veneration and pride, to the struggles which it had witnessed, and the triumphs which it had won.

"Capitoli immobile Saxum." When Scipio Africanus was accused by a faction in the forum, in place of answering the charge, he turned to the capitol, and invited the people to accompany him to the temple of Jupiter, and return thanks for the defeat of the Carthagenians. Such was the influence of local associations on that severe people; and so natural is it for the human mind to embody its recollections in some external object; and so important an effect are these recollections fitted to have, when they are perpetually brought back to the public mind by the sight of the objects to which they have been attached.

The erection of a national monument, on a scale suited to the greatness of the events it is intended to commemorate seems better calculated than any other measure to perpetuate the spirit which the events of our times have awakened in this country. It will force itself on the observation of the most thoughtless, and recal the recollection of danger and glory, during the slumber of peaceful life. Thousands who never would otherwise have cast a thought upon the glory of their country, will by it be awakened to a sense of what befits the descendants of those great men who have died in the cause of national freedom. While it will testify the gratitude of the nation to departed worth, it will serve at the same time to mark the distinction which similar victories may win. Like the Roman capitol, it will stand at once the monument of former greatness, and the pledge of future glory.

Nor is it to be imagined that the national monument in London is sufficient for this purpose, and that the commencement of a similar undertaking in this city is an unnecessary or superfluous proceeding. It is quite proper, that in the metropolis of the United Empire, the trophies of its common triumphs should be found, and that the national funds should there be devoted to the formation of a monument, worthy of the splendid achievements which her united forces have performed. But the whole benefits of the emulation between the two nations, from which our armies have already derived such signal advantage, would be lost, if Scotland were to par

ticipate only in the triumphs of her sister kingdom, without distinctly marking its own peculiar and national pride, in the glory of her own people.The valour of the Scottish regiments is known and celebrated from one end of Europe to the other; and this circumstance, joined to the cele brity of the poems of Ossian, has given a distinction to our soldiers, to which, for so small a body of men, there is no parallel in the history of the present age. Would it not be a subject of reproach to this country, if the only land in which no record of their gallantry is to be found, was the land which gave them birth; and that the traveller who has seen the tartan hailed with enthusiasm on every theatre of Europe, should find it forgotten only in the metropolis of that kingdom which owes its salvation to the bravery by which it has been distinguished?

The animating effects, moreover, which the sight of a national trophy is fitted to have on a martial people, would be entirely lost in this country, if no other monument to Scottish valour existed than the monument in London.-There is not a hundredth part of our population who have ever an opportunity of going to that city; or to whom the existence even of such a record of their triumph could be known. Even upon those who may see it, the peculiar and salutary effect of a national Scottish monument would be entirely lost. It would be regarded as a trophy of English glory; and however much it might animate our descendants to maintain the character of Britain on the field of European warfare, it would leave wholly untouched those feelings of generous emulation by which the rival nations of England and Scotland have hitherto been animated towards each other, and to the existence of which, so much of their common triumphs have been owing.

It is in the preservation of this feeling of rivalry that we anticipate the most important effects of the national monument in this metropolis. There is no danger that the ancient animosity of the two nations will ever revive, or that the emulation of our armies will lead them to prove unfaithful to the common cause in which they must hereafter be engaged. The stern feelings of feudal hatred with which the

tice in this country. We meet with few persons who have not visited the remains of classical antiquity, who can conceive the matchless beauties of the temples of Minerva at Athens, or of Neptune at Pestum. And, indeed, if our conceptions of the Doric be taken from the few attempts at imitation of it which are here to be met with, they would fall very far short, indeed, of what the originals are fitted to excite.

In the National Monument of Scotland an opportunity is afforded of opening the public mind to a just appreciation of the beauties of this style of architecture, and of presenting it, in its most engaging form, and under cir cumstances peculiarly calculated to excite attention. If the PARTHENON of ATHENS were transferred to Edinburgh, the public taste would be formed on the finest model which exists in the world, and to the perfection of which the experience of two thousand years has borne testimony. The taste which sprung up round the work of Phidias might then be transferred to our northern regions; and the city whose genius has already procured for it the name of the Modern Athens, might hope to vie with its immortal predecessor in the fine arts. Nor would such an attempt be at all inconsistent with the extent of the funds which may be looked to for the purpose proposed. The Parthenon might be imitated in all its dimensions for £30,000 or £40,000; and although in such a copy the Frize would of course be wanting, yet this would not diminish the effect of the edifice when seen from the distance of a few hundred yards.

We are far from underrating the genius of modern architects, and when our metropolis is increasing in splendour, under the auspices of Playfair and Elliot, it would be ungrateful to insinuate, that sufficient ability for the formation of an original design is not to be found. But in the choice of designs for a building which is to stand for centuries, and from which the taste of the metropolis in future ages is in a greater measure to be formed, we conceive that it is absolutely essential to fix upon some model of known and approved excellence. The erection of a monument in bad taste, or even of doubtful beauty, might destroy the just conceptions on

this subject, which are beginning to prevail, and throw the national taste a century back at the time when it is making the most rapid advances towards perfection. It is in vain to expect that human genius can ever make any thing more beautiful than the Parthenon. It is folly, therefore, to tempt fortune, when certainty is in our hands.

There are many reasons besides, which seem in a peculiar manner to recommend the Doric temple for the proposed monument. By the habits of modern times, a different species of architecture has been devoted to the different purposes to which buildings may be applied; and it is difficult to avoid believing, that there is something in the separate styles which is peculiarly adapted to the different emotions they are intended to excite. The light tracery, and lofty roof, and airy pillars of the Gothic, seem to accord well with the sublime feelings and spiritual fervour of religion. The massy wall, and gloomy character of the castle, bespeak the abode of feudal power and the pageantry of barbaric magnificence. The beautiful porticos, and columns, and rich cornices of the Ionic or Corinthian, seem well adapted for the public edifices in a great city; for those which are destined for amusement, or to serve for the purpose of public ornament. The Palladian style is that of all others best adapted for the magnificence of private dwellings, and overwhelms the spectator by a flood of beauty, against which the rules of criticism are unable to withstand. If any of these styles of architecture were to be transferred from buildings destined for one purpose to those destined for another, the impropriety of the change would appear very conspicuous. The gorgeous splendour of the Palladian front would be entirely misplaced, in an edifice destined for the purpose of religion; and the rich pinnacles and gloomy aisles of the Gothic, would accord ill with the scene of modern amusement or festivity.

Now the National Monument is an edifice of a very singular kind, and such as to require a style of architecture peculiar to itself. The Grecian Doric, as it is exhibited in the Parthenon, appears singularly well adapted for this purpose. Its form and character is associated in every cultivated mind with the recollections of

classical history; and it recalls the brilliant conceptions of national glory as they were received during the ardent and enthusiastic period of youth; while its stern and massy form befits an edifice destined to commemorate the severe virtues and manly character of war. The effect of such a building, and the influence it would have on the public taste, would be increased to an indefinite degree, by the interest of the purpose to which it is destined. An edifice which recalled at once the interest of classical association, and commemorated the splendour of our own achievements, would impress itself in the most indelible manner on the public mind, and force the beauty of its design on the most careless observer. And there can be no doubt that this impression would be far greater, just because it arose from a style of building hitherto unknown in this country, and produced an effect as dissimilar from that of any other architectural design, as the national emotions which it is intended to awaken are from those to which ordinary edifices are destined.

We cannot help considering this as a matter of great importance to this city, and to the taste of the age in which we live. It is no inconsiderable matter to have one building of faultless design erected, and to have the youth of our people accustomed from their infancy to behold the work of Phidias. But the ultimate effect which such a circumstance might produce on the taste of the nation, and the celebrity of this metropolis, is far more important. It is in vain to conceal, that the wealth and the fashion of England is every day attracting the higher part of our society to another capital; and that Edinburgh can never possess attractions of the same description with London, sufficient to enable her to stand an instant in the struggle. But while London must always eclipse this city in all that depends on wealth, power, or fashionable elegance, nature has given to it the means of establishing a superiority of a higher and a more permanent kind. The matchless beauty of its situation, the superb cliffs by which it is surrounded, the magnificent prospects of the bay, which it commands, have given to Edinburgh the means of becoming the most beautiful town that exists in the world. And the inexhaustible quarries of free

stone, which lie in the immediate vicinity, have rendered architectural embellishment an easier object in this city than in any other in the empire. It cannot be denied, however, that much still remains to be done in this respect, and that every stranger observes the striking contrast between the beauty of its private houses, and the deplorable scantiness of its public buildings, The establishment of a taste for edifices of an ornamental description, and the gradual purification of the popular taste, which may fairly be expected from the influence of so perfect a model as the Parthenon of Athens, would ultimately, in all probability, render this city the favourite residence of the fine arts; the spot to which strangers would resort, both as the place where the rules of taste are to be studied, and the models of art are to be found. And thus, while London is the Rome of the empire, to which the young, and the ambitious, and the gay, resort for the pursuit of pleasure, of fortune, or of ambition, Edinburgh might become another Athens, in which the arts and the sciences flourished, under the shade of her ancient fame, and established a dominion over the minds of men more permanent than even that which the Roman arms were able to effect.

Should the Parthenon be finally fixed on as the model for the national monument, it seems hardly necessary to hint at the situation in which it ought to be placed. It is observed by Clarke, that of all the cities which he had visited during his extensive travels, Edinburgh bears the closest resemblance to the cities of ancient Greece. Its position on a rock, in the middle of a fertile and champagne country; the vicinity of the sea, and the disposition of the town at the base of the fortress, resemble in the most striking manner the situation of Corinth, Athens, Argos, and most of the Grecian capitals. To make the resemblance complete, he adds, it is only necessary to have a temple of great dimensions placed on the Calton Hill; and such an edifice, seen from all quarters, and forming an object in every landscape, would give a classical air to that beautiful city of which the value cannot easily be conceived. We are thoroughly persuaded, that the erection of the Parthenon on the Calton Hill would do more to add to the

beauty of Edinburgh, than a million laid out in any other situation.

The Greeks always fixed on an eminence for the situation of their temples, and whatever was the practice of a people of such exquisite taste is well worthy of imitation. The Acropolis of Athens, the Acrocorinthus of Corinth, the temple of Jupiter Panhellenius in Eginâ, are instances of the beauty of these edifices when placed on such conspicuous situations. At Athens in particular, the Temple of Jupiter Olympius and of Theseus are situated in the plain; but although the former is built in a style of magnificence to which there is no parallel, and is double the size of the Parthenon, its effect is infinitely less striking than that of the temple of Minerva, which crowns the Acropolis, and meets the eye from every part of the adjacent country. The Temple of Jupiter Panhellenius, in the island of Egina, is neither so large nor so beautiful as the Temple of Theseus; but there is no one who ever thought of comparing the effect which the former produces crowning a rich and wooded hill, to that which is felt on viewing the latter standing in the plain of Attica. The Temple of Neptune, at Pestum, has a sublime effect from the desolation that surrounds it, and from the circumstance of there being no eminence for many miles to interfere with its stern and venerable form; but there is no one who must not have felt that the grandeur of this edifice would be entirely lost if it was placed in a modern city, and overtopped by buildings destined for the most ordinary purposes. The Temple of Vesta, at Tivoli, perched on the crag which overhangs the cataract, is admired by all the world; but the temple to the same goddess, on the banks of the Tiber at Rome, is passed over without notice, though the intrinsic beauty of the one is nearly as great as that of the other. To come nearer home, the Temple of St Bernard's Well is perhaps nearly as beautiful a building as the observatory on the Calton Hill, but no one we believe ever thought of comparing the delight experienced by the sight of the one to that which the other produces; and the county rooms are built precisely, so far as the columns go, on the model of the Erychtheum at Athens; but no one who

has seen these columns only in their present situation, overtopped by the lofty piles by which they are surrounded, could conceive the beauty of the originals, standing on the rock of the Acropolis, and gilded by the rays of an Athenian sun.

In the landscapes too of Claude and Poussin, who knew so well the situa tion in which every building appears to most advantage, the ruins of temples are almost always placed on prominent fronts, or on the summit of small hills; in such a situation, in short, as the Calton Hill presents. The practice of the ancient Greeks, in the choice of situations for their temples, joined to that of the modern Italian painters in their ideal representations of the same objects, leaving no room to doubt that the course which they followed was that which the peculiar nature of the building required.

If it shall be said that the Calton Hill would be too crowded, and that there is not sufficient room for the observatory and such a temple as has now been proposed, the answer is, that on the Acropolis of Athens, which has been admired for two thousand years, the temples are much more crowded, and in particular that the Erychtheum bears nearly the same proportion to the Parthenon which the observatory would do to the proposed edifice. If the monument to Lord Nelson is an obstacle to such a building, nothing would be easier than to pull it down and build up another in some other situation more worthy of the hero to whom it is consecrated, and more consonant to the public taste, which has improved so remarkably since it was built. The expense of such a proceeding would not be a fourth part of the cost of the ground in any other central situation in the city.

It is difficult to estimate the addition which the Parthenon, if placed on the rock where Nelson's Monument now stands, would make to the beauty of Edinburgh. To a stranger who enters the city from the London Road, it would be the most splendid of all objects, both in approaching the eastern slope of the Calton Hill, and crowning the superb cliff that overhangs the road immediately before you enter Waterloo place. From the North Bridge it would rise in une