not impossible, to explain by words wherein the just medium betwixt the
excesses of simplicity and refinement consists, or to give any rule by
which we can know precisely the bounds betwixt the fault and the
beauty." A critic may not only discourse very judiciously on this head
without instructing his readers, but even without understanding the
matter perfectly himself. There is not in the world a finer piece of
criticism than Fontenelle's "Dissertation on Pastorals;" wherein, by a
number of reflections and philosophical reasonings, he endeavours to fix
the just medium which is suitable to that species of writing. But let
any one read the pastorals of that author, and he will be convinced,
that this judicious critic, notwithstanding his fine reasonings, had a
false taste, and fixed the point of perfection much nearer the extreme
of refinement than pastoral poetry will admit of. The sentiments of his
shepherds are better suited to the toilets of Paris than to the forests
of Arcadia. But this it is impossible to discover from his critical
reasonings. He blames all excessive painting and ornament, as much as
Virgil could have done had he written a dissertation on this species of
poetry. However different the tastes of men may be, their general
discourses on these subjects are commonly the same. No criticism can be
very instructive which descends not to particulars, and is not full of
examples and illustrations. 'Tis allowed on all hands, that beauty, as
well as virtue, lies always in a medium; but where this medium is placed
is the great question, and can never be sufficiently explained by
general reasonings.
I shall deliver it as a third observation on this subject, "That we
ought to be more on our guard against the excess of refinement than that
of simplicity; and that because the former excess is both less beautiful
and more dangerous than the latter."
It is a certain rule that wit and passion are entirely inconsistent.
When the affections are moved, there is no place for the imagination.
The mind of man being naturally limited, it is impossible all his
faculties can operate at once; and the more any one predominates, the
less room is there for the others to exert their vigour. For this reason
a greater degree of simplicity is required in all compositions, where
men and actions and passions are painted, than in such as consist of
reflections and observations. And as the former species of writing is
the more engaging and beautiful, one may safely, upon this account, give
the preference to the extreme of simplicity above that of refinement.
We may also observe, that those compositions which we read the oftenest,
and which every man of taste has got by heart, have the recommendation
of simplicity, and have nothing surprising in the thought when divested
of that elegance of expression and harmony of numbers with which it is
cloathed. If the merit of the composition lies in a point of wit, it may
strike at first; but the mind anticipates the thought in the second
perusal, and is no longer affected by it. When I read an epigram of
Martial, the first line recalls the whole; and I have no pleasure in
repeating to myself what I know already. But each line, each word in
Catullus has its merit; and I am never tired with the perusal of him. It
is sufficient to rim over Cowley once; but Parnel, after the fiftieth
reading, is fresh as at the first. Besides, it is with books as with
women, where a certain plainness of manner and of dress is more engaging
than that glare of paint and airs and apparel which may dazzle the eye
but reaches not the affections. Terence is a modest and bashful beauty,
to whom we grant every thing, because he assumes nothing, and whose
purity and nature make a durable though not a violent impression upon
us.
But refinement, as it is the less beautiful, so it is the more dangerous
extreme, and what we are the aptest to fall into. Simplicity passes for
dulness when it is not accompanied with great elegance and propriety.
On the contrary, there is something surprising in a blaze of wit
and conceit. Ordinary readers are mightily struck with it, and
falsely imagine it to be the most difficult, as well as most
excellent way of writing. Seneca abounds with agreeable faults, says
Quinctilian--_abundat dulcibus vitiis_; and for that reason is the more
dangerous and the more apt to pervert the taste of the young and
inconsiderate.
I shall add, that the excess of refinement is now more to be guarded
against than ever; because it is the extreme which men are the most apt
to fall into, after learning has made great progress, and after eminent
writers have appeared in every species of composition. The endeavour to
please by novelty leads men wide of simplicity and nature, and fills
their writings with affectation and conceit. It was thus that the age of
Claudius and Nero became so much inferior to that of Augustus in taste
and genius; and perhaps there are at present some symptoms of a like
degeneracy of taste, in France as well as in England.
HUME.
* * * * *
JOHN HAMPDEN.
The celebrated patriot, John Hampden, was descended from an ancient
family in Buckinghamshire, where he was born in 1594. On leaving the
University, he entered the inns of court, where he made considerable
progress in the study of the law. He was chosen to serve in the
Parliament which assembled at Westminster, February, 1626, and served in
all the succeeding Parliaments in the reign of Charles I. That Monarch
having quarrelled with his Parliament, was obliged to have recourse to
the open exercise of his prerogative in order to supply himself with
money. From the nobility he desired assistance; from the City of London
he required a loan of £100,000. The former contributed but slowly; the
latter at length gave a flat denial. To equip a fleet, an apportionment
was made, by order of the Council, amongst all the maritime towns, each
of which was required, with the assistance of the adjoining counties, to
furnish a certain number of vessels or amount of shipping. The City of
London was rated at twenty ships. And this was the first appearance in
the present reign of ship-money--a taxation which had once been imposed
by Elizabeth, on a great emergency, but which, revived and carried
further by Charles, produced the most violent discontent.
[Illustration: STATUE OF JOHN HAMPDEN.]
In 1636, John Hampden became universally known by his intrepid
opposition to the ship-money, as an illegal tax. Upon this he was
prosecuted, and his conduct throughout the transaction gained him great
credit and reputation. When the Long Parliament began, the eyes of all
were fixed upon him as the father of his country. On the 3rd of January,
1642, the King ordered articles of high treason, and other
misdemeanours, to be prepared against Lord Kimbolton, Mr. Hampden, and
four other members of the House of Commons, and went to the House to
seize them, but they had retired. Mr. Hampden afterwards made a
celebrated speech in the House to clear himself from the charge brought
against him.
In the beginning of the civil war Hampden commanded a regiment of foot,
and did good service at the battle of Edgehill; but he received a mortal
wound in an engagement with Prince Rupert, in Chalgrave-field, in
Oxfordshire, and died in 1648. Hampden is said to have possessed in a
high degree talents for gaining and preserving popular influence, and
great courage, industry, and strength of mind, which procured him great
ascendancy over other men.
* * * * *
OTHELLO'S HISTORY.
[Illustration: Letter H.]
Her father loved me; oft invited me;
Still question'd me the story of my life,
From year to year: the battles, sieges, fortunes,
That I have past.
I ran it through, even from my boyish days
To the very moment that he bade me tell it.
Wherein I spake of most disastrous chances,
Of moving incidents by flood and field,
Of hair-breadth 'scapes in the imminent deadly breach,
Of being taken by the insolent foe,
And sold to slavery; of my redemption thence,
And 'portance in my travels' history;
Wherein of antres vast, and deserts idle,
Rough quarries, rocks, and hills whose heads touch heaven,
It was my hint to speak--such was the process;
And of the cannibals that each other eat--
The Anthropophagi--and men whose heads
Do grow beneath their shoulders. These things to bear
Would Desdemona seriously incline:
still the house affairs would draw her thence;
Which ever as she could with haste dispatch,
She'd come again, and with a greedy ear
Devour up my discourse; which I observing,
Took once a pliant hour, and found good means
To draw from her a prayer of earnest heart,
That I would all my pilgrimage relate,
Whereof by parcels she had something heard
But not intentively: I did consent;
And often did beguile her of her tears,
When I did speak of some distressful stroke
That my youth suffer'd. My story being done,
She gave me for my pains a world of sighs;
She swore--in faith 'twas strange, 'twas passing strange;
'Twas pitiful, 'twas wondrous pitiful;
She wish'd she had not heard it; yet she wish'd
That Heaven had made her such a man: she thank'd me;
And bade me if I had a friend that loved her,
I should but teach him how to tell my story,
And that would woo her. Upon this hint I spake;
She loved me for the dangers I had pass'd,
And I loved her that she did pity them.
This only is the witchcraft I have used:
Here comes the lady; let her witness it.
SHAKSPEARE.
* * * * *
FILIAL LOVE.
[Illustration: Letter V.]
Verily duty to parents is of the first consequence; and would you, my
young friends, recommend yourselves to the favour of your God and
Father, would you imitate the example of your adorable Redeemer,
and be made an inheritor of his precious promises; would you enjoy
the peace and comforts of this life, and the good esteem of your
fellow-creatures--Reverence your parents; and be it your constant
endeavour, as it will be your greatest satisfaction, to witness your
high sense of, and to make some returns for the obligations you owe to
them, by every act of filial obedience and love.
Let their commands be ever sacred in your ears, and implicitly obeyed,
where they do not contradict the commands of God: pretend not to be
wiser than they, who have had so much more experience than yourselves;
and despise them not, if haply you should be so blest as to have gained
a degree of knowledge or of fortune superior to them. Let your carriage
towards them be always respectful, reverent, and submissive; let your
words be always affectionate and humble, and especially beware of pert
and ill-seeming replies; of angry, discontented, and peevish looks.
Never imagine, if they thwart your wills, or oppose your inclinations,
that this ariseth from any thing but love to you: solicitous as they
have ever been for your welfare, always consider the same tender
solicitude as exerting itself, even in cases most opposite to your
desires; and let the remembrance of what they have done and suffered for
you, ever preserve you from acts of disobedience, and from paining those
good hearts which have already felt so much for you, their children.
The Emperor of China, on certain days of the year, pays a visit to his
mother, who is seated on a throne to receive him; and four times on his
feet, and as often on his knees, he makes her a profound obeisance,
bowing his head even to the ground.
Sir Thomas More seems to have emulated this beautiful example; for,
being Lord Chancellor of England at the same time that his father was a
Judge of the King's Bench, he would always, on his entering Westminster
Hall, go first to the King's Bench, and ask his father's blessing before
he went to sit in the Court of Chancery, as if to secure success in the
great decisions of his high and important office.
DR. DODD.
* * * * *
QUEEN MARY'S BOWER, CHATSWORTH.
[Illustration: Letter W.]
When the widowed Mary, Queen of Scots, left France, where she had dwelt
since her fifth year--where she had shared in the education of the
French King's own daughters, in one of the convents of the kingdom, and
been the idol of the French Court and people, it is said that, as the
coast of the happy land faded from her view, she continued to exclaim,
"Farewell, France! farewell, dear France--I shall never see thee more!"
And her first view of Scotland only increased the poignancy of these
touching regrets. So little pains had been taken to "cover over the
nakedness and poverty of the land," that tears sprang into her eyes,
when, fresh from the elegant luxurious Court of Paris, she saw the
wretched ponies, with bare, wooden saddles, or dirty and ragged
trappings, which had been provided to carry her and her ladies from the
water-side to Holyrood. And then the palace itself; how different from
the palaces in which she had lived in France! Dismal and small, it
consisted only of what is now the north wing. The state-room and the
bed-chamber which were used by her yet remain, with the old furniture,
and much of the needle-work there is said to have been the work of her
hands. During her long and melancholy imprisonment in England, the art
of needle-work and reading were almost her only mode of relieving the
dreary hours.
From the moment Mary of Scotland took the fatal resolution of throwing
herself upon the supposed kindness and generosity of Elizabeth, her fate
was sealed, and it was that of captivity, only to be ended by death.
She was immediately cut off from all communication with her subjects,
except such as it was deemed proper to allow; and was moved about from
place to place, the better to ensure her safety. The hapless victim
again and again implored Elizabeth to deal generously and justly with
her. "I came," said she, in one of her letters, "of mine own accord; let
me depart again with yours: and if God permit my cause to succeed, I
shall be bound to you for it." But her rival was unrelenting, and, in
fact, increased the rigours of her confinement. Whilst a prisoner at
Chatsworth, she had been permitted the indulgence of air and exercise;
and the bower of Queen Mary is still shown in the noble grounds of that
place, as a favourite resort of the unfortunate captive. But even this
absolutely necessary indulgence was afterwards denied; she was wholly
confined to the Castle of Fotheringay, and a standing order was issued
that "she should be shot if she attempted to escape, or if others
attempted to rescue her."
[Illustration: QUEEN MARY'S BOWER, AT CHATSWORTH.]
Burns, in his "Lament of Mary, Queen of Scots," touchingly expresses the
weary feelings that must have existed in the breast of the Royal
captive:--
"Oh, soon to me may summer suns
Nae mair light up the morn!
Nae mair to me the autumn winds
Wave o'er the yellow corn!
And in the narrow house of death,
Let winter round me rave;
And the next flowers that deck the spring,
Bloom on my peaceful grave."
* * * * *
TUBULAR RAILWAY BRIDGES.
In the year 1850, a vast line of railway was completed from Chester to
Holyhead, for the conveyance of the Royal mails, of goods and
passengers, and of her Majesty's troops and artillery, between London
and Dublin--Holyhead being the most desirable point at which to effect
this communication with Ireland. Upon this railway are two stupendous
bridges, which are the most perfect examples of engineering skill ever
executed in England, or in any other country.
The first of these bridges carries the railway across the river Conway,
close to the ancient castle built by Edward I. in order to bridle his
new subjects, the Welsh.
The Conway bridge consists of a tube, or long, huge chest, the ends of
which rest upon stone piers, built to correspond with the architecture
of the old castle. The tube is made of wrought-iron plates, varying in
thickness from a quarter of an inch to one inch, riveted together, and
strengthened by irons in the form of the letter T; and, to give
additional strength to the whole, a series of cells is formed at the
bottom and top of the tube, between an inner ceiling and floor and the
exterior plates; the iron plates which form the cells being riveted and
held in their places by angle irons. The space between the sides of the
tube is 14 feet; and the height of the whole, inclusive of the cells, is
22 feet 3-1/2 inches at the ends, and 25 feet 6 inches at the centre.
The total length of the tube is 412 feet. One end of the tube is fixed
to the masonry of the pier; but the other is so arranged as to allow for
the expansion of the metal by changes of the temperature of the
atmosphere, and it therefore, rests upon eleven rollers of iron, running
upon a bed-plate; and, that the whole weight of the tube may not be
carried by these rollers, six girders are carried over the tube, and
riveted to the upper parts of its sides, which rest upon twelve balls of
gun-metal running in grooves, which are fixed to iron beams let into the
masonry.
The second of these vast railway bridges crosses the Menai Straits,
which separate Caernarvon from the island of Anglesey. It is constructed
a good hundred feet above high-water level, to enable large vessels to
sail beneath it; and in building it, neither scaffolding nor centering
was used.
The abutments on either side of the Straits are huge piles of masonry.
That on the Anglesey side is 143 feet high, and 173 feet long. The wing
walls of both terminate in splendid pedestals, and on each are two
colossal lions, of Egyptian design; each being 25 feet long, 12 feet
high though crouched, 9 feet abaft the body, and each paw 2 feet 1
inches. Each weighs 30 tons. The towers for supporting the tube are of a
like magnitude with the entire work. The great Britannia Tower, in the
centre of the Straits, is 62 feet by 52 feet at its base; its total
height from the bottom, 230 feet; it contains 148,625 cubic feet of
limestone, and 144,625 of sandstone; it weighs 20,000 tons; and there
are 387 tons of cast iron built into it in the shape of beams and
girders. It sustains the four ends of the four long iron tubes which
span the Straits from shore to shore. The total quantity of stone
contained in the bridge is 1,500,000 cubic feet. The side towers stand
at a clear distance of 460 feet from the great central tower; and,
again, the abutments stand at a distance from the side towers of 230
feet, giving the entire bridge a total length of 1849 feet,
corresponding with the date of the year of its construction. The side
or land towers are each 62 feet by 52 feet at the base, and 190 feet
high; they contain 210 tons of cast iron.
[Illustration: CONWAY CASTLE AND TUBULAR BRIDGE.]
The length of the great tube is exactly 470 feet, being 12 feet longer
than the clear space between the towers, and the greatest span ever yet
attempted. The greatest height of the tube is in the centre--30 feet,
and diminishing towards the end to 22 feet. Each tube consists of sides,
top and bottom, all formed of long, narrow wrought-iron plates, varying
in length from 12 feet downward. These plates are of the same
manufacture as those for making boilers, varying in thickness from
three-eighths to three-fourths of an inch. Some of them weigh nearly 7
cwt., and are amongst the largest it is possible to roll with any
existing machinery. The connexion between top, bottom, and sides is made
much more substantial by triangular pieces of thick plate, riveted in
across the corners, to enable the tube to resist the cross or twisting
strain to which it will be exposed from the heavy and long-continued
gales of wind that, sweeping up the Channel, will assail it in its lofty
and unprotected position. The rivets, of which there are 2,000,000--each
tube containing 327,000--are more than an inch in diameter. They are
placed in rows, and were put in the holes red hot, and beaten with heavy
hammers. In cooling, they contracted strongly, and drew the plates
together so powerfully that it required a force of from 1 to 6 tons to
each rivet, to cause the plates to slide over each other. The weight of
wrought iron in the great tube is 1600 tons.
Each of these vast bridge tubes was constructed on the shore, then
floated to the base of the piers, or bridge towers, and raised to its
proper elevation by hydraulic machinery, the largest in the world, and
the most powerful ever constructed. For the Britannia Bridge, this
consisted of two vast presses, one of which has power equal to that of
30,000 men, and it lifted the largest tube six feet in half an hour.
The Britannia tubes being in two lines, are passages for the up and down
trains across the Straits. Each of the tubes has been compared to the
Burlington Arcade, in Piccadilly; and the labour of placing this tube
upon the piers has been assimilated to that of raising the Arcade upon
the summit of the spire of St. James's Church, if surrounded with water.
Each line of tube is 1513 feet in length; far surpassing in size any
piece of wrought-iron work ever before put together; and its weight is
5000 tons, being nearly equal to that of two 120-gun ships, having on
board, ready for sea, guns, provisions, and crew. The plate-iron
covering of the tubes is not thicker than the hide of an elephant, and
scarcely thicker than the bark of an oak-tree; whilst one of the large
tubes, if placed on its end in St. Paul's churchyard, would reach 107
feet higher than the cross of the cathedral.
[Illustration: CONSTRUCTING THE BRITANNIA TUBULAR BRIDGE.]
* * * * *
THE MARINERS OF ENGLAND.
Ye mariners of England!
Who guard our native seas,
Whose flag has braved a thousand years
The battle and the breeze,
Your glorious standard launch again,
To match another foe,
And sweep through the deep
While the stormy tempests blow;
While the battle rages long and loud,
And the stormy tempests blow.
The spirits of your fathers
Shall start from every wave!
For the deck it was their field of fame,
And Ocean was their grave;
Where Blake and mighty Nelson fell,
Your manly hearts shall glow,
As ye sweep through the deep,
While the stormy tempests blow;
While the battle rages long and loud,
And the stormy tempests blow.
Britannia needs no bulwarks,
No towers along the steep;
Her march is o'er the mountain waves,
Her home is on the deep:
With thunders from her native oak,
She quells the floods below,
As they roar on the shore,
When the stormy tempests blow;
When the battle rages long and loud,
And the stormy tempests blow.
The meteor-flag of England
Shall yet terrific burn,
Till danger's troubled night depart,
And the star of peace return.
Then, then, ye ocean-warriors!
Our song and feast shall flow
To the fame of your name,
When the storm has ceased to blow;
When the fiery fight is heard no more,
And the storm has ceased to blow.
CAMPBELL.
* * * * *
KAFFIR LETTER-CARRIER.
"I knew" (says the pleasing writer of "Letters from Sierra Leone") "that
the long-looked-for vessel had at length furled her sails and dropped
anchor in the bay. She was from England, and I waited, expecting every
minute to feast my eyes upon at least one letter; but I remembered how
unreasonable it was to suppose that any person would come up with
letters to this lonely place at so late an hour, and that it behoved me
to exercise the grace of patience until next day. However, between ten
and eleven o'clock, a loud shouting and knocking aroused the household,
and the door was opened to a trusty Kroo messenger, who, although one of
a tribe who would visit any of its members in their own country with
death, who could 'savey white man's book,' seemed to comprehend
something of our feelings at receiving letters, as I overheard him
exclaim, with evident glee, 'Ah! massa! here de right book come at
last.' Every thing, whether a brown-paper parcel, a newspaper, an
official despatch, a private letter or note is here denominated a
'book,' and this man understood well that newspapers are never received
so gladly amongst 'books' from England as letters." The Kaffir, in the
Engraving, was sketched from one employed to convey letters in the South
African settlements; he carries his document in a split at the end of a
cane.
[Illustration: KAFFIR LETTER-CARRIER.]