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CHANGE OF AIR,

AN

AUTUMNAL EXCURSION,

&c. &c. &c.

THE STEAMER.

On many a former occasion, the receding cliffs of old England have called forth

"The voice of sorrow from the bursting heart."

When the vessel's prow turned to foreign and unhealthy climes—when the "dangers of the sea and the violence of the enemy," were absorbed in the wretchedness of parting from all that human nature holds dear-when the stern mandates of WAR compelled the youth of Britain to spend the prime of life in traversing the ocean or campaigning on hostile shores-then the separation from friends and native home excited feelings which, in periods of peace, cannot be recognized or appreciated. But it is a wise ordination of Nature that TIME and the frequent repetition of impressions the most dolorous, render the sensations thereby excited less and less vivid, till at length they are scarcely perceptible. We may remember these impressions and sensations, but we cannot recal them—that is, we cannot renew them. There is, perhaps, nearly as much pleasure in the mellowed recollection of these triste emotions, after a lapse of years, as there was pain on their first occurrence. The remembrance of storms weathered, dangers escaped, battles survived, misfortunes overcome, excites a pleasing, though somewhat melancholy, musing in the mind, which those who have not experienced human vicissitudes can never know. With the assurance of this fact, Ulysses cheered his terrified and desponding countrymen and shipmates, in the dreadful hurricane off the coast of Carthage :—

Forsan et hæc olim meminisse juvabit.

There was nothing, however, in the present voyage, if it deserves that name, to call forth melancholy reflections. No passion perturbed the mind-no

cloud overcast the sky-scarcely a ripple was seen on the surface of the ocean. Dover Castle and the neighbouring batteries arrested not the attention; but Shakespeare's Cliff can never be dissociated from one of the sublimest passages which the poet ever penned. Never was description more exaggerated than in this instance ! A cliff by no means perpendicular, and not more than 150 or 200 feet high, is painted as one of the most frightful precipices that eye ever ventured to look over.

the murmuring surge

That on th' unnumbered idle pebbles chafes,

Can scarce be heard so high!

Many a time have I sat on the edge of this cliff, and distinguished the smallest pebbles on the beach, though the bard diminishes the crows and choughs "that wing the midway air" to the size of beetles! The only three places which I have ever seen to come at all near the poets' representation of Dover Cliffs were the Eastern side of the Rock of Gibraltar, the spectator being placed near O'Hara's Tower-LADDER HILL in St. Helena, looking down from the Battery into the Sea-and the Cliffs overhanging the Mediterranean, on several parts of the new road between Genoa and Nice, especially near MoNACHO. These precipices are at least six times the height of Dover Cliffs and 'tis really "fearful and dizzy" to cast one's eye over the horrid boundaries!

I have said there was scarcely a ripple on the surface of the ocean, and yet the vessel was cleaving the tide at the rate of eight miles an hour! He who has broiled for a fortnight or three weeks on the Equator

"When not a breath disturb'd the deep serene,

And not a cloud o'ercast the solemn scene,"

can hardly fail to bless the man who first invented STEAM-who compelled into strange and unnatural union two conflicting elements, fire and water, from which he conjured, with magic wand, a third element, more powerful than either or both of its parents! Of the wonders which steam has worked in the useful arts of PEACE it is unnecessary to speak. Of the revolutions which it may effect in the destructive art of wAR, yon solitary tower on the heights of Boulogne, with all its tumultuous recollections, and certain late harrangues in the CHAMBER of DEPUTIES, are calculated to awaken some feverish anticipations. A martial Deputy has hinted to an admiring audience, that STEAM will effect that which the elements have hitherto prevented-the subjugation of England. And how? By bringing the physical strength and moral courage of Frenchmen into immediate contact with the (inferior, of course) physical power and personal courage of Britons! The delicacy of such a conclusion need not be animadverted on; but the validity of it should

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be tried by sober history rather than by a heated imagination. Putting aside the various collisions that have taken place between the two nations, from the sands of Egypt to the plains of Waterloo,

"On stormy floods or carnage-covered fields,”

let us only glance at the naval side of the question. The first conflict, in the revolutionary war, was between the NYMPHE and CLEOPATRA-two frigates equal in metal, while the French ship had one-third more men than the English. The action was fought "yard-arm and yard-arm"-then changed to boarding—and the terrific contest and carnage terminated on the decks of the Frenchman, where the English hauled down the tri-coloured flag :—but then there was no steam to bring the GAUL and the BRITON into closer contact ! From single ships up to large fleets it was still the same—the invariable tactics of the French were, to fight at "long balls"-that of the English at "close quarters." Napoleon's choicest fleet was moored within cable's length of the shore in Aboukir Bay. Nelson anchored a great many of his ships between the Frenchmen and the shore. The battle was fought “yard-arm and yard-arm”—the French fleet was captured or burnt-but then steam was wanting to bring the "physical strength and moral courage" of Frenchmen to bear on Englishmen !

History seems to have yielded no wisdom to the martial Deputy. It would be vain to tell him that a million of men in arms-and those men BRITONS, on their own shores, fighting for their hearths and altars, would not be easily subdued by the largest army which his master Napoleon ever brought into the field. Steam only is wanting to waft an army across the Channel, and victory is certain! Now the aspirations after steam, must imply the superiority of the English fleet at the moment of invasion; for of what use would steam be, if the invaders had possession of the sea, and could choose their own time and place of landing? But, while the English fleet is superior, steam cannot effect the purpose of the Deputy. Boulogne Harbour, the only place where troops could possibly embark in flat-bottomed vessels, can contain no ships of war, and if a flotilla, impelled by steam, attempted to cross the Channel, it would be inevitably destroyed It could only make the attempt in a storm, when the English ships were blown into the Downs; or during a calm, when their sails were useless. The former is impossible—the latter would be discomfited by steam itself-for English engines will never be wanting to tow a sufficient number of frigates or line-of-battle-ships into the track of the flotilla-and then their destination would be speedily decided. Those who reached the British shore would land with their arms reversed, and their hopes of conquest vanished into air-thin air. Allowing, therefore, that Gallic muscle and nerve are constructed of better materials than the same parts in Britain, steam will never afford them a field for their superiority.

F

Machinery will be opposed to machinery; and, for various reasons, the British is likely to be the best. Never will it be possible to construct men of war with the addition of steam machinery and paddles. A few broadsides would soon render steam not only useless, but dangerous. Steam may prove useful in towing ships of war-but never can mix with cannon and gunpowder. It is to be hoped, however, that two nations of equal moral courage and physical force will only contend, in future, for the mastery in arts, science, and literature-leaving war and all its disastrous consequences to barbarians, who have little internal happiness to lose and all their martial renown to acquire. The proud laurel will not grow on either side of the Channel, except beneath the shadow of the mournful cypress or funereal yew-and that at the expense of the peaceful OLIVE! May the latter be cultivated exclusively by France and England during the remainder of the present century!'

CALAIS.

Is this the once celebrated fortress, where long sieges were sustained and powerful armies repulsed? Yes! Let any one walk round its ramparts, and he will acknowledge they exhibit a complete picture of desolation and decay! The moats are choaked up with mud and weeds-the walls are rapidly crumbling down into the fosse-the outworks are scarcely cognizable among the grass with which they are overgrown! Fuit Ilium! The interior of the town presents a very different aspect. English intercourse, or rather English money, has paved its streets, and even placed some flags along their sides-lighted its lamps-spread carpets on its floors-silver forks on its tables-nay, constructed water-closets in its gardens, the greatest wonder of all! Lastly, the English have introduced into this, and many other towns of France, a certain noun of multitude, without a name in the French language-COMFORT; for which they are amply re-paid in a certain article which they have generously presented to their mother country-INGRATITUDE!

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Of all the countries which these eyes have yet beheld

A gadibus usque

Auroram et gangem―

LA BELLE FRANCE is the most uninteresting. The flowers-nay even the flatness of Holland—with all its smooth canals and shaded dykes (those monuments of industry)-its fertile fields-its neat and cleanly towns-its painted houses, varnished furniture, and broad-based, thick-headed inhabi

CHARACTERISTICS OF FRANCE.

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tants, excite a variety of emotions, and those generally of a pleasant kind, in the mind of the traveller-but FRANCE, from the Pyrennees to the Rhine, from the Jura to the Atlantic, from Antibes to Calais, presents very few spots indeed, compared with her vast extent of surface, on which the eye can rest with either pleasure or admiration.* Her mountains are destitute of sublimity-her valleys of beauty. Her roads are still, in most places, and at the best, but narrow, rude, and rugged chaussées, bordered, on each side, with mud in Winter, and sand in Summer; less calculated to "speed the soft intercourse" among her inhabitants, than to demolish the springs of carriages, and dislocate the joints of travellers-designed, apparently, to check very effectually the "march of intellect," by causing a concussion of the brain at every step! Her fields, though fertile, are fenceless, and slovenly cultivated, presenting a bald and frigid aspect. Her VINEYARDS, even in the Bordelais, along the smiling borders of the Garonne, resemble plantations of turnips when compared with those on the romantic banks of the Rhine, the sloping glades of Italy, or the upland scenes of Madeira. Her gentlemen's countryseats are in Paris; and their chateaus are-in ruins

"With nettles skirted and with moss o'ergrown."

Her horses are rough, ugly, pot-bellied, ill-tempered, sour-countenanced, hard-working animals-the harness never cleaned or greased from the moment of its first construction till its final dissolution by winds and rains-her stagewaggons, y'cleped Diligences," are loco-motive prisons or pontons, in which the traveller is pressed, pounded, and, what is worse than all, poisoned with mephitic gases and noxious exhalations evolved from above, below, and around. Her provincial villages, towns, and even cities, are emblems of

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* Even John Bell, from novelty and non-acquaintance with other countries, has launched out in extravagant praises of "fair and fertile France.” His description of the scenery between Paris and Lyons is a caricature that will be very gratifying to Frenchmen-but it is a false picture. Excepting the banks of the Saone, between Macon and Lyons, the country is any thing but interesting. The spirited authoress of "Rome in the 19th Century," has drawn a more accurate picture, when she tells us that-"France is the most unpicturesque country in Europe. It is everywhere bounded by beauty, (the Alps, the Pyrennees, the Jura Mountains, &c.) but the country these grand boundaries inclose is remarkably devoid of beauty and interest. It is a dull picture set in a magnificent frame.”—Vol. I. p.

36.

It is very seldom that we meet with a foreigner, and especially a Frenchman, who has not a "smoky chimney." What with garlic dishes, rancid oils, everlasting cigars, and total inattention to mouth-washing, our Continental fellow-voyageurs are any thing but agreeable companions in a closed up diligence during the night!

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