of its colours, and the splendour of its imperishable architecture. Mr. Roberts's second picture is the Interior of the Church of St. Anne, at Bruges. In opposition to common practice, his effects are produced by a broad flood of daylight, which illumines the whole building, with just so much of chiaro oscuro as suffices to keep down certain portions of the subject. The perfect finish of the varied details adds greatly to the beauty of the picture, and the pearly tone spread over it imparts to it an exquisite charm.

In

Ward, who never takes a step backward, has two pictures also: the first, a scene in the Temple in Paris, when Louis XVI. and his family were prisoners there; and the second, a passage in Gilpin's memorable ride. The last is full of quiet humour, but it is of the former that we would speak. Mr. Ward has made choice of an incident which was only too often repeated during the captivity of the unfortunate monarch. the gloomy chamber on the upper floor of the Temple, lit by a broad silver ray, which produces a fine Rembrandtesque effect, the illustrious prisoners are assembled, having already sadly verified the truth of the brutal apostrophe of the Garde Municipale, who, replying to the inquiry of one of the valets de chambre of the king, "if that was the place his royal master was to be taken to," made answer in these words: "Ton maître était accoutumé aux lambris dorés, eh bien! il va voir comment on loge les assassins du peuple." The weary Louis has stretched himself for a brief interval of repose on the miserable pallet which served him for a couch, and his beautiful high-souled queen has taken the opportunity to mend her husband's coat! The garment lies across her knees while she prepares to thread her needle, and her eyes turn for a moment in tearful anguish on the figure of the king. How full of wretchedness is the history told in that glance! Near Marie Antoinette is her still surviving daughter, then a girl of fourteen; the expression of her countenance is deeply pensive. Not so that of her brother, the young Dauphin, nor that of Madame Elizabeth, at whose feet the boy is playing with a shuttlecock. But the child has forgotten his sorrows in his plaything, and the princess, whose amiable disposition caused her to hide all her griefs, is smiling and talking to him, as if there were no such thing in the world as dethroned royalty, or democracy eager to imbrue its foul hands in the blood of kings. But evidences of these are only too painfully near in the savage scowl of an intrusive sans-culotte, who, to gratify his wanton curiosity, has thrust his savage face through the open doorway to gaze upon the prisoners, and in the group in an ante-room outside, who are smoking, drinking, and playing at cards. Such a face as that of the intruder might well belong to Rocher, the hideous assistant of the gaoler Simon; and such revellers as those without might be the fellows whose every word and gesture were insults to the fallen monarch. It is impossible to commend this picture too highly.

Suggestive of thoughts analogous to those which the Temple scene has raised, is the subject which has been selected by Charles Landseer. It is the close of the battle of Naseby, when the capture of the king's cabinet, containing his correspondence with Henrietta Maria and other important documents, revealed the insincerity of the king in the recent treaty. In the centre of the picture Fairfax and Cromwell are seated on horseback, bareheaded. The future Protector is gravely perusing one of the letters found in the cabinet, and his brave companion in arms

listens intently, with a serious countenance, to the proof of Charles's meditated treachery. Near them is Ireton, stanching the blood from a wound which he has received in the fight; and a little further off, on the same side, the gallant Skippon, who was also desperately wounded, but refused to leave the field while a man remained on it. On the opposite side are the tents and baggage-waggons, the royal carriage, and a group of royalist prisoners-ladies as well as cavaliers-and soldiers of the parliamentary army, with captured banners, and other trophies of the crowning victory. To give variety to the scene, Mr. Landseer has availed himself also of the historical fact that a number of Irish women were amongst the royal troops, whose long knives did murderous execution on the wounded and helpless. One of these is lying dead in the foreground, and beside a brass gun, in the right-hand corner of the picture, is seen another, who, by her action and weapon, still threatens revenge. The chief interest of the subject centres, as it ought, on Cromwell, whose features and attitude command the attention which their close examination rewards.

Sir Edwin Landseer has several characteristic pictures, marked by the beauties which have given him his fame. Of these we may mention a Shakspearian subject that scene in the "Midsummer Night's Dream" where the fairy queen, Titania, in her misdirected love for the transformed Bottom, sticks musk-roses in his "sleek, smooth head"—the ass's head—and kisses the "fair large ears"-the ass's ears-of her "gentle joy;" while Messieurs Peaseblossom, Cobweb, Moth, and Mustardseed minister to the asinine wants of the bewitched weaver. Nor must we omit a scene of "Cattle Feeding," wherein are introduced some mules of marvellous reality. Sir Edwin has also a Highland girl and her lover crossing a brook, with some attendant deer-a kind of pendant to the "Keeper's Daughter," which pleased so greatly.

Our notices must be briefer as our space diminishes.

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The subject which Egg has illustrated is an admirable one, and admirably he has treated it. It is that passage in Pepys's Diary which records his first introduction to Nell Gwynne, when, after dining with his wife near Temple Bar, he went to the king's house, to see the "Humerous Lieutenant." "Here, in a box above," he says, we spied Mrs. Pierce ; and, going out, they called us, and so we stayed for them; and Knipp took us all in, and brought us to Nelly, a most pretty woman, who acted the part of Calia to-day very fine, and did it pretty well. I kissed her, and so did my wife; and a mighty pretty soul she is." He afterwards tells how pleased he was with the sight, and "specially kissing of Nell." No doubt of it; and if he does not seem so in Mr. Egg's picture, it is certainly no fault of the painter.

Frank Stone has a picture-one only-from the "Merchant of Venice" that well-remembered passage in the fortunes of Bassanio when, newly triumphant in his love adventure, he receives from Salerio the letter written by Antonio to tell him of the royal merchant's losses, and prepare him for the fate he expects at the hands of the merciless Jew. Gratiano has just spoken, bidding Nerissa welcome Jessica, and asking Salerio the news from Venice, while Portia's watchful eye, fixed on the countenance of her lord, gathers from its paleness the distressful nature of the tidings which he has just received. The story, interpreted by Mr. Stone, is simply and beautifully rendered, and is of such a character as to

lead us to hope that he will still further turn his attention to the pages from whence he has drawn his latest inspiration.

Soon after the peace of Aix-la-Chapelle, our great humorist, Hogarth, went to France, and, while he was amusing himself sketching the Calais Gate-immortalised in a subsequent work, to which he attached the epigraph of "Oh, the roast beef of old England!"-was taken prisoner by the authorities of the town, and carried before M. Gransire, the mayor, charged with being a spy. He narrowly escaped being hung for his imprudence, the treaty of peace having been signed only a few days. This anecdote Mr. Frith has made the subject of the picture which he has sent to the Academy, and he has handled it with a breadth of humour in perfect keeping with the theme. One peculiarity in Mr. Frith's treatment is the spirit of agitation which he has cast over the scene. For some time, as we should do in real life, we look in vain for the principal actor in this municipal drama. At last we discover him leaning over the bar which divides him from the court, smiling quietly at all the hubbub around him, and mentally jotting down, no doubt, a thousand peculiarities, hereafter to be recorded in ineffaceable lines of the graver. Two friends accompany him, Britons of the old school-one an actor, the other an author-whose fierce demeanour is most amusingly opposed to the coolness of the chief culprit.

Danby has two pictures-one, a ship on fire, and the other, which excels it, a sunlight effect, such as no painter that we are familiar with has succeeded in representing since the days of Claude.

These are the hasty notes which we have made of a few out of numbers of works by men whose names have long been familiar to the public.

We shall have plenty more to notice in a future number; but before we close our observations, we must point to three or four young artists, who promise too well to permit us to doubt that they will realise all we expect, hereafter.

Of these, Mr. Maddox is one who exhibits great talent as a portrait painter, and the portraits of Dr. Wilson, the instructor of the deaf and dumb, and of General Forbes, afford satisfactory evidence of his powers. There was, in the Exhibition last year, if we remember rightly, a picture by the same artist, of Beatrice Cenci, which only required a better place to have secured for Mr. Maddox the admiration of all who saw it. Mr. Herring is another, whose landscapes deserve unqualified praise. There is a view of Nice, by him, which is of first-rate character. Mr. O'Neil is a third, whose works will, if they are admitted, create a name for him; and Mr. Chambers, the son of the artist, who was so distinguished as a marine painter, has a scene on the Thames, which we recommend to all who have an eye for freedom of drawing, truthfulness of delineation, accuracy of detail, and warmth and transparency of colouring. The actual subject is "The Lord Mayor's Procession by Water to Whitehall on the 9th of November,"-a pageant so picturesque as to cause us to hope that it will not be suffered to fall into desuetude. But modern Lord Mayors are, as Scott says, "kittle cattle" to deal with; and if the taste of some of them is to be taken as a criterion, Art has nothing to hope from their patronage, and Manners everything to lose by their example.

ENGLISH CONVENTS AND CONVENTUALITIES.

BY A ROMAN CATHOLIC LAYMAN.

Ir is the peculiar characteristic of the great body of the members of the Church of Rome to yield implicit adherence to the acts, spiritual or temporal, emanating from the Vatican, or promulgated as the avowed opinion of the chief of their clergy. They are no less singular in the unwavering tenacity with which they cling to the institutions, good or bad, which have, from the era of St. Peter down to the present age, been obtruded upon the Church doctrine, and held up to the veneration and admiration of the faithful. And it is a marked peculiarity in their constitution, that they will admit no free discussion as to the validity or excellence of these dogmas, but will brand as a persecutor the upholder of another creed who may point to some egregious error, or, if he be a member of their own community, holding a conscientious doubt, will charge him with flagrant apostasy. Thus, no sooner does a distinguished member of the Catholic Church express dissent from a proposed scheme of ecclesiastical hierarchy, or anything else involving political-religious opinion, than he is censured as lukewarm, accused of deserting the good old cause of Catholic prosperity, and, if expostulation is unavailing, personal abuse and calumny are brought into requisition, so as to lessen the importance of the opposition in the eyes of the rest of the community. Such was the case when the premier duke avowed his disapprobation of the late Bull of Pio Nono, and the rebuke which he incurred from the Catholic press, was a disgrace to any sect admitting freedom of conscience as one of their fundamental principles.

Though we have no wish to enter the lists against the opinions of the Catholic press, however intolerant they may be, we can assure them, that when they abandon logic and courteous discussion for personal invective and unjust vituperation, they not only disgrace the cause for which they contend, but ignore the truth of their argument in the eyes of every educated and liberal-minded Catholic; and the violence of their condemnation of the conduct pursued by the Duke of Norfolk, has done more to create a diversity of opinion among the Catholic laity, upon this long agitated topic, than the whole accumulation of meetings, speeches, petitions, and pamphlets, which now inundate society, have been able to accomplish. The defenders of a bad cause seek to gain by satirical abuse what logic is unable to accomplish. Now, with reference to this liberty of conscience, which is justly described as the foundation of purity in religion as well as in politics,-can it be considered such, when a rule of faith is so restricted to the limits of certain dogmas, all of which are to be acknowledged as infallible, that reflection becomes heretical; while it demands a reverence for institutions which are so mixed up with the faith, that if you call in question the correctness of one you must impugn the other?

Is it possible to act with an unbiased mind in selecting an individual time-honoured institution of Catholicity for discussive consideration, when its morale is completely interwoven with the great truths of Church doctrine? It is barely possible; and in this particular one of

the most extraordinary traits of the Church of Rome is discernible-how thoroughly, and with what skill all the extraneous or detached portions of her machinery are amalgamated with the essential articles of her faith, so that the members cannot give implicit submission to its belief, without entertaining a reverence for any of those institutions, which are the offspring and most faithful children of the parent religion. Hence it arises, that when any member of the Catholic Church raises his voice in deprecation of an abuse, which fanaticism or lust for power may have occasioned in some one of the minor departments of the faith, he is denounced as a fallen member, and one who, because he cannot vindicate in his heart the errors in judgment and illusions of zealots, must necessarily be an apostate to the creed of St. Peter, and excommunicated from the pale of its Church! Consequently, Catholics in general assume an artificial apathy to the "abuses and corruptions of the Papacy," as they are termed, knowing that by expostulation good cannot be effected, but much scandal and disunity must be occasioned.

In all probability, we shall be condemned as an utterly decayed branch of the faith by the infatuated advocates for the spread of Catholicity; but as the organs of the faith are so heedlessly blind to every result, and either slur over or refute every exposé which the errors of some constantly incur, we are perfectly willing to submit to the puerile anathemas of the bigots, provided we can fairly show to the world the causes of error which make the Catholic faith a byword for ignorance and superstition. We do not wish to enter into any polemical discussion with co-religionists, the pages of the New Monthly are not suited for such; and the authenticity of the assertions having been derived from actual experience and confined to such, contradiction and disputation are unnecessary to confirm or deny the truth of the allegations. Among the offshoots of Catholicity which have recently gained a disagreeable notoriety, the Convents in this country bid fair to outvie the grand bugbear of bishoprics, which has recently convulsed the entire kingdom, and distracted the minds of our ablest legislators.

In entering upon the subject of this article be it clearly understood, that we refer only to such conventual institutions as have been established in England, for though similar laws and organised systems exist in a more powerful degree on the Continent, the range of our limits do not permit a more extended review than that which our own shores embrace. The religious houses have been on a rapid increase for several years past, and if continued, on their present scale, will undoubtedly soon multiply to an extent equal to their pristine vigour before the days of the Reformation. The great misfortune is, that in their constitution and purposes but little renovation has been effected, and the slavish indifference to all good, and insiduous adaptation to which they can be applied by the designing, so conspicuous in the cloisters of old, are the objections to their existence now. No higher or more intellectual purpose dignifies the seclusion of monastic life in this age of civilisation and education than resulted when barbarity and avarice drove English ladies to the pale, and rendered compulsory their assumption of the veil. The object for which convents were originally established is obsolete. When, ten centuries ago, the barbarism of men knew no higher aspiration than that of fierce battlefields, of cruel assassinations, court intrigues, and utter mental degradation, the social position of virtuous ladies was abject slavery. At one