three Cupids in the air; and in England, no characters in an heroic picture were represented in any thing else than Roman or Gothic armour. Even sir Joshua Reynolds, till after Mr. West's time, never painted a portrait but in a fancy-dress. All this was altered by West's Death of Wolfe; and it was for this style of painting, and not for his Regulus (the first picture Mr. West painted for the king) or his Agrippina, that France eulogized Mr. West when they gave him that sumptuous entertainment upon admitting him a member of the National Institute.

ENGLISH AND FRENCH COMPARED.

Baron HOLBERG, a Danish author, who wrote at the beginning of the last century, makes the following quaint comparison between the English and French nations.

The French

The French
The French

The French reason, but the English think most. have the most wit, but the English the best judgment. are showy in their clothing, the English are plain. eat most bread, the English most meat. Both are warm, but the heat of the French is in the blood, that of the English is in the gall; hence the anger of a Frenchman is greater than the anger of the English, while the hatred of the English is of longer duration than a Frenchman's. A Frenchman spends his means in decking his person; an Englishman thinks of nothing so much as his belly. A Frenchman is governed by the fashion; an Englishman by his fancy. A Frenchman always gocs with the stream; an Englishman against it. A Frenchman soon makes a friend, and soon dispenses with him; an Englishman is a long while making a friend, and keeps him long when he is made: the Englishman loses his friend by degrees; the Frenchman breaks with his friend all at once. The French honour their superiors; the English pay the most respect to themselves. The French are the best citizens; the English the best men. The French have the greatest latitude in their faculties, but the English excel them in the mind's gifts: both of them frequently perform heroic actions, the French for the love of fame, the English for the love of virtue. The French seek reward in the approbation of their countrymen, the English in the act itself. The

French, in common with other people, transgress the laws with the hope of escaping punishment; the English frequently transgress when they know that an escape is impossible. When a Frenchman says I would willingly do so and so, if it were not for the law; the Englishman says, I would never have done this or that if there had not been a law against it. The Frenchman denies himself little; the Englishman still less. In his meat the Frenchman regards quality; quantity is the Englishman's principal object. In his cookery, the Frenchman follows his fancy; the Englishman his palate. The French drink to quench thirst, or raise their spirits; the English for drinking sake. The Frenchman believes previously to examination; the Englishman examines all before he believes any. The French women are very free in their manners, though their husbands are never jealous; the English women are still more free than the French women, though their husbands are mad with jealousy. The imagination in the French and English is extremely fruitful; but more orderly in the French than in the English, which frequently exceeds all bounds. The French mostly live cheerfully in care, want, and misery; the English have every thing in abundance, and yet seem to despise life. They need not be forced to go to the place of execution; their criminals go there laughing, singing, or jesting; and, if an executioner is not to be found, will hang themselves.

Hence it is not strange that a great degree of hatred should subsist between two nations, whose minds and manners are so discordant. The peculiarity of the English character is manifest from this representation of circumstances not to be found elsewhere. But should any one object that I have exaggerated the virtues and vices of the English, I reply that, in respect to a nation that observes no medium itself, it must be very difficult indeed for a writer to adopt a medium in describing their manners.

FOR THE PORT FOLIO-THE ROSTRUM.

We may, we trust, without the imputation of flattery, congratulate Mr. Ogilvie on the enlargement of the plan which he has adopted, and which promises to blend so much amusement with so

much instruction. Of late years, criticism has assumed a novelty of character which this gentleman, with the strictest propriety, denominates philosophical. Formerly the spirit of the author was suffered to evaporate in the consideration of particular passages, and he was condemned or admired by piece-meal. The whole mass of matter remained untouched, with the exception of those particular passages, and a man who should read a criticism of this character, would rise from the perusal with more profound ignorance of the work, than if he had never heard of its existence. To make this case more familiar, we will suppose that a variety of painters, in examining the works of a brother artist, should acquit or condemn on the principles of the anatomist. Thus, if the human body was the subject of their consultation, one would limit his attention to the hand-another to the foot, and so of all the subordinate members of the human body-while the human face divine, the point where the artist had condensed all his strength and skill, should never undergo any examination whatever.

Mr. Ogilvie has favoured us with several most beautiful specimens of a criticism more enlarged and comprehensive. He considers, in the first place, the space which the author has attempted to fill up; or, in other words, what he has undertaken to accomplish. After this general outline, the question next arises, how far he has been successful-where he has failed, and where he has answered expectation. In this the various characters are considered their actions and sentiments: how far they quadrate with the main design, where they fall short, and where they transcend the broad outline before given. The audience are put in the first instance, in possession of the standard of admeasurement, and they have a distinct and defined character of the whole work, of which he has undertaken the analysis. Far from fettering down our attention to particular passages, and condemning or approving in spiteful details, we are gratified by a whole-length portrait of the spectacle.

We presume that it is unnecessary to say that Mr. Ogilvie's enlarged plan of criticism meets our warmest approbation. What can be a more rational instruction or amusing entertainment for a polite audience, than to devote an hour to such an occupation. We will venture to say, that many would retire from such a lecture

with more just ideas' of the author, and with a clearer comprehension of his merits and defects, than they would derive from a consultation of his pages. They are taught to look with a more enlarged vision, and to pass by with a generous disdain, that little criticism, which, in mean and malignant minds, is usually converted into an engine of torture. In his main criticisms we cordially concur, and we will notice that his strictures on Junius, Marmion, the ballad of Leonora, and on Pope's elegy on the death of an unfortunate lady, have our hearty acquiescence. He has not, in our opinion, been so successful in his analysis on Cato's Soliloquy. For instance, he condemns this passage:

"Or whence this pleasing hope, this fond desire,

This longing after immortality."

This he considers as tautologous. The pleasing hope' may be called the positive degree of the mind; the fond desire,' the comparative, and the longing after,' the superlative-all indicating different sensations, more vivid in proportion as the prospect of eternity approaches. Mr. Ogilvie considers these lines,

"Or whence this secret dread, this inward horror
Of falling into naught,"

as terms synonimous. Here the criticism appears to us inaccurate. All of us, for instance, have a natural dread of battle; but what man, in reading an account of an action, ever uttered a scream of horror; it is only in the hour of battle that he can be thus affected. Dread is nothing but fear, of which horror is the climax. Again; Cato says,

""Tis Heaven itself which points out an hereafter,

And intimates eternity to man;"

which Mr. Ogilvie deems synonimous. Eternity' undoubtedly comprehends an hereafter;' but does it thence follow that every hereafter must ex vi termini be an "eternity?"

Exactly of the same species of criticism, is his censure on this passage:

"The wreck of matter, and the crush of worlds.'

Mr. Ogilvie contends, that the crush of worlds' is 'the wreck of matter;' but will he venture to say, the wreck of matter is necessarily the crush of worlds?' This wreck' is evidently a distinct thing, and the poet to show its extent expands the idea, and comprehends in the wreck' the dissolution of the universe.

We have been more particular in reprobating these instances, because we think that this criticism savours too much of that compendious nicety, and lacks that comprehensive character that distinguish the other criticisms of this gentleman.

We have cited these examples, because we wish to speak fairly and impartially; because we profess cordially to concur in his plan, and because we would not have the dignity of analytic criticism debased by punctilious and scrupulous niceties. All his other examples are noble specimens; the artist displays the whole architecture at one view, and does not confine our attention to the flaws discernible in a single block of the marble. Even if the criticism were correct, it is unworthy of Mr. Ogilvie's attention in the sweeping range which he takes of the author, and serves to impair its general effect. How much more forcibly may we urge this objection, when the criticism is, as in the above instances, incorrect!

The general scope, and characteristics of the author, are objects only worthy of a genius like the orator's. He has given ample evidence that he is capable of illuminating the brightest passages of the most admired poets, and of bringing out their various beauties in a prouder relief.

In a day like the present, when the rabies politica seems to have eaten into the core of private life, it is with cordial satisfaction that we felicitate the public, that there is at least one place blending instruction with amusement, where our political antagonists may repose upon their weapons, and for a season forget that they ever were enemies. Scrupulously has the orator avoided this ground; he is neither a federal or democratic admirer of Walter Scott.

There is scarcely any valuable institution, either literary or charitable in the United States, whose utility he has not illustrated, and whose funds he has not improved. These are some of the strong claims of this gentleman to public patronage, to which