geous capital which the world has

yet seen.

Moreover, notwithstanding the exquisite beauty of the Athenian temples, Aristotle tells us, that the streets of Athens were mean and narrowa fact which, were there no other evidence, would serve to shew that the inhabitants had the good taste not to suffer their habitations to cope with the temples of the gods, or the palaces of kings. The Athenian remains are still sufficient to attest the justness of this. Among all the rubbish of ancient days which fill the streets of Athens, nothing has ever been discovered that could warrant us even to fancy that the private citizens then attempted to rival, in the exterior of their dwellings, the sumptuous architecture that belongs only to palaces.

It may be objected to the view herein taken of those ornaments of the Metropolis, that whatever was the usage of the ancients, it cannot be denied that these splendid piles are decidedly elegant, and that the admiration which they uniformly excite justifies the taste in which they have been raised. But is there not something fallacious in this? There is a beauty in proportion altogether independent of fitness or utility; and we ought not to allow the influence of that beauty to delude us from the becoming graces of the other; nor should the drift of our argument be so evaded. For we do not object to rows of houses being erected, even of the most superb character, to suit the improved delicacy of domestic comfort, but only to the palazial character which is given to them. We contend, that good taste requires that each house should be individualized in the row, and that the ornaments of the row should become the character of private houses. It is preposterous that columns of greater dimensions than those of the royal palace should stand between windows on which we see bills announcing apartments to let. It is that columniar mania that we find fault with.

Besides, it is incompatible with the right principles of architecture, to see two rows of windows between the architrave and the base of a colonnade, in any and every case. It is an expedient to reconcile us to

huge columns, but it is intrinsically barbarous. It had its origin, we doubt not, in those times of peril and dismay, when necessity caused the public colonnades in Rome to be converted into private houses, making two stories where the original architect intended one only should be. It is worthy of remark, as to this point, that neither of those two great architects, Inigo Jones and Sir Christopher Wren, in their greatest structures, committed such an error in the grammar of their art, as to make one row of pillars serve two stories. In that grand mansion, the Banqueting-house of Whitehall, the two stories are beautifully and fitly divided. Just turn from the Banqueting-house, and compare its simplicity, majesty, and fitness, as a part of a palace, with the colonnade screen of the public offices on the other side of the street; and yet that screen is not without its merits, for, admitting the two-floor arrangement to be legitimate, it is one of the finest pieces of Corinthian architecture which the metropolis can boast of.

A radical error evidently runs in the minds of all our architects; they aspire at too much; they study the beauty of proportion too devotedly, and neglect the superior beauty of fitness. We have, in consequence, immense piles raised at prodigious cost, with scarcely a single building that any man, with a right feeling of this art, can admire.

Perhaps the least objectionablewe should rather say, the most beautiful of all the new buildings-is the new Post-office. It has, in the wings, the two-floor fault certainly, but the portico is chaste, and very noble; and no one can fall into the mistake of thinking the building is either a row of private houses or a palace. It bears upon it throughout the character of fitness, and of an edifice devoted to public business. In its special purpose, it lacks, however, in one particular-it has not a covered way for receiving the mails; and the grandeur of the well-proportioned Ionic style in which it has been erected would have been enhanced, had the base of the whole building been higher and rusticated. Still, however, it is one of the noblest structures in the whole empire, and reflects credit, not only on the architect,

out of doors; and it is a settled point that the proprietors shall not see what is doing within. But what is the meaning of the stone and lime in Earl Grosvenor's daylights? If the interior arrangements required the windows to be shut up, why were not false ones inserted? or, where the shams are, could not niches and statues have been? But it may be said that it is unjust to judge an unfinished work. Not in this instance, for what his Lordship has done is a completed part, and is as bad as any thing of the sort can be, and yet, but for "the indigent blind" between the pillars, the general effect would be so gorgeous as to draw off the attention from the unfitness of the architecture. It is but justice, however, to notice, with unreserved approbation, the beauty of one of Lord Grosvenor's new squares-Belgrave. It in many points meets our wishes as to the fitness of the ornaments for private houses. It is one of the finest things we have yet had.

In the midst of so many fine things with which it is not difficult to find fault, the whole being of human origin and execution, one building, as far as respects the architecture, is in the most beautiful specimens of the residential style we have ever seen, either at home or abroad-the Marquis of Stafford's mansion, which was intended for the residence of the late Duke of York. We do not know if it has yet received a name; but unchristened as it may be, it is impossible to look at the elegant simplicity which invests the walls without acknowledging its superiority, not only comparatively, if there can be comparison where there is no similitude for unquestionably London contains nothing like it-but absolutely as a work of art. We esteem the architecture of the mural part as nearly faultless. We have looked and look ed again without being able to discover any one thing, in the evident conception of the architect, between the cornice and the ground, which could have been improved. Every thing in the elevation of the four fronts appears to have been suggested by the profoundest consideration, first, of the use and convenience of the building, and second, of the de

gree of ornament of which a conception so pure was susceptible, without losing its domestic character in something more allied to an edifice for public pleasure. Above all things, we admire it for shewing the gracefulness of giving the columns no more to do than belongs to their proper station in the building. The barbarous double floor is not permitted to shew its vulgar face. With the exception of the Duke of Buckingham's residence at Stowe, we have never seen, either at home or abroad, any building in which the amenity of architecture was at all so beautiful. But it has, as a whole, one enormous fault, the huge visible roof. It reminds us of an elegant woman under one of those cab-like bonnets too much in size and in fashion. It is, however, probable that this is intended to be amended; indeed, we cannot conceive that the artist who planned a structure at once so refined and appropriate, did not contemplate the effect of a few statues upon the different points. We have over and over again viewed it with respect to the effect of such ornaments, and every new time became more and more convinced that it wants but such ornaments to take away all attention from the mountainous roof. At least we devoutly wish the noble proprietor would be at the small expense of temporarily trying the effect of statues on those parts which we conceive were originally designed to receive them. But besides statues on the different wings and porticos, we think it would be improved by a few ornaments on the top of those inner walls which rise in the centre above the roof. It is really to be deplored that so fine a thing should not be made as perfect as practicable.

From this unique edifice we turn to the new palace, but it is too extensive to be discussed at the end of a paper; and as we therefore propose to consider it fully, in all its parts and particulars, we shall devote an entire paper to the subject. First, because it was rashly condemned in design before even the walls were raised, and, now that they are up, it is, we do think, still viewed with an unjust and invidious eye.

GENTLEMEN,

Much of what I have said on buying at the cheapest market, applies in principle to bounties; and, in consequence, a brief notice of the doctrines of the Economists respecting them, will be sufficient.

Nothing could well be more unsatisfactory in both fact and reasoning, than that part of Adam Smith's work which relates to bounties: it gives the most erroneous definition of the nature and objects of bounties; and in truth it is nothing better than a tissue of fallacious data and deductions. Its author says of a bounty on the export of corn, that it cannot benefit the agriculturists, because if it raise the price of corn, it will raise the price of labour, and in consequence, of all commodities equally; ergo the real price, or exchangeable value of corn will not be raised, there will be merely a fall in the value of silver, and the rise in corn will be only a nominal one to the producers of it. This, which as I have shewn, is likewise the doctrine of the Ricardo school, is really too absurd for refutation. If corn be doubled in price, there will be such a rise of wages, as will raise the yard of broad cloth from 30s. to 60s.; the yard of printed cotton from 3s. to 6s.; the dozen of wine from 50s. to 100s.; the pound of tea from 10s. to 20s.; and the general taxes and rates of the country from seventy or eighty to one hundred and fifty millions! If this be true, it can make no difference to the farmer whether the price of the quarter of wheat be 20s. or 100s. Here is a specimen of science perfectly unique.

Taking his stand on this, Smith argues that if a bounty raise the price of corn, it will not increase produc

tion. Of course, if the bounty should raise wheat from 40s. to 80s., no additional wheat would be grown! These, as I have said, are likewise the doctrines of Ricardo and his followers. They insist that if corn rise, wages and other commodities will rise equally, so that the expenses of cultivation will be so far increased as to absorb the whole of the advance in the price of corn; and then they insist that the high price of the latter is the sole source of rent, and the only thing which can enable inferior land to be cultivated. This is equivalent to maintaining that an advance in the price of corn cannot yield any additional profit to the farmer, and that it yields him great additional profit.

It is not necessary for me to speak particularly of a bounty on the export of corn, because this country exports none. According to the Economists, bounties, I use the words of Adam Smith, are liable, in the first place, to "the general objection of forcing some part of the industry of the country into a channel less advantageous, than that in which it would run of its own accord; and, secondly, to the particular objection of forcing it not only into a channel that is less advantageous, but into one that is actually disadvantageous; the trade which cannot be carried on but by means of a bounty being necessarily a losing trade." They assert that bounties operate as a tax on the community.

It will be seen that the first objection is in reality the assumption that capital and labour can always find beneficial employment; it maintains that if bounty do not employ them in one trade, they will employ themselves more profitably in some other.

I said sufficient in my last to refute this. It is opposed to all experience. Every old country finds it constantly a matter of difficulty to provide a sufficiency of employment for its population; and it grants bounties to preserve labour from idleness, but not to tempt it from one trade to another. Its object in regard to capital is, either to protect it from the loss, or to widen its field of employment. I will now state the cases in which bounties are resorted to.

1. A bounty is granted to establish some new trade which could not exist without. For example, one was granted to the British and Irish fisheries: the object was to give employment to those who otherwise would have been in idleness and want; and to obtain a trade, which otherwise would not have existed or would have been monopolized by foreigners. A bounty was granted on the export of silks; the object was to give the manufacturers a foreign trade, which they otherwise could not obtain.

2. A bounty is granted to protect some established trade from destruction or serious injury. One was granted to the whale fisheries; the object was to nurture a trade which was in danger of being abandoned. A bounty was granted on the export of refined sugar; the object was to preserve a valuable foreign trade to the refiners and sugar colonies. If the linen manufacture, or any other, were in danger of having its foreign markets taken from it, by foreign competitors, a bounty was granted for its protection.

The fact that Adam Smith censures bounties for being generally granted on exportation, and not on production, proves that he misunderstood their nature. A bounty on exportation must necessarily be one on production; its object is to cause commodities to be produced which otherwise could not be, and if they are not produced, it is not paid. But when production can thrive without bounties, they are not granted; they only are employed when they are necessary for its existence; they are intended to enable this country to produce goods which, without them, would be produced by foreigners.

With regard, then, to the first case-a foreign nation has a valuable

trade in the export of fish, silks, or any other commodity; and England, by means of a bounty, can gain this trade, without diminishing her exports to the foreign nation. Ought she to do so?

The question in reality is-the trade can be bought-is it worth the requisite purchase money? England can obtain it by paying an annual per centage on its amount; will it, on such terms, yield her more gain on the one hand, than loss on the other?

This

In opposition to the Economists, it may be taken for granted, that in all such cases she has as much capital and labour idle as the trade calls for. Generally, the trade is already established at home; the bounty merely extends it to foreign parts, and thereby gives employment to an excess of capital and labour which it contains. It only requires a little additional capital at the first, and this little creates the necessary increase afterwards. All trades, in truth, after they are commenced, create the capital requisite for their extension; capital is only increased in this manner. If the silk manufacture had never been established, the capital engaged in it would never have existed; other trades may have thrown capital into it on the one hand, but it has thrown more into them on the other. holds good touching any trade which exists through bounty; it is begun with redundant capital-with that which, if not so employed, would probably waste itself and much more; this gives birth to as much more as it can employ; and thus, to the trade, the capital which it employs owes its existence. In respect of labour, it increases in every trade even more rapidly than employment for it; the Economists declare that its constant tendency is to increase more rapidly than employment. The bounty, therefore, if it extend the trade, only employs more fully the labour already engaged in it, or calls to it idle labour; and afterwards the trade either rears the additional labour required by its extension, or employs that which is not wanted in other trades. The labour employed by the bounty would not exist, or would be idle without it.

It is abundantly obvious to all men, that if, at the present moment, a bounty could create a trade, which