"Mr. Bennie learned immediately from Smeaton the art of directing hydraulic constructions; he formed himself by the counsels and example of that great engineer, and by the study of the works of a master whom he was to equal in some respects, and surpass in many others." M. Dupin then alludes to the East India, the London, and the West India Docks, and observes,— "At the very moment he was snatched from us by death, he was busied in finishing a new construction, equally ingenious for its architecture and its mechanism. Vast roofs, supported by lofty colnmns of cast iron, present in the middle of their structure aërial roads, on which are made to run carriages, whose mechanism is so contrived, that by their means enormous mahogany trees, kept in these fine magazines, may be raised and let down at pleasure. By means of this ingenious system, a few workmen now execute in a few minutes what required formerly whole hours, and a number of workmen." Our limits will not allow us to follow M. Dupin through his account of the various works of Mr. Bennie. We cannot, however omit the following observations, with which he concludes his notice of the Breakwater of Plymouth : "This unalterable solidity, secured by the judiciousness of the forms and the prudence of the dimensions, appears to us to be the essential and distinctive character of the great works of Mr. Bennie. This character is particularly remarkable in the two most beautiful bridges which adorn the metropolis of the British Empire. "The Southwark Bridge is the first in which the bold idea of using cast iron in solid masses, and of an extent greatly supassing that of the largest stones employed in arches. The arches of this bridge are formed by metallic masses, of a size which could only be cast in a country in which metallurgy is carried to the highest degree of perfection. Mr. Bennie derived from this advanced state of industry all the advantages which it could furnish to his talents. When we consider the extent and the elevation of the arches of this bridge, and the enormity of the elements of which it is composed, we acquire a higher idea of the force of man, and we exclaim involuntarily, in our admiration of this chef d'œuvre, this is the Bridge of Giants!"" "If, from the incalculable effect of the revolutions which empires undergo, the nations of a future age should demand one day what was formerly the New Sidon, and what has become of the Tyre of the West, which covered with her vessels every sea?-the most of the edifices, devoured by a destructive climate, will no longer exist to answer the curiosity of man by the voice of monuments; but the bridge built by Bennie, in the centre of the commercial world, will subsist to tell the most distant generations, here was a rich, industrious, and powerful city. The traveller, on beholding this superb monument, will suppose that some great Prince wished, by many years of labour, to consecrate for ever the glory of his life by this imposing structure. But if tradition instruct the traveller that six years sufficed for the undertaking and finishing of this work; if he learns that an association of a number of private individuals was rich enough to defray the expense of this colossal monument, worthy of Sesostris or Cæsar, he will admire still more the nation in which similar undertakings could be the fruit of the efforts of a few obscure individuals, lost in the crowd of industrious citizens." Mr. Bennie cultivated his art with the most enthusiastic ardour, and instead of being merely a theorist, he prepared himself for practical efficiency, by visiting and minutely inspecting every work of magnitude in every country that bore similitude with those which he might be called upon to construct. His library abounded in a richer collection of scientific writings than that of almost any individual; and we repeat, that the loss of such a man is irreparable. Cut off in the full vigour of his mind, his death would almost seem to suspend for a time the march of national improvement, until the just fame of his merit shall animate our rising artists to imitate his great example, and to prepare themselves by study and observation to overcome, as he did, the most formidable impediments to the progress of human enterprise, of industry, and of increased facility in all the arts of life. The integrity of Mr. Bennie in the fulfilment of his labours, was equal to his genius in the contrivance of his plans and machinery. He would suffer none of the modern subterfuges for real strength to be resorted to by the contractors employed to execute what he had undertaken; and every thing he did was for futurity. An engineer, unlike an architect, has no commission on the amount of his expenditure, or Mr. Bennie would have been one of the most opulent men in England; for upwards of forty millions have been expended under his eye. But his glory was in the justice of his proceedings, and his enjoyment in the success of his labours. It was, indeed, only as a millwright that he engaged himself to execute the work he planned, and in this department society is indebted to him for so economizing the power of water, as to give an increase of energy by its specific gravity, to the natural fall of streams, and to make his mills equal to four-fold the produce of those which, before his time, depended solely on the impetus of the current. His largest mills thus work as smoothly as clock-work, and by the alternate contact of wood and iron, are less liable to the hazard of fire by friction. If the death of such a man is a national loss, what must it be to his private friends, and to his amiable family? Endeared to all who knew him by the gentleness of his temper, the cheerfulness with which he communicated the riches of his mind, and forwarded the views of those who made useful discoveries or improvements in machinery or implements, procured him universal respect. He gave to inventors all the benefits of his experience, removed difficulties which had not occurred to the author, or suggested alterations which adapted the instrument to its use. No jealousy nor self-interest ever prevented the exercise of this free and unbounded communication; for the love of science was, in his mind, superior to all mercenary feeling. In the active exercise of these virtues, and of these talents, Mr. Bennie was suddenly seized with a long and lingering illness, and died at his house in Stamford-street, Blackfriars, on Thursday, October 4th, 1821. WONDERS OF THE NETHERLANDS-THE HILL OF PETERSBERG. (Literary Gazette.) VOYAGE SOUTERRAIN; OU, DESCRIPTION DU PLATEAU DE SAINT PIERRE DE MAESTRICHT. THE Petersberg, or the Hill of St. Peter, is situated between the Jaar and the Meuse, and extends along the distance of nearly a league. The earth which is contained in the cavities in the interior of the hill furnishes materials for 3F ATHENEUM VOL. 10. building; but principally for manure, and for this double purpose it has been excavated from the most remote ages of antiquity. In the symmetrical galleries of Petersberg the Roman pick-axe has imprinted a kind of monumental character, and the feudal spade has left its Gothic traces. Workmen have, from time immemorial, been employed in extracting the bowels of the earth to fertilize its surface. Forages the pick-axe and wheelbarrow have worked passa`ges in every direction, and the traveller in this subterraneous labyrinth is happy, if, with the aid of his torches, he can return the way he entered. Streets, squares and cross-roads appear on ev 426 Wonders of the Netherlands-The Hill of Petersberg. ery side; in short the vaults of Petersberg present the appearance of a town, in which there are only wanting houses, inhabitants, theatres, carriages and gas-lamps. M. Bory de Saint-Vincent draws the following picture of this gloomy region: "If any thing," he says, "can add to the horror of the perfect darkness, it is the total silence which reigns in these dismal vaults. The voice of man is scarcely sufficient to disturb it; sound is, as it were, deadened by the thickness of the gloom. Echo itself, which the bewildered traveller may interrogate in the desert, dwells not in these silent cavities." It may naturally be conjectured, that superstition has peopled these subterranean vaults with demons and hobgoblins. Tradition has even allotted a hell and a paradise to the cavities of Petersberg. The huge pieces of coal, which an equal temperature has protected from the ravages of time, imagination has converted into monsters with claws, long tails, and horns. In various places, names, inscriptions and remote dates record the history of excavations, and relate numerous adventures and unfortunate deaths of which Petersberg has been the theatre. In one part of the vaults a workman, whose torch became extinguished, perished amidst the pangs of hunger and the horrors of darkness; his hat and some fragments of his clothes still remain to attest his melancholy fate. In another part the walls present the history of four friars, who purposed to erect a chapel at the remotest point of these cavities. The thread by which they were to trace back their way to the opening of the vaults, broke; the unfortunate men perished, and their bodies were subsequently found at the distance of a few paces from each other. However, catastrophes of this terrible kind presented fewer horrors to the conscripts of the Lower Meuse than the pursuits of the gendarmerie, and, according to the testimony of the author, many preferred dismal retreats to the laurels of WAGRAM and JENA. The interior of the Hill of St. Peter has given rise to anecdotes worth collecting; the Austrians, having posses [VOL.10 sion of the fort of Petersberg, discovered a secret communication with the vaults of the hill, of which the French troops guarded some of the entries. With torch in hand and fixed bayonets the Austrians attempted to surprise the French, but the latter, warned by the subterraneous lights, rushed upon the enemy, who were dazzled by their own torches, and a conflict ensued which resembled a combat of the infernal deities. The following story is of a less serious nature. Maestricht had fallen into the power of the French, and long continued a most formidable garrison. A portion of the Austrian population fled to the vaults beneath the hill of St. Peter. They took their cattle with them, and in the subterraneous cavities they hastily constructed rooms and stables. The French were unable to account for the miraculous disappearance of a portion of the conquered inhabitants, when a pig, which had escaped from its sty, rushed along the subterraneous galleries squeaking tremendously. It was heard by the French centinels, and this circumstance led them to sus pect the retreat of the Austrians. They adopted means to make the pig squeak still louder, in the hope of attracting the fugitives, when, to the great surprise of the French soldiers, several pigs rushed out to answer the summons of the imprudent deserter. In ancient times the Roman capital was saved by geese, and on this occasion a pig caused the destruction of the little republic of Petersberg. The Austrians were routed from their retreat, and their cattle and pigs, as may well be supposed, were speedily roasted and devoured. One of the most curious phenomena of the vaults of St Peter is the formation of geological organ-pipes. These are a kind of wells, the orifices of which are on the upper part of the hill, and which extend, like funnels, to its base. They serve as drains, which intercept the subterraneous galleries, and continually destroy their architecture. The origin of these geological phenomena has given rise to old conjectures. M. Mathieu, who has devoted great attention to the subject, supposes them to have been dug by some monstrous an¬ imal; but M. Bory de Saint-Vincent mentions an experiment which is suited very reasonably wages war against M. to the understanding of children: he Mathieu's enormous moles, and ascribes let fall some water, drop by drop, on the geological organ-pipes to the filtra- bits of sugar, and thus produced little tion of water. In support of this con- artificial wells similar to those on the jecture, M. Bory de Saint-Vincent hill. SONG OF THE TEMPEST. By the Author of Waverley. Sung by the Witch Norna, in "The Pirate." 1. "Stern eagle of the far north-west, Thou that bearest in thy grasp the thunderbolt, Thou whose rushing pinions stir ocean to madness, Thou the destroyer of herds, thou the scatterer of navies, Amidst the scream of thy rage, Amidst the rushing of thy onward wings, Though thy scream be loud as the cry of a perishing nation, Though the rushing of thy wings be like the roar of ten thousand waves, Hear thou the voice of the Reim-kennar. 2. "Thou hast met the pine-trees of Drontheim, Their dark-green heads lie prostrate beside their uprooted stems; Thou hast met the rider of the ocean, The tall, the strong bark of the fearless rover, And she has struck to thee the topsail That she had not veil'd to a royal armada; Thou hast met the tower that bears its crest among the clouds, The battled massive tower of the Jarl of former days, And the cope-stone of the turret Is lying upon its hospitable hearth; But thou too shalt stoop, proud compeller of clouds, When thou hearest the voice of the Reim-kennar. 3. "There are verses that can stop the stag in the forest, Ay, and when the dark-coloured dog is opening on his track; And who knows the shrill whistle of the fowler; Thou who canst mock at the scream of the drowning mariner, And the groan of the overwhelmed crowds, When the church hath fallen in the moment of prayer, There are sounds which thou also must list, When they are chaunted by the voice of the Reim-kennar. 4 "Enough of woe hast thou wrought on the ocean, The widows wring their hands on the beach; Enough of woe hast thou wrought on the land, Cease thou the waving of thy pinions, Let the ocean repose in her dark strength; Cease thou the flashing of thine eye, Let the thunderbolt sleep in the armoury of Odin; Be thou still at my bidding, viewless racer of the north-western heaven, 5. "Eagle of the far north-western waters, Thou hast heard the voice of the Reim-kennar, And folded them in peace by thy side. My blessing be on thy retiring path; When thou stoopest from thy place on high, Soft be thy slumbers in the caverns of the unknown ocean, Rest till destiny shall again awaken thee; Eagle of the north-west, thou hast heard the voice of the Reim-kennar.“ SARDANAPALUS-TWO FOSCARI-CAIN. BY LORD BYRON.* THE arrival of three new Tragedies in this country, from Lord Byron, has already been announced by us in our literary notices, but whether or not they be intended for immediate publication, is a point which we are quite unable to decide. The names of these dramas have not as yet publicly transpired, although they have been whispered abroad during the last fortnight, pretty generally, in fashionable bluestocking routs and select literary coteries. The hero of one of these pieces is said to be FOSCARI, Son of the Doge of that name, who was unjustly banished by the Venetian senate, after having been cruelly tortured, for a crime of which he appears to have been entirely innocent. Rogers, in his Pleasures of Memory, thus alludes to the catastrophe : "Hence home-felt pleasure prompts the patriot's sigh, This makes him wish to live, and dare to die; Aware that a notice of any subject which has employed the pen of Lord Byron cannot fail of proving interesting to our readers, we hasten to lay before them some account of the circumstances from which his Lordship'stragedy of Foscari will, in all probability, have been constructed. A multiplicity of allusions to this melancholy story are to be met with in the volumes of the various historians and travellers who have made Venice the subject of their disquisitions; but the most copious and correct version of the circumstances will be found in Dr. Moore's Travels in Italy, from which we have principally derived the materials for the following notice : The government of Venice have ever been proverbially severe in the ex ecution of their laws, without respect either to the rank or situation of the supposed delinquent; and, in order that they might be carried into effect with the utmost rigour, they appointed magistrates, whose particular province it was to see that the judges did not exhibit, towards the presumed culprit, the slightest marks of clemency or indulgence. In the case of the council from whom Foscari received his condemnation, however, the situations of these superinducers of relentless severity would seem to have been sinecures; for the inflexibility of the Venetian senate needed no spur on this memorable occasion. Foscari, son of the Doge of that name, having offended the senate of Venice by the commission of some juvenile imprudences in that city, was, by their orders, put into temporary confinement at Treviso; when Alnor Donato, one of the Council of Ten, was assassinated on the 5th of Novem ber, 1750, as he entered his own house. Á reward, in ready money, with pardon for that and any other crime, and a pension of two hundred ducats, revertible to children, was promised to any person who should be the means of bringing the perpetrator of this crime to justice. No such discovery, however, resulted from this proposal. The apprehension of Foscari and one of his servants, upon the slightest and most unsatisfactory evidence, was the next step of the council. This young nobleman's footman had been observed loitering near Donato's palace on the night of the murder; conscious, probably, that this solitary circumstance would give rise to his apprehension, and, dreading the unappeasable fury of his judges, Oliver (for that was the man's name) fled from Venice the next morning. This act, combined with other trifling coincidences, created a strong suspicion, that Foscari had employed his servant to commit the murder. These works have been received and published by Munroe and Francis-forming an additional volume to the Works of Lord Byron. |