260 
Literciry and Critical Proemium. [Oct 1, 
which shews the author not to be alto¬ 
gether “unused to the rhyming- mood.” 
Beyond the region of descriptive nature, 
however, Mr. £. seldom ventures with 
success, and in the narrative or humorous 
attempts of which he is sometimes guilty, 
we thiuk he often falls even below medio¬ 
crity. Where pure “ description holds the 
place of sense,’-’ the author should give free 
play to purely rural and imaginative feel¬ 
ings, uninterrupted by cold reasoning and 
inquiries into natural philosophy. It is 
this which renders our Darwinian poetry 
comparatively tame and insipid . Research 
into the causes of things is far from being 
the true object of poetry, and we do not 
quite approve of Mr. E.’s opening his 
poem with an apostrophe to the elements, 
more particularly that of water, before he 
ventures upon a description of the river. 
Though not very bold or original, the 
poetry of Mr. E, is often picturesque and 
pleasing, with very happy rural and local 
imagery. 
We know not whether Rosario , a Tale, 
by Napoleon Bonaparte, be truly at¬ 
tributed to the deceased Emperor, or not; 
nor is the question of much importance, as 
the story is not calculated to excite any 
interest, and its mediocrity can reflect 
neither discredit nor praise upon the au¬ 
thor. It is possible that Bonaparte may. 
as stated in the introduction, have narrated 
the outline of such a tale for the amuse¬ 
ment of his private circle ; and if that were 
the case, w r e have no doubt that the reci¬ 
tal was as entertaining as the present imi¬ 
tation is crude and dull. But in fact our 
scepticism inclines us to exonerate Napo¬ 
leon from any share whatever in this post¬ 
humous publication; in which the title 
page would insinuate that he has an actual 
interest, it being somewhat comically 
stated therein that it is printed for the au¬ 
thor —it may be so, but then the author is 
not Napoleon Bonaparte. 
The Rambles of My Uncle is a pleasing 
little work, in the manner of Sterne, which 
makes no pretensions to superior ability, 
but appeals, not unsuccessfully, to the 
kinder feeliugs of the heart. It records the 
desultory rambles of a poor curate, and 
the various scenes and characters which 
pass before him, w ith a great deal of sim¬ 
plicity and some effect. From many allu¬ 
sions to facts and persons, it appears, 
though recently published, to have been 
written many years ago. It is not without 
some discreditable deficiencies in^grammar 
which could hardly have been committed 
by a member of the profession to which the 
author is represented to belong. 
Had not our experience warned us not 
to form any opinion from its title as to the 
'subject of Considerations on the Corona¬ 
tion Oath, by an Officer of Rank in the 
Royal Navy , we should never have sup¬ 
posed it to be a theological disquisition on 
the Unitarian doctrines. Such, so far as 
we can understand it, it seems to be, and 
any one who chooses to consult it in that 
light, will find it much to the purpose. 
One passage, indeed, particularly struck 
us as presenting an excellent mode of 
arguing questions of divinity. It is a con¬ 
trast betwen the Catholic faith and the 
Bible, in which the latter is placed in op¬ 
position to what the author deems a con¬ 
flicting doctrine of the church, and the 
reader is left to reconcile them as well as 
lie can—a very fair way of debating the 
question, which we would recommend to 
more general use. 
We were prepared to expect something 
interesting in the recent publication of 
Faustus, from the German of Goethe — 
“ Goethe’s Faustus!” w e said to our¬ 
selves, “ he must be a bold man w ho has 
ventured to translate this most original, 
most uutranslateable of the products of 
human genius.” On inspecting the book, 
however, our commiseration for the tran¬ 
slator’s labours was greatly diminished. 
Its title is manifestly an unfair one, unless 
accompanied with some sort of caveat 
emptor. At best it purports to be only an 
analysis of the plot, interlarded with ex¬ 
tracts ; and in reality it turns out to be 
nothing more than the usual quantity of 
letter-press, got up for Moses’s copies of 
Retsch’s exquisite outlines, and then turn¬ 
ed into an octavo form to run the chance of 
a separate sale either to those whom the 
title and the price would naturally enough 
lead to suppose they were sending for the 
whole play, or to those, who having pene¬ 
trated that disguise, would be caught with 
the next plea that the publication is not 
merely “ a book of reference and explana¬ 
tion tor the use of‘the purchasers of the 
plates,” but is also to “ possess some 
claims to interest as an independent pub¬ 
lication.” We venture to affirm that it has 
none whatever beyond its primary object, 
and that the arranger would have better 
discharged his duty by marring no more of 
the beautiful and sublime original than 
w-as absolutely necessary to make the 
plates intelligible. Why will persons, 
whose capacity extends only to doing a 
foreign author into literal English, fancy 
themselves qualified to feel and transfer 
thoughts, which the greatest masters of 
language- and poetry would avow them¬ 
selves incompetent adequately to express ? 
We know 7 , perhaps, but one individual in 
Europe who would be likely to succeed in 
giving a new dress to the profound thought 
and daring speculation, the biting sarcasm 
and deep pathos of this mighty poem. But 
these qualities, perhaps, the present trans¬ 
lator has not perceived, and is content, as 
his readers must be (w ith the exception of 
a scene or two at the opening) to follow a 
connected 
