[From _Observations in Europe_ (New York, 1844, v. ii)]
The first impression of London is usually wonder at its _immensity_. I
received this impression in its full force, as the reader will have
already perceived, in coming up the Thames. Nor did it diminish in the
course of my rambles through the great metropolis, subsequently. When
the stranger first leaves the river, and plunges into the thronged
streets, he absolutely becomes dizzy in the whirl of busy life around
him. Men sweep by him in _masses_; at times the way seems wedged with
them: wagons, carts, omnibuses, hacks, and coaches block up the avenues,
and make it quite an enterprise to cross them. Every day my amazement
increased at the extent, the activity, the wealth of London. The
impression was totally different from that of Paris. The French capital
strikes you as the seat of human enjoyment. You find the art of life, so
far as mere physical good is concerned, in perfection there. No wish
need be ungratified. Your taste may be gratified with the finest music,
the most fascinating spectacles, the most splendid works of art in the
world. You may eat and drink when and where you please; in half an hour,
almost any delicacy that earth has produced or art invented is set
before you. You may spend days and weeks in visiting her museums, her
hospitals, her gardens, her cemeteries, her libraries, her palaces, and
yet remain unsatisfied. In London everything is different. Men are
active, but it is in pursuit of wealth. In general they do not seem to
enjoy life. The arts are cultivated to a small extent by a small class
of society; the mass seem hardly to know that arts exist. No splendid
collections are open, without fee or reward, to the public, or to you.
You can purchase gratification, but of a lower order than in Paris, and
at a higher price. Except a few _lions_--the Docks, the Tunnel,
Westminster Abbey, _&c._--nearly everything that the city has to show to
a stranger can be seen as you ride along the streets. When you leave
Paris you have just begun to enjoy it, and desire to return again; you
leave London convinced, indeed, of its vastness and wealth, but tired of
gazing at dingy buildings and thronged streets, and are satisfied
without another visit. Such, at least, were my own impressions. Apart
from private friendships and professional interests, I have no care to
see London again.
FORTUNATUS COSBY, Jr.
Fortunatus Cosby, Junior, poet and editor, the son of a distinguished
lawyer, was born near Louisville, Kentucky, May 2, 1801. He was
educated at Yale and Transylvania, then studied law, but, like so many
literary men have done, never practiced. Cosby was a passionate lover
of books, and most of his life was spent among his collection. He was
wealthy and well able to indulge his taste to any extreme. His
kinsman, President Thomas Jefferson, offered to make him secretary of
the legation at London, but he declined. Cosby was some years later
superintendent of the Philadelphia public schools, and a contributor
to _Graham's Magazine_, as well as to other high-class periodicals. In
1846 he was editor of the Louisville _Examiner_, the first Kentucky
paper devoted to emancipation of the slaves. In 1860 Cosby was
appointed consul to Geneva, and the next eight years of his life were
devoted to his diplomatic duties and to traveling. He returned to the
United States in 1868, and to his old home near Louisville. There
death found him in June, 1871. Several of his friends, which included
William Cullen Bryant, Rufus W. Griswold, and George D. Prentice,
often urged Cosby to collect his verse and bring it together in a
volume, but he was "too careless of his fame to do it;" and "many
waifs he from time to time contributed to the periodicals," are now
lost to the general public. He is, of course, well represented in all
of the anthologies of American poetry, but a collection of his
writings should be made. Cosby's best work is to be seen in his
_Fireside Fancies_, _Ode to the Mocking Bird_, _The Traveler in the
Desert_, and _A Dream of Long Ago_. He has often been pronounced the
best song writer this country has produced; and that he was a man of
fine culture, an ardent lover of books and Nature, and a maker of
charming and exquisite verse can be readily proved.
BIBLIOGRAPHY. _The Poets and Poetry of the West_, by W. T.
Coggeshall (Columbus, Ohio, 1860); _Blades o' Bluegrass_, by
Fannie P. Dickey (Louisville, Kentucky, 1892).