The Press. — London, England, 1854-09-02 00:00:00

1 LlNnommimmmommminiinimmlimiilMMlElMMlNid IT SEPTEMBER 2, 1854. another's faces, and pulled one another's hair, by way of agreeing on the steps to be taken for their improvement— which they never did; a surprising circumstance, when the happy adaptation of the means to the end is considered. Still, although they differed in every Aber particular, con ceivable and inconceivable (especially inconceivable ), they were pretty well united on the point that these unlucky infants were never to wonder. Body number one said they must take everything on trust. Body number two said they must take everything on political economy. Body number three wrote leaden little books for them, showing how the good grown-up baby invariably got to the savings bank, and the bad grownup baby invariably got trans ported. Body number four, under dreary pretences of being droll (when it was very melancholy indeed), made the shallowest pretences of concealing pitfalls of know ledge, into which it was the duty of these babies to be snuggled and inveigled. Nor are almshouses, refuges for the desti tute, or such institutions, of more worth. The process and result of such wasted benevolence begins and ends in making a vainglorious will, whereby five-and-twenty Humbugs, past five-and -fifty years of age, each taking upon himself the name, Josiah Bounderby of Coketown, should for ever dine in Bounderby-hall, for ever lodge in Bonn derby-buildings, for ever attend a Bounderby chapel, for ever go to sleep under a Bounderby chaplain, for ever be supported out of a Bounderby estate, and for ever nauseate all healthy stomachs with a vast amount of Bounderby balderdash and bluster. Actually, we can find no hint throughout 11 e book of what is, or can, or ought to be done, except, perhaps, to gather the factory children together to read "Goody Two Shoes, " with a special examination for the advanced students in "Jack and the Bean Stalk." Abjuring facts and practice, the author, of course, detests blue books ar.d the Parliament that edits them. The latter is at one time the " national cinder heap," at another a " little " noisy and rather dirty machinery in a by " corner," filled with members for ounce weights and measures, and " representatives of "the multiplication table." Of the former we are told : - • . Mr. Gradgrind's room was quite a blue chamber in its abundance of blue books. Whatever they could prove (which is usually anything you like), they proved there, in an army constantly strengthened by the arrival of new recruits. In that charmed apartment the most compli cated social questions were cast up, got into exact totals, and finally settled—if those concerned could only have been brought to know it. As if an astronomical observa tory should be made without any windows, and the astro nomer within should arrange the star' y - universe solely by pen, ink, and paper, so Mr. tiratlgrind, in his observatory (and there are many like it), had no need to cast an eye upon the teeming myriads of human beings around him, but could s 4 the all their destinies on a slate, and wipe out all their tears with one dirty little bit of sponge. ' We know something of blue books. Will Mr. Dickens accept our testimony to the fact that—after deducting the annual pile of " accounts and papers " which are, after all, only John Bull's housekeeping books— the azure folios, with all their repulsive aspects, contain an infusion of matter of tasteful, ar tistic, and fictitious character not seldom quite as strong as that of " Hard Times " itself? And in Parliament it is the frequent complaint that the fanciful element is even . too preponderating. Again deducting "supply nights," the time devoted to griefs and glorifi cations quite as remote from "fact" as those of Mrs. Bluebeard or Cinderella is far larger than is always compatible with the dignity of the Legislature or the interests of the country. No, we are not yet overrun with " facts.' Education is not what it ought to be, nor what it will be. With so vast and untried a field before them—with so much and so many to teach—with the mode, the means, and the nature of the instruction that can be most judiciously imparted, still to find by experi ment in many cases—it is no wonder that the knowledge derived from our public or private e iucators should be sometimes partial and in• sufficient, or at others cumbrous and grotesque. But its faults are not of a sort to deserve gib _ betting in the person of a Gradgrind, or that promise to be cured by the interposition of Mother GoOse. The author is wrong in his basis, and, as we think, unskilful in his superstructure. His moral, taken at his own estimate, is very im perfectly worked out by drawing a series of "monsters," embodying each some particular attribute, like the Greek gods and goddesses, though without their natural grace, and conduct ing them through a series of incoherent inci dents to the appointed consummation. Social problems are not to be solved—nor even a goal novel to be written—so. Mr. Dickens TILE PRESS. cannot write without leaving abundant traces of the artist's hand. There are incidental touches and subsidiary characters in the pre sent volume which make the heart thrill with their quiet force and pathos. There are, also, hero and there, phrases that startle us, as of old, by their mingled depth and quaintness of meaning. The dialogue—always his strong point—exhibits much of his former dramatic, or epigrammatic, vigour. But even this is marred by his persistence in carrying out, at all sacrifices, the one idea of his book. How marred let us show by a concluding example. A wife has been insulted by the proposals of a libertine: her husband is absent, and she flies in agony to her father for protection, and addresses him in this preposterous fashion How could you give me life, and take from me all the inappreciable things that raise it from the state of con scious death? Where are the graces of my soul? Where are the sentiments of my heart? What have you done, 0 father, what have you done, with the garden that should have bloomed once, in this great wilderness here!" The Czar, the late King of the Poles, and hu I ; Daughter; or, Elizabeth and the Exiles of Siberia. An Historical and Epic Poem, written like a Novel, in a New Style. By S. Cornelius. London : Piper, Stephenson , and Spence. THE title of this remarkable work, unlike that of " Ivanhoe," reveals the whole story. As a burlesque, we prefer it to " Firmilian, for the simple reason that it is shorter. It ridicules the heroic ballad-writers, a race of poets about as illustrious and as well known to the public as those against whom the irony of the " spas modic tragedy" was directed. But we believe we are justified in stating that it is not from the mu.squing pen of a northern professor of one of the unascertained arts. The frontis piece exhibits a portrait of the heroine, of which it is enough to say that the artist in his fidelity has vindicated the Horatian rule, and made a picture of the poetry: — Her closeltted leg, foot, and ancle ; The shape of her thigh see ' O'er her Minerva throw thy mantle, Or aham'd wisdom would be. She's a picture by Heaven painted, Unconscious of her charms ; Showing a well-proportion'd leg, With flue round moulded arms. As the parents of this paragon are named Springer, she is appropriately termed " Miss Springer," and addressed by her lover, Prince Smoloff, as " sweet miss." Her adventures are of the most fearful kind, e.g.:— Miss Springer, ere the storm had commenc'd, left the • house, To indulge in her long and lonesome walks ; Oft she meets with vermin, e'en weasel, rat, and mouse, While straying near stumps, stakes, and rocky chalks. The storm comes on, and the panorama of the very uncomfortable scenery of Siberia is a chef d'ceuvre of word-painting. Who can read the following without asking for his great-coat and a cigar?— The flood comes rushing down like wildfire Full of mud and dirt, filth and mire ! The dark waters too, dribbling from the mountains, Swell every stream, choke both spring and fountains! , Seeing all these horrors, Elizabeth might have sigh'd ! But to save her dear father, the fair maid would have died It is not now clouds that yawn like graves burnt asunder ! 'Tie the storming ! rolling! roaring ! rattling thunder ! The earth beneath, e'en the skies seem torn asunder ! Guilty men then tremble ; are struck with fear and wonder, Like detected thieves made prisoners while sharing their plunder. We are bound to say that in this publica tion there are no offensive express.:• ns, and in this respect S. Cornelius has advan tage of Percy Jones, if they are not, indeed, " two gentlemen rolled into one." Yet, at best, this new school of satire is not much to our taste : we miss the wit and the " broad grins " associated with the burlesques of older date, and find our spirits very little cheered by parodies which are only a little more stupid and more offensive than the originals they are intended to ridicule. PERIODICAL LITERATURE. MAGAZINES FOR SEPTEMBER. Blackwood opens with a critique upon the " Jour neys through Syria and the Holy Land" by M. Van de Velde, which it inclines to regard as more really 835 authentic than the amusing work of N. de Saulcy. Upon the questio vexatd of the sites of Sodom and Gomorrah, Admah and Zeboim, the reviewer remarks that the original idea touching these guilty objects of the Divine wrath, wrapt in awe and mystery as their fate wu, arena to have been that the Dead Sea, itself the gloomiest and most appalling object in creation, had been called into existence by the same miracle which annihilated the con• demned cities, and that its deadly waters swept every trace of them out of sight for ever." But M. de Saulcy and modern travellers have dis pelled much of this superstitions veneration that encircled the Dead Sea, by assuring us that sweet fountains spring, and luxuriant plants flourish, within sight of its waters, which, bearing no evident trace of deadly qualities, glisten in the sun like those of a vast lake, reflecting the bright skies and sub limely picturesque' mountains that surround it on every side. The real or alleged discoveries by M. de Saulcy of those " stupendous ruins " at the foot of the Mountain of Sodom, and at the edge of the southern most portion of the sea, aro strongly disputed by M. Van de Velde " As confidently as M. de Saulcy affirms his discovery of these ruins does M. Van de Velde deny the existence of any such. No former traveller has lighted upon them ; no after traveller has confirmed the story. But what shall we make of the distinct assertion of M. de Saulcy with his little band of companions, who declared themselves to have twice visited and examined these extraordinary remains, and to be perfectly convinced of their authenticity ? Lime stone rocks, corrugated and channelled by winter torrents, and worn into the resemblance of layers of building, ex• plains M. Van de Velde—stupendous ruins, veritable re mains of the Pentapolis, Kays his adversary : both produce battalions of testimony. Which is right?" It is difficult to give judgment in such a controversy ; for, as the reviewer remarks, " it is simply one of "comparative credibility of testimony." Are these rocks ruins, or are they not? for both controversial ists mutually agree in choosing the southern end of the lake for the position of the destroyed cities. An article entitled " The Coming Fortunes of our Colonies in the Pacific " gives rather a sketch of the past and present, than any predications of the future, for tunes of Australia. Statistics of imports and ex ports, and much information upon the subject of steam communication, by the Panamaroute, with the mother country, tend to make the article tolerably interesting, but we cannot agree with some assertions upon the general state of the colony and the advantages it is stated to otter to all immigrants. "The flocks and " herds of the squatters are increasing at the most " rapid rate, far beyond the consumptive demand of " the colony." So far from this beit.g the case, stock, from neglect, scab, and want of shepherds and stockmen, as well as from the increasing demand for the carcase to supply the markets, has materially decreased in proportion to former years, and an absolute scarcity of mutton and beef is by some persons apprehended, and justly too, if the rising price of meat is any criterion. In another page we are told "that, of the thousand persons that land " each week in the colony, every one is placed in the " possession of an income never previously enjoyed." The manifest incorrectness of such a statement is undeniable, and needs no further comment. it is only want of space that precludes our exposing the many errors of this article. It is much to be regretted that incorrect assertions should be made in this influential periodical concerning a country towards which the eager eyes or so many thou sands are turned, amidst their privations and arduous toil, as the land of recompense and wealth. Such " milk and-honey" versions of a country do more harm than people in general suppose : they give rise to delusive hopes that are never realised, and cause pangs of regret that are never forgotten. The other articles include a notice of Mrs. Stowe's "Sunny Memories ;" Part IV. of "The Secret Of Stcke Manor;' and a letter from Vidette upon the late Spanish revolution. Among other particulars the letter gives a clever ac count of the fighting in Madtid, and many amusing details. The 10th of July was the great day, bar ricades of prodigious height and strength bad been thrown up during the night, and before eight in the morning the firing had began at all points, and the bullets were singing through the streets in every direction. quantities of paving-su.nes were taken up to the roofs and higher floors of the houses, to throw down upon the enemy. Women and children assisted in this labour. It was curious to observe the women. Not withstanding danger from bullets, they were all at their doors and windows. Some of them, these were the younger ones, seemed to think it great fun—some of the older ones looked ghastly and terrified enough ; while others, chiefly of quite the lower orders, were fierce puti sans, as much so as their husbands and brothers, who, in perfect silence but with deadly resolution, were loading and firing from barricade, window, and housetop. I heard one sturdy dame, crimson with exertion and excitement, who bore in her brawny arms a basket of supplies to • barricade then under fire, express her determination to shower upon their devoted heads the whole of her kettles and crockery. When a thrifty housewife comes to such extremes as this it is evident her blood is up. But the forced loan imposed by Sartorious had come home to the