'Tis God the Lord, whose mighty will
Makes angry war's contentions cease,
And bids the maddened world be still,
And brings the joyous gift of peace."
Withdraw thine eyes aft, friend of mine, banish all further contemplation of the decaying sea-dragons, and look a-head where a very different spectacle awaits thee. Immediately to the left is the little, quiet, steep-streeted Cornish borough of Saltash, but now made notable by the presence of Brunel's stupendous iron railway-bridge, spanning the river before us, and thrusting itself into the bosom of the old town; one of the largest mechanical works of this, or any age, and exhibiting the strange engineering inversion of suspending the load beneath the arch, as the road-way is slung or supported below, instead of traversing above it. Its great height from the water, to a considerable extent, contracts to the eye its huge proportions, which may however in a measure be estimated, by observation of the railway-train slowly threading its way across, being scarcely seen, and but little heard from below, or recognized merely by a thin white line streaming back above the parapet, and a subdued rumble; and by noting also the Liliputian dimensions of some artizans, that look like a bevy of insects perched on one of the great tubes. The extraordinary construction it displays seems to suggest that here for once, Science with syren persuasion must have charmed the ear of Wealth to accede to her request—"provide me with the means required, and in return you shall be shewn what can be accomplished"—so lavish is the strength, and fantastic the form of the vast structure. On the river below this immense creation, the floating steam-bridge crawls across at short intervals, for passengers and vehicles. As we look at the two extraordinary methods of transit, the reflection arises that at only a few miles up the stream, an inexhaustible supply of granite may have been obtained and easily floated. With this enduring material a handsome bridge might have been erected, with arches sufficiently high for all useful purposes of navigation, and the roadway on it made wide enough for railway and ordinary purposes, and, what is so dear to the calculating proclivities of our race, it would undoubtedly have paid well also, in addition to its enormous convenience. But then the wisdom of our senators would not have been exemplified, nor the constructive ingenuity of the engineer glorified.
We emerge from the shadow of the great bridge, and pass another smart training-ship. Moored there we presume to justify the outrageous and apparently prohibitive stipulation of Parliament,—which required that a railway train should be carried through the air above the masthead of a fully rigged old-fashioned man-of-war,—for we never heard of another performing such a feat. Nor did our sagacious and far-seeing legislators probably dream of the advent of the squat iron-clads, with neither mast or sail, and hulls more under the water than above it, that now form the fleet of the present.
Leaving this the last trace of grisly war behind, we enter on a glorious stretch of the uncontaminated Tamar, and admire two or three barges with their grand, looming, picturesque sails,—like great-winged sea-birds,—slowly traversing the bright expanse. Here a prophetic echo from the lyre of the poet who dwelled at its source, crosses the mental ear, and finds fulfilment,—
"Fount of a rushing river! wild flowers wreathe
The home where thy first waters sunlight claim;
The lark sits hushed beside thee, while I breathe,
Sweet Tamar spring! the music of thy name.
Fair is the future scenery of thy days,
Thy course domestic and thy paths of pride;
Depths that give back the soft-eyed violet's gaze,
Shores where tall navies march to meet the tide."
Delightfully we career along, and our thoughts suggest what a spirit-cheering, buoyant—heart as well as boat—feeling of freedom fills the mind, when afloat in a trim craft with a full sail, and a fair wind. Pre-eminently so on the boundless sea, and in lesser degree, but most enjoyable also, on this broad reach of inland water. The busy succession of waves rising up and greeting with flickering salute the prow of our little vessel, as with easy rocking motion she speeds over their undulating succession. And the contented satisfaction, also, that we have the pleasant breeze, with its varying force for our untiring steed; no haunting thought disturbs, that some noble animal in slavery is running the sands of his life out the faster for our gratification,—nor the dread possibility of instant annihilation, that hovers continuously over the rushing transit of the iron trackway. Verily of all modes of movement, none equals for pleasantness the sailor's, nor does the phantom of a wild pitiless sky, lee shore, and foam-mantled rocks greatly alloy it.
Wild glory of the weltering shore,
The clouds dark portent hangeth o'er,
The rushing billows muffled roar.
Like storm-drenched bird, from out the west
The labouring bark by strong winds pressed,
Beats to the haven of her rest.
The seaman views the turmoil grim,
And be his vessel tight and trim,
The tempest wears no fears for him.