which they alone were competent, of recovering |mercial jealousy of their more powerful souththe rents from the actual cultivators of the soil. ern rivals. Bills would have been brought As the numbers of the people increased, into parliament, as was actually done in rehowever, and the value of the immense farms gard to a neighbouring island, proceeding which had been thus granted to the descendants on the preamble, "that it is expedient that of their original proprietors was enhanced, the the Scottish manufactures should be discoutask of collecting rents over so extensive a raged;" and the prohibition of sending their district would have become too great for any goods into the richer market of England, individual, and the increased wealth which he whither the whole wealth of the country were had acquired from the growth of his tenantry, already drawn, would have annihilated the inwould have led him to dislike the personal la- fant efforts of manufacturing industry. bour with which it would be attended. These Nor would the Reformation, which, as matgreat tenants, in consequence, would have sub-ters stand, has been of such essential service set their vast possessions to an inferior set of to this country, have been, on the hypothesis occupiers, who might each superintend the which we are pursuing, a lesser source of sufcollection of the rents within his own farm, fering, or a greater bar to the improvement and have an opportunity of acquiring a per- of the people. From being embraced by their sonal acquaintance with the labourers by whom English landlords, the Reformed Religion it was to be cultivated. As the number of the would have been hateful to the peasants of people increased, the same process would be Scotland; the Catholic priests would have repeated by the different tenants on their re-sought refuge among them, from the persecuspective farms; and thus there would have tion to which they were exposed in their native sprung up universally in Scotland a class of seats; and both would have been strengthened MIDDLE MEN between the proprietor and the ac- in their hatred to those persons to whom their tual cultivator of the soil. common misfortune was owing. Religious hatred would thus have combined with all the previous circumstances of irritation, to increase the rancour between the proprietors of the soil, and the labouring classes in this country; and from the circumstance of the latter adhering to the proscribed religion, they would have been rendered yet more incapable of procuring a redress for their grievances in a legislative form. While these changes went on, the condition of the people, oppressed by a series of successive masters, each of whom required to live by their labour, and wholly debarred from obtaining any legal redress for their grievances, would have gradually sunk. Struggling with á barren soil, and a host of insatiable oppressors, they could never have acquired any ideas of comfort, or indulged in any hopes of rising in the world. They would, in consequence, have adopted that species of food which promised to afford the greatest nourishment for a family from the smallest space of ground; and from the universality of this cause, the POTATO would have become the staple food of the country. Had the English, therefore, succeeded in subduing Scotland in the time of Robert Bruce, and in maintaining their authority from that period, we think it not going too far to assert, that the people of this country would have been now in an unhappy and distracted condition: that religious discussion and civil The landed proprietors, on the other hand, rancour would have mutually exasperated the who are the natural protectors, and ought al- higher and lower orders against each other; ways to be the best encouragers of the people that the landed proprietors would have been on their estates, would have shrunk from the permanently settled in the victorious country; idea of leaving their English possessions, that everywhere a class of middlemen would where they were surrounded by an affectionate have been established to grind and rum the and comfortable tenantry, where riches and labours of the poor; that manufactures would plenty sprung from the natural fertility of the have been scanty, and the country covered soil, and where power and security were de- with a numerous and indigent population, rived from their equal law, to settle in a north- idle in their habits, ignorant in their ideas, ern climate, amongst a people by whom they ferocious in their manners, professing a reli were abhorred, and where law was unable to gion which held them in bondage, and clingrestrain the licentiousness, or reform the bar-ing to prejudices from which their ruin must barity of the inhabitants.-They would in con- ensue. sequence have universally become ABSENTEE Is it said, that this is mere conjecture, and PROPRIETORS; and not only denied to the Scot- that nothing in the history of English governtish people the incalculable advantages of a ment warrants us in concluding, that such resident body of landed gentlemen; but, by would have been the consequence of the estatheir influence in Parliament, and their animo-blishment of their dominion in this country? sity towards their northern tenantry, prevented Alas! it is not conjecture. The history of IREany legislative measure being pursued for LAND affords too melancholy a confirmation their relief. of the truth of the positions which we have In such circumstances, it seems hardly con-advanced, and of the reality of the deduction ceivable that arts or manufactures should have which we have pursued. In that deduction made any progress in this country. But, if in we have not reasoned on hypothesis or conspite of the obstacles which the unfavourable jecture. Every step which we have hinted at, climate, and unhappy political circumstances has there been taken; every consequence which of the country presented, manufactures should we have suggested, has there ensued. Those have begun to spring up amongst us, they acquainted with the history of that unhappy would speedily have been checked by the com- country, or who have studied its present con dition, will recognise in the conjectural history which we have sketched, of what would have followed the annexation of this country to England in the time of Edward II., the real history of what HAS FOLLOWED its subjugation in the time of Henry II., and perceive in the causes which we have pointed out, as what would have operated upon our people, the real causes of the misery and wretchedness in which its population is involved. Nor is the example of the peaceful submission of Wales to the dominion of England, any authority against this view of the subject. Wales is so inconsiderable in comparison to England, it comes so completely in contact with its richest provinces, and is so enveloped by its power, that when once subdued, all thought of resistance or revolt became hopeless. That mountainous region, therefore, fell as quietly and as completely into the arms of England, as if it had been one of the Hept- | archy, which in process of time was incorporated with the English monarchy. Very different is the situation of Scotland, where the comparative size of the country, the fervid spirit of the inhabitants, the remoteness of its situation, and the strength of its mountains, continually must have suggested the hope of successful revolt, and as necessarily occasioned the calamitous consequences which we have detailed. The rebellion of Owen Glendower is sufficient to convince us, that nothing but the utter insignificance of Wales, compared to England, prevented the continual revolt of the Welsh people, and the consequent introduction of all those horrors which have followed the establishment of English dominion among the inhabitants of Ireland. Do we then rejoice in the prosperity of our country? Do we exult at the celebrity which it has acquired in arts and in arms? Do we duly estimate the blessings which it has long enjoyed from equal law and personal freedom? -Do we feel grateful for the intelligence, the virtue, and the frugality of our peasantry, and acknowledge, with thankfulness, the practical beneficence and energetic spirit of our landed proprietors? Let us turn to the grave of Robert Bruce, and feel as we ought the inexpressible gratitude due to him as the remote author of all these blessings. But for his bold and unconquerable spirit, Scotland might have shared with Ireland the severity of English conquest; and, instead of exulting now in the prosperity of our country, the energy of our peasantry, and the patriotic spirit of our resident landed proprietors, we might have been deploring with her an absent nobility, an oppressive tenanry, a bigotted and ruined people. It was therefore, in truth, a memorable day for this country when the remains of this great prince were rediscovered amidst the ruins in which they had so long been hid; when the arms which slew Henry de Bohun were reinterred in the land which they had saved from slavery; and the head which had beheld the triumph of Bannockburn was consigned to the dust, after five centuries of grateful remembrance and experienced obligation. It is by thus appreciating the merits of departed worth, that similar virtues in future are to be called forth; and by duly feeling the consequences of heroic resistance in time past, that the spirit is to be excited by which the future fortunes of the state are to be maintained. In these observations we have no intention, as truly we have no desire, to depreciate the incalculable blessings which this country has derived from her union with England. We feel, as strongly as any can do, the immense advantage which this measure brought to the wealth, the industry, and the spirit of Scotland. We are proud to acknowledge, that it is to the efforts of English patriotism that we owe the establishment of liberty in our civil code; and to the influence of English example, the diffusion of a free spirit among our people. But it is just because we are duly impressed with these feelings that we recur, with such grateful pride, to the patriotic resistance of Robert Bruce; it is because we feel that we should be unworthy of sharing in English liberty, unless we had struggled for our own independence, and incapable of participating in its benefits, unless we had shown that we were capable of acquiring it. Nor are we ashamed to own, that it is the spirit which English freedom has awakened that first enabled us fully to appreciate the importance of the efforts which our ancestors made in resisting their dominion; and that but for the Union on equal terms with that power, we would have been ignorant of the debt which we owed to those who saved us from its subjugation. In our national fondness, therefore, for the memory of Robert Bruce, the English should perceive the growth of those principles from which their own unequalled greatness has arisen; nor should they envy the glory of the field of Bannockburn, when we appeal to it as our best title to be quartered in their arms. Yet mourn not, land of Fame, Though ne'er the leopards on thy shield Retreated from so sad a field Since Norman William came. Oft may thine annals justly boast, Of battles there by Scotland lost, Grudge not her victory; When for her freeborn rights she strove, Rights dear to all who freedom love, To none so dear as thee. PARIS IN 1814.* eye, the effect of the whole scene is increased by the rich and varied fore-ground, which everywhere presents itself, composed of the shrubs with which the skirts of the square are adorned, and the lofty poplars which rise amidst the splendour of architectural beauty: while recent events give a greater interest to the spot from which this beauty is surveyed, by the remembrance, that it was here that WITH whatever sentiments a stranger may enter Paris, his feelings must be the same with regard to the monuments of ancient magnificence, or of modern taste, which it contains. All that the vanity or patriotism of a long series of sovereigns could effect for the embellishment of the capital in which they resided; all that the conquests of an ambitious and unprincipled army could accumulate from the spoils of the nations whom they had sub-Louis XVI. fell a martyr to the revolutionary dued, are there presented to the eye of the stranger with a profusion which obliterates every former prejudice, and stifles the feelings of national emulation in exultation at the greatness of human genius. principles, and that it was here that the Em peror Alexander and the other princes of Europe took their station when their armies passed in triumph through the walls of Paris. The view from the Pont Neuf, though not striking upon the whole, embraces objects of greater individual beauty. The gay and ani mated quays of the city covered with foot pas sengers, and, with all the varied exhibitions of industrious occupation, which, from the warm The ordinary buildings of Paris, as every traveller has observed, and as all the world knows, are in general mean and uncomfortable. The height and gloomy aspect of the houses; the narrowness of the streets, and the want of pavement for foot passengers, conveyness of the climate, are carried on in the open an idea of antiquity, which ill accords with air;-the long and splendid,front of the Louvre, what the imagination had anticipated of the and the Tuileries;-the bold projections of modern capital of the French empire. This the Palais des Arts, of the Hotel de la Monnaie, circumstance renders the admiration of the and other public buildings on the opposite side spectator greater when he first comes in sight of the river;-the beautiful perspective of the of its public edifices; when he is conducted to bridges, adorned by the magnificent colonnade the Place Louis Quinze or the Pont Neuf, which fronts the Palace of the Legislative from whence he has a general view of the Body;-and the lofty picturesque buildings of principal buildings of this celebrated capital. the centre of Paris, surrounding the more eleWith the single exception of the view of Lon-vated towers of Notre Dame, form a scene, don from the terrace of the Adelphi, there is which, though less perfect, is more striking, no point in Britain where the effect of archi- and more characteristic than the scene from tectural design is so great as in the situations the centre of the Place Louis Quinze. It conwhich have now been mentioned. The viewveys at once a general idea of the French from the former of these, combines many of capital; of that mixture of poverty and splenthe most striking objects which Paris has to dour by which it is so remarkably distinguishpresent. To the east, the long front of the ed; of that grandeur of national power, and Tuileries rises over the dark mass of foliage that degradation of individual importance which cover its gardens; to the south, the which marked the ancient dynasty of the picturesque aspect of the town is broken by French nation. It marks too, in an historical the varied objects which the river presents, view, the changes of public feeling which the and the fine perspective of the Bridge of Peace, people of this country have undergone, from terminating in the noble front of the palace of the distant period when the towers of Notre the Legislative Body; to the west, the long Dame rose amidst the austerity of Gothic taste, avenues of the Elysian Fields are closed by and were loaded with the riches of Catholic the pillars of a triumphal arch which Napo- superstition, to that boasted æra, when the leon had commenced; while, to the north, the loyalty of the French people exhausted the beautiful façade of the Place itself, leaves the wealth and the genius of the country, to decospectator only room to discover at a greater rate with classic taste the residence of their distance the foundation of the Temple of sovereigns; and lastly, to those later days, Glory, which he had commenced, and in the when the names of religion and of loyalty have execution of which he was interrupted by alike been forgotten; when the national exultathose ambitious enterprises to which his sub-tion reposed only on the trophies of military sequent downfall was owing. To a painter's greatness, and the iron yoke of imperial power was forgotten in the monuments which record the deeds of imperial glory. To the general observation on the inferiority of the common buildings in Paris, there are some remarkable exceptions. The Boulevards, which are the remains of the ancient ramparts which surrounded the city at a former period, are, in general, beautiful, both from the circu lar form in which they are built, which prevents the view from being ever too extensive for the objects which it contains, and presents them in the most picturesque aspect; from the breadth which they everywhere preserve, and which affords room for the spectator to observe the magnificence of the detached palaces with which they abound; and from the rows of trees with which they are shaded, and which combine singularly well with the irregular character of the building which they generally present. In the skirts of the town, and more especially in the Fauxbourg St. Germain, the beauty of the streets is greatly increased by the detached hotels or villas, surrounded by gardens, which are everywhere to be met with, in which the lilac, the laburnum, the Bois de Judeé, and the acacia, grow in the most luxuriant manner, and on the green foliage of which, the eye reposes with singular delight, amidst the bright and dazzling whiteness of the stone with which they are surrounded. The Hotel des Invalides, the Chelsea Hospital of France, is one of the objects on which the Parisians principally pride themselves, and to which a stranger is conducted immediately after his arrival in that capital. The institution itself appears to be well conducted, and to give general satisfaction to the wounded men, who have there found an asylum from the miseries of war. These men live in habits of perfect harmony among each other; a state of things widely different from that of our veterans in Greenwich Hospital, and which is probably chiefly owing to the cheerfulness and equanimity of temper which form the best feature in the French character. There is something in the style of the architecture of this building, which accords well with the object to which it is devoted. The front is distinguished by a simple manly portico, and a dome of the finest proportion rises above its centre, which is visible from all parts of the city. This dome was gilded by order of Bonaparte: and however much a fastidious taste may regret the addition, it certainly gave an air of splendour to the whole, which was in perfect unison with the feelings of exultation which the sight of this monument of military glory was then fitted to awaken among the French people. The exterior of this edifice was formerly surrounded by cannon captured by the armies of France at different periods: and ten thousand standards, the trophies of victory during the wars of two centuries, waved under its splendid dome, and enveloped the sword of Frederic the Great, which hung from the centre, until the 31st of March, 1814, when they were all burnt by order of Maria Louisa, to prevent their falling into the victorious hands of the allied powers. If the character of the architecture of the Hotel des Invalides accords well with the object to which that building is destined; the character of the Louvre is not less in unison with the spirit of the fine arts, to which it is consecrated. It is impossible for language to convey any adequate idea of the impression which this exquisite building awakens in the mind of a stranger. The beautiful proportions, and the fine symmetry of the great façade, give an air of simplicity to the distant view of this edifice, which is not diminished, on nearer approach, by the unrivalled beauty of its ornaments and detail; but when you cross the threshold of the portico, and pass under it. noble archway into the inner court, all considerations are absorbed in the throb of admiration, which is excited by the sudden display of all that is lovely and harmonious in Grecian architecture. You find yourself in the midst of the noblest and yet chastest display of architectural beauty, where every ornament possesses the character by which the whole is distinguished, and where the whole possesses the grace and elegance which every ornament presents:-You find yourself on the spot, where all the monuments of ancient art are deposited-where the greatest exertions of mortal genius are preserved-and where a palace has at last been raised worthy of being the depository of the collected genius of the human race. It bears a higher character than that of being the residence of imperial power; it seems destined to loftier purposes than to be the abode of earthly greatness; and the only forms by which its halls would not be degraded, are those models of ideal perfection which the genius of ancient Greece created to exalt the character of a heathen world. Placed in a more elevated spot, and destined to a still higher object, the Pantheon bears in its front the traces of the noble purpose for which it was intended.-It was intended to be the cemetery of all the great men who had deserved well of their country; and it bears the inscription, above its entrance, Aux grands Ames La Patrie reconnoissante. The character of its architecture is well adapted to the impression it is intended to convey, and suits the simplicity of the noble inscription which its portico presents. Its situation has been selected with singular taste, to aid the effect which was thus intended. It is placed at the top of an eminence, which shelves in a declivity on every side; and the immediate approach is by an immense flight of steps, which form the base of the building, and increase the effect which its magnitude produces. Over the entrance rises a portico of lofty pillars, finely proportioned, supporting a magnificent entablature of the Corinthian order; and the whole terminates in a dome of vast dimensions, forming the highest object in the whole city. The impression which every one must feel in crossing its threshold, is that of religious awe; the individual is lost in the great. ness of the objects with which he is surrounded, and he dreads to enter what seems the abode of a greater power, and to have been framed for the purposes of more elevated worship. The Louvre might have been fitted for the gay scenes of ancient sacrifice; it suits the brilliant conceptions of heathen mythology; and seems the fit abode of those ideal forms, in which the imagination of ancient times imbodied their conceptions of divine perfection; but the Pantheon is adapted for a holier worship, and accords with the character of a purer belief; and the vastness and solitude of its untrodden chambers awaken those feelings of human weakness, and that sentiment of human im mortality which befit the temple of a spiritual | character is that of massy greatness; its orna faith. ments are rich rather than elegant, and its in terior striking, more from its immense size than the beauty of the proportion in which it iɛ formed. In spite of all these circumstances, however, the Cathedral of Notre Dame pro duces a deep impression on the mind of the beholder: its towers rise to a stupendous height above all the buildings which surround them; while the stone of every other edifice is of a light colour, they alone are black with the smoke of centuries; and exhibit a venera. ble aspect of ancient greatness in the midst of the brilliancy of modern decoration with which the city is filled. Even the crowd of ornaments with which they are loaded, and the heavy proportion in which they are built, are forgot ten in the effect which their magnitude pro duces; they suit the gloomy character of the building they adorn, and accord with the expression of antiquated power by which, its The spectator is led, by the sight of this great monument of sacred architecture in the Grecian style, to compare it with the Gothic churches of France, and, in particular, with the Cathedral of Beauvais, the interior of which is finished with greater delicacy, and in finer proportions, than any other edifice of a similar kind in that country. The impression which the inimitable choir of Beauvais produces is widely different from that which we felt on entering the lofty dome of the Pantheon at Paris. The light pinnacles, the fretted roof, the aspiring form of the Gothic edifice, seemed to have been framed by the hands of aerial beings; and produced, even from a distance, that impression of grace and airiness which it was the peculiar object of this species of Gothic architecture to excite. On passing the high archway which covers the western door, and entering the immense aisles of the Cathe-aged forms are now distinguished. dral, the sanctity of the place produces a deeper impression, and the grandeur of the forms awakens profounder feelings. The light of day is excluded, the rays of the sun come mellowed through the splendid colours with which the windows are stained, and cast a religious light over the marble pavement which covers the floor; while the eye reposes on the harmonious forms of the lancet windows, or is bewildered in the profusion of ornament with which the roof is adorned, or is lost in the deep perspective of its aisles. The impression which the whole produces, is that of religious emotion, singularly suited to the genius of Christianity; it is seen in that obscure light | which fits the solemnity of religious duty, and awakens those feelings of intense delight, which prepare the mind for the high strain of religious praise. But it is not the deep feeling of humility and weakness which is produced by the dark chambers and massy pillars of the Pantheon at Paris; it is not in the mausoleum of the dead that you seem to wander, nor on the thoughts of the great that have gone before you, that the mind revolves; it is in the scene of thanksgiving that your admiration is fixed; it is with the emblems of hope that your devotion is awakened, and with the enthusiasm of gratitude that the mind is filled. Beneath the gloomy roof of the Grecian temple, the spirit is concentrated within itself; it seeks the repose which solitude affords, and meditates on the fate of the immortal soul; but it loves to follow the multitude into the Gothic cathedral, to join in the song of grateful praise which peals through its lengthened aisles, and to share in the enthusiasm which belongs to the exercise of common devotion. To those who have been accustomed to the form of worship which is established in Pro testant countries, there is nothing so striking in the Catholic churches as the complete oblivion of rank, or any of the distinctions of estab lished society which there universally prevails. There are no divisions of seats, nor any places fixed for any particular classes of society All, of whatever rank or station, kneel alike upon the marble pavement; and the whole extent of the church is open for the devotion of all classes of the people. You frequently see the poorest citizens with their children kneeling on the stone, close to those of the highest rank, or the most extensive fortunes. This custom may appear painful to those who have been habituated to the forms of devotion in the English churches; but it produces an impression on the mind of the spectator which nothing in our service is capable of effecting. To see the individual form lost in the immensity of the objects with which he is surrounded; to see all ranks and ages blended in the exercise of common devotion; to see all distinction forgotten in the sense of common infirmity, suits the spirit of that religion which was addressed to the poor as well as to the rich, and fits the presence of that being before whom all ranks are equal. Nor is it without a good effect upon the feelings of mankind, that this custom has formed a part of the Catholic service. Amidst that degradation of the great body of the people, which marks the greater part of the Catholic countries-amidst the insolence of aristocratic power, which the doctrines of the Catholic faith are so well suited to support, it is fitting there should be some occasions on which the The Cathedral of Notre Dame is the only distinctions of the world should be forgotten; Gothic building of note in Paris, and it is by some moments in which the rich as well as no means equal to the expectations that are the poor should be humbled before a greater naturally formed of it. The style of its archi-power-in which they should be reminded of tecture is not that of the finest Gothic; it has neither the exquisite lightness of ornament which distinguish the summit of Gloucester Cathedral, nor the fine lancet windows which give so unrivalled a beauty to the interior of Beauvais, nor the richness of roof which covers the tombs of Westminster Abbey. Its the common faith in which they have been baptized, of the common duties to which they are called, and the common hopes which they have been permitted to form. High Mass was performed in Notre Dame, with all the pomp of the Catholic service, for the souls of Louis XVI., Marie Antoinette and |