"C'est là le beau côté de la religion catholique; elle n'approuve pas les révolutions,"[59] said a protestant minister of a protestant king. He regarded the matter like a statesman, and no further. During the republican and imperial governments the protestants were the stronger party at Nismes, and had made the catholics feel that they were so. On the restoration, a scuffle took place between the parties, in which some half dozen protestants were killed. Of this unlucky affray great advantage was taken in England: committees were appointed and subscriptions raised for the purpose of succouring "our distressed brethren, the protestants of the south of France." The "no popery" cry being once well set up, it was thought right to inquire into the extent of the mischief. A letter was returned from France, reporting nearly what has been stated above; this letter the noble person to whom it was addressed kept in his pocket some days before he sent it to the committee, that the "no popery" cry might not go down too soon. The fear entertained by my friend of being murdered by the papists at Nismes need not now be wondered at: it was only three or four years since such things had happened; and it is well known, that what has happened once, may happen again. Hatred of popery is, in England, an amiable sentiment originating in a love of religious truth and confirmed by political wisdom. In such a sentiment, so pure in its source, so wise in its direction, heroes of all sorts may glory. In them it is distinguishable from poperyphobia: they are not afraid of popery: popery is afraid of them. Shakspeare's Hotspur cries out, "A plague o' this quiet life: I want work." For myself, being no hero, I love a quiet life; but I cannot refuse to heroes the tribute of admiration that is due to them and their laurels. For the catholics of Nismes, I believe them to be more devout and more decorous than those of the rest of France. The circumstances in which they are placed render this probable. The catholics of England are the most zealous and the most decent of all Christendom: an Italian nobleman, who knew them well, said to me, in speaking of them, "ce sont des saints:"[60] a papal nuncio to the Brazils, thrown by a sort of shipwreck on the English coast, and going to chapel in London, was delighted to find what he called "so precious a portion of the church of Christ." I went into some of the churches of Nismes, and found, on the inner door of one of them, an _écriteau_ requesting the faithful not to allow their dogs to follow them to church. At Avignon the dogs made love, or war, and barked in the churches at pleasure.