Critical Notices [pp. 582-600]

SOUTHERN LITERARY MESSENGER.
The adventure beneath the sheet is now detailed.
The party descend to the bottom of the precipice at
the side of the Fall-equip themselves in dresses of
coarse linen-and proceed. The guide going first, takes
the right hand of Miss -, Mr. Slingsby is honored
with the left, and Job brings up the rear. The usual
difficulties of wind and water are encountered and
surmounted, and the chamber behind the sheet finally
attained in safety. The same medley of tone, however,
still prevails. For example-"Whatever sister of Are thusa inhabits there," says Mr. Slingsby, "we could
but congratulate her on the beauty of her abode. A
lofty and well lighted hall, shaped like a long pavilion,
extended as far as we could see through the spray,
and with the two objections, that you could not have
heard a pistol at your ear for the noise, and that the
floor was somewhat precipitous, one could scarce imagine
a more agreeable retreat for a gentleman who was dis gusted with the world, and subject to dryness of the
skin. In one respect it resembled the enchanted dwelling of the Witch of Atlas, where Shelley tells us,
Th, invisible rain did ever sing
A silver music on the mossy lawn.
It is lucky for Witches and Naiads that they are not
subject to rheumatism."
It will not be difficult to foretell, from the general
air of the narration (as observed up to this date) in what
manner Mr. Slingsby will think it incumbent upon him
to wind it up. He will give it a melo-dramatic finale?
Most assuredly. The lady is adventurous, and has
walked over a narrow ledge, which has broken with
her weight. The guide seizes Mr. Slingsby by the
shoulder. He turns-and "what is his horror" at beholding Miss standing far in behind the sheet, upon
the last visible point of rock, with the water pouring over her in torrents, and a "gulf of foam" between
the lady and the gentleman, which the gentleman "can
in no way understand how she has passed over." This
gulf is six feet across, and, of course, says Mr. Slingsby,
"it was impossible to jump it." [WVe have jumped one
and twenty feet six inches ourselves, but then we are
no Mr. Slingsby, and never could make a joke about
Niagara.] That gentleman does not jump, but he does
something nevertheless. He "fixes his eyes upon the
lovely form standing like a spirit in the misty shroud of
the spray," and endeavors "to sustain her upon her
dangerous foot-hold-by the intensity of his gaze." He
may possibly, however, with this end in view, have
made use of an eyeglass.
There being nothing better to be done, the guide having absconded, and the lady being upon the eve of destruction, our friend Job, and his legs, are brought into
requisition. He stands upon one edge of "the foaming
gulf," and stretches himself across to the other. M iss
is so kind as to make use of him as a bridge. The
guide returns with a rope, pulls up the bridge by means
of a running-noose around one of its legs-and the "Visit
to Niagara" terminates with an lo Pean in honor of the
"foaming gulf," the "supernatural strength" of Mr.
Smith, and the "intensity of the gaze" of the devoted
Mr. Slingsby.
The paper of which we have just given an outline
will afford a very fair conception of the usual merits
and demerits of the sketches of Mr. Willis. Here are
many comparatively long passages of a force, or deli
cacy, or beauty-shall we say unsurpassed by any
similar passages in any writer of English? We shall
not say too much if we do. The bantering humor
interspersed is of the best order. Who can read the
endeavor (quoted above) of Mr. Slingsby to get Mr.
Smith to his breakfast, without feeling at once impressed
with a keen sense of the mingled wit, broad drollery, dra matic effect, and gentlemanly insouciance of the whole
affair? The final question of Mr. S. (after amusing
his friend with the idea of a junction, some hundred
years hence, between Ontario and Erie)-" Do you
intend to wait and see it, or will you come to break fast?"-is inimitably brought about-very quiet, and
very quizzical. The catastrophe of the two waiters,
and the arrival in a great rage, but with a good appe tite, of Mr. Smith, is a palpable hit not to be attained,
and not to be appreciated by the rabble. Of force, we
have abundant specimens in such sentences, as "Job
flounced up, like a snake touched with a torpedo, and
sprang to the window"-" I can imagine the surprise
of the gentle element, after sleeping away a se'nnight
of moonlight in the peaceful bosom of Lake Erie, at
finding itself of a sudden in such a coil"-or "As far
down towards Lakle Ontario as the eye can reach, the
immense volumes of water rise like huge monsters to
the light, boiling and flashing out in rings of foam, with
an appearance of vexation and rage that I have seen in
no other cataract of the world." The little sentence,
"Whatever sister of Arethusa inhabits there, we could
but congratulate her upon the beauty of her abode," is,
among many other similar things, sufficient evidence of a
rare delicacy of expression-and we feel at once that
writer to be a poet-an Idealist-who tells us "that Miss
in her uncouth habiliments, looked like a fairy in
disguise," and that the sheet of Niagara is "what a
child might imagine the arch of the sky to be where it
bends over the edge of the horizon."
The minor defects are few. Among these few it is
sufficient to specify a too frequent allusion to the "axis
of the world," and the absurdities, gravely narrated,
which go to make up the catastrophe of the sketch,
in the rescue of the young lady. Upon the whole,
we may speak of the mere wording as in every respect worthy of a man of taste and a scholar. With
the exception of "soiebriquet," written for sobriquet, (a
very common error) it would be difficult to find any
verbal fault, in the present instance, to which a critic
would be pardoned for alluding.
But the whole narrative is disfigured, and indeed utterly ruined, by the grievous sin of affectation. It is this
sin, and not, we are convinced, any imbecility in the conceptions of Mr. Willis, (with our readers' leave we will
drop Mr. Slingsby) which has beguiled him into the egregious folly of writing a long article, in a jocular manner,
about the cataract of Niagara. He may say, a pleasant sketch is intended, no more-and that the intention
is fulfilled. But the utter want of keeping, consequent
upon handling such subject in such manner, is sufficient
to convince us at a glance, that his intention, even such
as it is, is not, in any due degree, fulfilled. The question is not whether the thing pleases, (one who writes
as well as Mr. Willis will please in spite of a thousand
faults,) but whether, if otherwise handled, it might not
have pleased the more. While laughing at the mystification of our friend Job, we are in no proper
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