One may recoil with a painful sense of material incongruity, as did

Hawthorne, when contemplating the noisome suburban street where Burns

lived; but all the humane and poetical associations connected with the

long struggle sustained by him, of 'the highest in man's soul against the

lowest in man's destiny,' recur in sight of the Bridge of Doon, and the

'Twa Brigs of Ayr,' whose 'imaginary conversations' he caught and

recorded; or that other bridge which spans a glen on the Auchinleck

estate, where the rustic bard first saw the Lass of Ballochmyle. The

tender admiration which embalms the name of Keats is also blent with the

idea of a bridge. The poem which commences his earliest published volume

was suggested, according to Milnes, as he 'loitered by the gate that leads

from the battery on Hampstead Heath to the field by Caenwood;' and the

young poet told his friend Clarke that the sweet passage, 'Awhile upon

some bending planks,' came to him as he hung 'over the rail of a

foot-bridge that spanned a little brook in the last field upon entering

Edmonton.' One of Wordsworth's finest sonnets was composed on Westminster

Bridge. To the meditative pedestrian, indeed, such places lure to

quietude; the genial Country Parson, whose _Recreations_ we have recently

shared, unconsciously illustrates this, as he speaks of the privilege men

like him enjoy, when free 'to saunter forth with a delightful sense of

leisure, and know that nothing will go wrong, although he should sit down

on the mossy parapet of the little one-arched bridge that spans the

brawling mountain-stream.' On that Indian-summer day when Irving was

buried, no object of the familiar landscape, through which, without

formality, and in quiet grief, so many of the renowned and the humble

followed his remains from the village church to the rural graveyard, wore

so pensive a fitness to the eye as the simple bridge over Sleepy-Hollow

Creek, near to which Ichabod Crane encountered the headless horseman,--not

only as typical of his genius, which thus gave a local charm to the scene,

but because the country-people, in their heartfelt wish to do him honour,

had hung wreaths of laurel upon the rude planks. There are few places in

Europe where the picturesque and historical associations of a bridge more

vividly impress the spectator than Sorrento; divided from the main land by

a gorge two hundred feet deep and fifty wide, the chasm is spanned by a

bridge which rests on double arches, built by the Romans; it is the

popular rendezvous, and, beheld on coming from some adjacent

orange-garden, resembles a picture,--the men with their crimson or brown

caps, and the women with jetty hair and eyes and enormous earrings,

cluster there in the centre of the most exquisite scenery. There is a

bridge across the Adige, at Verona, which used to be opened but once a

year, on account of the risk of injury--its span being prodigious; it was

long called the 'Holiday Bridge.' In Paris the change in the names of

bridges is historically significant: in 1817 'the bridge of Austerlitz

abdicated its name,' and became the bridge of the Jardin des Plantes. The

lofty bridge of Carignano, at Genoa, owes its existence to a quarrel

between two noblemen; and it is a favourite sacrificial spot to suicides

who have repeatedly thrown themselves therefrom headlong into the Strada

Servi.

'The Baltimore and Ohio railroad company lose two of their admirable

bridges: one at Fairmount, over the Monongahela river, and the famous one

over the Cheat river,' wrote a late reporter from the scene of war in

Virginia. 'The latter was one of the most beautiful structures in the

United States, and, being placed amid scenery of unsurpassed grandeur, it

had already become a classic spot in the guide-book of American art. It

was vandalism fit for ingrates and traitors of the lowest type to destroy

what was at once so beautiful and useful a monument of taste and science.'

Another fine landscape effect produced by a bridge is at Spoleto, in the

Roman States; the ten brick arches that so picturesquely span the romantic

valley, have carried the water for centuries into the old city. The

magnificent bridge by which Madrid is approached, is a grand feature in

the adjacent landscape; and its striking photograph a noble souvenir of

the Spanish capital. The most awful bridge imagination ever created is

that described by Milton, whereby Satan's 'sea should find a shore:'--

'Sin and Death amain

Following his track, such was the will of Heaven,

Pav'd after him a broad and beaten way

O'er the dark abyss, whose boiling gulf

Tamely endured a bridge of wond'rous length,

From hell continued, reaching th' utmost orb

Of this frail world; by which the spirits perverse

With easy intercourse pass to and fro

To tempt and punish mortals.'

Fragments, as well as entire roadways and arches of natural bridges, are

more numerous in rocky, mountainous, and volcanic regions than is

generally supposed; the action of the water in excavating cliffs, the

segments of caverns, the accidental shapes of geological formations, often

result in structures so adapted for the use and like the shape of bridges

as to appear of artificial origin. In the States of Alabama and Kentucky,

especially, we have notable instances of these remarkable freaks of

Nature; there is one in Walker county, of the former State, which, as a

local curiosity, is unsurpassed; and one in the romantic county of

Christian, in the latter State, makes a span of seventy feet with an

altitude of thirty; while the vicinity of the famous Alabaster Mountain of

Arkansas boasts a very curious and interesting formation of this species.

Two of these natural bridges are of such vast proportions and symmetrical

structure that they rank among the wonders of the world, and have long

been the goals of pilgrimage, the shrines of travel. Their structure would

hint the requisites, and their forms the lines of beauty, desirable in

architectural prototypes. Across Cedar creek, in Rockbridge county,

Virginia, a beautiful and gigantic arch, thrown by elemental forces and

shaped by time, extends. It is a stratified arch, whence you gaze down two

hundred feet upon the flowing water; its sides are rock, nearly

perpendicular. Popular conjecture reasonably deems it the fragmentary arch

of an immense limestone cave; its loftiness imparts an aspect of

lightness, although at the centre it is nearly fifty feet thick, and so

massive is the whole that over it passes a public road, so that by

keeping in the middle one might cross unaware of the marvel. To realize

its height it must be viewed from beneath; from the side of the creek it

has a Gothic aspect; its immense walls, clad with forest-trees, its dizzy

elevation, buttress-like masses, and aërial symmetry, make this sublime

arch one of those objects which impress the imagination with grace and

grandeur all the more impressive because the mysterious work of

Nature,--eloquent of the ages, and instinct with the latent forces of the

universe. Equally remarkable, but in a diverse style, is the Giant's

Causeway, whose innumerable black stone columns rise from two to four

hundred feet above the water's edge in the county of Antrim, on the north

coast of Ireland. These basaltic pillars are for the most part pentagonal,

whose five sides are closely united, not in one conglomerate mass, but

articulated so aptly that to be traced the ball and socket must be

disjointed.

The effect of statuary upon bridges is memorable. The Imperial statues

which line that of Berlin form an impressive array; and whoever has seen

the figures on the bridge of Sant' Angelo at Rome, when illuminated on a

Carnival night, or the statues upon Santa Trinità at Florence, bathed in

moonlight, and their outlines distinctly revealed against sky and water,

cannot but realize how harmoniously sculpture may heighten the

architecture of the bridge. More quaint than appropriate is pictorial

embellishment; a beautiful Madonna or local saint placed midway or at

either end of a bridge, especially one of mediæval form and fashion, seems

appropriate; but elaborate painting, such as one sees at Lucerne, strikes

us as more curious than desirable. The bridge which divides the town and

crosses the Reuss is covered, yet most of the pictures are

weather-stained; as no vehicles are allowed, foot-passengers can examine

them at ease. They are in triangular frames, ten feet apart; but few have

any technical merit. One series illustrates Swiss history; and the

Kapellbrücke has the pictorial life of the Saint of the town; while the

Mile Bridge exhibits a quaint and rough copy of the famous 'Dance of

Death.'

In Switzerland what fearful ravines and foaming cascades do bridges cross!

sometimes so aërial, and overhanging such precipices, as to justify to the

imagination the name superstitiously bestowed on more than one, of the

Devil's Bridge; while from few is a more lovely effect of near water seen

than the 'arrowy Rhone,' as we gaze down upon its 'blue rushing,' beneath

the bridge at Geneva. Perhaps the varied pictorial effects of bridges, at

least in a city, are nowhere more striking than at Venice, whose five

hundred, with their mellow tint and association with palatial architecture

and streets of water, especially when revealed by the soft and radiant

hues of an Italian sunset, present outlines, shapes, colours, and

contrasts so harmonious and beautiful as to warm and haunt the imagination

while they charm the eye. It is remarkable, as an artistic fact, how

graciously these structures adapt themselves to such diverse

scenes,--equally, though variously, picturesque amid the sturdy foliage

and wild gorges of the Alps, the bustle, fog, and mast-forest of the

Thames, and the crystal atmosphere, Byzantine edifices, and silent canals

of Venice.

Whoever has truly felt the aërial perspective of Turner has attained a

delicate sense of the pictorial significance of the bridge; for, as we

look through his floating mists, we descry, amid Nature's most evanescent

phenomena, the span, the arch, the connecting lines or masses whereby this

familiar image seems to identify itself not less with Nature than with

Art. Among the drawings which Arctic voyagers have brought home, many a

bridge of ice, enormous and symmetrical, seems to tempt adventurous feet

and to reflect a like form of fleecy cloud-land; daguerreotyped by the

frost in miniature, the same structures may be traced on the window-pane;

printed on the fossil and the strata of rock, in the veins of bark and the

lips of shells, or floating in sunbeams, an identical design appears; and,

on a summer morning, as the eye carefully roams over a lawn, how often do

the most perfect little suspension-bridges hang from spear to spear of

herbage, their filmy span embossed with glittering dewdrops![52]

THE END.

FOOTNOTES:

[1] 'A recent London paper advertises a genuine _thesaurus_ of ancient

tavern signs and other curiosities at auction, collected during a long

life by some curious antiquary. The catalogue covered an extensive and

unique collection for a history of ancient and modern inns, taverns, and

coffee-houses, in town and country (numbering upwards of 850 signs),

formed with unwearied diligence and vast outlay during a lifetime; and

illustrated with upwards of 2,500 ancient and modern engravings,

comprising topographical and antiquarian subjects, early views of London,

caricatures, humorous and satirical subjects, portraits of celebrities

whose names have been adopted as signs, characters remarkable for their

eccentricities, actors and actresses; others illustrating ancient sports

and pastimes, etchings, wood-cuts, and numerous others, plain and

coloured, many of great rarity; also 415 drawings in water-colours, sepia,

and pen and ink, and numerous copies from scarce engravings and old

paintings; together with extensive antiquarian, local, and biographical

notices (both printed and in MS.) on signs and their origin, merriments

and witticisms in prose and verse, tales, traditions, legends, and

remarkable incidents, singular inscriptions on tap-room windows and walls,

anecdotes of landlords, guests, visitors, writers, &c.'

[2] Count Pecchio.

[3] Alexander Smith.

[4] Prescott's Robertson's _Charles Fifth_, vol. 1, p. 355.

[5] Brooks's _History of Medford_.

[6] A. Trollope.

[7] _A Month in England._

[8] _Life and Letters of John Winthrop_, by Robert C. Winthrop, p. 306.

[9] 'I would not,' observes Washington Irving in one of his letters, 'give

an hour's conversation with Wilkie about paintings, in his earnest but

precise and original enthusiasm, for all the enthusiasm and declamation of

the common run of amateurs and artists.'

[10] One of the recently-discovered gems of pictorial art in Florence is

the 'coach-house picture;' so called from being a fresco on a stable-wall;

and under the head of 'Romance of a Portrait,' the London _Athenæum_

publishes a statement which seems to show conclusively that the famous

portrait of Addison at Holland House, which has been copied and engraved

time and again, and has been mentioned as authentic by Macaulay, is in

fact not a portrait of Addison, but a portrait of Sir Andrew Fountaine, of

Narford Hall, Norfolk, vice-chamberlain to Queen Caroline, and the

successor of Sir Isaac Newton in the wardenship of the Mint.

[11] Another current tradition is the following:--'So great was the

excitement of the Roman populace against the condemnation of Beatrice,

that on her way to the scaffold three attempts were made, by concerted

bands of young men, to rescue her from the officers' hands. On the eve of

the fatal day she sat meditating her doom so intently, that for some time

she did not notice a young man who had bribed the jailer to admit him into

the cell for the purpose of making a sketch of her. Her appearance is thus

described:--"Beatrice had risen from her miserable pallet, but, unlike the

wretched inmate of a dungeon, resembled a being from a brighter sphere.

Her large brown eyes were of liquid softness, her forehead broad and

clear, her countenance of angelic purity, mysteriously beautiful. Around

her head a fold of white muslin had been carelessly wrapped, from whence

in rich luxuriance fell her fair and waving hair. Profound sorrow and

recent bodily anguish imparted an air of touching sensibility to her

lovely features. Suddenly turning, she discovered a stranger seated with

pencil and paper in hand looking earnestly at her--it was Guido Reni. She

demanded who he was, and what he did there; the frank young artist told

his name and object, when, after a moment's hesitation, Beatrice replied,

'Signor Guido, your great name and my sad story may make my portrait

interesting, and the picture will awaken compassion if you write on one of

its angles the word _innocent_.'" Thus was birth given to an inspired

picture, which, to contemplate, is itself worth a visit to Rome; which,

once seen, haunts the memory as a supernatural mystery--as the beautiful

apparition of sublimated suffering.'

[12] Bulwer's _Strange Story_.

[13] 'Mohammedanism had been the patron of physical science; paganizing

Christianity not only repudiated it, but exhibited towards it sentiments

of contemptuous disdain and hatred; hence physicians were viewed by the

Church with dislike, and regarded as atheists by the people, who had been

taught that cures must be wrought by relics of martyrs and bones of

saints: for each disease there was a saint. Already it was apparent that

the Saracenic movement would aid in developing the intelligence of

barbarian Western Europe, through Hebrew physicians, in spite of the

opposition encountered from theological ideas imported from Constantinople

and Rome.'--Draper's _Intellectual Development of Europe_, p. 414.

[14]

'When fainting Nature called for aid,

And hovering Death prepared the blow,

His vigorous remedy displayed

The power of Art without the show.

In Misery's darkest caverns known,

His useful help was ever nigh;

Where hopeless Anguish poured his groan,

Or lonely Want retired to die.

No summons mocked by chill delay,

No petty gains disdained by pride;

The modest wants of every day,

The toil of every day supplied.'

[15] _Shakspeare's Medical Knowledge_, by Charles W. Stearns, M.D. New

York: D. Appleton and Co.

[16] 'Country dances' were taught in France, in 1684, by Isaac, an

Englishman.--D.

[17] Which has long ceased to exist.

[18] _Essays of Elia._

[19] In 1860.

[20] _Friends in Council._

[21] 'By the working of the apparatus for the administration of justice,

they make their profits; and their welfare depends on its being so worked

as to bring them profits, rather than on its being so worked as to

administer justice.'--_Herbert Spencer._

[22] Lockhart's _Life of Scott_.

[23] Sir T. Browne.

[24] Deut. xxxiv. 6.

[25] Tennyson's _In Memoriam_.

[26] _Dei Sepolchri_, di Ugo Foscolo.

[27] A recent advocate for cremation thus suggests the process:--'On a

gentle eminence, surrounded by pleasant grounds, stands a convenient,

well-ventilated chapel, with a high spire or steeple. At the entrance,

where some of the mourners might prefer to take leave of the body, are

chambers for their accommodation. Within the edifice are seats for those

who follow the remains to the last; there is also an organ and a gallery

for choristers. In the centre of the chapel, embellished with appropriate

emblems and devices, is erected a shrine of marble, somewhat like those

which cover the ashes of the great and mighty in our old cathedrals, the

openings being filled with prepared glass. Within this--a sufficient space

intervening--is an inner shrine, covered with bright, non-radiating metal,

and within this again is a covered sarcophagus of tempered fire-clay, with

one or more longitudinal slits near the top, extending its whole length.

As soon as the body is deposited therein, sheets of flame, at an immensely

high temperature, rush through the long apertures from end to end; and

acting as a combination of a modified oxyhydrogen blowpipe, with the

reverberatory furnace, utterly and completely consume and decompose the

body in an incredibly short space of time; even the large quantity of

water it contains is decomposed by the extreme heat, and its elements,

instead of retarding, aid combustion, as is the case in fierce

conflagrations. The gaseous products of combustion are conveyed away by

flues, and means being adopted to consume anything like smoke, all that is

observed from the outside is occasionally a quivering transparent ether

floating away from the high steeple to mingle with the atmosphere.'

[28] 'How can we reconcile this pious and faithful remembrance with the

character of a nation generally thought so frivolous and inconstant? Let

this amiable, affectionate, but slandered people send the stranger and the

traveller to this place. These carefully tended flowers, these tombs, will

speak their defence.'--_Memoir of Harriet Preble_, p. 70.

[29] _Atlantic Monthly_, vol. ii., p. 139.

[30] 'I am now engaged,' wrote Mr. Severn, the artist-friend who watched

over Keats in his last hours, 'on a picture of the poet's grave. The

classical story of _Endymion_ being the subject of his principal poem, I

have introduced a young shepherd sleeping against the headstone, with his

flock about him; while the moon from behind the pyramid illuminates his

figure, and serves to realize the poet's favourite theme, in the presence

of his grave. This interesting incident is not fanciful, but is what I

actually saw, one autumn evening, at Monte Tertanio, the year following

the poet's death.'

[31] Ticknor's _Spanish Literature_.

[32] W. L. Symonds.

[33] 'News-letters were written by enterprising individuals in the

metropolis, and sent to rich persons who subscribed for them; and then

circulated from family to family, and doubtless enjoyed a privilege which

has not descended to their printed contemporary--the newspaper,--of never

becoming stale. Their authors compiled them from materials picked up in

the gossip of the coffee-houses.'--Draper's _History of the Intellectual

Development of Europe_, p. 509.

[34] _Jockey's Intelligencer_, 1683.

[35] Burke's influence upon journalism was still more direct. While

preparing for Dodsley 'An Account of the European Settlements in America,'

he was led by his researches to suggest a periodical which should

chronicle the important literary, political, and social facts of the year.

Such was the origin of the _Annual Registers_. The first volume appeared

in 1759. For several years it was edited by Burke, is still regularly

published, and has been imitated in similar publications elsewhere, having

finally initiated and established the historical element of journalism.

[36] The following return of the numbers daily printed by the principal

Paris journals is taken from M. Didot's pamphlet on the fabrication of

paper. It may be regarded as official: _Presse_, 40,000; _Siècle_, 35,000;

_Constitutionel_, 25,000; _Moniteur_, 24,000; _Patrie_, 18,000; _Pays_,

14,000; _Débats_, 9,000; _Assemblée Nationale_, 5,000; _Univers_, 3,500;

_Union_, 3,500; _Gazette de France_, 2,500; _Gazettes de Tribunaux_,

2,500. These journals are all printed in five offices; and the quantity of

paper they annually consume amounts to more than four millions of pounds.

[37] Bryant.

[38] _Blackwood's Magazine_, vol. xxviii., p. 8.

[39] Draper's _Intellectual Development of Europe_.

[40] Dr. Sprague's _Annals of the American Pulpit_ is full of delineations

and anecdotes of prominent preachers. Their energy, zeal, and courage are

viewed in connection with their racy individual peculiarities. What some

of the Methodists had and have to endure and suffer, is indicated by a

direction from a circuit, in want of a preacher, to the Western

Conference: 'Be sure you send us a good swimmer,'--it being the duty of

the minister in that region frequently to swim wide and bridgeless streams

to keep his appointments.

[41] _Mémoires de Rochambeau._

[42] Rev. Archibald Carlyle's _Autobiography_.

[43] The _Warden_, _Barchester Towers_, and _Framley Parsonage_, by A.

Trollope; _Vincenzo_, by Ruffini; _Mademoiselle La Quintinie_, par Geo.

Sand; _La Maudit_, par L'Abbe ----; _Adam Bede_; _Chronicles of

Carlingford_, &c.

[44] Dr. J. W. Draper.

[45] Calvert's _Scenes and Thoughts in Europe_.

[46] Recent Italian journals speak of a project to construct a bridge over

the Straits of Messina, to unite Sicily with the mainland. The bridge

proposed will be a suspension one, on a new system, the chains being of

cast-steel, and strong enough to support the weight of several railway

trains.

[47] _Travels through the Middle Settlements of North America, in

1759-60._ By Rev. Andrew Burnaby.

[48] Bagehot.

[49] Sir Astley Cooper's nephew presented to Dr. Valentine Mott, the late

eminent New York surgeon, an elegantly-wrought case of amputating

instruments, the handles of which are made of the wood and the blades of

iron from old London Bridge, whose oak timbers were laid in 1176.

[50] _History of the Netherlands_, vol. i., p. 182.

[51] _Histoire du Pont Neuf_, par Edouard Fournier.

[52] 'The invention of the Suspension Bridge, by Sir Samuel Brown, sprung

from the sight of a spider's web hanging across the path of the inventor,

observed on a morning walk, when his mind was occupied with the idea of

bridging the Tweed.'

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