left us.  The jealousy of Annibale at length for ever tore them asunder.  Lodovico happened not to be with them when they were engaged in painting together the Farnesian gallery at Rome.  A rumour spread that in their present combined labour the engraver had excelled the painter.  This Annibale could not forgive; he raved at the bite of the serpent:  words could not mollify, nor kindness any longer appease, that perturbed spirit; neither the humiliating forbearance of Agostino, the counsels of the wise, nor the mediation of the great.  They separated for ever! a separation in which they both languished, till Agostino, broken-hearted, sunk into an early grave, and Annibale, now brotherless, lost half his genius; his great invention no longer accompanied him—­for Agostino was not by his side![273] After suffering many vexations, and preyed on by his evil temper, Annibale was deprived of his senses.

AN ENGLISH ACADEMY OF LITERATURE.[274]

We have Royal Societies for philosophers, for antiquaries, and for artists—­none for men of letters!  The lovers of philological studies have regretted the want of an asylum since the days of Anne, when the establishment of an English Academy of Literature was designed; but political changes occurred which threw out a literary administration.  France and Italy have gloried in great national academies, and even in provincial ones.  With us, the curious history and the fate of the societies at Spalding, Stamford, and Peterborough, whom their zealous founder lived to see sink into country clubs, is that of most of our rural attempts at literary academies!  The Manchester society has but an ambiguous existence; and that of Exeter expired in its birth.  Yet that a great purpose may be obtained by an inconsiderable number, the history of “The Society for the Encouragement of Arts, Manufactures,” &c., may prove; for that originally consisted only of twelve persons, brought together with great difficulty, and neither distinguished for their ability nor their rank.

The opponents to the establishment of an academy in this country may urge, and find Bruyere on their side, that no corporate body generates a single man of genius.  No Milton, no Hume, no Adam Smith, will spring out of an academical community, however they may partake of one common labour.  Of the fame, too, shared among the many, the individual feels his portion too contracted, besides that he will often suffer by comparison.  Literature, with us, exists independent of patronage or association.  We have done well without an academy; our dictionary and our style have been polished by individuals, and not by a society.