Hitherto, works of art had been considered as sacred, even during the utmost extremities of war. They were judged to be the property, not so much of the nation or individuals who happened to possess them, as of the world in general, who were supposed to have a common interest in these productions, which, if exposed to become the ordinary spoils of war, could hardly escape damage or destruction. To take a strong example of forbearance, Frederick of Prussia was a passionate admirer of the fine arts, and no scrupulous investigator of the rights conferred by conquest, but rather disposed to stretch them to the uttermost. Yet, when he obtained possession of Dresden under circumstances of high irritation, Frederick respected the valuable gallery, cabinets, and museums of the capital of Saxony, and preserved their contents inviolate, as a species of property which could not, and ought not, to fall within the rights of a conqueror. He considered the elector as only the keeper of the gallery; and regarded the articles which it contained as belonging to the civilized world at large. There are persons who demand the cause of this distinction, and require to know why works of art, the value of which is created solely by the opinion of those who pretend to understand them, and is therefore to be regarded as merely imaginary, or, as it is called by lawyers, a mere _pretium affectionis_, should be exempted from that martial law which disposes at pleasure of the real property of the vanquished. It might easily be shown in reply, that the respect due to genius of the highest order, attaches with a sort of religious zeal to the objects of our admiration in the fine arts, and renders it a species of sacrilege to subject them to the chances of war. It has besides already been hinted, that these chefs-d'œuvre being readily liable to damage, scarcely admitting of being repaired, and absolutely incapable of being replaced, their existence is hazarded by rendering them the objects of removal, according to the fluctuation of victory. But it is surely sufficient to say, that wherever the progress of civilisation has introduced rules to qualify and soften the extremities of war, these should be strictly adhered to. In the rudest ages of society, man avails himself of the right of the strongest in the fullest extent. The victor of the Sandwich islands devours his enemy--the North American Indian tortures him to death--almost all savage tribes render their prisoners slaves, and sell them as such. As society advances, these inhumanities fall out of practice; and it is unnecessary to add, that, as the victorious general deserves honourable mention in history, who, by his clemency, relaxes in any respect the rigorous laws of conquest, so he must be censured in proportion whose conduct tends to retrograde towards the brutal violence of primitive hostility.