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heads; and Montaigne reports that the Rue de la Paix or Bond-street, will tell women are reputed more beautiful, not only you that the size and fit of Young America in Biscay, but elsewhere, for having their are a smaller pair of kids, and a shorter pair heads shaved. We recommend, however, of varnished leathers or satin slippers, our beauties to cultivate the low forehead, than those of either Young France or Eng. and advise our mannish women of the land. Woman's Rights Convention, to transplant Our walk and attitudes are not by any the hair from their heads to their chins, means the most graceful and becoming in and with bold fronts and strong beards, the world. An American has ease enough make good their claims to man's privile- certainly, a little too much, we think; it ges and his wardrobe, to his boots and is the ease which makes him lie down when his walks in life.

he should stand up; it is the ease which eleThe prevailing fashion of wearing the vates his heels in the air when he should hair is not at all to our taste. Our wo plant his feet upon the ground; it is the ease men have naturally a very luxuriant which sprawls on four chairs when it growth, but they do not make good use should sit upon one; it is the ease which of it. The hair should be flowing, and rests its elbow upon a neighbor's knees, innot too much restrained. The ladies stead of own ; in fine, it is the ease of should eschew the bandoline of the hair- republican gregariousness, which would dresser, and overturn their macassar oil merge the reserve of the individual inand kalydors into the fire, as the Vicar to the free and easy whole. Our men of Wakefield did his daughters' washes would be better looking; they would not and cosmetics. There is no greater beau stoop in the shoulders, as many do, or ty than the natural waving hair, but such bend in the legs; and they would be infiis the power of fashion, that we know a

nitely more agreeable, if they would impretty girl who spends the better part of prove their ways and manners in this rethe morning in trying to turn nature's pect. curved lines of beauty into the straight Our women are too stiff in their walk ones of art. She plasters and presses, and attitude. In walking, an American and glues, and posts, like a bill-sticker, woman only bends her knees, and hardly her front hair on either side of her fore that; she should yield a little in the uphead, until it looks like two great daubs per joints. Her gait gives a movement to of black paint, or pieces of black plaster, her body, like the squirming motion of a or blinkers on the eyes of a shying horse, wounded insect, with a naturalist's pin or like any thing that is ugly or unbecom- through its midriff. American women ing. Fashion is a cunning, short-tailed hold their arms badly in walking; they fox, and pretty women should beware of almost universally bring them forward, its arts. Fashion is a device of ugliness crossing their hands in front; they have, to entrap beauty. Fanny! we beseech you, in consequence, the look of a trussed fowl, in spite of that ugly Frenchwoman, Mad and have about as much freedom of moame La Mode, let

your dark waving hair tion. If the arms were allowed to fall flow on in its natural course of beauty, freely by the side, our women would move free and graceful as your own girl's life; more gracefully, walk better, and look let it shade with its tendrils the sunny better. The prevailing mode of carrying light of your eyes, and the youthful bloom the arms hoops the shoulders, contracts of your sweet face, and let it fall in clus the breast, prevents all proper developters and full foliage about that rising but ment of the bust, ruins health, and what fast ripening into the fulness of woman our ladies will be more likely to attend to, hood. Our men are magnificent on the destroys beauty of form and all grace score of whiskers. We prefer the Ameri of movement. In complexion we must can to the English mode of wearing the yield to the English; their moist climate beard ; the former, in its free growth, is favorable to the fresh, clear, wholesome gives length to the face, in character with and pellucid rose tint, that distinguishes the its natural oval form ; the latter, which faces of the young and beautiful in Enghas been styled the cotellette de mouton land. An English beauty has, however, style of whisker, which shows the chin to watch her complexion closely; an addiand lower lip, and leaves the hair upon tional degree to the thermometer, a glass of the cheek to grow in a triangular form, beer more than the daily allowance, or an gives an unnatural breadth to the counte unusual emotion, is apt to spoil all, and nance, and a blank, spread-out look. flush, in a moment, the delicately shaded

In spite of the supposed largeness of rose tint, into the full-blown peony. There grasp, and the length of stride of the is, however, a style of complexion in Americans, they have extremely small America which is never seen in England, hands and feet. Glove-sellers and shoe and which we admire highly; it is a mixmakers who have come hither from the ture of the brune and blonde, a compro

mise between the oriental olive and the are to come after us. We are always English red; it may be compared to a pioneers, not only in new lands, but in rose blooming through the misty vapor fresh fields of new enterprise ; we are of early morn; it is like a ripe peach, ever pushing on to the unknown regions with its golden tint spread over the rose of undiscovered thought. We work on ate hue beneath; it is the dark Spanish ceaselessly, stirred by the spirit that is beauty, brightened up by the wholesome within us of our own intelligence and enblood of England. The pale, olive com ergy, and not because forced to fly from plexion of America is supposed by the the sling and arrows of outrageous forEnglish to be evidence of ill health. tune. The Americans may possibly have English travellers used to affect to be a worn look, and may not laugh as lieve, that every second American was heartily as they might, and as they are a dyspeptic, and the rest far gone into fully entitled to, according to the proverb, a decline. But this peculiarly American 6 let him laugh who wins." However complexion not seldom lasts from child this may be; as far as the question of hood to threescore and ten, and shows beauty is concerned, the expression of the itself everywhere where enterprise and la common face of America, is, without doubt, bor are busy in doing their manful part. the finest in the world.

There is a want of abandon, of course We have been talking of beauty for the we are speaking of manners, not of mor most part; but we would not despise als, about the American women; they homeliness. Ugliness has a claim to our are too formal and statuesque; they carry sympathy. Lord Bacon says,

6 virtue is themselves with a hauteur, as if they like a rich stone, best plain set: and were entitled to homage without owing moreover, that “ beauty is as summer any thing in exchange. They will turn fruits, which are easy to corrupt and canout a full omnibus of men. or a score of not last.” Madam de Pompadour, it is male worshippers from their church seats true, used to say that a handsome woman without designing to give in return the was the noblest work of God; but she cheap courtesy of a smile or a bow, or was an interested party. Mere regularity the small change of a “thank you.” of feature, and what is termed good looks, Like the images and painted saints in a are often deceptive. Coleridge tells us of church, they receive the worship of their the impression, full of respect and admiraadorers without even the consciousness of a tion, a calm, grave, silent, intellectual, and wink, as if they were quite insensible to handsome-looking man once made upon him the piety of the faithful. Our fashionable at a dinner-table, and how he watched his women are said to be good dancers; if lips till they might open to a sentiment or So, their skill is confined to the turning thought worthy of Bacon, until some appleof a pretty ankle or the tripping of a fan dumplings came in, when the Magnus tastic toe.

Apollo exclaimed, “Them's the jockeys Our voice is not so soft as that of the for me!" English, for example, although there is a Coleridge also reports that once upon a difference in favor of the Southern women; time a lady was descanting admiringly but our deficiency in this respect may be upon the personal charms of John Wilkes, attributed, like our pale complexions, to when he put in, “but he squints, madthe effects of the atmosphere. Voice de "Squints? sir," replied the lady, pends upon hearing, and as sound is dis “he only squints as such a man should tinct and shrill in our clear air, so the squint.” Mirabeau was by no means voice naturally assumes a high, sharp key. handsome; Wilkes was positively ugly;

In expression, that illuminated book of and Burr no Apollo ; and yet these three the soul and the intellect, where every men were all famous for their gallantries, thought and emotion may be read by him and must necessarily have been greatly who runs, the Americans surpass every admired by the gentle sex.

Wilkes used other people. In most countries, you to say he only wanted a half hour's talk may observe the doltishness of insensi with a woman to get the better of the bility, the stupidity of ignorance, the ob handsomest man in the company. And sequiousness of servility, or the supercil Burr confessed that touch was the seiousness of command. In America, you cret of his success; and asserted that he find expanded over the whole face of the never failed by that simple means to feel people, an expression of lively intelligence his way into the good graces of the handand common respect. This is the natural somest woman living. These acts we result of equality before the law. It is commend to the consideration of the ugly true we are an anxious people, too anx men, and if they are not satisfied let them ious. It would appear at times as if our join the ugly club in the Spectator. destiny was not to enjoy life, but to pre As for women that are not beautiful, pare it for the enjoyment of those who and none need be positively ugly, let them

am."

console themselves with the fact that the A natural desire and power of pleasing, fascination of a woman does not depend that come from good nature, are more upon the color of her eyes, or the shape fascinating and more lasting than all surof her nose, or upon her mere personal face charms. With such attractions, a form at all. Merely beautiful women are woman may reasonably hope, like Ninon apt to put up their charms at too high De l'Enclos, to inspire an affection at a price, and consequently find no bidders. fourscore.

MY FIRST FRENCH TEACHER.

Dans ce Paris plein d'or et de misère. BERANGEE. 66 AND a teacher, madame,” said I, to the He had been a professor in a college,

A English-speaking Frenchwoman with easy in his circumstances, and happy in a whom I had just concluded an arrange family; had been deprived of his place, ment for a room and breakfast.

had lost his fortune, and had seen his “I will speak to an old friend on the family drop one by one, dwindled to a subject, can I be of further service ?" single grandson. That boy he educated "Many thanks, no."

and supported by the precarious chance I sent for my baggage from the Hotel des of English lessons, and two days ago, his Etrangers, and wandered about Paris, grandson died. extremely amused and charmed with no “ Did you observe a black cravat? velty, but bitterly and continually con C'était son mieux : he probably has only scious of the inferiority of ignorance. On the sum you paid him to bury his boy." that day, for the only time in my life, I A thousand times since I have reproachenvied, not magnificence, nor genius, but ed myself for not relieving, by some little the volubility of two ragged urchins. ingenuity, that worst of human woes, the

At nine, next morning, I heard a tap destitution of pride; but, in the thoughtat the door, and upon my “Come in," fol lessness of youth, the story of the poor lowed a man of seventy.

gentleman was soon stamped out of my “ Madame G. informs me that

you

need mind by some other impression. Two lessons in my language. I can devote to weeks after I was strolling in the Tuileyou two hours in the morning. Do you ries on a sunny noon. The gardens at think three francs too much ?"

that hour are merely tenanted by nurses, " By no means; shall we begin?" children, and stragglers. Upon one of the

We did, and in the eagerness of acquisi benches (chairs are a sou) I saw an old tion, at first, I scarcely looked at my man with an open book. He had not teacher ; but it is impossible to consort long turned a leaf for five minutes. I drew with a fellow-being, without some curio near from some feeling of curiosity, and sity; and I soon remarked his thin long recognized my teacher. I addressed him white hair. his threadbare dress of faded in English; he neither replied nor looked brown, and his expression, not of satiety, up; his mind was too far away to be re disappointment, or bitterness, but of utter called by a sound unconnected with his weariness; that of a slave staggering under

recollections. I then ventured upon a a burden of which he dare not complain. “Bonjour, monsieur ;" he rose, bowed, I frequently pressed to finish my task, in and sank again into his seat. I wanted order to converse with him; but, though to speak but could not; my heart sickened he always answered intelligently, he never and my throat swelled at the sight of passed the limits of a mere answer. Se grief, impatient of sympathy, and, like veral times I was late at our appointment, Rachel

, refusing to be comforted. The but even to my excuses he merely bowed. hopes of existence were not merely dead A month had thus passed. One morning he in the old man, but buried, and a stone did not come, nor the second; on the third rolled over the mouth of the sepulchre. he entered. His usual look of fatigue was In presence of such a grief who could deepened into that of utter exhaustion. I babble condolence ? Not I. noticed that a black cravat had taken the Day after day, during a week, I replace of the usual check.

turned at the same hour to the Tuileries, Contrary to his habit, he spoke in with the vague hope of doing somethingFrench, and rapidly, regretting his una I knew not what for the old man; but voidable absence.

I never saw him again. "Let us make up for lost time," said I mentioned the subject to my hostess. I, gayly. He was sorry he could no “Fortune has at last been kind,” said longer be of service to me.

This was

she. strange; but his age and poverty forbade “How?” said I eagerly. me to ask a reason, and I repaired to my

“ He died three days ago.” landlady for the explanation.

GREENOUGH, THE SCULPTOR.

HORA

every kind."

ORATIO GREENOUGH was born

in Boston, Massachusetts, on the 6th September, 1805. He was put early to the best schools that were to be found in or around Boston. A strong, healthy, active boy, he excelled in athletic games, in running, jumping, swimming. He was also distinguished by fondness for literature, and a facility in committing English poetry to memory. Already in boyhood came out in marked prominence the ruling talent of his richly endowed nature. With such skill, and such taste in form and ornament, did he carve toys, cimeters, pistols of wood, that when detected at this employment in school hours, the ingenuity and beauty of his work so surprised his teachers, as to draw from them praise instead of the accustomed reprimand.

In his father's garden stood a marble statue of Phocion, a copy from the antique. This being constantly before his eyes, first bred in him a desire to attempt something in sculpture. His first efforts were in chalk. When he was yet only twelve years of age, a gentleman of Boston discerned so much merit in a copy he was making in chalk of a bust of John Adams, by Binon, that he took him to the Athenæum, and obtained for him, from Mr. Shaw, the director, free access to its valuable collection of engravings.

He was fortunate, as beginners seldom are, in the connections and influences of his boyhood and youth. His nascent genius for art was not thwarted, it was fostered. One gentleman, Mr. Solomon Willard, taught him to model in clay; another, Mr. Alpheus Cary, to cut marble. And best of all, his father, perceiving how strong was his bent, consented that he should make art and sculpture his chief study; only stipulating, with an enlightened judgment, that he should at the same time receive the best general instruction that could be obtained, and that therefore he should graduate at Cambridge. Accordingly he entered Harvard University in 1821, at the age of sixteen.

Drawing, modelling, anatomy, books on art, these now absorbed most of his time. But what was of greatest value to him while at Cambridge, was the friendship of Allston. In a letter to Mr. Dunlap, inserted in the "History of the Rise and Progress of the Arts of Design in the United States," and dated Florence, December 1st, 1833, Mr. Greenough speaks as follows of Mr. Allston, and another friend whom he made during his college course :-"Mr. Cogswell," who was at

that time librarian of Harvard, and is now librarian of the Astor Library, "contributed perhaps more than any one to fix my purpose, and supplied me with casts, &c., to nurse my fondness for statuary. Allston, in the sequel, was to me a father, in what concerned my progress of

Towards the close of his senior year, he was permitted by the government of Harvard to leave college before the conclusion of the last term, without forfeiting his diploma, that he might avail himself of the opportunity of a vessel about to sail to Marseilles, to proceed to Italy. He reached Rome in the autumn of 1825. Surrounded by the unique incitements and facilities of that vast treasure-house of Art, he entered zealously on the course of study and labor that he had planned under the advice of Allston. But he had scarcely been in Rome a year, when his studies were suspended by a severe attack of illness, caused by the malaria. This obliged him to return home, and he arrived in Boston restored to health by the sea voyage:

After remaining a year in America, during which time he made busts of several distinguished public men in Washington, he returned to Italy, and took up his abode in Florence.

Now began the tug of life. He was ready and eager for work, but no work

Taste for art had hardly yet be gun to be diffused in the United States. The names of a few native painters were occasionally heard, Allston at the head of them ; but even he was not yet appreciated. Sculptors there were none. Greenough first broke ground in this rich field. He had to brave the perils of a discoverer, to bear the hardships of a pioneer. All the hardships that beset the artist may be included in one-the hardship of not getting work. Boccaccio says:

"Fortune has a hundred eyes; only fools call her blind.” As she had done in his boyhood, she fixed her eyes again on Greenough. Another friend was about to rise up at the moment of greatest need. James Fenimore Cooper arrived in Florence. He became acquainted with, and interested in the young American sculptor. Cooper had a large American heart. Perceiving the merit of Greenough, he held out to him a helping hand in the most helpful way. He ordered a group of him the Chanting Cherubs. When finished, he sent it to America to be exhibited. The effect he designed and expected was produced. The name of Horatio Green

came.

ough became widely and honorably known nized at home and in Italy, as a sculptor in America. Mr. Cooper, following up of high and rising merit; blest as few are his first noble discriminating act with a in his married life ; relaxing days of consecond, quickly took advantage of the genial labor with evenings among selected fame gathered for his young friend by the companions, or cultivated and distinguishChanting Cherubs, to influence the Fe ed visitors to the Tuscan Capital; sought deral Government to order a statue of by his countrymen, many of whom have Washington. In the letter above quoted, a cherished recollection of the easy, elegant Mr. Greenough thus speaks of Mr. Coo hospitality of the Palazzo Baciocchi. A per:-“ Fenimore Cooper saved me from gentleman who, with his family, at a time despair after my return to Italy. He em of deep affliction, was indebted in Florence ployed me as I wished to be employed; to Mr. and Mrs. Greenough for tender and up to this moment has been a father fraternal kindness, in a recent letter to the to me in kindness.”

writer of this, alludes to Mr. Greenough's Greenough now threw his whole decease in these expressive and touching thought and soul into the Washington. words:—“He was a true, high-spirited With studious deliberation he matured and independent man, and I feel in losing the conception and composition. It was him, that something is permanently de a bold originality in the young sculptor ducted from my life.” to present Washington naked to the Ame Mr. Greenough was simple in his wants, rican people. In doing so, he surrendered temperate in his indulgences. With a himself to his genial emotions and artistic full appreciation of all healthful things, he convictions, which lifted him above pro would at any time have cheerfully given saic demands. A high function of art is, up a good dinner for a "good talk.” And to elevate without falsifying, to idealize in a good talk he was sure to play one of without denaturalizing. This Greenough the best parts. His conversation was has done in his Washington of the Capi- brilliant. He had been a searching obtol. This noble colossal statue will grow server in several lands; had consorted on public esteem as time removes the with differing classes; had personally original further from association with sin known many of the eminent men of Eugle events, and men shall more and more rope and America ; and, with these adcontemplate Washington in the majesty vantages, he was bold in thought, and of his moral greatness; the which, while always aimed at the centre of men and it was the source of his civil wisdom and things. He was an artist in the telling of supremacy, gave effect, too, to his military a story. He was hospitable and sociable, genius and leadership. The real Wash and made and kept many friends. He ington will then appear to be what he in was generous, and delicate in his genetruth is, identical with the grand ideal of rosity. Greenough. And when, a century hence, His intellectual capacity was large and our cities and public edifices shall be various; his temperament nervous and beautified by hundreds of sculptured excitable. Hence, he could not be content masterpieces, and the general taste shall with one field. The genuine artist, being have been cultivated by multiplication of rich in sympathies, easily draws into himthe works of affluent native genius, the self the electric currents that are forever gaze of the mighty populous Republic playing around him. The varied aptiwill still be turned with admiration towards tudes, bodily and mental, that manifested this simple, majestic figure; and the themselves so decisively in youth, had all crowned masters of sculpture will look ripened together in manhood. The poetic back with gratitude to him who had the organization does not let natural gifts rust genius and power to inaugurate their from disuse. Self-culture is one of its needs. great art in America, by embodying in It delights in a multiplex activity. The adequate grandeur the sublime Washing- strong, lively boy grew into the robust, ton.

energetic man, whose noble height was Greenough was now prosperously and graced by the sinews and muscles of an securely launched in his career. He, yet athlete ; whose lungs and heart swelled a young man, had high responsible work. a chest ample enough for a Hercules; and An artist can ask no more. Hope took who delighted to buffet the waves on a the place of despondency, an elevating self- rough beach, and to busy the arm that confidence of depressing misgivings. The modelled a Venus, in an eager game at artist had cause to be thankful. In 1837 quoits. The boy's fondness for reading occurred an event, which gave the man, too unfolded itself into the judgment of the cause to be thankful, and for all the rest of critic, and the productiveness of the spirited his life. He was married in Florence, to original writer. The hand that sculpturMiss Louisa Gore, of Boston. Life was ed grand and beautiful forms, could lay now to him full of joy. He was recog aside the chisel to take up the pen, and,

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