terpiece a picture of "Strasburg Cathedral in the Dark."
For myself, I have never known which to admire most—the variety of effect which Mérimée produces; the economy of means by which he produces it; or the absolute perfection of the effect produced. Except by mere paradoxers of the school just glanced at, who find it too definite and clear, L'Enlèvement de la Redoute has always been confessed to be a ne plus ultra. It is in race-horse condition; not an ounce of flesh on it that can hamper or drag its progress, not a muscle wanting in development to carry it at swiftest and surest toward the goal. The same is the case with what is perhaps its companion in general esteem, Mateo Falcone. But Mérimée, though never luxuriant, is not always thus ascetic. There is nothing of his that I myself prefer to the Venus d'Ille which has the accidental but not unimportant charm of having the same subject as another masterpiece by another master as different as possible, Mr. William Morris's Ring Given to Venus. Indeed, Mérimée's management of the supernatural is one of the most interesting points about him, and supplies another "note" to be carefully heeded in estimating his general character, literary and other. The blending here of
