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ment proved to be but a fitting out of a number of able and enterprising men to be sacrificed. With short memoirs of the principal of them this Introduction very appropriately concludes.
At the beginning of it there is a little gratuitous ostentation of its being within the reign of the present King, that the career of discovery has been so zealously pursued; but every reader's sentiment will be in animated accordance with the eulogy on the able and zealous adventurers themselves, such as Cook, Perouse, Park, and Flinders, and with the execration pronounced on the villanous cruelty suffered from an agent of Bonaparte's government, and in all probability with his own sanction, by this last eminently meritorious navigator and explorer.
Our surprising ignorance of Africa, down to this time, forms no compliment, certainly, to the curiosity and enterprise of Europe.
That great division of the globe of which, while we know that one part of it affords the most ancient and most stupendous monuments of civilised society that exist on the face of the earth, another, and by far the greater portion, exhibits, at this day, to the reproach of the state of geographical science in the nineteenth century, almost a blank on our charts; or what is still worse, large spaces filled up with random sketches of rivers, lakes, and mountains, which have no other existence than that which the fancy of the map-maker has given to them on his paper. So little, indeed, has our knowledge of this great continent kept pace with an increased knowledge of other parts of the world, that it may rather be said to have retrograded.'
This is meant upon a comparison of our knowledge with that apparently possessed by the ancient Egyptians, Greeks, and Romans. The Portuguese also, it is asserted, acquired, some ages back, much information of the interior, but it was their plan to conceal what they discovered, till it has been lost even 'to themselves.' Till the journey of the intrepid and lamented Park, it was a question for debate, like some theme of the schools, whether a great river, known and famous from ancient times, actually flowed to the west, or to the east. The speculation disposed of thus far, instantly acquired an augmented interest in its latter question-What becomes of the river? After the suggestion of its possibly being, after all, no other than the Nile of Egypt, was scientifically set aside, the most plausibility was deemed to attach (perhaps, indeed, because no other plausible explanation could be thought of,) to the theory of Major Rennell, still, it seems, maintained by him, that the Niger stops, stagnates, and is evaporated, in some great central lake, north of the line. Nobody, however, cared to let his imagination stop and stagnate there. There was an urgent wish to VOL. X. N.S. 20
find this dignified and mysterious stream performing a long ulterior course, and coming out at length from its immense deserts, at some point where we might hail its arrival at the ocean -although we were confounded in attempting to conjecture where so important a point should be to which our extensive knowledge of the African coast had hitherto left us strangers. When, at length, the hitherto little-known river of Congo was described by Mr. Maxwell to Park, with a suggestion that there might be the object so long sought in vain, he seized the idea with a sanguine eagerness, which soon became a most confident assurance, in spite of the arguments and invincible opinion of so excellent a geographer as Major Rennell.
The arguments for and against the identity of the rivers, are very clearly stated in this Introduction, not in the spirit of a partisan of a theory, but nevertheless giving, we think, a very great preponderance of probability on the affirmative side. Indeed, there seems no one difficulty of very serious magnitude opposed to the opinion. Respecting the supposed great chain of mountains, denominated the Mountains of the Moon, extending across central Africa, it is represented that even the existence of such a chain has been admitted on very defective evidence, but that if it does exist, a chasm made through it, by the mighty and incessant action of water, would be an effect easily credible on the strength of a number of grand instances of the same kind in different parts of the globe. This uncertainty whether there is any such range of mountains to obstruct the course of the Niger to the southward, and this fair assumption, that if there is, it would not necessarily be an invincible obstruction, seem to give free scope for the largest inferences to be made from the fact that the Zaire, or some main branch of it, does actually come from regions north of the line, as proved by that state of what may be called perpetual flood, which shews that, during the dry season on one side of the line, it is receiving the tribute of the rainy season on the other. The demonstrative decision of the question remains for some other hardy band of adventurers. If the reports are true of such a band assembling to advance from a station on the western coast, and to proceed to the Niger, with a determination to try the utmost possibility of accompanying it through its regions of mystery, we shall all feel as animated a wish for their success as can comport with a gloomy apprehension that they are destined to fail and to perish. There might seem to be, as respecting Europeans, some peculiar principle of interdiction and perdition in all the elements of nature in the interior of Africa. There never was, probably, so well appointed an expedition of discovery, as that of which this volume may be regarded as the monumental record. It is quite mournful to contemplate its
almost total frustration consummated in the death of nearly all the persons whose accomplishments gave so confident an anticipation of its results. The character of the brave, intelligent, and indefatigable Commander, combined with the misfortunes of a life of which so many years were consumed in captivity in: France, inspired a kind of personal interest for his success in an enterprise to which he brought an undiminished ardour of spirit, in a body, however, not a little worn and shattered by severe service in hot climates, followed by the vexations of his subsequent lot. There seemed some ground to hope that a compensation was going to be made to talents and energy so long chained in from their most appropriate activity, in a great achievement that would have had a far more gratifying triumph than any exploits of professional warfare.
The person who excites the reader's interest and regret in the next degree, is the self-taught enthusiastic naturalist, Cranch. Nothing can well be more striking than the description of the invincible passion with which as a youth, ill educated and in a very humble situation, and in every way destitute of assistance, he had prosecuted a course of observation and collection in natural history, especially in the department of entomology, accompanied with the voracious perusal of whatever books on natural science came within his reach. He mastered the Latin and French languages, so far as to understand them in their application to Zoology. This was accomplished during his apprenticeship to the occupation of a shoe-maker. He went up at the expiration of it to London, professedly to perfect himself in the business, but not, it is stated, without some higher designs and hopes, though indistinctly conceived. There, without an abandonment of his employment, his mind opened itself to the influx of knowledge from all quarters, filled but not satisfied.'
Every museum, auction room, and book stall, every object to which his attention was called, he visited with a rapid and unsatiable curiosity; gleaning information wherever it was to be had, and treasuring it up with systematic care.'
The description of his character and attainments, at that period, as given by a person with whom he there became acquainted, is in the following terms:
• Our conversations and philosophical rambles near London, have often called forth such observations and disquisitions from him on the various qualities, attributes, combinations, provisions and arrange ments of nature, as marked vast comprehension, as well as the most delicate subtilties of discrimination in an intellect, which seemed indeed to be calculated to grasp magnitude and minutiae with equal address, and which could at once surprise, delight, and instruct.'
But all this was not the command of a loaf or a shilling.
The time came for him to return to his old place of residence on the south-west coast of the island, where he commenced business for himself, but, it seems, with qualifications for it, which soon ceased to cause any alarm to his former fellow-workmen, now his competitors. An improvement in his circumstances was gained by marriage, of which he availed himself to consign his workshop to his journeymen,' and devote himself to his favourite pursuit of collecting objects of natural history.
• No difficulties nor dangers impeded his researches. He climbed the most rugged precipices; he was frequently lowered down by the peasants from the summits of the tallest cliffs: he waded through rapid streams; he explored the beds of the muddiest rivers; he sought the deepest recesses. He frequently wandered for whole weeks from home, and often ventured out to sea for several days together, entirely alone, in the smallest skiffs of the fishermen. No inclemency of weather; no vicissitudes of "storms and sunshine," ever prevented his fatiguing pursuits; the discovery of a new insect amply repaid the most painful exertions.'
After a while, the magnitude of his collection drew the attention of better known and patronized naturalists; and Dr. Leach, of the British Museum, offered him an undefined but extensive appointment, for making additions to the collections of natural history in that grand depository. As might be expected, the journeymen and the business were immediately dismissed, and the shop converted into an auxiliary museum, of which, as might also be expected, the stores were augmented with a marvellous rapidity. For, besides holding a constant communication with the fishermen of various stations on the coast, and receiving from them baskets of the rubbish which they dredged from the bottom of the sea, he very often, says Dr. Leach,
- left Kingsbridge in an open boat, and remained absent for a long time together, during which, he dredged when the tide was full, and examined the shores when it was out, At night he slept in his boat, which he drew on shore; and when the weather was too stormy for marine excursions, he would leave his boat, and proceed to examine the country and woods, for insects, birds, &c. The remarks with which he accompanied the infinity of new objects which he discovered, were invaluable; many of them have been, and the rest shall be hereafter, made public.
It may well be presumed, that England could not have furnished a more proper man to be appointed on an expedition in which the examination of the natural history of Africa was made hardly a less essential object than the geography of its tracts and rivers. Such a man deserved a more extended and particular memoir than there could fairly be room for in the present work. Perhaps it will be suspected that his merits in natural science have not been our sole inducement to detain our
readers thus disproportionately long on his character, when it is added that he was a Methodist. The information is conveyed in the following form :
He at once accepted the appointment, though not without some painful struggles to his feelings. It seems he had a sort of presentiment that he should never return, and that the expectation of such an event became weaker and weaker, as his country faded from his view. His conduct, however, during the voyage out, does not appear to have been influenced by this feeling; nor was his exertions at all relaxed by an occasional lowness of spirits, which was, perhaps, partly constitutional, and owing partly to the gloomy view taken of Christianity by that sect denominated Methodists, of which, it seems, he was a member. He is represented, however, by his friends, as a sincere Christian, an affectionate parent, and a kind friend.'
After the description of the progress of his illness, it is added,
In the evening he expired," after uttering," says Mr. Fitzmaurice, "a devout prayer for the welfare of his family, and with the name of his wife quivering on his lips." He was of that order of Dissenters who are called Methodists, and if I may judge from external appearances, he was an affectionate husband and father, a sincere friend, a pious, honest, and good man. He died in the 31st year of his age, and was buried at Embomma.'
All these worthy and amiable qualities, and among them sincere Christianity, he possessed, it seems, notwithstanding and in spite of his being a Methodist, if we may interpret the Editor's however,' according to the most usual significance of that adverb. As to his lowness of spirits, without knowing to what doctrinal class of religionists precisely the denomination here given him should assign him, we can well believe that since his Metbodisin must at all events have included a reverence for the Almighty, a disapprobation and dread of sin, and an habitual view to a future state, he might really be, as a man of much moral sensibility, not unfrequently subject to feelings of depression and forebodings of disaster. For it is too evident, we fear, from various circumstances and implications, that most of the associates with whom he was inseparably committed in the enterprise, were of an irreligious and profligate character. Among such men, bound on an expedition of much hazard, in which it would be apt to appear to his Methodism a thing of ill omen that all fear of God should be thrown away, he would assuredly have many grievous and gloomy musings, even had he not been made by them, not improbably on this very account, a direct object of ridicule, which we learn to have been the fact, from a remarkable passage in the Journal of Professor Smith, written not far from the line. Poor Cranch is almost too 'much the object of jest. Galwey is the principal banterer.' It is not said that his religion was the chief butt of the jeers, but we think this is not at all an improbable surmise; and supposing it to be the fact, what a striking subject for reflection is