s. They express
themselves to any stranger they meet with ease and politeness, with a
point and a vivacity which is certainly striking; but which is, of all
things, the farthest removed from nature: and it is the consequence of
this interchange which has taken place,--this imitation of the manners
of the higher orders by the lower classes of the peasantry--that we
shall in vain look for any thing in France like a simple national
poetry. The truth, the simplicity, the nature, which ought to form it,
are not to be found amongst any classes of the French people. The poetry
of France, both ancient and modern, that of Ronsard and Marot, in
earlier days; and that of Boileau, Racine, Corneille and Voltaire, in
more modern times, bears the marks of having been formed in the court.
If, for instance, in Scotland, the lower ranks, the labouring classes,
like those of France, had transplanted the fictitious manners of the
higher classes into the innocence of their cottage, or the sequestered
solitude of their vallies--where, under such a state of things, could
there ever have arisen such gifted spirits as Burns, or Ramsay, or
Ferguson? and where should we have found, that truth, that beauty, that
genuine nature, in the lives and manners of our peasantry, which has not
only furnished such poets with some of their finest subjects, but has
instructed these peasants themselves to pour out, in unpremeditated
strains, those ancient and beautiful songs, which art and education
could never have taught them; and which, in the progress of time, have
formed that unrivalled national poetry, perhaps one of the brightest
gems in the diadem of Scottish genius. But we must return to France.

The French have been always celebrated for their natural gaiety of
character. One exception from this is material to be noticed. It must
strike you the moment you look into the countenances of the soldiery, or
examine the air and manner of the generality of the lower officers. A
dark and gloomy expression, if not a suspicious, and often savage
appearance, is their characteristic feature; and although this is
disguised by occasional sallies of loud and intemperate mirth, these
sallies are more like the desperate and reckless exertions of a troop of
banditti, than the temperate and unpremeditated cheerfulness of a
regular soldiery. Nor is this look confined entirely to the military.
The habits of the whole nation are changed; but yet, with all this
alteration, t