66 Renaissance," in the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries, are only bastard forms of the ancient Greek mode. The Greek idea was very imperfectly perceived by the architects of these schools, and in adopting it they mixed it up with all kinds of incongruous forms and decorations. The arch-the invention, or rather the first grand practical application of which belongs to the Romans-instead of being allowed by them to form the germ of an entirely new architecture, like the "Lombard style," was forced into an unnatural association with the vertical and horizontal members of the pure Greek mode; and the "Renaissance" architects repeated and "improved" this blunder. after that which is incomprehensible, styles adopted at the time of the so-called because without and above ourselves. Modern art-Gothic architecture among the rest-aims at being the representative of the unfathomable mysteries of the universe, divine, human, and natural. Perfection-such perfection as the Greek artist acquired-is out of the question in an art with such aims as these. The Greek idea of perfection demanded that its limits should everywhere be seen. Now, the perfection of modern art, as we find it in Gothic architecture, Shakspeare and Dante, Beethoven, or Michael Angelo, consists in its unlimited and illimitable character. You may read King Lear, or look upon Strasburgh Cathedral every day of your life, and be still learning something new from the words of the one and the symbols of the other: but give the same amount of attention to a Greek tragedy or a Greek temple, and you will find that your immediate impression of absolute and limited beauty will be continually intensified, but that it will never expand. It was the same with Greek music, which divided the octave into tetrachords, and, in its most approved form, the enharmonic, proceeded by quarter-tones—a system in which, as any young lady moderately versed in music will tell you, it is quite impossible for the modern mind to take delight, on account of its extremely limited and monotonous nature. The peculiar sentiment, or idea, expressed by the forms of Greek temple architecture is even more foreign to the character of our best civilization than is the complete absence of variety in the mode of its expression. Conscious power-in common parlance, "self-sufficiency,"constitutes at once the merit of the Grecian architecture for the Greek, and its demerit for the denizen of a Christian state. In Greek edifices, recent architectural criticism has traced the working of this idea in the most unmistakable way. The various details of the Doric portico are perfectly subordinated to the single expression of conscious power. In the Ionic and Corinthian styles, exactly the same idea prevails, but the means employed for expressing it are somewhat different. And this idea, and these means of expressing it, are repeated, with scarcely any modification, in every known monument of Grecian architecture. Now, if we look about us, anywhere in London, or in any other modern European city, what do we see on all sides but examples of the ludicrous anachronism which we have been endeavoring to expose! From that really magnificent, though mistaken monument, the New British Museum, down to the doorway of our own suburban abode, everything recently raised in London is pure Greek, except the churches, and one or two notable public edifices, of which the architect seems at last to have become alive to the significant fact that we have an architecture of our own, although it has been utterly neglected ever since the times of the Tudors. Surely, this is a most surprising example of respect for antiquity at the expense of the respect due to ourselves and to our peculiar requirements. Nobody pretends to feel any pleasure in beholding Greek architecture, except in its proper place and with its appropriate context, amidst the wrecks of Athens. Our country cousins stare at the portico of the British Museum, and count the shafts of the colonnade, and go away, not doubting but that they have beheld a noble work of art-and they are quite right; but ask them if the sight has produced any feeling and left any impression in their hearts; and if they are honest, as more than "one in ten thousand" of country cousins are, they will tell you frankly, No. The thing is an anachronism; it is not at home with us: the model of the Parthenon in the Museum is all right; but to make one of our chief national monuments itself nothing more Roman architecture, and the various than a model of a departed art, is either a stupendous blunder, or a most lamentable and false confession of national poverty in the way of architectural invention; and all people feel this, although their feeling may not yet have ripened into thought. What No Sometimes in acter of that material. How is it that we go on spending our millions in building palaces, clubs, mansions, and villas in imitation of things which few now understand and none really care for? Why have we abandoned, for this unprofitable exotic, our own native civil architecture, the only civil architecture we ever had, and probably the only one we ever can have—for there are not two ways of equally well expressing the same national feeling and supplying the same national wants: we speak of the "Tudor style." FOUR YEARS. Ar the midsummer, when the hay was down, Said I, mournfully: "Though my life is in its prime, Bare lie my meadows, all shorn before their time; Through my scorch'd woodlands the leaves are turning brown: It is the hot midsummer, when the hay is down." At the midsummer, when the hay was down, Stood she by the brooklet, young and very fair, With the first white bindweed twisted in her hair Of all the fine arts, architecture the most rigidly demands an adherence to truth; for it is the only fine art which is at the same time a "useful" art; and this, its essentially practical character, renders all sacrifices to merely fanciful and inappropriate form positively disgust- | ing to a taste which has not been entirely destroyed by the world of false art in which we moderns move. It is only by imagining ourselves in the position of the ancient Greeks with respect to their architecture, that we are able to realize to ourselves the true extent of the falsehood of "modern Greek" architecture. was the Greek temple, from which we copy all our forms? It was an edifice of which all the importance lay, and rightly lay, in the exterior; for the climate allowed of the people worshiping outside of it, and the rites of the religion excluded them from the interior, which was a small, unadorned, and roofless apartment, containing the colossal statue of the deity to whom the temple was dedicated. light was wanted in the cell where the priest officiated, but rather darkness; accordingly the walls are not pierced with windows, and cannot be, consistently with the harmonious architectural effect of the whole, which demands that the wall should be a dead unbroken surface. These, certainly, are not recommendations for a dark and rainy climate! Again, in order to call out the beauties of the Greek style, the brilliant sky and sun of Greece are wanted. The minute, but important "guttæ," the delicate but indispensable curve of the shafts, and many other essential features, are inappreciable beneath a cloudy sky or through a smoky atmosphere. These require stronger sources of light and shadow, and more conspicuous decorative elements, And I go at midsummer, when the hay is down. such as are provided by the various kinds of ecclesiastical and civil Gothic archi- GOOD MANNERS are the blossom of good tectures. Again, a false material such as sense, and, it may be added, of good feelplastered brick, or brick merely fronted ing, too; for, if the law of kindness be or veneered with stone, is fatal, if de- written in the heart, it will lead to disintected or known beforehand, to the artis-terestedness in little as well as great things tical effect of an edifice in the Greek style, that desire to oblige and attention to the which always assumes a stone-material, gratification of others, which is the founand has allusion in its forms to the char-dation of good manners. Hair that droop'd like birch-boughs-all in her simple gown; And it was rich midsummer, and the hay was down. At the midsummer, when the hay was down, Crept she, a willing bride, close into my breast; Low-piled, the thunder-clouds had sunk into the west; Red-eyed, the sun out glared, like knight from leaguer'd town, That eve, in high midsummer, when the hay was down. It is midsummer-all the hay is down; Bless her, in Love's name, who was my joy CALLED TO THE SAVAGE BAR. OF the numerous books that have been published on the colonization of Canada by the French, there are few more entertaining than a work printed during the last century, which bears the singular title of " Adventures of the Sieur Lebeau, Advocate of the Parliament; or, New and Curious Travels among the Savages of North America."* The Sieur Lebeau was one who, it appears, had not thriven by his profession, and he labored under the additional disadvantage of having given offense to certain persons of condition; in consequence of which he became desirous of leaving France; and, early in the year seventeen hundred and twenty-nine, exerting what interest he possessed, obtained a letter of recommendation to Monsieur Hocquart, who had just been named Intendant of Canada, and was about to set out for that country. This letter, he was assured, would procure him a situation in one of the Intendant's offices, and, full of hope, he set out for La Rochelle, where he was to embark. On his way to that port, he fell in with one of those groups which were at that time frequently to be seen on the high road of France. It was a chain of convicts who were being conducted to the vessel destined to transport them to penal servitude in Canada. Some of them were poachers, who had been improvident enough to exercise their calling on the royal domain; but the greater part were the younger scions of good families, whom their friends, in the most affectionate manner, were desirous to get rid of. Among the latter class were the Chevalier de Courbuisson, nephew of the AttorneyGeneral of the Parliament of Paris; M. de Narbonne, son of the Commissary of Versailles; the Chevalier de Beauvillé, of the province of Picardy; and the Chevalier Texé, of Paris. De Narbonne had been arrested in his own apartments, just as he was preparing to dress for the day, and he now appeared in a splendid chintz dressing-gown lined with blue taffeta, with slippers embroidered in silver. Short work had been made with all these gentlemen; they were carried to Bicêtre without trial, Aventures du Sieur Lebeau, Avocat au Par lement, ou Voyages Curieux et Nouveaux parmi les Sauvages de l'Amérique Septentrionale. and then sent off to the port of embarkation. On Lebeau's arrival at La Rochelle, he went on board the vessel called the Elephant, where he expected to meet Monsieur Hocquart; but once there, he discovered that his letter of recommendation was only a trap; that he was himself a prisoner, and that he was to proceed to Canada in the same capacity as the nobleman in the chintz dressing-gown and his sixteen friends. The Elephant made a prosperous voyage until she reached the mouth of the river St. Lawrence, where she was wrecked; the crew and passengers, however, escaped, and were humanely treated by the colonists already settled there. Lebeau's genteel companions obtained situations as tutors in families; "the ordinary resource," he observes, " of all the well-born rogues who arrive from Europe;" the others found the means of existence how they could, for the only care the French government took of their convicts was simply to transport them to Canada, and prevent them from coming back again. In the eyes of the Paris lawyer the colonists presented a rather strange appearance. They followed none of the pursuits of civilized life—did not even cultivate the soil-but addicted themselves entirely to hunting for the sake of the skins of the animals that were abundant. "Every one," says Lebeau, "wears a robe of fur crossed over the breast, and fastened at the waist by a girdle ornamented with porcupines' quills; these are made by themselves, as well as their sandals, which are of kid, or the skin of the sea-wolf." As it would have been lost time to look for clients where there were no courts of law, Lebeau resolved to travel, and, ascending the St. Lawrence, visited Quebec, the settlement of the Three Rivers, and Montreal. In the latter place he enjoyed the spectacle of the great annual fair, to which the Indian tribes always came in great numbers to barter their furs for European manufactures. This fair, which lasted three months, began in May, and was held on the banks of the river, inside the palisades which formed the outer defence of Montreal. The Indians occupied huts, which, for fear of quarrels, the colonists were prevented from entering by a cordon of sentinels; the sale of spirits was also forbidden, but it took place nevertheless, and gave rise to many disturbances. Lebeau was very much struck with the costume of the Red-skins, who, in addition to their Indian attire, arrayed themselves in gold-laced cocked hats, full-bottomed wigs, and court suits the spoils of Rag Fair. He took a liking to the aborigines, though perhaps it was more on account of the service they were likely to render him than from admiration of their customs and manners. Lebeau's chief object in traveling westward was to escape from Canada, and establish himself in the English colonies. With this view he cultivated an intimacy with some baptized Hurons who were established at Lorette, near Quebec, and for once his talents as an advocate appear to have been turned to account; for he succeeded in persuading a French merchant to offer these Hurons the value of a hundred and fifty livres, (thirty dollars,) in European merchandise, provided they conducted Lebeau to the Canadian frontier. We will not inquire too curiously into the French merchant's motives in facilitating the flight of his countryman; but we may remind the reader that Lebeau belonged to a profession that did not, at that time, (does it now?) stand very high in public estimation. The Hurons agreed to escort Lebeau as far as Naranzouac, a place two hundred leagues from Quebec, where they promised to confide their charge to the care of an Iroquois friend, who would guide him to the first English fort, some thirty leagues further. In consequence of this arrangement, the French lawyer cast aside what remained of his Parisian costume, and indued that of the Red-skins. It consisted of a coarse and somewhat dirty shirt, a blue blanket, and moccasins; his face was daubed with red and yellow ochre, painted to imitate a serpent, whose tail terminated at the tip of his nose; his hair was dressed after the fashion of the Hurons, and he was altogether transmogrified. Not so well, however, but that a party of Canadian trappers easily discovered the awkward lawyer beneath the Indian garb, and were very near taking him back to Quebec, a reward being always given to those who brought in a fugitive. But whether the price set upon his head was too insignificant when it came to be divided, or whether softsawder made the trappers merciful, we cannot say; certain it is that he was allowed to proceed. But it was only to fall into worse hands -those of a band of Iroquois, who, mustering in greater force than his escort, dispersed the Hurons, and made Lebeau their prisoner, pummeling him well in the first instance, on account of certain pugnacious demonstrations on his part, and then hustling and dragging him with them into captivity. If ever there were occasion for eloquent pleading, now was the time. Lebeau exerted himself, and came out strong. As soon as he could recover his breath, he told the Iroquois as great a fib as his invention could coin. He came into those woods, he said, in order to make a plan of the country; as soon as he had accomplished his task, it was the intention of the governor of the province to level all the mountains which the Indians found it so difficult to climb, to convert the débris into dams for the waters that would be collected in the valleys, and then create enormous lakes, which would speedily be filled by multitudes of beavers. The Iroquois were enchanted at hearing such good news. It seemed, indeed, too good to be true, and they observed that if Lebeau had been sent on this mission by the Onontio, (the name they gave to the governor,) he must, of course, be provided with a blanc (passport). This did not at all disconcert our friend; in order to recommend himself to the English, he had taken care to bring with him his lawyer's certificate, (lettres d'avocat,) and without hesitation he displayed the parchment. At the sight of it the Iroquois uttered loud shouts of delight, and fixing the certificate to the end of the paddle of a canoe, they set it up in the midst and danced round it, by way of showing it honor. They then recollected that the bearer of this important document was a person whom they had considerably ill-treated, and feeling bound to make him amends, they ransacked their stores for presents. The chief of the Iroquois, drawing near Lebeau, laid at his feet a handsome lot of furs, stating that he offered them " to cut off the hair, the head, the body, and the legs of the offence they had committed." These, he said, were in atonement for the blows the lawyer had received; a second lot was intended to wipe out the spot where he had been dragged through the dirt; and so on with the various items of the assault. Compensation, as they imagined, (and very rightly too,) having now been made, the Iroquois again examined the parchment, and were excited to a frenzy of delight when they beheld the bit of dangling red wax on which the arms of the Court of Parliament were impressed; neither could they maintain themselves at the sight of the tin case in which the certificate was kept. They fancied that the case contained a manitou, or spirit, and a small image of the Virgin being an inmate of the same receptacle, they asked Lebeau if he thought them worthy to kiss the cover of the case. He gravely gave them permission to do so, which made their sense of satisfaction complete. It may be questioned whether so much respect was ever shown to a lawyer's certificate, either before or since. Having deprived Lebeau of his original guides, the least the Iroquois could do now was to replace them. It mattered little to them which way they traveled, and they turned their faces in the direction of Naranzouac. Companionship making them more familiar, and having exhibited their own war-dances, one evening when they encamped in a quiet glade, they insisted on the lawyer's showing off in the same man ner. Not having a war-dance ready, he performed a jig of the kind that was then called a pistolet, and kept it up with so much vigor that at last he fell to the ground from sheer lassitude. The Iroquois supposed that this accident was a part of the figure, and declared that they had never seen a spirit (their name for a Frenchman) dance so gracefully; and that, indeed, it was impossible for any one to dance better, unless he were a Jesuit or a Barefoot Friar (recollect, friar!) They begged him to repeat the entertainment, but this was beyond his power; on subsequent occasions, however, he always took care, when he thought he had danced long enough, to wind up with a tumble. Our legal friend, however, did not get to his journey's end without running still greater risks than any he had yet incurred. The party of Iroquois got tired of seeing him caper; their veneration for the tin case subsided; and they left Lebeau to the care of one of their number, who had so little respect for the parchment certificate, that he made more than one attempt to kill its owner. He was saved from anthropophagy by an Indian girl of the tribe of Abenkanises, named Marie, whose parents, addicted also to cannibal ism, were equally desirous of feasting upon the parliamentary advocate. It was only by tapping their brandy-cask when they were asleep, that Marie succeeded in dispelling from their sober thoughts that a lawyer was good to eat. But having done so much for Lebeau, the young lady manifested a desire to appropriate him to herself, not as an eatable, but as a husband, and one morning she informed him that she had dreamed a Jesuit had united them. As the dreams of the Indians were supposed to be inspirations of the Manitou, or Great Spirit, this vision was not to be disregarded, and Lebeau was only saved from an immediate sacrifice at the altar by dreaming in his turn, that the Jesuit who was to marry them was one who did duty on the other side of the Canadian frontier. By this stratagem he reached the English settlements, and we need scarcely say that the fair Abenkanise added another to the list of young ladies who have put their trust in perfidious man. M. Lebeau's volume contains, besides many other romantic incidents of personal adventure, much that was considered highly curious at the time he wrote concerning the habits of the Canadian Indians, but which subsequent travelers have made the world better acquainted with. A TARTAR BATH.-The deliciously enervating Turkish bath is modified by the Tartar into a series of ablutions far less luxurious. At the same time it is much to be preferred to the extravagant treatment of the Russians: for the birch twigs, which they energetically apply to produce a healthy glow, are here substituted woolen gloves; and a bunch of cotton dipped in soapsuds performs the cleansing process, instead of that violent hydropathic treatment-those alternate buckets of boiling and iced water-which render a Russian bath a terrifying ordeal to a novice. So far the mode of proceeding in a Tartar bath is à la Turque; but in the middle of the Tauric sudatorium there is no deep pool of water ever increasing in temperature, in which the bather revels for an indefinite time in a parboiled condition. Here he stretches himself upon an unbearably hot slab of marble, upon which he is rolled about, and scrubbed and splashed. In fact, the difference between a Turkish and a Tartar bath is simply this—that in the one you are boiled, in the other fried. |