets with no obstacle but the towering immensity of the mountain. As for us, there is another mode of deciding the question: it is to regard with diffidence our own opinion, and to turn our eyes to those immortal works, which, consecrated by the unanimous approbation of successive ages, of various nations and periods differing in character, have acquired a right to be regarded as the models of genius and taste.