The Press. — London, England, 1857-04-11 00:00:00

3M Upon Sir Archibald Alison Mr. Breen leans with great severity ; and when he is so copious in his enumeration of the faults of that eminent writer, Mr. Breen (who has his laurels to win) might have generously acknowledged his indubitable merits. Sir Archibald Alison, iu fairness of statement and in judicial tem per, is an example to all historians ; and, un like other writers of history, he gives the facts on both sides. We admit that his pen moves so rapidly that it would be hardly possible to expect correctness in his style, and on various occasions in these columns we have specified some of the faults which seriously detract from his valuable qualities. In making these objections to his style we have never done so in a cavilling spirit. His first historical per formance is a great literary work, and is ac cepted universally for its authenticity, impar tiality, and its attractive qualities. We do not like, therefore, to see such an author singled out specially for castigation. In Lord Brougham's various literary performances there is frequent neglect of ordinary grammar, and many sins against composition ; and why does not Mr. Breen apply his critical vision to the performances of Dr. Cumming ? Voluminous writers are rarely correct. Swift and Voltaire are remarkably so, when we consider the prodigious quantity that came from their pens ; but, except in his dra matic writings, Voltaire could not be called an ambitious writer. The fervour of Sir Archi. bald Alison's mind hurries him along at racing speed, and he bounds over all grammatical abstractions as if he were engaged in a literary steeplechase. He must be taken as an author with many merits and not a few faults, which are the more censurable as they are easily corrigible; and we could desire that Sir Archi bald Alison would carefully revise his compo sition. Mr. Breen writes DIND UP-WIND (P. Frederick William was well aware that his political existence was thenceforth wound tip with tue success of Russia in the German wan—Alison. In this sentence "wound up" is improperly put for "bound up." To "wind up " a thing is to bring it to a close or termination, as when we wind up the attairs of a partnership, or an estate. To " bind up " means to unite, to blend. In the phrase above quoted, the writer wished to say that Frederick William's political existence was " inseparably blended interwoven," with the success of Hassid ; and he should therefore have said " bound up." By using the expression " wound up," he tells us that Frederick William's political existence was put an end to by the success of Russia; which is the contrary of what he intended. He then quotes ten other instances of the error. "To wind," however, has a meaning "to enfold " and "to encircle." The chapter on " Mannerism" contains come curious illustrations of the frequency of certain modes of locution in Alison's work. In the fifth chapter of the first volume of his " Sequel to the History of the War," twenty two para graphs, within one hundred pages, begin with the word " if," as in these sentences : if the wide spread of his fame and deep impression pro• duced by his poems is to be taken as the test of excellence, Campbell is the greatest lyric poet of England. If the Procures of Hope, to the end of time, will fascinate the young and the ardent, those of Memory will have equal charms fur the advanced in years and the reflecting. If ever two poets arose in striking contrast to each other, Rogers and Southey are the men. If Southey's knowledge as a historian has impeded his success as a poet, his fancy as a poet has nut less seriously marred his fame as a historian. Two pages further on (162-3) are occupied with illustrations of this mannerism. Mr. Breen then continues:— Alison has a peculiarity of a still more offensive form, winch consists in the repetition of certain words in close succession to each other: Of this I have noted the follow ing instances in his " History of Europe during the French Revolution '':— The circumstance which ultimately brought about the contest was the succepot with which Cardinal Richelieu succeeded in destroying the rural influence of the French nobility. It would seem as if in the very disposition of the Rests, it had been intended to point to the intended union of the Orders. _ . . Crowds of all classes daily came to 'Versailles to encourage the members in their courageous iesistauce to the measures of the court. _ . The able leaders of the popular party, keeping in adranee of the movement, adraneed steadily in their career of usurpa tion. And nearly eight pages of this volume are then filled with instances of the repetition of words by Sir Archibald Alison,—a fault too blameworthy in an author. There are mannerisms also in Mr. Macaulay which Mr. Breen might hare specified. We - THE PRESS. should like Mr. Breen to have exercised his calculating _power on how often the " Arabian Tales " are applied to for illustrations. Mr. Breen is not a deep thinker, and much of his "criticism" is of a superficial character. His work will probably excite attention amongst professional writers, and we sub scribe to the doctrine that a stand must be made against the frequent grammatical inac curacies which disfigure so many of our popular writers. But let their merits be generously acknowledged ; and we cannot ac cent Mr. Breen as a judicious guide, or a ruling authority on the points of style. The tendency of his strictures would be to force writers into what the late Lord Holland happily called "Governess' English," in which force and freedom would be sacrificed to small accuracies. His blame is too indiscriminate, and a young writer, with Mr. Breen 's book in his hand, would be daunted rather than en• couraged. The Metaphysicians. Being a Memoir of Franz Carve!, Brushmaker, Written by Himself; and of Harold Fremdling, Esq , Written and now Republished by Francis Drake, Esq. London: Longmans. THERE are three stages through which men usually pass who take to the study of meta physics,--blind but admiring perplexity ; shallow and impatient contempt ; and finally modest appreciation. Dull men never get beyond the first ; smart men seldom get be yond the second. It is only those who think more of the subject than themselves, and whose minds are formed for protracted investi gation, who ever attain to the third. The author of the work befure us has arrived at the second stage, and there he seems likely to stay. He has made up his mind to sneer at the investigation of hidden intellectual laws ; and he has just as much common sense on his side as, prior to the discovery of steam, a man would have had cvho ridiculed the existence of any hidden force in the vapour of a tea kettle. At this time of day, it is rather a waste of time to discuss such a question, and we shall direct our attention therefore to the incidents and characters by which his views are illustrated, rather than the views themselves. The first story, or " Past, Present, and Future," is simply a description of London at the three dates of 1757, 1857, and 1957. In the first, which is very well done, we have the manners, costume, and language of our great grandfathers contrasted with our own, and in the third those of our great,gra.ndsons. In the first case, as our author had so many pre decessors to guide him, even though he copied from no one, his merit cannot be acknowledged as extraordinary. In the third, however, he has had more scope for originality, and we cannot deny that he has not been wanting to the occasion. But the vision which he sees before him, though a very clean, is not a very comfortable one. He complains of coldness and want of geniality in the new life in which he found himself ; and we must say we fully concur in his sentiments. In the middle of the next century the family will have been rooted out, hospitality extinguished, and privacy and domesticity removed. To compensate for these losses, the Bible will have been convicted of falsehood, by the dis appearance of the poor from out the land, and the extension of human life to the age of the Patriarchs. Society will live in large halls, — spacious, well ventilated, and provided with baths and reading-rooms. Every mechanic will daily sit down to as good a dinner as the excellent Mr. Simpson now furnishes to the middle class at the rate of two-and-six per head ; and, in order to keep up the system, the intel lect will so far control the affections that nobody will ever be impatient to marry till he has accumulated a certain provision. Thus, in a round of serene selfishness and enlightened frigidity, life will pass tranquilly away —pro gress without a struggle, and terminate with out a pang. Now, over and above the fact that we have no great sympathy With this particular class of enthusiasts—who believe that the world is to be regenerated by yellow soap and blue books—we very much doubt whether, if the SATURDAY, above-described result could be attained, it would in reality merit our approval. The life therein described is certainly not the ideal of a Christian life; but then comes the per plexing question, that we really do not know whether the author means us to admire it or not, If not, we scarcely see for what end it is drawn ; if he does, we can only congratulate him on living a hundred years before the realisation of his Utopia. The link by which all this is connected with metaphysics is the delusion of one Franz Carvel, who being a scorner of time, a disciple of Kant, and a faithful believer in the " eternal Now," imagines himself by the aid of the twelve categories and the six ideas of pure reason to contemplate these various scenes without losing his identity. There is con. siderable humour in the narrative, and much graphic power in the descriptions. The following is the mid-day dinner in a " Hall" at Clerkenwell The three persons opposite, and the two who were at our right and left hand, stood up to receive us, and my companion introduced us as David Fell, physician, and Franz Carve!, his present patient, both being of Second class Hall. 259. The centre person opposite then said, "I am John Hope, carpenter ; this friend at my right is George Selwyn, also carpenter; this at my left is William Jones, gaslighter ; that one at your right is Henry Brown, scavenger ; and the one at your left Philip Brown, his brother, also scavenger." I looked at these two men with on ominous dread of ill neighbourhood, but there proved nothing to justify my dread. I was told subsequently that baths and lavatories are attached to every hall, and always ready for use, as well as changes of garment on leaving such work as requires a change. The first course now on the table was soup, a small basin of which was before every one, and large baskets of bread occupied the middle of the table. The soup seemed very nutritive, and was highly palatable ; almost every one, as far as my eye could reach, disposed of his or her portion, though there existed no obligation to begin dinner with this course. In some ten minutes, when the clatter of spoons hat sensibly diminished, a symphony from an organ•gallery was understood as an indication that when it ceased every one was to be ready for the next course. It ceased ; the floor opened beneath each table, and all the tables descended to the kitchen. I was in formed that each table was then released from the machinery, and another similar one put in its place, already spread with the required dishes and appertinents. A few minutes, therefore, sufficed for the change. But the intervening time, short as it was, did not cause a gap in the general effect: the tables went down, and were changed, and rose again, to another symphony, which, after a moment's pause, succeeded the first. This ceased as soon as the tables were in their place; when each person hal before him the portion of animal food, including in that phrase both flesh and fish, for which he had given order at breakfast by a notice sent down with his last empty plate. Of course there were restrictions, and there were liberties of choice, at certain times; still there was always an extent of choice. With regard to my coin panion and myself, we were told before the soup•dishes went down, that, being strangers, we might counter order the morning's application; but we chose rather to take the chance of what would reach our places by the orders of those whose seats we occupied. My chance was to have a plate of roast beef garnished with greens and potatoes ; and my companion's, a plate of fish with some substantial accompaniments. As to quantity, it was in both instances more than would have suited us, not being labouring men, even had it been our time of dining; but it was not, and therefore we did but just taste the contents of our plates. I have to add that cans of excellent malt liquor, and jugs of pure water, rose with this second course, with a glass tumbler at the side of every plate. There was a third course, which was attended with similar ceremonies of introduction; but it had this difference from the other two, that it was spread in common throughout the middle of the tables; and each plate was empty that the owner might help himself and others as he pleased. It consisted of fruits and farinaceous preparations of various kinds and cookery, and also of cheese and butter in abundance. On asking Henry Brown, the scavenger, who sat at my elbow, at what time he had left work that morning, he told me it was at seven o'clock, having been on ditty during six hours up to that time ; lie had then bathed, had put on his hall attire, had breakfasted at the early hour, namely, eight (there was another breakfast at nine, and another at ten), and that he had amused himself in various ways till this first dinner hour. After dinner and a walk in the grounds, he would have to go to bed, in order to be ready fcr work at miinight ; and that to-morrow would be passed as to-day. Next week, however, his routine would be different, and also the district of his labour. After a day's rest on Sunday he would have three hours' work to do before the third breakfast.time--namely, at ten ; two more before the third dinner time, at three; and two more from five to seven ; his daywork comprising an hour more than that required of him at night. I asked him if his life always went on thus without any other changes: on which he told me that when he liked he could send a telegraph message to another hall, however distant, and ask whether a workman in his own line there would not change places with him for a fortnight or three weeks. Such an application is sure to find the desired answer; and the chauge is agreeable for a short time. '• But. continued he, " we are always glad to come home again : for you cannot think, sir, how every one loves his own