machine immediately lost its shape, by the breaking of the rim
which surrounded it, which was feebly constructed of tin. It was
the opinion of all the scientific gentlemen who testified at the
coroner's inquest, that the parachute was of insufficient strength,
and greatly inefficient for the purpose it was intended to serve.
Prof. AIREY, Astronomer Royal of Greenwich, who saw it from the
beginning, through a telescope of a twelve-times magnifying power,
states, that after leaving the balloon, 'he was quite sure that it
did not retain its shape for more than four seconds, for he put his
eye instantly to the glass, and found it in a collapsed state. He was
convinced there had been no turning over. Had it been turned over,
the basket would have been displaced. He observed the sides of the
parachute flickering backward and forward. His opinion as to the
efficacy of the construction was, there was not sufficient account
taken in such construction as to unavoidable disturbances, and the
tendency of the air was to force it in at the side, and the pressure
of the air would, in case of its getting out of shape, only aggravate
the evil, and the experiment must fail. This must therefore be
considered as a construction quite wrong, and he should have thought
that a person with common sagacity might have been aware of this.
With regard also to the tin tube, of which the circular ring was
formed, it was hollow throughout, it was without stops, which would
have strengthened it, and consequently as bad a thing as could have
been used. Had stops been introduced, it would have saved it from
a great deal of the tremor to which the pressure of the atmosphere
exposed it. Had the weight been a little greater in the top, it would
probably have come down side-ways, and turned upside down. In this
respect, it was very badly constructed, and very inferior in many
respects to parachutes of the old construction.'
In answer to a question from a juror, whether his opinion agreed with
that of Mr. Green, that, having resisted the force of the atmosphere,
it was safe to come down with the parachute, Prof. Airey replied,
that he believed the very reverse; since the 'air, by pressing upon
the canvass, would keep the ring of tin to which he had alluded
expanded, but the force of the air under, would have the effect of
bending it, and thus allowing the parachute to collapse.'
Mr. Green stated, 'that throughout the whole of the voyage, up
to the moment he released himself from the balloon, Mr. Cocking
displayed the greatest courage and fortitude; and the expression of
his features, and the light and joyous, although earnest way, in
which he made his inquiries, and conversed with him, manifested his
great satisfaction that at length a theory, to which he had devoted
the last twenty-five years of his life, was about to be triumphantly
put to the test.' But it was a fatal test. He fell to the ground at
Lee, several miles from London, and when discovered, and extricated
from the car, (which was a confused heap, covering the mangled body
of its ill-fated occupant, with all its ribs and tubes broken into
fragments,) he but slightly moved his hand, groaned, and expired.
Some idea of the dreadful death which befell him, may be gathered
from the dry and technical description given of the appearance of
the body, by the surgeon who was called to examine it: 'On the right
side, the second, third, fourth, and fifth ribs were broken, near
their junction with their cartilages; the second, fourth, fifth, and
sixth broken also near their junction with the vertebræ; the second,
fourth, fifth, and sixth ribs broken at their greatest convexity.
On the left side, the second, third, fourth, and sixth ribs broken
near their cartilages, and also near their angles. The clavicle on
the right side fractured at the juncture of the external with the
middle third; the second lumbar vertebræ fractured through its body,
the tranverse of several of the lumbar vertebræ broken, commutated
fracture and separation of the bones of the pelvis, the right
ancle dislocated inward, the astragalus and os calcis fractured,
the viscera of the head, chest, and abdomen, free from any morbid
appearances.'
RETROSPECTION
I.
TIME! let me stand upon that wall
Which bounds the future and the past,
While at my feet thy moments fall,
Like billows driven by the blast:
Cold, brief, and dim must be the gaze,
Back o'er the fields laid waste by thee;
And clouds, impervious to all rays,
Brood o'er futurity.
II.
Yet backward let me take one look,
Through memory's glass, grown dim by age,
And ponder on life's tattered book,
Too late to re-peruse one page;
As when the ear, in quest of notes
An unlearned melody has shed,
Calls for each echo where it floats,
When all its tones are fled.
III.
Thy scythe and glass, O Time! are not
The symbols of thy gentler powers:
Thou makest the most dejected lot
Seem light, through thy inverted hours:
Thou makest us cherish infant grief,
And long for all the tears it cost;
Thou art to thy own woes relief--
Thou beautifiest the lost!
IV.
Then let me stand upon the wall
Which bounds the future and the past,
And gaze upon the waste where all
Life's hopes have perished by thy blast.
Though dark and chilling to the gaze
Are all the fields laid waste by thee,
'Tis sunshine to the hopeless rays
Which light futurity.
_Buffalo, May, 1837._ G.
LITERARY NOTICES.
THE SCOURGE OF THE OCEAN: A STORY OF THE ATLANTIC. BY AN
OFFICER OF THE UNITED STATES' NAVY. In two volumes, 12mo. pp.
431. Philadelphia: E. L. CAREY AND A. HART.
With many defects, incident to a first attempt at fictious narration,
these volumes exhibit undeniable talent, and still more promise.
They have been written, it seems, in haste; though this excuse
would be hardly valid, save in consideration of the fact, that the
young author, momentarily expecting to be ordered to sea, was hence
compelled to hasten their publication. The common faults of a first
production, it must be admitted, are sufficiently apparent; among the
more prominent of which, may be mentioned the want of a natural order
of progression, the liberal introduction of matters not correlative
to the story proper, and an occasional carelessness of language.
But these blemishes are well atoned for, by a general freedom of
delineation, both of character and events, so easy and natural,
that it often requires no stretch of the imagination to fancy the
volumes actually alive, and talking with the reader. All who have
read 'Jack Marlinspike's Yarn,' heretofore published in these pages,
and introduced episodically in the work before us, will not need to
be told, that our author has an unvarnished way of delivering his
sentiments, whatever they may be, through his various characters; and
this, in our judgment, constitutes an agreeable feature of the work.
We had rather encounter occasional nervous inelegance of expression,
and even a slight assault and battery upon Priscian, now and then,
than the affectation of big words and fustian phrases, or the precise
and prime sententiousness which many of our modern authors so much
affect. We shall not attempt to trace the involutions and denouément
of the story, since we lack both time and space for the purpose, and
moreover, are unwilling to rob the labors of a new candidate for
public favor of the strong interest of curiosity; but shall endeavor
to present a sort of running commentary upon the principal features
of the work.
We like our author better afloat than on shore. He is at home on the
ocean; and some of his ship-board pictures strongly remind us of the
kindred sketches of COOPER and MARRYAT, or LEGGETT, who is in no
respect behind either in the power of graphic description. We subjoin
an elaborate etching, which will exemplify the justice of our praise:
"It was evening; the blushes of sunset still lingered in the
west, faintly relieving the far-off coast of America, that
seemed more like some blue cloud sleeping upon the surface
of the ocean, than a vast continent rising from its depths.
The round full moon was ascending from the opposite sky with
that increased magnitude she seems to possess when low in the
horizon, and her light came over the sea, tinged with the
mellow hue of paly gold, that always characterizes it when the
luminaries rise and set at the same moment. A gentle breeze
came sweeping up from the southward, and a balmy influence was
respired in the air. Upon that part of the Atlantic to which
we wish the reader to direct his attention, a ship was seen
moving along toward the land that was but just perceptible
in the west. She was a small vessel for her taunt and heavy
appurtenance; and evidently intended for the purposes of war.
Her long sharp hull seemed much too diminutive to sustain the
pressure of the broad sheets of canvass that rose toweringly
above it, and there were moments when it seemed that the lofty
spars and wide-spread sails glided over the ocean without the
support or aid of that most important part of the machinery of
a vessel. Although the wind was very light, the foam curled in
snow-white piles about her cut-water, and ever and anon, as she
rose and pitched deeper into the element, masses of glittering
spray would fly over her forecastle. It was evident from her
speed in so gentle a breeze that she was a very superior
sailer, but a single glance at her construction would scarcely
need another or more convincing proof of her superiority in
that respect. Aloft, every thing indicated the nicest care and
attention; the masts, from the deck to the trucks, were stayed
in line, and in an exact parallel to each other, while the
rigging that supported them on every hand seemed to possess the
inflexibility of so much iron. Each sail was hoisted taut up,
so as to yield as little as possible to the bellying influence
of the breeze, while their corners were drawn out upon the
yards to their full extent. No ropes hung dangling from the
rigging or tops; and, in short, every thing exhibited the
characteristic regularity of a man-of-war.
"Upon deck, the arrangements were as neat as they were aloft.
Eight twenty-four pound carronades, and a long eighteen,
thrust their frowning muzzles out from either side; and rows
of bright battle-axes, cutlasses, and pikes, were ranged along
the bulwarks, in glittering and beautiful array. Each rope was
carefully coiled upon its respective pin; and no unnecessary
lumber obstructed the gangways or quarter deck. Between the
fore and main masts, a large boat was nicely stowed, while its
black cover served the double purpose of protecting it from the
weather, and imparting a neater air to the arrangements of the
deck. Abaft the mizzen-mast, or on that part distinguished as
the quarter-deck, every thing was rich and expensive. Railings
of polished brass surrounded the hatchways, and ladders of
grated work communicated with the depth of the ship. The
wheel and binnacles were of the rarest wood, and constructed
in the most tasteful and elegant manner. The hammock boards
were adorned with gilded ornaments, and the bolt-heads in the
deck were screened by inserted mahogany, cut diamond-wise. In
a word, that ship seemed to have been built by Profusion as
an offering to Beauty. * * * Groups of seamen sat between the
guns in discourse, or reclined with characteristic listlessness
upon the deck, while a few, who were discharging the duties of
look-outs, stood at their various stations with their faces
turned toward the ocean."
This is but a fair example of many spirited descriptions to be found
in the work; nor is the lively, though sometimes rather confused,
dialogue unworthy of laud; excepting always the forced colloquies of
Handsaw and Ramrod, two eminent bores, and unmitigated draw-backs,
whom all the bad spelling in the world would fail to render
entertaining. Much as the reader must condemn the tyrant Stanley, and
little as he may think of his opinions, he will be inclined to agree
with him on one point, namely, that Handsaw's ever-active 'propensity
to talk about his wife,' renders him ridiculous, and in reality 'a
source of uneasiness' as aggravating to the reader as it must have
been to the hearer. With these exceptions, the sailor-dialogue is
extempore and natural. Nothing can be finer than the description of
the mutiny on board the Ganymede, the burning of the merchantman at
sea, and the escape of the 'Scourge' from a labyrinth of pursuers, by
a bold but politic and adroit manoeuvre. If the reader, however,
while perusing the account of the escape of Everett from New-York,
his first introduction to the family of General Adair, and his
meeting the heroine with her father, at sea, should pause to ask
himself how all this happened to occur so opportunely, he might be
led to think that in all this the possible was taking precedence of
the probable. Happily, such is the interest awakened, that he has no
disposition to propound queries, but is tempted to 'keep due on,'
until he has gained the end of the book.
We are sorry to perceive that the volumes are marred by an occasional
grammatical error, ('laying down the musket, he _done_ as much
justice,' etc., and kindred _lapsus pennæ_,) and by not infrequent
typographical blunders, which should be looked to, in a second
edition, should it be called for.
To sum up, we consider the 'Scourge of the Ocean' a very clever
performance, for a first and hurried effort; open, indeed, to many
minor objections, but exhibiting much talent, and more promise; and
as such, we commend it to our readers.
* * * * *
GLEANINGS IN EUROPE. ENGLAND: BY AN AMERICAN. In two volumes,
12mo. pp. 530. Philadelphia: CAREY, LEA AND BLANCHARD.
New-York; WILEY AND PUTNAM.
WHATEVER may be said of this work, no one will pretend to deny
that it is well and vigorously written, and that it possesses more
than common interest. The volumes are presented, we should infer,
pretty much as composed, 'in their naturals.' They are full of
slight descriptive sketches, comments, and brief arguments, upon
conventional, moral, social, and political topics; insomuch, that
the reader is compelled to believe, that the author 'could an' if he
would, or if he list to speak,' easily furnish a portable volume,
embracing all things that are to be known, or believed, or practised,
by the world at large, and gentlemen-republicans in particular. As
for the English, heaven help them! they will here find some of the
pegs let down that make their national music; and will learn that
there is at least one American writer, who 'does na care a button
for 'em,' and who has not hesitated to pick holes in the weak sides
of their governmental, religious, and social edifices. Mr. COOPER is
certainly no flatterer. He is in no awe of bishops, whom he meets
in society, 'with wigs that set at naught both nature and art, and
little silk petticoats called stoles;' he cares not for the clergy,
however high they may stand, who fight duels; nor is he carried
away with 'the first body of gentleman in the world,' the British
Parliament. He is led to doubt a little, when he sees a speaker half
drunk, and at the same moment, six members with one foot on the back
of the seats before them, and three with both; he does not recognise
the justice of this laud, when he hears one member, in debate, for
the purpose of interrupting an opponent, crowing like a cock, another
bleating like a sheep, and numbers making a very pretty uproar, by
_qua-a-cking_, like a flock of ducks. Our author would not succeed as
a courtier; for one who declares that the king is an ignoramus, and
cannot write intelligible English, is too plain-spoken, ever to be on
the high road to preferment.
Mr. COOPER is not less unmincing in his consideration of, and remarks
upon, _things_, than he is in relation to usages and men. He says
the houses in New-York and Boston are generally better furnished,
(though not so profusely,) than those of the English; that New-York
is a better town for eating and drinking, than London; and, save that
our tables are invariably too narrow, they are better served with
porcelain, glass, cutlery, and table-linen, than are those of our
British metropolitan neighbors. He is in no extacies at Westminster
Abbey, nor the Tower; he condemns the pinched and mean towers of the
former, and considers the latter quite inferior to the donjon at
Vincennes, or the Tower of Paris. Half the brilliants here exhibited
in the crown, he has no doubt, are paste! Windsor he thinks far
beneath Versailles, and hardly worthy the name of a palace, greatly
lacking magnificence, although not without a certain pleasing
quaintness and picturesque beauty; yet exhibiting in the state
apartments, which are far inferior to the French, 'such vulgarisms
as silver' andirons, and other puerilities.' The London bridges are
out of proportion, too heavy for the stream they span, and quite
unnecessarily solid. Moreover, American women, in all except the
shoulders and bust, possess more beauty than the English women, and
their complexion and features will better bear a close examination;
while our men, too, he believes, are taller than the mass in England,
English travellers to the contrary notwithstanding.
In his pungent remarks upon society and manners in England, Mr.
COOPER seems to have been impelled, by considerations mainly
personal, to praise or condemn. And we cannot resist the impression,
that he is himself, with all his _amor patriæ_, a marked exception to
the mass of Americans, who, he says, 'care no more for a lord than
for a wood-chuck.' Titled personages are lugged in, on almost every
page of his work. Lord This, Lord That, and Lord T'other, are as
plenty as blackberries; and not an earl or a duke, who can by any
possibility be alluded to, but is compelled to do duty in confirming
the somewhat questionable hypothesis, that 'a man is _always_ known
by the company he keeps;' and if there be a chance to establish a
remote connection between any member of the writer's family, and the
'nobility or gentry,' the opportunity is eagerly embraced, no matter
how awkward the _modus operandi_. This penchant is in miserable
taste; and we venture to say, will counterbalance, by way of example,
whole pages of most unexceptionable precept.
Our author dwells continually upon the assumption, that the English
hate the Americans with a perfect hatred. He says this spirit mingles
with every thought, colors every concession, and even tempers the
charities of life. He saw a thousand proofs of it himself; and it was
so well known to another American, that he _blushed_ when the land of
his birth was mentioned before Englishmen! Now we very much question
whether this feeling prevails in England to any thing like the depth
or extent imagined by Mr. COOPER. Would WASHINGTON IRVING, in whose
character there is a happy conjunction of civility, freedom, ease,
and sincerity, and who has had ample opportunities of inspecting
beyond the surface and rind of things, support these declarations?
We think not. Doubtless Mr. COOPER in London, as in Paris, was not
without the idea that the American republic was represented in his
own person. Such certainly appears to have been his impressions, if
one may judge from his deductions from any real or imaginary slight
or discourtesy which may have crossed him in society. He is ever on
the rack, lest his pretensions should be overlooked. He instantly
resents what he deems indifference, and yet seems to be suspicious
of any one who is particularly civil, without some apparent reason.
Mr. COOPER's claims, as a gentleman of good manners, cannot be very
exalted, if it be true, as we believe it is, that he is the best
bred man who makes the fewest persons uneasy in society; and we
conceive the offensive observation, which sent 'head to head, beyond
the salt,' and caused the host to declare 'It is too bad,' as both
pertinent and impertinent, and as sufficient proof of the correctness
of our position, even if there were not ample kindred testimony.
_Personal concession_ is a prominent part of real politeness, and
springs from a courteous spirit, and a generous nature; and no one
possessing these qualities would cavil at a gentleman who should,
without at all incommoding him, look at the same public print, on the
wall-file of a reading-room, or enlarge unduly upon a slight, and
probably wholly unintentional, infraction of etiquette toward him.
We agree with Mr. COOPER, entirely, in very many of his views in
relation to the society and manners of England and America. The
ridiculous affectation of simplicity, the heartlessness and the
flippancy of the English, whom he met in society, are defects which
lay them bare to the lash, and the lash has been well laid on. This
putting a rein upon the lungs, and drilling of muscles to order,
for mere fashion's sake, is a legitimate theme for satire; and we
are glad to see, by the squirming of the malevoli among the English
critics, who are nibbling away at the excrescences of the work,
that our author's random shots have '_told_' well. Mr. COOPER is
equally just and felicitous in many of his comments upon American
society. The mere tyranny of public opinion he sets forth in its
true light. He very justly, too, repudiates the influence of those
among us, whose narrow souls never moved in a wider circle than
the circumference of a dollar, and who carry their brains in their
pockets; and he ridicules, with proper motives and good grounds, the
American propensity to use 'great swelling words' to express the
commonest ideas, or merest matters of fact, which he illustrates
by a characteristic anecdote. A rail-car companion, at Bordentown,
who wished to say, 'They have laid the foundations of a large
building here,' oracularly observed, instead: 'Judging from external
symptoms, they have commenced the construction, in this place, of
an edifice of considerable magnitude, calculated, most likely,
to facilitate the objects of the rail-road company!' This lingual
magniloquence is proverbial of American parvenus. Some months since,
just as that sweet singer, Mrs. AUSTIN, was leaving New-York in the
steam-boat for a Liverpool packet, lying in the stream, some inflated
personage called out: 'It is proposed to pay a parting tribute to
the distinguished vocalist who has, by her fine powers of music, so
long delighted our citizens, and who is now about to depart from
us!' 'Three cheers for Mrs. AUSTIN!' would have been understood, and
heartily responded to; but this rigmarole only induced a sort of
bastard applause, which fell feebly on the ear, and sent its prompter
away, covered with confusion.
Our author's repeated sneers at the public press, and literary
men, coming from one who is a writer by profession, and sucks his
sustenance through a quill, is in exceeding bad taste; and his
allusion to New-England editors, constitutes a characteristic
specimen of aimless spite, which is quite beneath a person of his
standing as an author. Some one native of New-England, obnoxious,
from some cause, to Mr. COOPER, is undoubtedly at the bottom of this
sweeping allusion. Had we that honor, or had we leisure, we should be
glad to show _who_ are the men whom Mr. COOPER would thus traduce,
_en masse_.
We have imperceptibly extended our remarks beyond reasonable limits;
and must close, for the present, by recommending their subject to the
perusal of our readers, satisfied that, amid much to condemn, they
will find a great deal to admire; and well assured, that none will
deem their time misspent in the perusal.
* * * * *
POEMS BY WILLIAM THOMPSON BACON. In one volume. pp. 134.
Boston: WEEKS, JORDAN AND COMPANY.
'THESE poems are the results of my leisure at college, and published
for experiment. If the public find any thing worth reading in them,
they may be followed by another volume.' Such is the sensible and
sententious preface to this very beautiful little book, which we
have read with much gratification. The preface itself, so often a
medium for childish extenuation, forced egotism, or the long-winded
dissertations of those adepts in the art of being deep-learned
and shallow-read, who are ambitious of 'showing off,' led us to
anticipate something more than mere respectable mediocrity at the
hands of the author; and we have by no means been disappointed. As
might be expected, we find in this little work no affected phrases,
nor new-conceited words. The young writer has evidently chosen the
best models; and the good taste which generally characterizes his
productions, evinces that he possesses, to a great degree, the
ability to separate beauty of thought and style from the corruption
which apes it. He is a quiet but acute observer of nature; his
ever-veering spirit catches naturally its sunlight and shadow;
and he has the power often to clothe the heart of the reader with
the changeful vesture which robes his own. In the blank verse, we
sometimes detect examples of false rhythm, and inharmonious words now
and then mar the construction of an otherwise well-turned poetical
sentence. These faults, however, are amply counterbalanced by
abounding graces of language and diction, and by a pervading spirit
of pure feeling, and moral and religious sentiment. We had prepared
for insertion an extract from a poem entitled 'Other Days,' with one
or two passages from 'A Forest Noon-Scene;' and although in type,
for the intended gratification of the reader, we are compelled to
postpone their publication until the November number. We repeat, we
welcome this little volume with unaffected pleasure, and commend it
to the reader's favorable suffrages.
EDITORS' TABLE.