The first serious opposition was encountered about a mile from Eutaw, the enemy having sent forward a force to delay the Americans until his line could be formed. In this encounter the North Carolina militia, according to Marion, gave way “at the third fire," while the South Carolinians on the extreme right and left continued to advance. Colonel Williams thus writes: "It was with equal astonishment that both the second line and the enemy contem We must now, however, follow, Marion the west upon the enemy, whose guns to Eutaw, where the most important battle were similarly placed. The Americans in the far South was fought, and where were disposed as follows: Marion, with the most picturesque battle-ground still the militia of South Carolina, on the exinvites exploration. A beautiful spring, treme right; Pickens on the left; Mallimpid as "the diamond of the desert," mady, with the militia of North Carolina, apparently gives name to the surround- occupying the centre. This constituted ing region. In a valley some thirty feet the first line, with which also moved two below the general level of the country, three-pounder guns. The second line was and through narrow fissures in a white composed of regulars under command of basin of coralline, a bold stream wells up- Sumner, Williams, and Campbell, and ward, passing swiftly off in many a smooth were men drawn from Maryland, Vircurve and shining eddy. Pursuing its way ginia, and North Carolina. With this thus for a hundred yards or more, it dis- line were two six-pounder guns; the cavappears with a hollow murmur through a alry of Lee and Henderson respectively low coralline archway under a hill about covering the right and left flanks. Coltwenty feet high and two hundred feet in onel Washington and the Delawares formthickness, which here crosses the valley ed the reserve. It is hard to reach any nearly at right angles. On the opposite definite statement of the numbers engaged side of this hill the stream, augmented in in the battle, but three thousand on each volume and force, once more emerges to side, with a preponderance of cavalry in the light. Standing on the top of the hill favor of the Americans, seems the general with our faces westward we look down into estimate. a white limestone basin varying in diameter from five to eight yards, and in depth from four to six feet, the water in which is so clear that we can trace the most delicate shades in the rock at the bottom, and even the minute shadows of the leaves from overhanging trees. Flowing out of this basin the stream forms Eutaw Creek, which winds its gentle way in a northwesterly course through groups of solemn cypresses and under the gloomy shade of cedars, to Nelson's Ferry, distant two miles. Look-plated these men steadily and without ing down Eutaw Creek to where on its left or southern bank the trees shut out the view, we see the spot occupied by the right flank of the British army on the memorable morning of September 8, 1781. Here in a dense thicket of cedars and young pines crouched three hundred riflemen under Major Majoribanks, their right flank slight ly advanced to form an obtuse angle with the main line, which extended southward across a broad road and into a wood on the opposite side, until it "hung in air," protected only by Coffin's cavalry. This last was, of course, the point which invited attack. In rear of the British, nearest Majoribanks, was a three-story brick house, while in rear of the left wing, in an open field, commanded fully from every front window and door of this house, lay the tents of the royal army, with all their spoils of rich liquors and gaudy clothing. With his artillery in this road, while his columns were equally deployed on either side, Greene moved down from faltering advance with shouts and exhortations into the hottest of the enemy's fire, unaffected by the continual fall of their comrades around them." It was certainly a new experience with Marion's Brigade-their first pitched battle. For the space of a mile these gallant fellows moved forward, their progress slow and trying, for in that distance they fired no less than seventeen rounds. We do not say that it took them fifteen minutes to load-which Hallam intimates was the time required to charge a mediæval musket-but in these breech-loading days we should remember that they had to tear cartridge, draw rammer, return rammer, open, prime, and shut pan before they could present their pieces. As our brigade neared the British position it of course developed the entire fire of the main line immediately in their front. Now for the first time did they exhibit any sign of hesitation, and as soon as this took place Marion, acting under orders, withdrew his men to the right, and displayed the American second line of battle. We do not propose to follow the fortunes of the field, and will only briefly sum up what followed. By a singular chance, apparently, the American right flank overlapped and turned the British left, bringing our men into an open field and the seductive camp of the enemy, while our left now learned the meaning of Majoribanks's obtuse angle in a withering enfilading fire from his three hundred riflemen. This was the critical moment of the battle; for now, instead of employing Marion's sharp-shooters-the swamp fighters of the service-the cavalry under the ever-impetuous Washington charged the flower of the British army in an impervious chaparral. The result might have been foretold-empty saddles and a commander lying wounded under a dead horse. Majoribanks now retired to the brick house in his rear, which he reached just in time to almost annihilate Hampton, who was returning from a successful charge on Coffin. The next instant he rushed out and captured the two American six-pounders, which had been moved up in musket range to batter down the house. Surely Majoribanks was the one solitary figure which that day stood between the British and irretrievable disaster. The battle was now over. It only remained for the enemy, securely firing from the windows of the brick house, to dislodge the Americans from the disgraceful plunder of the British camp. Greene retired, doubtless thanking Marion in his soul that, owing to the affair on the 30th of August, no more formi- | by the war, the brigade was not allowed dable body of horse than Coffin's disabled to participate in witnessing the evacuation cavalry could hang upon his rear. The of Charleston by the British, but were held American army encamped that night in hand by their general until it was all around a loathsome pool in the road five over, when they were disbanded near Watmiles from the battle-field. It was the boo Bridge, in the parish of St. John's, first water attainable except by turning Berkley. Marion served as a vestryman out of their way two or three hundred of this parish after the war was over, and yards near the scene of the engagement, married very happily, but left no children. where Eutaw Creek could have supplied He lies buried at Belle Isle, on the Santhe army of Xerxes. tee, and this inscription marks his tomb: But the battle of Eutaw was technically an American victory, for on the day following the British commandant broke the stocks of one thousand stand of arms and threw them into the spring, destroyed his stores, left many of his dead unburied, and retreated, leaving seventy of his wounded to fall into his enemy's hands. According to the return entered in his orderbook, Marion lost at Eutaw two lieutenants and three privates killed, one lieutenant-colonel, two captains, one lieutenant, one sergeant, and twenty privates wounded. Marion received the thanks of Congress for his conduct at Parker's Ferry and at the battle of Eutaw, under date of October 29, 1781. For some reason, which doubtless had its source in the animosities engendered RECENT BUILDING IN NEW YORK. HE new departure is an apt name for what some of its conductors describe as the new "school" in architecture and decoration. It has still, after nearly ten years of almost complete sway among the young architects of England and of the United States, all the signs of a departure-we might say of a hurried departure-and gives no hint of an arrival, or even of a direction. It is, in fact, a general "breaking up" in building, as the dispersion of Babel was in speech, and we can only and somewhat desperately hope that the utterances of every man upon whom a dialect has suddenly fallen may at least be intelligible to himself. From a "movement" so exclusively centrifugal that it assumes rather the character of an explosion than of an evolution not much achievement can be looked for. In fact, the "movement" has not, thus far, either in England or in the United States, produced a monument which anybody but its author would venture to pronounce very good. Not to go back to the times when Gothic architecture was vernacular in England, it has produced nothing which can be put in competition with the works either of the English classical revival, or with the works of the English Gothic revival-with St. Paul's and the Radcliffe Library, on the one hand, or with the New Law Courts and the Manchester Town-hall, on the other. Before the "movement" began, the architects of Europe and America were divided into two camps. They professed themselves either Renaissance or Gothic architects. architect shall build what is right in his own eyes, even if analysis finds it absurd and Vitruvius condemns it as incorrect. "Queen Anne" is a comprehensive name. which has been made to cover a multitude of incongruities, including, indeed, the bulk of recent work which otherwise defies classification, and there is a convenient vagueness about the term which fits it for that use. But it is rather noteworthy that the effect of what is most specifically known as Queen Anne is to restrain the exuberances of design. Whoever recalls Viollet-le-Duc's pregnant. saying, that "only primitive sources supply the energy for a long career," would scarcely select the reign of Queen Anne out of all English history for a point of departure in the history of any one of the plastic arts. The bloated Renascence of Wren's successors, such as is shown in Queen's College and in Aldrich's church architecture in Oxford, was its distinctive attainment. in architecture. The minute and ingeniouswood-carving of Grinling Gibbons was its distinctive attainment in decoration. Nothing could show more forcibly the degeneracy of art at the period which of late years has been represented as an æsthetic renascence than the acceptance of these wood-carvings, which in execution and all technical qualities are as complete, and in design and all imaginative qualities are as trivial and commonplace, as contemporary Italian sculpture, as works RECESSED BALCONY, W. H. VANDERBILT'S HOUSE, FIFTH AVENUE. HERTER BROTHERS, ARCHITECTS. The mediævalists acknowledged a subjection to certain principles of design. The classicists accepted certain forms and formulæ as efficacious and final. They were both, therefore, under some restraint. But the new movement seems to mean that aspiring genius shall not be fettered by mechanical laws or academic rules, by reason or by revelation, but that every of art comparable to the graceful inventions of Jean Goujon, and clearly preferable to the sometimes rude but always purposeful decoration of medieval churches. The revivalists of Queen Anne have not confined their attentions to the reign of that sovereign. They have searched the Jacobean and the Georgian periods as well, and have sucked the dregs of the whole English Renaissance. Unhappily, nowhere in Europe was the Renaissance so unproductive as in the British Islands. It was so unproductive, indeed, that Continental historians of architecture have scarcely taken the trouble to look it up or to refer to it at all. Not merely since the beginning of the Gothic revival, but since the beginning of the Greek revival that was stimulated by the publication of Stuart's work on Athens, in which for the first time uncorrupted Greek types could be studied, what contemporary architects have ransacked as a treasury was considered a mere lumber-room, and fell not so much into disesteem as into oblivion. During two generations nobody any more thought of studying the works of English architecture, from Hawksmoor to "Capability" Brown, than anybody thought of studying the poetry of Blackmore and Hayley. The attempt within the past ten years to raise to the rank of inspirations the relics of this decadence, which for years had been regarded by everybody as rather ugly and ridiculous, is one of the strangest episodes in the strange history of modern architecture. Mr. Norman Shaw has been the chief evangelist of this strange revival. Mr. Shaw is a very clever designer, with a special felicity in piquant and picturesque groupings, which he had shown in Gothic work, especially in country houses, before the caprice seized him of uniting free composition with classic detail, and the attempt at this union is what is most distinctively known as Queen Anne. Whoever considers the elements of this combination would hardly hope that the result could be a chemical union, or more than a mechanical mixture. Classic detail is the outcome and accompaniment of the simplest construction possible, which was employed by the Greek architects in the simplest combination possible, and precisely because it was so simple and so primitive they were enabled to reduce it to an "order," and to carry it to a pitch of purity, lucidity, and refinement to which the most enthusiastic mediævalist will scarcely maintain that more complicated constructions have ever attained. But this very perfection, which was only attainable when life was simple and the world was young, this necessary relation between the construction and the detail of Greek Doric, makes it forever impossible that Greek detail should be successfully "adapted" to modern buildings. The latest and strongest of the writers on the theory of architecture has said of Greek architecture: "As partisans of its historical glory we should desire that it remain forever in its historical shrine." We laugh at the men of two generations ago who covered Europe and America with private and public buildings in reproduction as exact as they could contrive of Grecian temples. But, after all, if the Greek temple be the ultimate, consummate flower, not only of all actual but of all possible architectural art, were not these men wiser in their generation than their successors who have taken the Greek temple to pieces and tried to construct modern buildings out of its fragments? There is even something touching and admirable, in this view, in the readiness and completeness of the sacrifice to beauty which the reproducers of the Greek temples made of all their merely material comforts and conveniences, something that we miss in the adapters. The Romans can scarcely be said to have attempted this adaptation. They built Roman buildings for purposes and by methods which had never entered the minds of Greek architects to conceive, and they built them with no more thought of art than enters the mind of a modern railway engineer in designing a truss bridge. After they were designed according to their requirements the Roman engineer overlaid them, or, according to some conjectures, employed Greek decorators to overlay them, with an irrelevant trellis of Greek architecture, debasing and corrupting the Greek architecture in the process. And it is this hybrid architecture, which analysis would at once have dissolved into its component parts, that was accepted without analysis as the starting-point of "the new departure" of the fifteenth century, and the ultimate English debasement of which in the eighteenth is taken by the contemporary architects of England and America as the starting-point of the new departure in the nineteenth. It can not be said that Mr. Norman Shaw and his followers have |