our arrival in the village, we took shelter from the scorching rays of an almost vertical sun, under the wide-spreading branches of a large walnuttree, and enjoyed a delicious repast on the mulberries, pears, plumbs, and fresh figs, with which the Tatars supplied us in great abundance.'— pp. 358-360.

Some readers will perhaps be surprised to hear that there is a sect of Quakers in Russia. They occupy eight villages on the right bank of the Moloshnaia, which flowing southward, empties itself into the sea of Azof. They place the whole of their religion in mystic exercises, to the exclusion of all external rites and ceremonies. They cannot be said to be altogether ignorant of the Bible, or of Christianity, but they are principally governed by their innate sense of morality. They have no sabbath; and far from considering marriage as a sacrament, they scarcely view it even as a civil rite. Directly opposite to these, on the left bank of the Moloshnaia, live the Mennonites, a sect of Baptists, the descendants of those who fled thither from the banks of the Vistula in 1805, when the Prussian government attempted to enrol them among the new conscripts, contrary to their religious principle of non-resistance. Here, to the credit of Russia, they found an asylum from persecution, obtained liberal grants of land, and all the privileges which they could reasonably desire. Our missionaries passed through the possessions of both these kindred sects, and proceeding by Taganrog, rendered remarkable by the death of Alexander, and through the territory of the Don Kozaks, they crossed the famous river of that name, into Asia. Here again they found ample proof of the unbounded protection afforded by the Russian government to all descriptions of religions. At the confluence of a small stream called Sarpa with the Volga, they discovered a colony of Moravians, who had been settled there for the last sixty years, with the view of converting the Pagan Kalmuks in the vicinity. In that great object they appear to have failed altogether; but in the mean time their settlement became highly prosperous in a mercantile point of view, until two or three years ago, when unfortunately it was almost entirely destroyed by fire.

Our author's description of Astrakhan is necessarily very meagre, on account of the indisposition which confined him to his chamber, almost the whole of the time he remained in that celebrated mart of Asia. From thence he proceeded, as soon as he was sufficiently recovered, along the shore of the Caspian sea, and across the river Terek, to the mountains of the Caucasus, at the foot of which he encountered a religious sect called the Ingush, who may be ranked in the last and palest shade of Christianity, or rather in that ambiguous line, which, alternately Christian and Heathen, can scarcely be said to belong in strictness to either.

They believe in the existence of God, as a pure spirit, whom they call Dalle; a plurality of demons, who sometimes assume a visible shape, and appear as armed men, with their feet inverted; the immortality of the

soul; the resurrection of the body; and the temporary punishment of the wicked in a future state. They have a daily form of prayer, and repeat benedictions at meals. That their ancestors, at some remote period, have made a profession of Christianity, most probably according to the forms of the Georgian, or Greek church, may be concluded from the veneration in which they still hold the remains of churches and monasteries in the Caucasus, and their worshipping the images which are still visible on their walls. They keep fasts about the same time with the eastern Christians, and rest both on the first and third day of the week.

'Polygamy obtains among them, but the state of the females is not so servile as among their Mohammedan neighbours, nor are they under any kind of restraint in the way of ordinary intercourse. They punish adultery with great severity, both parties being put to death. They are fond of dancing, but it is an established custom among them, that the sexes never dance together.'-pp. 485, 486.

The missionaries next proceeded over the mountains to Tiflis, whence, however, they were soon compelled to return to Petersburgh, by Dr. Henderson's indisposition.

any

While perusing this volume, we had occasion to mark several passages, written in that style expressively designated as "cant;" and which we might have cited as specimens of the most vitiated taste, if we had not conceived too high a degree of respect for Dr. Henderson's personal character, to suppose that they were not meant by him in a sincere spirit of piety. It is impossible for man, whatever his religious tenets may be, to read the work before us without admiring the unflinching perseverance by which the author was actuated, in a cause which he deemed to be that of heaven. There is also a great deal to be applauded, and extremely well worthy of being imitated, in the liberal and good-natured style of remark which he adopts on almost all occasions, when he speaks of modes of worship differing from his own. Whether Christian, Jewish, or Mohammedan, they generally experience from him the most generous construction of their principles, and the most impartial views of their history, and their influence upon the morals of those who profess them. That his success in the immediate object of his mission was of a very limited nature; or in other words, that he failed altogether in advancing the interests of the Bible Society' in Russia, was a result which every man, who was in any degree acquainted with the diversified population of that country, must have clearly foreseen. But for this result Dr. Henderson and his companion are certainly not to be blamed. They did the best they could, and we may confidently predict that if such men, favoured as they were by the head of the Russian government, fell immeasurably short of the end which they had in view; there is not the smallest possible chance of success for those "labourers," who may attempt to follow them "in the same vineyard."

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ART. II. The Lives of celebrated Architects, ancient and modern: with Historical and Critical Observations on their Works, and on the Principles of the Art. By Francesco Milizia. Translated from the Italian, by Mrs. Edward Cresy. 2 vols. 8vo. 17. 8s. London. Taylor. 1826.

MRS. CRESY has conferred a very valuable benefit upon the architectural art and its professors in this country, by the publication of this work. It not only contains an excellent translation of Milizia's production, which in itself would be entitled to great praise, but also several additional lives, besides corrections of some mistakes which that clever writer had committed, and references to the authorities upon which, though he did not acknowledge them, he frequently relied.

To mere biographical details Milizia paid much less attention, than to the history and progress of the art of which he was so enthusiastic an admirer. He was indefatigable in collecting information concerning every ancient or modern building which was in the least degree worthy of his attention; and the critical remarks which he has made upon their perfections or defects, are generally acknowledged to have proceeded from a naturally pure taste, regulated by a sound judgment. His work may in consequence be deemed of little interest for a general reader, who considers it only as an assemblage of the lives of eminent men; while to the artist it offers a compendious, and, at the same time, a safe and instructive, history of architecture, from its commencement to the close of the last century. Men of refinement, in whatever walk of life they move, cannot fail to admire in Milizia that unerring indication of a master-spirit, a determination to try every principle of the art by the criterion of natural impressions. There is a certain harmony between a mind well constituted and happy combinations of nature or art, which is a surer guide for the judgment than all the theories that ever were, or will be, invented. It is to this innate sense of fitness and beauty, that Milizia refers every work which he examines, and he boldly asserts, on all occasions, that scientific rules, which are not conformable to it, are founded only in error or in personal vanity.

Perhaps we are indebted for his freedom from prejudice in this respect, to the circumstance that he originally entered into these inquiries, in order to gratify the admiration with which he was inspired by the ancient and modern erections of the "eternal city." He was not educated for the profession, nor did he even practise it; yet Vitruvius is certainly less intelligible, and Palladio not more instructive, than the writer before us, though both of these celebrated authors were also architects. Indeed, it is a very remarkable circumstance that, with the exception of Palladio, few of those great artists to whom Italy owes her noblest edifices, were regularly initiated in the art. Michael Angelo, whose name will

never be separated from the dome of St. Peters, drew all his knowledge of architecture from the resources of a genius equally successful in painting and in statuary. Several of the finest churches, palaces, and bridges in Italy, as well as of the most venerable abbies and monasteries in Western Europe, were erected under the superintendence of monks, or individuals who made their way to architecture through the sister arts.

From the accounts which Milizia has handed down to us of his own life, it appears that he was the last scion of an opulent and noble family, in the kingdom of Naples. He was born at Oria, a small city of the Terra d' Otranto, in 1725, and was sent at an early age to Padua, where his uncle practised medicine. After residing with him seven years, studying the belles lettres, though, as he informs us, to little advantage, young Milizia was permitted by his father to go to Naples, where he learned logic and metaphysics, under the celebrated Abate Genevesi; and geometry and medicine, under P Orlandi, a monk of Celestino. Conceiving an ardent desire to see other countries, and little imagining that money was necessary to enable him to accomplish his purpose, he took leave of his masters one fine morning, and set out on his tour. When he arrived at Leghorn, however, he found out his mistake, and not having the means of proceeding to France, he returned in the best manner he could to Oria, where he fixed his residence, dividing his time between literature and amusement. On the death of his father, he acquired some property, and removed to Rome. Here he surrendered his mind to his passion for the fine arts, and wrote several works connected with them, which, from the intrepidity and justness of their criticisms, obtained him in due course of time a distinguished reputation. He also wrote several works on scientific subjects; but of all his productions, that which Mrs. Cresy has translated seems to have been the most popular. He died of a pulmonary complaint at Rome, in 1798. His character has been drawn by himself. It is an amusing and original sketch.

'It is not uncommon for authors to write elegant and egotistical effusions on their moral and physical character, which often excite a smile. I would willingly delineate my own; but as it has nothing in it singular or extraordinary, I find it difficult to do. Thus, I who have long studied myself, know not myself,' and yet have attempted to describe others, sometimes from their writings, which perhaps contain opinions diametrically opposite to their real sentiments. I am phlegmatic, choleric, and haughty; at the same time modest, kind, and capable of endurance; courageous, noble in my ideas, and free from prejudice; open to the reasoning of others, and fond of novelty. I cannot boast of much penetration or reflection, yet am desirous of possessing every thing; I am industrious, compassionate, a sincere friend, and a good man; humble, without being abject; generous and easy, but severe. I hold in abhorrence every mercenary feeling. I am studious, and anxious of acquiring a knowledge

of whatever is most useful: my works and discourses have procured me the reputation of being learned. I know myself to be otherwise, and am a heterogeneous compound of contradictions.'-Preface, xv. xvi.

There is little doubt that, however colossal and magnificent may have been the edifices which were raised in Asia and Egypt, prior to the civilization of the Greeks, it is to the latter we are indebted for the science of architecture. They invented the Doric, Ionic, and Corinthian orders; to these, others have added the Tuscan and Composite, which are however nothing more than modifications, the former of the Doric, the latter of the Corinthian order. The first architects of whom Grecian history makes mention, are Trophonius and Agamedes, who are said to have built the temple of Neptune, near Mantinea, and the celebrated one of Apollo, at Delphi. The Labyrinth of Dædalus has rendered his name famous; but of all the ancient architects, whose names have been handed down to us, perhaps Callimachus was the most able, as well as the most enlightened. He is celebrated as the inventor of the Corinthian capital. The happy accident, which gave him the prototype of that beautiful ornament of the column, is well known. A young virgin died at Corinth; her nurse, according to the custom of those days, placed on her grave a basket containing such viands as the maid preferred when alive, and covered them with a tile. It chanced that beneath the basket, the root of an acanthus was just beginning to put forth its leaves and stems, and as they grew, they crept up the sides of the basket, and hung from the edges of the tile, in so graceful a manner, as to attract the notice of Callimachus as he passed. He was pleased with the beauty and novelty of the combination, and modelled from it the Corinthian capital. The ruins of ancient Greece which remain to this day, and of which we know of no more correct or animated views than those now in a course of publication, from the admirable drawings of Mr. Williams, attest the splendour to which architecture had arrived in that country, before its subjugation by Alexander. It is, however, to be lamented, that of the individuals who had the genius to plan, and the means to execute, most of the temples and public buildings which were the pride of Greece, few are now known even by name, and of these, little can be related with any degree of certainty.

From Greece the art was introduced first into Macedonia, about three hundred years before the Christian era. To the same period are also referred, upon what authority we are not told, the wonders of Balbek and Palmyra. The style of their remains is undoubtedly Grecian; the workmanship employed upon them seems to have been of the most exquisite description; and yet of the workmen nothing is known! The next migration of the architectural art was to Rome, which, under the auspicious reign of Augustus, was said to have been changed from a city of brick to one of marble.