vince of the amateur; but the best judges seem to allow that the dispersion of this immense collection is by no means unfavourable to their progress and improvement. We readily admit, and each spectator has felt, that nothing can be more magnificent, more august, more deeply impressive, taken as a whole, than that noble gallery, prolonged to an extent which the eye can hardly distinctly trace, and crowded on every side with the noblest productions of the most inspired artists. Fourteen hundred paintings, each claiming rank as a master-piece, disposed upon walls which extend for more than twelve hundred feet in length, form, united, a collection unparalleled in extent and splendour. But a part of this charm vanishes when we have become familiar with the coup d'ail; and the emotions of surprise and pleasure which the transient visitor receives, are gained in some degree at the expence of the student or studious amateur. In a saloon of such length and height, lighted too from both sides, it is impossible that all the pictures can be seen to advantage; and, in truth, many cannot be seen at all. In a selection where all is excellent, and worthy of studious and heedful attention, this is a disadvantage of no common kind. But it is not the only one. Each of these paintings, almost without exception, have in them something excellent; but independent of the loss which they sustain in common, by being so much crowded together, and by making part rather of one grand and brilliant whole, than subjects important enough for detached and separate consideration, the merit of some of these chefs d'auvre so far exceeds that of others, as altogether to divert the attention from Cojects of inferior, though still of exquisite merit. Few, possessing even the most eager love for the art, though they have consumed hours, days, weeks, and months in the Museum, have been able to escape that fascination which draws them to the Transformation of Raphael, the Communion of Domenechino, the Martyrdom of the Inquisitor, and some other master-pieces, About fifty pictures at most therefore are copied, studied, examined, and worshipped, while more than twenty times that number are neglected and unseen, and, with all their admitted excellence, draw as little attention as the nymphs and graces in the suite of Venus. This shews that the appetite of taste, as well as of epicurism, may be satiated and rendered capricious by the exhibition of too rich and sumptuous a banquet, and that our capacity of enjoyment being limited, there is no wisdom in an injudicious accumulation of means for its gratification. To the young student in particular, the feelings of satiety are peculiarly hazardous; for either he becomes accustomed to indulge a capricious and presumptuous contempt of works which he has slightly studied, or he is deterred from boldly and vigorously venturing upon a laborious and difficult art, when he sees that excellence of a pitch to which he dare not aspire, may in company with the ultimate efforts of genius, be insufficient to secure respect and attention." Pp. 522, 533.

The aforesaid Paul, unsainted as yet, though many a saint possessed no such sanctity, delivers the following general observations, with which we conclude our extracts. These occupy more space than we usually choose to bestow on works on similar subjects: but France, and almost every thing relating to it, are (as already stated) so interesting to Great Britain-to the whole world indeed, that no just representation of its past

and present condition is likely to be considered tedious or unacceptable.

"To return to the religious and moral state of France. It is remarkable that the dissolution of religious principle, the confusion of the Sabbath with the ordinary days of the week, the reduction of marriage to a state of decent and legal concubinage, from which parties can free themselves at pleasure, have, while thus sapping the foundations of the social affections, as well as of religious faith, introduced more viees than crimes, much profligacy, but less atrocity than might have been expected. A Frenchman to whom you talk of the general decay of morality in his country, will readily and with truth reply to you, that if every species of turpitude be more common in France, delicts of that sort against which the law directs its thunders, are much more frequent in Britain. Murders, robberies, daring thefts, such as frequently occur in the English papers, are little known in those of Paris. The amusements and habits of the lower orders are on all occasions of ordinary occurrence, more quiet, peaceable and orderly, than those of the lower English. There are no quarrels in the street, intoxication is rarely practised even by the lowest of the people, and when assembled for the purpose of public amusement, they observe a good humoured politeness to each other and to strangers, for which certainly our countrymen are not remarkable. To look at the thousands of rabble whom I have seen streaming through the magnificent apartments at Versailles, without laying a finger upon a painting or an article of furniture, and afterwards crowding the gardens without encroaching upon any spot where they could do damage; to observe this, and recollect what would be the conduct of an English mob in similar circumstances, compels one to acknowledge that the French appear, upon such occasions, beyond comparison, the more polished, sensible, and civilized people. But release both parties from the restraints imposed by the usual state of society, and suppose them influenced by some powerful incentive to passion and violence and remark how much the contrast will be altered. The English populace will huzza, swear, threaten, break windows, and throw stones at the life-guards engaged in dispersing them; but if a soldier should fall from his horse, the rabble, after enjoying a laugh at his expence, would lend a hand to lift him to his saddle again. A French mob would tear him limb from limb, and parade the fragments in triumph upon their pikes. In the same manner, the Englishman under arms retains the same frank, rough loyalty of character, without the alert intelligence and appearance of polished gallantry which a French soldier often exhibits to strangers. But it would be an outrage to our countrymen to compare the conduct of the two armies when pursuing a defeated enemy, or entering a country as invaders, when every evil passion is awake, and full license is granted to satiate them."

"The cause of so extraordinary a contrast may, I think, be expressed in very few words. The French act from feeling, and the British from principle. In moments, therefore, when the passions are at rest, the Frenchman will often appear, and be in reality the more amiable of the two. He is generally possessed of intelligence, and the power of reflection, both of which are great promoters of that limited sort of honesty which keeps the windy side of the law. He piques himself upon some understanding and perception of the fine arts, by which he is told his country is distinguished, and he avoids the rudeness and violence which

constitute a barbarian. He is, besides, habitually an observer of the forms and decencies of society, and has ample means of indulging licen tious passions without transgressing. The Frenchman is further by nature and constitution a happy and contented mortal, content with little and attached to luxuries of the more simple kind; and a mind so constituted is usually disposed to extend its cheerfulness to others. The Englishman is in some degree, the reverse of all this. His intelligence seldom goes beyond the art to which he is trained, and which he most frequently practises with mechanical dexterity only; and therefore he is not by habit, unless when nature has been especially bountiful, much of a reasoning animal. As for pretending to admire or understand the fine arts or their productions, he would consider such an effort of taste as the most ridiculous affectation, and therefore readily treats with contempt and disrespect, what he would upon system be ashamed to understand. Vice and crime are equally forbidden by the Englishman's system of religious morals; if he becomes stained with gross immorality, he is generally ready to rush into legal delict, since, being divested of the curb of conscience, and destroyed in his own esteem, he becomes like a horse without a bridle ready to run upon any course which chance or the phrenzy of the moment may dictate. And this may show why, though the number of vicious persons be greater in France than in England in an enormous ratio, yet the proportion of legal criminals is certainly smaller. As to general temper and habits, the Englishman, less favoured in climate and less gay by constitution, accustomed to be a grumbler by his birth-right, very often disdains to be pleased himself, and is not very anxious to please others. His freedom, too, gives him a right, when casually mixed with his betters, to push, to crowd, to be a little riotous and very noisy, and to insult his neighbours on slight provocation, merely to keep his privileges in exercise. But then he is also taught to respect the law, which he invokes as his own protection; to weigh and decide upon what is just and unjust, foul and fair; to respect the religion in which he has been trained, and to remember its restraints even in the moment of general license. It might indeed be wished that some of the lighter and more amiable qualities of the French could be infused into our populace. But what an infinitely greater service would the sovereign render to France, who should give new sensibility to those moral feelings which have too long lain torpid in the breasts of her inhabitants. This great end can only be reached by prudent and prospective regulations; for neither religion nor morality can be inforced upon a nation by positive law." Pp. 407, 413.

Which of these is the better book? We cannot or will not tell. We like both exceedingly; and are unwilling to antici pate others in drawing those conclusions which they will, as usual, do according to their various tastes. It is obvious that he who reads either, will know a great deal of France, though he will, of course, know much less of it than those who shall take the trouble to peruse both. Not only do these writers view objects through glasses that magnify with different powers, and impart different colours; the styles in which they write are different. Walter's is a well sustained historical style: John's is didactic-sometimes much elevated, though at others

familiar and colloquial. He is contemplative, and often touches the chords of the heart powerfully; but Walter is the elder and more experienced minstrel, and proceeds in a strain more equable and dignified.

There is a passage in each of these instructive works, which we could wish our readers either not altogether to credit, or almost entirely to disregard-that, namely, in which the one tells us how comfortably a gentleman or a family may live at Brussels for little money; and that in which the other holds out many inducements to the literary lounger to take up his abode in Paris. Mark however-it is but literary loungers whom he would seduce; and if none abandon their country but they, its prosperity needs not be entirely despaired of.

ART. III.-On the late Persecution of the Protestants in the South of France. By HELEN MARIA WILLIAMS. London, Underwood. 1816. 8vo. pp. 62.

THIS lady is an experienced voyager, and, we should think, knows the navigation of the channel, and French topography, nearly as well as any male traveller in the kingdom. She is generally known, and as generally respected, by various ranks in France-especially by the Dissenters, and it is this circumstance chiefly which renders her so fit to write "a slight histo"rical sketch of their situation, and of the causes which have "contributed to produce the evils they have suffered."

The sketch she gives, commences with the fatal excesses of Louis XIVth's reign, and closes with the abominable proceedings of our own times. It cannot be said to be enlivenednor yet relieved, by the traditionary and legendary tales of the sufferings of the professors of the reformed religion, but it is thickly interspersed with them; and they are well introduced and told in a natural, affecting mauner. With these narrations we are well pleased, because, though in many instances exaggerated, they proceed from commendable motives, and come to us through respectable channels. When we recollect, however, the murder of the Catholic Priests by trains of artillery, and by filling boats with them for the purpose of being sent out into

the Channel and sunk; when we call to mind the appointment of Decads-the declaration of Death being an eternal sleep the worship in the Cathedral of Notre Dame of the Goddess of Reason; and as the letter before us states, "the wrath of the "Parisians being kindled against the piety of the Court, be"cause it has ordained a more externally strict observance of "the Sabbath;" we really think that Miss Williams might very conscientiously have spared herself the trouble of writing the following sentences:

Amidst all the various phases of the French Revolution, the star of religious liberty had moved calmly in its majestic orbit, and cheered despairing humanity with a ray of celestial radiance. Amidst the violation of every other principle, the domain of conscience appeared to be consecrated ground, where tyranny feared to tread. Heaven had pleased to rain upon France all other afflictions; but religious persecution seemed an obsolete evil, which the world had no more reason to fear, than the return of trials by ordeal, or the burning of sorcerers." p. 5.

"From whatever cause this violence against the Protestants has proceeded, they alone have been the victims. Were it a local insurrection against property or lives, the assailants would not have been so discriminating in their choice." p. 7.

The character of the insurrection was never much doubted, although from the impious rejoicings of the Bonapartists (on which we shall presently make an extract,) there is good ground to suspect, that they were secret agents in the nefarious proceedings that took place. It is well known, that all who joined in the cry against the Reformed Church, were not Catholics, but many of them vile revolutionary and military Brigands; just as all who followed Lord George Gordon in the disgraceful proceedings of 1780, were not Dissenters, but most of them the refuse of the London and Westminster mobs. Liberal minds should seek to justify important events in a liberal

manner.

Miss Williams does justice, though no more than justice, to the laudable efforts of all the branches of the Royal Family of France to suppress the evils which, from whatever cause, had begun to afflict the South. The public, who have been misled by the reports which had been imposed upon the virtuous credulity of the Ministers of the three denominations of Dissenters, and which have since been disseminated by them over the island, will be happy to be farther undeceived, and to find, from the following quotations, that the Duke D'Angouleme, in particu lar, discharged with promptitude the duty both of a humane prince, and of a liberal-minded Christian. They could have recommended nothing better, had they been upon the spot;