coloured, and exquisite to the smell, while the
visitors (none of whom will be admitted
except in full dress, and great numbers of whom
will always appear in court dresses)
perambulate about, gazing now on this side, and
now on that, to the sound of the seraphine
and Moorish flutes.

Let us awake from this charming vision; but
it was natural to fall into it on such suggestions.
Again we are in danger. For who can
contemplate the elegant originality of
Monsieur Jacquet (No. 25) without emotion, or a
"wish to be there?" His ground-plan
resembles a section of some enormous fan-light
of painted glass, or like part of a gigantic
Oriental fan, made of the plumes of some
fabulous peacock. Nor must we pass over
the suggestion of our countrymen, Messrs.
Felix and White (No. 72), because they are
not equally imaginative, for they certainly
manifest very much and excellent thought in
their architectural display; though, like our
foreign friends, no thought at all of the cost
of such a work. The same may be said of
the beautiful pleasure-grounds designed by
Mr. Reilly (No. 102), with circular, oval, and
serpentine garden-plots, flower-beds, and
shrubberies, and labyrinthine walks or covered
ways of glass.

But there are more—yet more of these
delightful and deliberate violations of the
terms on which competitors were to enter
the lists—one vieing with another, not in
producing the most excellently useful and
economical structure for the purpose required,
but the most perfect exhibition of the artist's
especial taste, "regardless of expense." Yes,
there are more of these deserving notice. One
competitor—nay, three of them—propose that
the entire building should be made of iron,
domes and towers inclusive; another, that it
shall be all made of glass, such as we might
find in an Arabian Nights' Tale. Monsieur
Soyer, the mighty cook (No. 165), begins the
synopsis of his design by proposing to take
up, and remove the great marble arch from
Buckingham Palace, as though it were a
"trifle," and serve it up for a grand entrance
opposite the Prince of Wales's Gate. Here,
also, is a structure which arrests the attention
even amidst the surrounding wonders, and
appears to be several conservatories and
libraries on a colossal scale of glass framework,
delightfully intermingled with domes
and turrets, and observatories, with here and
there minarets and pagodas, of the delicious
character presented by those fragile structures
which make such a tempting figure on
the festive board, standing erect among the
dessert-plates. Yet, once more, behold the
prodigal laying out of palace-gardens, not to
speak of the ante-industrial palace itself
(which reminds one of Thomson's "Castle of
Indolence"), gardens with alcoves and aviaries.
and fountains, glass temples, green labyrinths,
flower-beds and flower-stands, vases and jets-
d'eaux, sculpture, shrubberies, shaded lovers'
walks, public promenades, with lords and
ladies and princes and princesses, of all
nations, sauntering about, and the clouds and
sky of an Italian sunset lighting up and
colouring the whole. For this, and similar
chateaux, we are quite at a loss to conjecture
the principle on which they present
themselves on this occasion; but we have no
doubt that they all belong to that munificent
patron of art, and great landed proprietor, the
Marquis of Carrabas.

Now, that our own architects are able to
compete successfully with the best of our
foreign friends in works of imaginative design,
we do not affirm; neither, lor the reasons
previously adduced by the "Athenæum," do we
consider ourselves justified in denying it, from
the result of the present struggle. But for our
own artists and others, who have confined
themselves to the terms and preliminaries
announced by the Commissioners, have they
succeeded?—that is the question. Not
satisfactorily, we think. Our architects are, for
the most part, impracticable, from the expense
required, and the wilful forgetfulness that the
building is to be of a temporary character;
while our surveyors and builders have been
thinking too much of railway-stations, not of
that sober, simple, and sufficient kind which
the occasion requires, but (according to the
error in these stations) of that large, ornate,
and redundant kind which is meant to be
admired as much as used, and also to last for
ages. This latter mistake is very characteristic
of our countrymen. They do not feel,
nor comprehend, the art of knocking up a
temporary structure; they are always for
something that will endure.

In certain matters requiring great skill and
many forethoughts, most of these plans are
not very successful. For instance, the
prevention of terrible confusion and danger in
the constant arrivals and departures of visitors
—carriages, vehicles of all sorts, horsemen,
and shoals of pedestrians. This relates to the
approaches and entrances outside; and the
position and approaches of the exit-doors
inside; also, the best means of directing and
managing the currents of visitors within. It
seems pretty clear that everybody must not
be allowed to follow his "own sweet will" in
all respects, or there will be many a deadlock,
and perhaps a deadly struggle, with all
the usual disastrous consequences. Many of
the plans seek to direct the current of visitors
(indicated by shoals of little arrows with their
heads pointing the same way) not so much for
the convenience and freedom of the public, as
in accordance with the architectural points to
be displayed. Others appear to intend that
the direction of the current shall be forced by
the pressure from the column constantly
advancing behind. This might be dangerous.
The current might surely be managed so as
to combine direction on a large scale with a
considerable amount of individual freedom;
and, in any case, the amount of pressure