that which haunts M. de Tocqueville. Even in France, with her combined equality and centralization, we cannot anticipate the establishment of that species of Chinese celestial empire which he has in the above extract so eloquently depicted. But in all his views it is evident "fear shakes the peneil, fancy loves excess." Nevertheless, the true traits of democracy, fetched out by a master hand, are abundantly to be found in his volumes. To recommend this inevitable (he will have it) democracy to the world, he has come twice fully armed with his strong arguments before the public; but like Balaam who came to curse the children of Israel, and, overruled by the fiat of the Almighty, blessed them. So he, purposing to bless democracy, has, overmastered by rea

son and conscience, the voice of God within him, cursed it.

The course of our preceding observations has prevented us from dwelling on the merits, the manifold excellences of M. de Tocqueville's work. We will say, therefore, briefly here, that many of its separate chapters are most precious, full of the treasures of deep thought; that all of them contain matter profoundly and carefully excogitated; and that his two volumes furnish a manual which will be constantly in the hands of conscientious thinkers on the subjects of what he has treated. Even those who oppose him as we do, will be greatly indebted to him for opening to them mines of reflection, which, without his strong help, might be closed for ever against them.

August. We are now in this gayest of watering-places; the rains which molested us in Paris, and on the road, left us at the Rhine, and with no other effect than the pleasant one of laying the dust on the roads, and washing it off the fields. Germany, which at this season in general looks as if it had been handsomely powdered over with rappee, now looks like a green card-cloth of the most liberal dimen< sions. All the English world are hurrying to the countless little spas that bubble up every where along the banks of the Rhine, three-fourths of them I have no doubt three-fourths artificial, and little more than the soda-water and ginger-beer machines of London on a ruder scale; but any thing answers the purpose for John Bull, who in fact does not come to drink this intolerable water, but to see sights, to ramble over a very pretty country, and to get rid of a little of that plethora of coin which seems to torment him more than any other sufferer in the world. Foreigners travel too; but it is to make money, not to spend. There is scarcely even an Altesse Royale here who does not regard a month or two at a spa, as a very convenient mode of reducing his household bills. As for the lower caste -the foule of the well-whiskered-their excursion is generally in the style of a lawyer's circuit: it is regular, de

fined, and professional; roulette, hazard, and billiards are their statutes at large; and, like the lawyers, they move off, the moment they have cleared the calendar, and gleaned the clients of their final fee. The Englishman is the rambler, the gazer, and, after all, the only one who either comes abroad for the purpose of travelling, who enjoys it, or who deserves to enjoy it. Of course, there are English" chevaliers d'industrie," like the rest of the trade. But even they show the native unfitness for the calling. Nothing but a revolution of the earth's poles will ever teach the English knave the easy dexterity of the foreigner. He is awkward to the last, and instantly gives way before the superior smile of the Pole, the Frenchman, and even the German.

The road from the Rhine at Kehl is good, though the country is at first sandy, flat, and tiresome; but about halfway to Baden-Baden, which after all is not above an easy drive, the plain rises into hills, the sand gives way to fertility, little eminences, forestcrowned, are seen in front, and at last we enter the noble cup, the hollow of the hills, in which the little town seems carved and gilded in the centre, while villas and lodges answer the purpose of studs and ornamenting on the sides. Altogether, it forms a very pretty spectacle of nature and cultivation.

THERE is not so beggarly a collector in the Queen's dominions, as The Nation. Sale after sale of pic tures takes place. The Trustees for the Nation are purchasers but for themselves the National Gallery is not to be enriched by their efforts but very sparingly; sparingly we should not say, indeed, but in reference to the number of pictures. Were there only two pictures in Sir Simon Clarke's collection worthy the notice of the trustees? Yes-three, it should seem. Yet for one they were outbid; the other Murillo has been given up to them, for the nation could not afford to purchase what Lord Ashburton did; and he gave it up to the National Gallery, as we understand Sir Robert Peel's explanation in the House, losing L.500 by the sacrifice: this is most handsome; but it is not to the credit of the nation so to accept the difference. The other picture, the Guido, appears to have been a real purchase at four hundred and ten guineas; so, while individuals could have the ambition, and could afford to purchase the finest pictures at thousands, the only secure bidding the nation could make was to the amount of a few hundreds; and some of these individuals were trustees. Surely pictures worthy the collection of Sir Robert Peel and Lord Ashburton, might have been considered fit for the National Gallery. Why, then, are not purchases made?" Oh! but they are made," it will be said; " see our new Murillo and Guido." Well, we see them, and reckon them as nothing. The trustees are doing nothing.

Even admitting these works to be worth their money, what are they under three thousand pounds, during, we believe, the space of a year? If pictures were now, as they probably will be, extremely scarce-three pic tures might be a great thing; but pictures, and valuable pictures, do come into the market, and the nation cannot or will not buy. Either way it is disgraceful. What is the cause of this? Are the trustees to blame, or the House of Commons-or both? There is the fact-deal with it as you may. We are daily losing opportunities; and the day will come that will show us they were golden opportuni

ties. Is it that some of the appointed judges are no judges at all-and that others who are, do not like to take upon themselves the task, and are under the fear of the tasteless pennywise-of the scrutiny of Joseph Hume? Is it that they have reason to believe that the House of Commons will be really niggardly, and desire no more purchases to be made? As it stands at present, the public have a right to call upon the trustees for the nation to account for their backwardness. Let the trustees say, we cannot pro.. perly execute the trust reposed in us, unless we are more liberally treated; then the nation will know what to do. Let their powers and means, too, be enlarged. Let them have, say twenty thousand pounds (a moderate sum) wherewith to exercise their judgment for the national benefit. If they have not the boldness to demand this, or reliance upon their own judgment, then choose other trustees less timid. It is better they should sometimes make bad purchases than make none. This stand-still business, or rather lack of business, is a lamentable affair

disgraceful to all parties, and ruinous to the public taste and interests. Who, of common sense and liberality, can admire the tact of those who, in Parliament, instead of having confidence in the trustees, or moving for the appointment of such trustees as they can have confidence in, set niggardly to work to criticise the merits of this or that after all paltry purchase? This is not the way to encourage men of taste and judgment to do their duty. Leave matters of criticism to those to whom it more pertains, to scrutinize with another view than that of preventing purchases, or giving discou ragement. There will be reviews and periodicals enough of all kinds to un dertake this wholesome task, and it is one required. Let the nation, at least, have confidence and liberality. There will then be enough to keep the appointed persons up to their duty; public opinion, if it has not yet done much in that respect, will not be long inefficient, when it is seen that power is given to them to effect the nation's object-a National Gallery.

We do not deny that the position of the trustees is, and must be, one at all

times of great difficulty. There is no responsibility more likely to be called to account, than that of taste; and those whose taste is the most exquisite, are most likely to shrink from a vulgar scrutiny, an illiberal questioning. Then, the actual knowledge and taste required are so great, that a haphazard choice of names, great in every other respect, may present but a very poor committee of taste. No man, therefore, conscious of ignorance in pictures, should consent to be a member of it; but that forbearance we can scarcely expect-fashion and vanity will do their work in this world, though the nation's trustees may not do theirs. The position is difficult, from the many doubts entertained, even by good collectors, and the differences of opinion known to exist upon works of art. But as the position is difficult-so is it the more honourable, if the duties attached to it be adequately performed. Now there is a miserable failure.

There is a general outcry against the building of the National Gallery we have never yet heard it spoken of but with contempt-and doubtless it deserves all that has been said against it; but let not the faults of the exterior and the architect cover the faults within, of interior management and of the managers. Their great fault is, that they do little or nothing. We hear, indeed, hopes expressed publicly in Parliament by those, too, who could, if they set about it, realize those hopes that a gallery more worthy the nation should be built; but even here it is all talk, and the portion of the public who love art, are lukewarm upon the subject, when they see it occasionally thus taken up as a Parliamentary farce in a flourishing way, and ending in nothing; and while they see, on the other hand, the little probability there is, according to our rate of purchases, of having pictures to put into

one.

We have said, it is our office to be critical upon the purchases; and we shall, therefore, with perfect freedom, give our opinion of these two pictures, the recent additions-" The Murillo and the Guido." The first is a favourable specimen of the master. We do not think this of the Guido. The "St John and Lamb" is a well known picture, and was purchased by Sir Simon Clarke in Paris. It, we believe, together with the "Good Shep

herd," was a present from a Spanish grandee to the Marquis de Lassay, and from him went into the hands of a dealer. So far there is something of a pedigree attached to it; a matter of no little moment among collectors, especially with regard to the Italian and Spanish schools, whose excellence lying rather in the conception of subject and expression than in execution, their works are not so readily and certainly to be attributed to the hand of the masters whose names they bear. The subject is the child, St John. It is extremely simple in its composition. It is judiciously coloured, very simply, remarkable for the absence of all bright and violent colours. The chiaroscuro, too, is pleasing the lights and shadows sweetly and tenderly falling into each other the whole being rather of a deep and sombre cast. There is a great expression of goodness in the counte nance, and of gentleness in the attitude. Here are certainly great difficulties of art overcome. We give it our praise so far; but when we look for the expression of the child of a divine mission, we look in vain. That was a subject above Murillo. This is a pleasing peasant boy: it is no more. The master could never go beyond this. He could not elevate a subject; and one of divine pathos he was sure to degrade. Yet if the work does not come up to this point of expressionof a tenderness more than human_of a power and a knowledge divine-what is it? Where it fails it leaves you nothing in the place of the failure; for seeing what it aims to be, the spectator is unwilling to become as it were an accomplice in the deterioration. It is rather, therefore, a picture for the artist, who can see in it the subordinate difficulties overcome; who can admire the colouring, the chiaroscuro, and texture, than for the less initiated, who look to be affected by the subject without considering rules of art. We have, on another occasion, noticed the attempts-successful attempts to create a fashion for Murillo; to give him a rank in public estimation he does not deserve. He is a very clever third or fourth rate master. His great defect is his vulgarity: he is never quite equal to high subjects. He tells his story historically, not poetically. His exccution, too, is often far from pleasing: it is strong without certainty at least, and is too often weak. We would