the events around him manifestations only of the divine judgments on mankind, and in the extension of the influence of the Romish faith the only guarantee for the virtue or happiness of the species. Who would guess from this that M. Lamennais, from having been an advocate of Catholicism, became its strongest antagonist? Victor Hugo is described as the first and most graphic of the school of French novelists: His works are extremely voluminous, and, considered as pictures of the manners and ideas of successive eras of French history, extremely interesting. The author of Notre Dame has given an equally graphic account of many other periods of French history. Of his three tales, Notre Dame is the only one which relates to French history. It is obvious that Sir Archibald has confounded Victor Hugo with Dumas. * The character of Sir Archibald's chapter on German history has been already so fully exposed, that we shall say nothing more of it, except that it is wonderfully characteristic of the author to imagine that, without being able either to construe or to spell the language, he should be able to expound and to record in a chapter of seventythree pages the principal bearings of one of the most extraordinary phenomena in the literary history of Europe. It may be asked, how it happens that, if Sir Archibald has such enormous faults as we have pointed out, he should have obtained such immense popularity. It is not difficult to answer the question. With all his faults, he has some great merits. The haste and looseness of his style, the inaccuracy of his facts, the meagreness of his information, his extraordinary want of reflective or critical power, are stamped upon every page that he has written; but it is also true that he is almost always spirited and often picturesque. With all their verbosity and with all their crotchets, it is impossible to call Sir Archibald's books dull. Give him a good battle, with plenty of blood and fire, and few men will describe it better. 167 Some of his general sketches of the appearance of a country are by no means badly drawn. Indeed, if he had had the self-command to write about one-fifth part of what he actually has written, to examine his authorities before writing it, and to correct his books when written with ordinary care, he would have been a not untrustworthy authority. A still stronger claim to popularity is to be found in the nature of the subject. There is no period of history of which people in general know so little as that which immediately precedes the time at which their personal recollections begin. There is a certain period with which we are all acquainted through the newspapers. There is also a space of time with which such of us as take any interest in historical questions are acquainted by means of books; but there is also a period which falls within neither of these descriptions, of which few people know anything. Few well-educated men are ignorant of the principal events of the French Revolution of 1789, but we doubt whether many of those who were children at the time know much about the events which preceded the Revolution of 1830. Many persons with a very considerable knowledge of general English history, would pass a poor examination in the history of the latter years of the life of Canning. We doubt whether even the reigns of the two first Georges are so little known to the present generation of young men, as the history of the reign of William IV. Sir Archibald has therefore the advantage of a subject on which there is a great dearth of information, and he certainly has the further advantage of making up in extent what his books want in depth. Unsatisfactory as his statements may be in many respects, there can be no question that, except in his pages, it would be almost impossible to find any statements at all upon many of them. It is not everybody who has an Annual Register and an Annuaire Historique to refer to; and even if he has, those works are not very conveniently adapted for pur * See an article in the Saturday Review for February 23rd. poses of reference. Sir Archibald is by no means a bad authority on the main features of matters of very great notoriety. He would not say, for example, that the Reform Bill passed in 1834, or the Catholic Emancipation Act in 1832. In connexion with his undoubted merit of vivacity, these circumstances explain his immense popularity, but we are greatly mistaken if they will produce anything more. We should conjecture that for a few years that popularity would continue; but that as calmer, shorter, and more authentic works are written upon the same subject, he would by degrees be forgotten and superseded. We cannot conclude this article without some allusion to one of the most remarkable puffs that have appeared for some considerable time. In a late number of Blackwood's Magazine, we find an amplification. into many pages of the sentiment that there is no Alison but Alison; which irresistibly suggests the reflection that this is not the first occasion on which Blackwood has been his prophet. The topics selected for the glorification of the historian, and some of the reflections which they suggest to the critic, are exceedingly curious illustrations of the value of that laudatory criticism of which we have had so much of late years. There are, we are told, three styles of history. The decorative style, illustrated by Macaulay; the style of pure thought, illustrated by Montesquieu; and the mixed or Alisonian style, which tells 'all that the general public care to know, and no more;' interspersed with reflec tions which though presented somewhat in the rough, yet, recurring again and again in seasonable places, 'here a little and there a little'we should have said, everywhere a great deal serve admirably to impress themselves on the reader.' This is really much as if a man should say there are three styles of conveyance. There is conveyance by water, which is adapted for weighty goods; conveyance by land, which is adapted for light goods; and conveyance by muddy roads, which, uniting the properties of land and water, combine the advantages of both. Notwithstanding the vulgar prejudice against mud, it combines a great deal of what renders both canals and highroads serviceable, and although a somewhat slovenly material, serves admirably to impress itself on the traveller. The highest praise however which Sir Archibald's critic bestows upon the subject of his admiration, is based upon the practical turn of mind' which makes him a fit repre sentative of the eminently practical English nation. We Englishmen, says this writer, are loth to exchange even the worst of our institutions at the bidding of the best thing, that has not been tested in practice. It does not suffice for the British nation that a principle is good in the abstract; we must likewise be convinced that it will accord with our other institutions, and that the public mind is ready for its reception.' How eminently practical the lady was who would not let her son go into the water till he knew how to swim. A writer of this class obviously thinks that a theory' is a terrible wild beast seeking whom it may devour, and asserting that all men, at all times, and under all circumstances, have precisely the same wants, which must be satisfied in precisely the same manner. If this were so in any particular case, it would only show that the theory was a bad theory, not that theory is one thing and practice another. A good theory would run thus. Your circumstances, feeling, institutions, and requirements being so and so, this is the way to satisfy them. It is characteristic enough that, after praising Englishmen for their 'practical' character, this writer goes on to praise them for having united their practice with theory. This is much as if a man were to say, first, that appetite and food were opposed to each other; and secondly, that a man showed his wisdom by eating when he was hungry. It is,' we are told, a favourite boast with the less astute of the liberals, that the early proposals of their party were right, because the Tories have subsequently adopted them, not observing that in such matters time makes all the difference.' There is a certain sublimity of impudence about this. A measure being proposed, is denounced, SO, friend? You'd be a poet ? Can you dig, You'll take things coolly, where you ought to scream, With boundless lust for pleasure, pelf, or praise, Leave morals, manners, taste, to muddy worms, And spurn coarse manhood: though dull Cam confess So write, while critics crown your ears with bays, C. K. THE DOUBLE HOUSE. BY THE AUTHOR OF JOHN HALIFAX, GENTLEMAN.' 'One Dr. Merchiston; but luckily for us, he does not practise. He is a man of large fortune.' Married P-children ?' 'I really don't know. But I should rather think not. Most family men would object to that very inconvenient house. It might suit an eccentric bachelor, who could live alone in the one half, and shut up his domestics in the other, locking the door of communication between. But for a mistress and mother of a family-dear me!-one might as well live in two separate houses. One never could hear the children cry of nights: and the maids might idle as much as they liked without—' Here I turned round, finding I was talking to the air. My husband had disappeared. It was in vain to attempt to interest him about the Double House, or the people that were coming there. But as to the rest of our village -speculation ran wild concerning them. First, because such a grave, dignified, middle-aged gentleman as Dr. Merchiston-of such composed and quiet manners, too-should have chosen to live in so eccentric and uncomfortable a mansion. (For, as before stated, it went by the name of the Double House, and consisted of two houses joined together by a covered passage and door of communication, each having its separate entrance, and being, in fact, a complete dwelling.) Secondly, because, when the furniture was sent in, it was discovered to be the appointments of two distinct habitations; namely, two drawing-rooms, two dining-rooms, two kitchens, and so on. The wonder grew-when Dr. Merchiston, accompanied by an elderly person, Mrs. Merchiston's maid' (there was a Mrs. Merchiston, then!), inducted into the establishment two sets of domestics; two cooks, two housemaids, and so on. And now everybody waited for the master and mistress, who had to make a long journey from London by post-for all this happened when I was a young married woman, more than forty years ago. I will confess that when the chaise and four thundered past our house, I peeped from under the blind. But in the carriage I saw only the elderly female servant, and a figure leaning back. Dr. Merchiston was certainly not there. Half-an-hour afterwards he galloped past in the twilight to his own door, which closed upon him as quickly as it had, a short time before, closed upon the others. 'Well, they are come,' said I to James, that evening. "Who?' he ejaculated most provokingly. "The Merchistons, of course. And nobody is a bit the wiser.' My husband put on his quaintest smile (a merry man, children, was your grandfather)- Never mind— there's Sunday.' My hopes revived; I led a dull life in James' long absences, and had been really anxious for a neighbour-a pleasant neighbour-a true gentlewoman. Yes, of course we should see the Merchistons at church on Sunday, for a large pew had been taken, cushioned and hassocked to perfection; besides, the Doctor looked like a respectable church-going gentleman. And sure enough, when service began, above the high pew, distinct to the eye of the whole congregation, rose his tall head and shoulders. He was in the prime of life, though his hair was already, as we say of a September tree, 'turning.' He had a large well-shaped head, very broad across the crown, just where my grandson tells me lies the bump of conscientiousness; but we never thought of such folly in my days. For the face-I do not clearly re-. member the features, but I know the general impression conveyed was that of strong will, capable of The Double House. any amount of self-denial or self- Except this, there was nothing extraordinary in Dr. Merchiston's appearance or behaviour. He sat in his pew, alone: he went out as he had entered, silently, quietly, and alone. In another pew sat two of the house-servants, and Mrs. Merchiston's maid. The lady herself did not come to church at all that day. It was rather disappointing since, by Apedale etiquette, no one could call on Mrs. Merchiston until she had appeared at church. But we heard during the week that the Rector had called on Dr. Merchiston. I tried to persuade Mr. Rivers to do the same-it would be only kind and neighbourly. After half-anhour's coaxing, which apparently was all thrown away, he briefly observed 'Peggy, I've been.' 'Oh! do tell me all about it, from the very beginning. Which door did you knock at? The one with a brass plate, and Dr. Merchiston' on it ?** 'Yes.' 'And you saw him? You were shown up to the drawing-room—or the library? Which?' 'Library.' Was he alone? Was he polite and pleasant? Did you see his wife Two nods and a shake of the head were all the answer I received to these three questions. Dear me! How odd! Did you inquire after her? How did her husband say she was ?' "Quite well.' 'Nothing more?' 'Nothing more.' 'Well-you are the most provoking man to get anything out of.' 171 'And you, my Peggy, are one of those excellent women who will try hard to get out of a man things which he absolutely does know.' not of quarrelling? Besides, didn't I I laughed; for what was the use know all James' little peculiarities before I married him? 'Just one question more, James. Have they any children?' 'Didn't ask.' So the whole Merchiston affair stood precisely where it was-until the next Sunday. Then, in the afternoon, as I walked to church, I saw a lady come quietly out of the Double House, at the left-hand door plate-close it after her, and pro-not the one with the brass nameceed alone across the road and down Church-alley. She paused a moment in the churchyard walk, which was very beautiful in the May afternoon, with the two great trees chequers of light and shade on the meeting overhead, and throwing path leading to the porch. She looked around as if she admired and enjoyed this scene, with its picturesque groups of twos and threes,wives, lingering about and talking fathers and mothers, husbands and till the chime of bells should cease. She looked apparently with a kindly interest on them all, and then, as if suddenly conscious that they looked back at her, dropped her veil and hurriedly entered the church. I heard her asking the sexton in a low voice, which seemed to belong to a woman still young, 'which was Dr. Merchiston's pew ?' She was shown in, and then- Could it be that this was Mrs. I do not exaggerate when I say was What a tiny woman!' 'How |